#gonna start posting more snippets so stick around

[words-with-wren]

Snippet of a Fic I might Finish

They made their way through the trees, and even the Brigadier was now picking up on the unnatural silence, stepping lightly. 

But the silence was a little too unbearable and eventually Jamie had to break it, voicing a thought he’d been trying to figure out.

“If you’re from 1972,” he began. “And I’m from 1746. How did I end up in your time?” 

“Hell if I know,” the Brigadier answered, shaking his head. “On an ordinary day, I’d say the Doctor was messing with time. But we’ve all been a little too preoccupied lately.” 

“Aye well,” Jamie said. Again, the mention of this Doctor person. Again, the strange heartache of something lost. Something forgotten. Something just out of reach. He shook the feeling away and kept talking. “D’we know what year this is?” 

The Brigadier stopped in his tracks for a moment, staring at Jamie. 

“Well that is an unsettling thought,” he said finally.

[fabbyf1]

*taps microphone* is this thing on?

oh, hello.

it's me, yah girl.

you'll never guess what grandma's been up to.

after avoiding my google docs for weeks months, i have finally dusted them off and started writing again. i'll be honest with you guys: i've gone through a lot of ups and downs with writing recently, where i loved it one day and hated it the next, which is why i took such a massive break. i don't like to post things i'm not proud of, and don't fully believe in, so i'm glad i took some time away to do other things and not let writing fanfiction ruin my mental health.

but now? WE'RE BACK BABY. i followed troy bolton's advice and got my head in the game and thought to myself, what would bring you joy to write? and there was really only one answer to that question.

lestappen.

so that's what i've done.

i set out to make this a one-shot pwp, and if that's what i decide it's going to be, then it's pretty much complete right now and just needs an edit. but i think i'm gonna try to add more onto it over the next couple days and make it a short story instead.

it won't be anything massive like long live or vapor, but maybe a little more than a one-shot.

happy charles on pole day, besties. thank you for sticking by me while i got my life together.

snippet under the cut.

context: friend-charles has a bad hook-up and asks friend-max to give him an honest blow job review

Charles stretched his neck to the left and right as if he was about to hop into his car. 

“Do you always stretch before giving someone a blow job?” Max asked, ignoring the sweat that was forming around his hairline. 

“Fuck off,” Charles said lightheartedly. He brought his hands up and hesitated for just a moment before resting them gently on Max’s knees. Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird. Max was proud when the muscles of his thighs didn’t twitch or anything at the contact. “Now move your hand out of the way,” Charles instructed, looking down at where Max was covering himself.

“You’re bossier than I thought you’d be,” Max said, trying to sound as normal as possible. 

“Is that right?” Charles asked, hands still gripping Max’s knees. “Do you think about me often, Max Verstappen?” 

“I—” Max squeaked, which was somehow more embarrassing than sitting with his cock out. He glared at him as he said, “Fuck you.” Charles looked delighted by his words, which only made Max narrow his eyes further. “Don’t make me regret this,” Max warned, finally letting his hand fall to his side. 

Charles looked at where Max was lying soft against his thigh. “Do you need me to flirt with you or something?” 

Max scoffed. “No, asshole, I don’t need—” 

“Ohhh, Max, you’re so handsome,” Charles cooed in a high-pitched tone anyway. Max’s jaw dropped open in shock. “You’re so big and strong and fast,” Charles continued, batting his eyes at him in an exaggerated way that would be comical if he wasn’t on his knees. “Mister three-time world champion with a big dick and a—”  

Max’s cock twitched, and they both saw it happen. 

“Oh my god,” Charles said, gasping loudly before cackling. “Oh my god, that actually did it for you?” 

“No!” Max snapped, covering himself again with his hands. “Fuck you! It was a coincidence!” But he wasn’t even sure if Charles could hear him over his roaring laughter.

This might be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him.

He always knew that Charles Leclerc would be his downfall, but he never expected it to be over a blow job.

[miceskulls]

Wanted to post a small snippet of my series that I’m writing! It’s a Ticci Toby x reader, I got inspired by an old one shot I did and wanted to continue it.

It’ll be available to read on quotev, Ao3 and here! I plan to make it 10-20 chapters long, maybe even more depending on how I want the story to go. Hope you guys enjoy what I have so far!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

        Smoke and ash fluttered around you, framing the terror and grime that grimaced your face. There was a scream as axe struck down besides you. It was Toby, he was crying uncontrollably, sobbing on how you ruined everything, “YOU! FUCKING BITCH! You just HAD to ruin things for me didn’t you?”

        There was a pause, Toby trying to catch his breath as fire fanned his back, “Why couldn’t you just let me have this one thing? ….Why couldn’t you just love me?”

        His shoulders slumped, both of you went quiet except for your panting and Toby’s sobs. He was exposed to be happy, he had someone for once, he had you. But you betrayed him, all you did was ignore and belittle him. Treating him like some dog. Toby collapsed, his knees digging into the dry and ashy ground. Loud sobs and whimpering could be heard as he pathetically cried out. All you could do was watch as he broke down in front of you, wanting oh so desperately to be held.

        Standing up, you instinctively reach out and grab the axe Toby threw in his moment of desperation. All you could feel was numb as you lifted the axe and swung.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

        "_____?" A feminine voice broke you out of your daydream, letting out a disappointed groan you look where the voice is coming from. Sasha one of your best friends gave you a concerned look, "you've been quiet for a while, everything ok?"

        "hmm? yeah I'm fine, just lost in thought you know?" you hummed out, turning away to look out the window again. Sasha had proposed the idea of moving in with each other, saying 'it'll be fun! we already practically live together with how much you come over'. The proposal took over a year to put in motion,  housing was hard to come by in the small town. Eventually you both had to start branching out to other areas, it wasn't till about 2 months ago when you finally found a place. And now here you where 2 hours in a 5 hour drive to your new apartment. 

        "aren't you excited?" Sasha exclaimed, her excitement radiating off her. You couldn't say you were excited per say, but you were ready for the change. After 22 years of living in a boring old town and you where ready for the big city. honestly? you where ready for anywhere but there. Too many bad memories, too many regrets. 

        "please don't do this... they'll find me! PLEAS-"

        "_____!!" Sasha called out to you, a frustrated pout on her face, "are you even listening to me? come on! be more excited, we're starting a new chapter of our lives!" Sasha huffed, giving you a playful glare from the drivers seat. 

        a small smile made its way to your face, this was exposed to be a happy day. why where you so set dwelling on the past? you gave Sasha a apologetic look letting out a small chuckle , "you're right, today is exposed to be exciting. I'm just gonna miss not paying rent." 

        "me too! but now we have our own place! that's better in my opinion!" Sasha happily went on about how nice the new apartment going to be. it didn't take long for you to tune her out, she could will talk for hours and right now was no exception. turning your attention back to the window, gazing out into the passing trees. up ahead you could see a tall figure, ever so slightly sticking out from the long lanky trees. a small gasp left your lips as you made eye contact with it. before you could properly see the figure the car had already flew past it, your mind reeling.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

[katscythe]

The WIP tag game

I was tagged by the lovely *cough* very mean *cough* @artemisravencourtney with the word

🐺 B I T E 🐺

Rules: You are given a word, and you post a paragraph/snippet from your WIP(s) starting with each letter of the word.

so...here's a snippet from my TT WIP that I thought fit the bill...it's a first draft and may look nothing like this in the final edit, and I had to tweak it to fit the Word (B ? REALLY??) but, ENJOY

~~~

"Babe—" Gar strode forward to the fridge, yanking it open and bending down. “You want something to eat? I'm starving…”

He started pulling out items, a pack of eggs, carton of spinach, other bags of veggies that he would have to open to remember what he had stashed in them, loading them all into his arms, then stopped, the kitchen oddly quiet around him.

He turned back towards Raven.

She stood with her back against the kitchen island, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked in a thousand yard stare on a point on the back of the stove.

“Uhh...Rae?”

He followed her gaze, seeing nothing but glass tile, then faced her again.

“Raven, you okay? My cooking's not that bad come on...”

He tugged the fridge door closed with his foot, and moved over to her, dumping the food he had collected on the counter beside her and stepping up right in front of her.

She blinked, coming back to herself as he moved into her line of sight.

“I—I'm sorry—what—”

“Wow, you're really freaked out about this mission, huh?”

“What?” She frowned lightly, confused for a moment, her thoughts still far away...then looked down. “Oh—yeah—” She swallowed, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah...I guess...”

“You're gonna do great.”

Gar put his hands on her shoulders, lightly rubbing to try to get some warmth into her tense limbs. She relaxed by only a fraction of a degree, not meeting his eyes.

“You are,” he said cheerfully.

She peeked back up at him and his face twisted in a dramatic, playful grimace— “I mean I'm the one that's probably going to blow our cover, I'm supposed to be Beast Boy, not Bus Boy, hellooo.”

He stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Why do I always get the shitty jobs, seriously?”

Raven's mouth cracked up in an infinitesimal smile.

“Maybe you'll finally learn how to do the dishes,” she said softly.

Gar grinned back in delight.

Glittering mirth sparkled out through the entire kitchen, dancing along her skin, and he shifted closer, leaning in, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her. She relaxed her rigid posture, unwinding, the warmth coming off of him soothing her racing mind.

His pupils slitted subtly, the distance between them disappearing, and her hands came up to land lightly against his chest, fingers tangling in his shirt as she leaned in too, her heartbeat picking up speed.

“Well, maybe…” he breathed, lips twisting in a smirk, one sharp canine sticking out, only an inch or two of air between their mouths, “if my dishwashing partner pulled her own weight…”

Raven snapped back.

Her eyes narrowed in a dark glare, her hands firm against his chest as she pushed him back, holding him at bay. “You lost that bet—not me—”

“Oh, so maybe I should just take Mr. Henchy back then—”

“Try it. I dare you.”

Teeth flashed against green skin in a sharp smile, then his expression melted into that goofy, lopsided grin that made her entire body fill with light, his eyes dancing with silent laughter.

“Mmmm...” He leaned in again, and her resistance disappeared, her arms sliding up to wrap around his shoulders as his golden eyes landed on her mouth. Hungry.

Effervescent energy swooped through her. The entire sunny kitchen darkened, shadows twisting gracefully out around her like the gentle sweep of silent, midnight wings, flooding across the countertop and obscuring the pile of groceries beside them as they wrapped around him, drawing him in. He shifted his weight, pushing her gently back against the counter, strong green arms hemming her in on either side.

“You know, I think you like that chicken more than me—”

“Yeah, he doesn’t talk back.”

Raven closed the final half-inch between them, lifting her feet the off the floor to reach him.

~~~

@cruulsummer & @swiftlark PFFFFTTTT BUSBOY BEASTBOY, what a great idea!! Rainey, I told you I could work it in!

I TAG YOU:

@cruulsummer, @badbunny139, @relentlesslyoptimisticsblog

your BBRae word is...

🐺 F A N G 🐺

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

Hellooo it's Thursday morning and I should probably consider going to bed. So today we are gonna drop art and a little bit of writing. I'm kinda obsessing over Josh and Sydari stuff atm writing wise so you get some of that. Thank you to @skyrim-forever for tagging me. I started making this post when I got your tag :3 Tagging @viss-and-pinegar @vivifriend @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited @nyarevar @thescrolls-haveforetold

No pressure as usual. Just fun stuff for fun.

Now for wips n shit. Starting with arts-

Got more of his armour done and some deets on those blades. Posting a close up of his face because I'm happy with his pouty face. I just posted the chapter this art corresponds with the other day.

And a snippet of writing below the cut.

Today i'm posting a bit from chapter 18 of Serious Mistakes. Josh finally decides to ask for help from people he can trust. Only issue is that in order to ask for it, Josh must sit on ceremony. Part of it involves granting guest right to Sydari so that she can join Josh and Geldis at the Urshilaku camp. The chapter is Sydari's pov and i've chosen a section where Sydari is meeting the Ashkhan for the first time. She has mixed feelings. Josh hasn't been feeling so great over these last few chapters. ----

It wasn’t long before Geldis came back, though it was long enough for the smoking pipe to have done at least one round about the circle, and Sydari was feeling pleasantly buzzed. Geldis sat beside her and sighed as he reached once again for his drink.

“Go on,” Geldis grinned, “I know you want to know what happened.”

“I mean, sure?” Sydari shrugged as she reached for her drink again, “I’m assuming he’s just being stubborn about something?”

Geldis nodded, “Tel doesn’t want to use his stick and can’t get up by himself. Finally admitted that he probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

She rolled her eyes a little, “Of course it was that.”

“It was a few things, Etana kinda offloaded a lot on him when he arrived,” Geldis sighed as he downed his drink, “Tel’s a bit emotional, to put it simply. He doesn’t like people seeing that.”

“So, what’s happening?” Sydari asked, her gaze still focused on the pipe that was being passed around the other side of the circle.

“Etana and I convinced Tel that no one cares if he’s got to use it,” He shrugged, sighing yet again, “We told him that the issues going on with the Urshilaku can wait until we’ve finished with Sigrun. I think it’s calmed him down a little. Just—”

“He’s a bit…” Sydari shook her head, trying to dislodge the image of Teldryn back in Glowstone Hall, eyes dead and vitriol spewing from his lips. The version of him that would hold a knife to her throat. Did the nomads know about that side of him? Or had he managed to hide it from them? She swallowed, anxiety welling yet again as the image changed and warped from Solstheim to the depths of Snow Veil Sanctum. She touched her hand to her throat before fiddling with the dark soul gem she wore around her neck. The vibration from the soul trapped forever inside brought her back to Nirn just as Geldis started speaking again.

“I don’t think he’s gonna change again if that’s what you’re worried about?” Geldis stated, his voice was quieter, almost soothing, “Ki, the Wise Woman, has a lot of tricks up her sleeve to keep Tel here. The Urshilaku have been helping him control it for a long time, girl. It’ll be okay.”

She nodded, her gaze falling to the woven carpet in front of her. They fell into a strange silence for a few moments, only ending as the murmuring from the crowd started to die down once again as the Wise Woman rose to her feet. She felt Geldis’ hand on her shoulder as he leaned in to whisper to her again.

“I think Tel’s finally ready.”

She looked towards the door just as the Wise Woman disappeared behind it. A part of her wondered if this was yet another problem stalling everything yet again. She noticed that everyone in the circle had stood, and she followed suit, letting out a sigh of relief as the door opened once again and both of the mer from earlier exited the tent and took their places within the circle, standing behind their seating cushions as the rest of the circle did. She listened to the Gulakhan speak, wishing she understood even a word of what he said. She started fiddling with her necklace again, arranging the thin, gold chain so that it wasn’t getting tangled in the decoration of her glass torc. Geldis nudged her a little as the Gulakhan stopped speaking and she snapped her attention back to the door just as it opened once again— a larger figure appearing just behind it.

“There he is,” Geldis whispered in her ear, “Tel’s gonna address everyone before we all sit down again. Just follow my lead.”

She nodded just as the figure stepped out into the light of the lanterns. She didn’t know what to make of what she saw standing before her.

Teldryn slowly made his way towards the circle, his long, thin fingers grasping the handle of an ornately carved walking stick that she didn’t recall him packing that morning. His skin— what was visible at the very least— was covered in a thin layer of what she assumed to be ash. The layers cracking around his joints a little. He wore a long, thick silk robe that was as red as his eyes and trimmed with gold thread. The sleeves looked as if they could skim the floor if the mer hadn’t rolled them up somewhat. He seemed to be wearing some sort of armour underneath the robe, dark like he usually wore though the material seemed different. Almost like the bonemold that the Redoran Guard typically wore. The darks and reds were accented by gold— the trim of his robe weaved into a set of brilliant, gold pauldrons that extended from his shoulders almost like a set of wings and she noticed he had to turn himself slightly as he made his way through the door.

She noticed that he had tied his usually messy, uneven hair into a smooth topknot, fastened with an equally brilliant golden headdress in the shape of a star. He paused for a moment once he reached the circle before taking a deep breath and stepping carefully over the large orange cushion, his knuckles flexing around the handle of his stick. His eyes locked with hers for a moment and she noticed that the skin around his sockets seemed a little puffy, with some of the paint on his face having been washed away a little, mixing with the dark kohl that she noticed he usually favoured whenever he left the Netch. The dark stains on his cheeks mixed with the bone grey of the ash reminded her of a spectre of some sort. Haunting and a little ethereal— he looked beautiful and a huge part of her hated to admit it.

Teldryn smiled at her for a brief moment before he addressed the group, using that same language that she didn’t understand save for her name. He nodded towards her before she noticed the Gulakhan and Wise Woman move to his side, grabbing his arms as they helped him sit down, slowly lowering him onto the cushion that the Gulakhan had placed down earlier. She followed everyone’s lead, sitting down silently as the group waited for their head to get himself comfortable. She watched the Wise Woman take Teldryn’s stick and rested it against the door behind them.

Teldryn cleared his throat, sitting as straight as he could. He spoke again in Ashland, his voice sounding confident with less pauses in his speech than when she had been speaking with him earlier. Almost as if he’d rehearsed this particular speech a hundred times. Though it could have entirely been because Sydari didn’t understand the language he was speaking. It was an interesting development nonetheless; she hadn’t quite expected any of this when he had first introduced himself at the Netch.

Teldryn Sero was a hard mer to figure out.

[emmalostinwonderland]

oH ITS NOT WEDNESDAY? Yeah im like super late for... weeks worth of these. And 7 sentence sundays. So I'm gonna give you a couple disjointed snippets here - enjoy the long post! Thank you to the people who tend to tag me in these, plus the first 4 I see in my notifs: @dizzymisslizzie @onthewaytosomewhere @suseagull5914 @cactusdragon517

This one is from my FirstPrince sense share au that should've been finished back in december, Butterflies and Tummy Aches:

A, You asked me once if I cook for myself. I wasn’t lying when I said I rarely do and with little success, but my father used to cook for our family on occasion. He’d let me sit on the counter beside the stove while he prepared the meal, humming whatever tune was stuck in his head and feeding me bits of vegetables and seasoned meats. He called me his royal taste-tester, said I had a real appreciation for the parts that make up the whole. (On reflection, you may even recall some of these moments — it would’ve been early afternoon for you, most likely. And on further reflection, I’m more certain he wasn’t just referring to cooking a meal with that last bit.) When he was first diagnosed, before his energy started to go, I asked him to teach me to make his favorite. I’ve never been able to make it just the way he did, but I’ve included the recipe in this email if you’d like to try. I warn you, my penmanship was much sloppier then — please call if you can’t make out a word or six along the way. Or perhaps call anyway. It’s raining here again, and I miss your silly jokes in your gorgeous voice. Love, H

Below the cut I have FirstPrince Star Wars AU, and Merrical (Jedi Survivor) Cold War AU for those who may be interested in that

FirstPrince SW:

Henry breathes in deeply, trembling with the pain echoing out through the Force all around him. “By now… by now the Republic has fallen.” “What?” Pez sinks onto the other end of the sofa Henry is curled up on. “What does that even mean?” “The Supreme Chancellor has named himself Emperor of the galaxy. An order went out amongst the clones… they’ve turned their blasters to the Jedi fighting alongside them. I—“ he stops abruptly, suddenly choked up. Pez rests a hand on his ankle, and Henry presses on, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I may be the last one.” “That can’t be… no, what of Alexander? Surely—“ “I couldn’t warn him. He’s leading a clone platoon; he’s surrounded.”

aaaand MerrinXCal (holy shit it's been ages since I wrote het fic, who even am I):

Finally, the door swings open again, and Merrin opens her eyes, trading the mental image of her dear Ilyana for the very real sight of the red-headed man from before. "Hello again," he says softly in accented Russian. "I brought you some coffee." "Thank you," she replies in equally accented English. His surprise, written all over his face, amuses her, and she reaches for the styrofoam cup of dark liquid. "It's decaf," he says, in English this time, "I'm sure you don't want to be kept up much longer. We've all been running around too long without sleep at this point." She hums noncommittally, understanding just enough to not need to refute it. "Speaking of which," he continues, "Bode and I managed to work something out with the Director, but I wanted to see how you feel about it too." "I am listening." He nods and scratches the side of his face. He is nervous, hesitant. "They wanted you under full surveillance, but it just didn't sit right with me. The best we could manage was sending you home with an agent." Merrin nods. "I will go with you, Agent Kestis." "Just Cal, please, I- wait, me?" "Is that not what you said?" "Oh, well, um..." Whatever is going through his mind runs its course quickly, and he snaps his jaw shut with a single nod. "If that's where you'll be comfortable, that's where you'll go."

if anyone's still reading and wants a tag... uh sure. Open tag. Go forth. Also thanks for sticking around - you're pretty cool.

[moe-broey]

I hope you feel better soon!!! Telepathically blowing up covid with my mind.

Got a simpler ask this time. Think the Askr crew have any nicknames for each other? The idea occurred me because I thought it would be funny if the summoner never EVER refers to Veronica by her full name. It started as a bit to annoy her but naturally became part of their dynamic. I think this group of weirdos deserve more quirks like that with their dynamics with each other.

TBANK YOU...... I am actually starting to feel better now!!! It must have been your power.... or just the passage of time and lots of rest.

I did... WAY too much here and got really off topic and Moe did take over. I'm so sorry. I barely control that thang. But also!!! A lot of these ideas have lived in my mind for a long time now, I just never got around drawing them out! I'm. Gonna try and organize this the best I can, bc I have SO much to say and it all kinda flows into each other...

This will be one half comic collection, one half character analysis and headcanons. Ready... GO!

FIRST OF ALL. THAT IS SO FUNNY. AND SO REAL. I can ABSOLUTELY see Kiran doing this. If you're a responsible adult figure in a kid's life, no matter the context, you Have to find harmless ways to annoy them. You have to find the bit, and commit to it. Just, um... well under most circumstances, said kid doesn't wield magic and have a giant spikey crown (making for lethal headbutts). So just be careful out there. 🫡

As for Moe... it kind of lacks that quality. Always a bit too in its head, often floundering in one way or another. Moe tends to love at a distance, has a lot of trouble expressing it, and often decides, well. It's just not my place. It seems especially standoffish about Veronica... it can't help but see its younger self in her. In more ways than one. Ultimately, it would avoid giving her a nickname, as a show of respect (it knows she wouldn't like that). It will speak extremely affectionately and highly of her behind her back, but minds its place to her face.

The fun thing about Alfonse's name is that you can extrapolate one thousand variations of it. Which is exactly what Moe does once it gets comfortable with him. And given enough rapport, Alfonse will happily respond to every single one (... except Alfonso). Al is the most casual nickname, that doesn't turn any heads. Allie seems to be the most favored one! (By Moe, or by Alfonse....? Or by Alfonse, as a consequence of Moe's liking for it?)

Sharena's name lends itself well to nicknames too! But Moe seems to exclusively go for Shari. EXTREMELY EXCITED at this show of friendship, Sharena tried her best to return the favor... but it didn't quite stick!

(As a side note! I wish I could have drawn more interactions here... just them going in circles mirroring each other. And one panel that would have been so sweets and speaks to Moe's character... snippet from my notes:

[Both of them become crestfallen.

Moe perks up a little. "'s fine. You can jus' stick to Moe. It is the name I chose, after all." <- It says this with an air of pride]

But I worked too cramped and didn't have the space to include it! 🥲💔)

LASTLY. Okay I have something really specific going on in the back of my head, here. But Lif does not tolerate nicknames. At the first whiff of it, he's shooting it down. This isn't a case where you can playfully get on his nerves and maybe eventually with enough time he softens to it. No. He isn't just being a killjoy about it, either. He... has his reasons. Don't press it.

OKAY. GRABS MOE W A CANE AND YANKS IT OFFSTAGE. GET OUTTA HERE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

-

PART 2 OF THIS POST. Just a liiiiittle analysis and some headcanons!!!!

First. Of course. Alfonse. This is my stance. I feel very strongly about this. But Alfonse is NOT the type who uses nicknames. He doesn't do petnames, either. He is a man of many adjectives and weird relationships with titles. What does this mean?

Alfonse will use a title to refer to someone, to keep his distance. Up until somewhere along the way he catches a snag and suddenly he's romanticizing the title. Now the title holds a Weight to it. An emotional significance. The title is now a term of endearment. Unless if it isn't. The title is used for exclusively practical reasons. The title is a show of respect, to honor the individual in question. It means nothing. It means Everything.

LIKE. LIKE. When he's not being Weird about titles (using a title to keep himself emotionally distant from the receptient), he's. Being Weird about titles (using them to express WHAT that person Is to him, what that means to him, and how he feels!!!!). ADD IN THE ADJECTIVES. He fucking LOVES to use adjectives in place of nicknames/petnames. He is just a wordy fella. You can even catch him getting silly with it, if the mood strikes him. WAY over the top, doing Way Too Much.

Off the top of my head I don't have many examples. They come to me in visions and are gone as soon as they came. But. My fellow associate. My brother in arms. My deeply valued and highly esteemed comrade. My cherished partner (... trusted partner, even). My dearly beloved friend. My friend. HEAVY emphasis on "My Friend". Somehow, that's like a declaration of love from him. Unless if it isn't. "My Friend" still carries SO much meaning to him, though.

Honestly writing this out I'm realizing Alfonse is just the king of taking words that mean something and then making them mean something else. Imbuing his own meaning to it, between the lines. Hiding behind it. HE IS ALSO. THE KING. OF PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY. Alfonse asks "Is anyone going to endlessly complicate the situation or" and doesn't wait for an answer.

ONE NOTE. Is how titles are used as formalities, and how he's also just always so ready to drop them. You kinda have to play this by ear, considering the context of the interaction... really, whether or not he uses a title, and How he uses that title, is extremely reflective of his current emotional state. Can be reflective of the stakes, and the nature of the relationship too. Like the many occasions where he first meets a Hero, and both decide to be on a first name basis fairly quickly. Then you have his whole "The Summoner" vs saying their name, deal. And then you have whatever I'm cooking, here.

AND. AND. DON'T MISS IT! THAT IS THE FINAL PIECE I NEGLECTED TO MENTION UNTIL NOW! NAMES!!!!! A person's name holds SO MUCH EMOTIONAL WEIGHT. TO HIM. When he calls someone by name, it Means something to him. Which to me, lends to the idea that he wouldn't come up with a nickname for someone, himself. If they standardly use a nickname, he'll probably use it. Then, you have the added intimacy of the full name. But to me. What makes the most sense for his character, is that he ascribes meaning to names and titles.

The ONE. "Petname" I will accept, from Alfonse. Is "My love". Because that does feel in-line with everything I've said here. It becomes something of a title, itself. But even then, when I play it out in my head, it's always said as part of something greater, building UP to something, instead of being the main goal??? Like. To me, forever and always. "My friend" will ALWAYS hold way more emotional weight. Anything with too much of a romantic connotation to it just falls flat, ESPECIALLY on its own. Like NO........ they're MORE than that..... it's More Complicated than that...... you can't just reduce them to something so clean-cut. Dare I say normative... <- guy who has problems and complexes voice

That is. VERY MUCH just how I personally feel. Because I have something wrong with me. I'm fucked up and evil. Sick and twisted, even. (... or possibly aromantic.) Moving on!

-

MY FINAL THOUGHT. Is how does all this factor in, between Alfonse and Sharena? Well! To be so real I got so distracted I think I'll just barely edit these notes. And give you some screenshots about it.

When talking to Sharena, he may call her "sister" or "my sister" as like. Terms of endearment. Which is ironic a bit, in how they do come off as a bit stilted and distant. I can also see him getting extra about it though... him calling her, "my sweet sister" / "my beloved sister" either in moments of vulnerability OR. Moments before disaster (VIOLENCE....). Also "my little sister" as a term of endearment...

Also! Supporting this idea, one canon instance where he simply calls her "sister":

And!!! Both Alfonse and Sharena do the "call your sibling by their title as a term of endearment" thing. Sharena's version is a little less stilted than Alfonse's, but still may come off as odd to someone not too familiar w them (her, often calling him "big brother". Many canon instances of this!)

IT'S A SITUATION OF. Well for one I think it would flow a lot better in Japanese tbh, where honorifics like that are not out of the ordinary, they're standard. Where at most it's just a bit of a childish way to refer to him, almost reads like a childhood nickname that stuck??? (I think it depends on what variation of it you use, too. I'm only a little bit familiar w it!). But the thing is. The other half of this thought. It's a situation of "No Normal Person Talks Like That" BUT. If a character DOES. That's noteworthy and says something about them. And I think this goes for both of them! It speaks to the strict and formal environment they were raised in. If Sharena ever had a nickname for Alfonse that wasn't "big brother", it's probably gone now.

Also... another odd thought.... this sort of absence and emotional distance between them (esp early on, also citing Dragalia Sharena "I never bonded with my brother in such a fashion" and the Rosado FBs). That's your Brother. That's what he is, so you call him that. He calls you by title. That's what you are, he acknowledges that. That's what ties you two together. It's supposed to mean something. I'm supposed to mean something, to you. You're supposed to mean something, to me. These titles are proof of that. The blood we share is a bond, in and of itself. Emphasize it enough and maybe we can manufacture something, here.

ACTUALLY.... AAUGHH.......... OKAY NOW I'M CONSIDERING PEONY. HOW THE CHANGELING TWIST FACTORS INTO THIS. BECAUSE. BECAUSE. It's SHOWN that Sharena/Peony has informal titles/nicknames for family on Triandra's side.

Their father wasn't Father (like Gustav), he was Papa. Triandra wasn't sister or big sister, she was sis.

Aaaand that's where my brain short-circuited, blew up caught on fire and charred to a crisp. Sad! But SURELY. This, and EVERYTHING ELSE. Might give some pointers...?

LIKE. MAYBE THE CONSENSUS HERE. Is maybe Sharena did have a nickname for Alfonse, and in general is more likely to use nicknames. Maybe at one point it was "corrected" out of her when it comes to Alfonse, and now it would feel unnatural to do so. Meanwhile, Alfonse never really had any nicknames for her, but always has and still does use her name with So Much emotional weight. Plus the titles and adjectives. The FOCAL THING. About the Askr siblings. Is that they both adore each other SO much, but neither really know how to express it. There is an undeniable emotional distance between them. I feel like, taking this angle with them... the stiltedness, the forcing of affection that's already there, just somehow out of reach or beyond their grasp. I think writing them like this captures that.

I'll. Leave you to decide where Anna fits into any of this. And anyone else. I'm down for the count. To dust.

FINAL FINAL DISCLAIMER. You can take any of this or leave it! These are just the things that run through my head, when I write The Character... I really hope this answered. Anything. At all. Parse through my scatterbrained visions boy...... GOOD LUCK 🫡👍 (AND THANK YOU!!!!! FOR THE ASK!!!!!!!! Enrichment...... much needed in these trying times......)

[coldflasher]

still thinking about my post from the other day about eobard making barry the flash about a decade earlier, when he's still a teenager, so he'd be easier to manipulate. and then obviously i started thinking about where len would be in this scenario because i'm unwell and i have permanent leonard snart brainrot :)

assuming barry's 13 in this AU and we're sticking with the same age gap, len would be around 30... so then i started thinking about how different the dynamic would be, with a lonely barry who's being increasingly isolated by eobard, right in the thick of the most tumultous time in his relationship with joe, because he's always sneaking off and coming back all busted up and lying his head off and acting all cagey and exploding with temper every five minutes---except while joe thinks he's just a traumatized kid acting out and having a hard time at school, really he's off every night being "trained" by eobard and then being pitted against fully grown adult metas... though i do think i'd make at least some of them the same age as barry if only because imagine the ANGST of barry getting his powers, thinking he finally has one up on his bullies, and then the other kids at school start turning into metas as well.

i'm thinking specifically of tony woodward—all the pain and frustration and humiliation that twenty-five-year-old barry felt facing up against his childhood bully, now with powers... imagine that, except he's still at school, still stuck in the thick of it with this kid who's made his life hell, except now his bully has superpowers, and so any fantasies barry might have had about kicking his ass now he's the flash and is more powerful than any of the kids at school could imagine? well, forget it, because tony's STILL bigger and stronger than him and now he's now kicking barry's ass outside of school too

anyway i'm getting sidetracked. my point is i was thinking about moody teenage barry and an older len who's faced up against the flash, thinking there's a new player in town, only to discover that the flash is some scrawny punk kid with no one in his corner, and all the adults in his life are failing him, ESPECIALLY this creep eobard thawne who's "mentoring" him. len takes a very dim view of anyone who's getting a kid mixed up in the criminal world, considering his own father did it to him, AND he's just getting skeevy vibes off eobard anyway because he's an adult and better equipped to see through eobard's manipulations, unlike barry, who's doing the infuriating teenage thing of thinking he's sooo mature for his age and knows what he's doing and is not gonna listen to anyone who's trying to warn him that this whole thing is super sketchy and he's falling victim to a predator, but unfortunately he's not gonna realize it until he's a decade or so older and his frontal lobe develops---

and so we have this (platonic bc barry's like 13/14, though barry probably has a lil unrequited crush) coldflash dynamic with them kinda being friends bc len's somehow inadvertently ended up a mentor/support system for this fucked up, scrappy, little meta kid because god knows no one else is looking out for him, and anyway here's a small snippet of what my brain's doing (unedited but whatever we're just having fun and god knows i can't start another insane sprawling AU right now as much as i've been violently chewing on this idea all day, soooo)

Barry picked at the splintered wood on the table. “Eobard makes me feel kinda weird sometimes.”

Len watched him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Weird how?”

Barry shrugged his birdlike shoulders.

For a moment, Len focused on the map laid out in front of him, considering his next move. When it came to locks, carefully getting them to open up was his specialty. When it came to people, not so much.

He decided to be blunt. “He touch you?”

Barry’s mouth popped open, outrage and disgust mingling together. “No!” he protested, his voice cracking a little. Immediately, his mouth snapped shut, jaw jutting out mulishly, and he glared at Len. “Not like that.”

Len scrutinized him. He was pretty satisfied it was an honest answer. The kid wasn’t a bad liar, given time to prepare, but he sucked at improv; put him on the spot and he crumbled in seconds.

“He’s just… intense, that’s all. About my powers.”

Somehow Len doubted that was all he was intense about. Clearly something about this Eobard creep was making the kid’s spidey senses tingle, and probably for good reason. Len knew his type—there were plenty like him in prison, doing time for their proclivities. And plenty more on the outside who were better at hiding it. Just because the guy hadn’t put his hands on the kid so far didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about it.

“You thought about talking to someone?” Len asked. “An adult?”

Barry gave him a withering look like only a teenager could, then looked him insolently up and down, like he was missing something very obvious. Len gave him a similarly derisive look right back, one with over a decade of extra power behind it, just to show him how it was done. “I meant an authority figure.”

“You mean like a shrink?” Barry scoffed—which was pretty similar to what Len’s response would have been if anyone had made that suggestion to him. “Pretty sure Joe’s insurance wouldn’t cover another one. And we’d have to go out of state. I’ve seen every shrink in the city and they all think I’m crazy.”

“Your Dad, then.” Not that Len believed a guy who murdered his wife was exactly a stellar role model, and clearly Henry Allen was no stranger to manipulation himself, to have the kid so staunchly convinced he hadn’t done it when it had happened right in front of him—but having a father in prison had its perks. Len’s own father wasn’t exactly father of the year, but even he’d have called in a few favours from Iron Heights if he caught wind of some creep sniffing around his kid, if only on principle.

“I’m not allowed to see him,” Barry muttered.

The dark look in his eye told Len that there was little use in suggesting he told Joe. Clearly, they still weren’t getting along.

[cramberry24]

I Am No Mother, I Am No Bride, I Am King

BACK ON SCHEDULE hope ppl reading this enjoy long, looooong fics bc this babey is gonna be huge

Chapter 13: Feed Me Promises, Keep My Heart Well, I'll Sing You Songs Until The Darkness Does Recede

Pairing: Robert Zussman/OFC

Tags: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Historical References, Historical Inaccuracy, War, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Medical Inaccuracies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Period-Typical Sexism, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Feminist Themes, Queer Themes, Survivor Guilt, Self-Esteem Issues, Blood and Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Protective Robert Zussman, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Choking, Buried Alive, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Denial of Feelings, Misunderstandings, Yearning, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, no beta we die like, well you know, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attacks

Summary: Eve is superstitious. First platoon meets an oddball. Dellucci experiences karma. Pierson is...nice? With special guest Boris Karloff!

Snippet as always under the cut!

The next few days are just travelling, patrolling, and exploring.  They run into a few platoons of Germans early on, getting stuck in those pesky hedgerows, but the attack doesn’t last very long and there’s practically no casualties.  The city is far behind them now, and instead there’s more and more farmlands, fields, forests.  Some of the land has been scorched, destroyed as the Germans left, but some of it is untouched.  The rolling green fields are a breath of fresh air - literally - but Eve loves the forests the most.  Unfortunately, they stick to the farmlands and fields, which is better, she supposes, and everyone settles into the monotony of their travels.

Eve is just starting to settle, finally letting go of the stress of the city, when she hears it.  It’s late at night, actually early in the morning, during the witching hours, and Eve’s on watch while everyone else sleeps.  Lowe is the only other person awake, on the other side of their little camp.  She can’t see or hear him, not unless he yells, and so she’s practically by herself.  The rest of the men are sleeping close by, and mist swirls around their still bodies, Eve’s boots, nearby tree stumps.  She hums under her breath, tapping her foot softly as her eyes lazily scan their surroundings.

She may be bored, but she’s still alert, but only for any signs of German soldiers.  As such, when the demonic, grieving, screeching wail cuts through the air, Eve’s heart just about gives out right then and there.  She jumps, lifting her rifle up and putting her finger on the trigger as she staggers a few steps forward, the rabbit thumping hard in her ribcage with every thundering beat of her heart.  The shriek rises in pitch and Eve blinks in the inky darkness, her shoulders tense and mouth thick and dry with terror.  Then, abruptly as it started, the keening cry vanishes, leaving only the rustling of the men and trees and the pounding of her heart.

No man could make that sound, Eve’s certain.  She’s heard men scream, in fear, desperation, pain, grief, and she knows there is no way on Earth that a man could scream like that, with such volume and horror.

A woman, maybe?  Had a woman just been attacked?  No, no, that scream was not made by a person.  It had been too…not of this world.

Foxes make unholy noises.  Maybe a fox?  There had been that time when she was a kid, clinging to her momma and listening in horror to two foxes shrieking and fighting over a kill.  But as unholy as those foxes had sounded, they were still nothing compared to this wail, now.  A chill runs up her spine, and she spins to see if anyone else has heard the terrifying scream, becoming more unsettled when she sees no one has stirred.  How has no one reacted, woken up?  It had been so loud, left her ears ringing.  She checks with Lowe, but he just gives her an odd look, and she sinks into her thoughts, unease swirling in her gut.

It’s Zuss she goes to a day later, when she’s checked that no one else had heard it, when she’s had time to think about it.  She’s convinced, stubborn in her belief, and Zuss watches her with an amused expression on her face as they tramp through more fields.

“It was the goddamn Hag of the Mist.”

Robbie huffs out a laugh. “Who?” he asks. “Listen, if it was as loud as you say it was, why didn’t anyone else hear it?  Or her?”

“That’s why it’s the Bean-Sidhe !”

Zuss blinks, frowning in confusion, and stumbles as he trips over a hidden dip in the ground.  He mutters a curse under his breath and Eve smiles fondly.  The tables have turned, now.  In the city, Eve had felt off-kilter and Zuss had been perfectly at ease, but now, out in nature with not a single building in sight and nothing but land, it’s Eve who’s sure-footed and Robbie who’s unsteady.

“What did you just say?”

“It’s Irish,” Eve explains. “A banshee!”

“I thought you said it was a hag?”

A groan and a roll of her eyes. “The banshee is the Hag of the Mist!  My mam told me about them, from back in Ireland.”

Zuss’s forehead is still creased as he frowns.

“A banshee is a Faerie Woman,” Eve continues. “She comes at night, and she lets out the most unholy wail you could possibly imagine.  She screams as a warning, or an omen, or something.  My momma told me that the banshee waits outside a family’s home and screams to let them know a loved one is about to die.”

Zuss hums. “Have you ever heard a banshee before?”

“No.  My mom hadn’t either, but she said her mother heard one the night before her brother died.”

Zuss cracks a small grin. “So it’s not real.  Just a made up scary story, then.”

“It’s not made up!  I heard it that night, I swear!”

“I thought you said it appears outside people’s houses?”

She purses her lips. “Well, I don’t exactly have a house right now, do I?  But I’ve heard people scream, I’ve heard animals cry, and I know that was something not of this world.”

Zuss outright laughs at that, and Eve flushes with embarassment.

“Fuck you!” she snaps, but she’s not really mad, even though she does stretch out her stride to move ahead of him.

“Oh, c’mon, angel!” He’s still grinning as he hurries to catch up with her again. “I just didn’t think you believed in all that kinda stuff!”

“What kinda stuff?”

Robbie waves a hand in the air in front of them. “I don’t know, all that stuff!  Ghosts, and goblins.  Should I warn you the next time I see a black cat?”

“Shut up, will you?  So what if I’m superstitious?  Ugh, you’re just like Nora.”

“Oh, Nora doesn’t believe in all that either?  Consider me shocked .”

Eve snorts, turning her face away and lifting a hand, pretending to itch at her nose to hide her smile.

“It was probably just someone screaming.  Maybe artillery?”

“I’ve heard more artillery than you, I’d recognize it in my sleep.”

“Maybe you actually fell asleep standing up-?”

“It was a Bean-Sidhe, I know it!  If you’re just gonna make fun of me, I’ll go back to my own squad.”

“Oh, come on, angel!” Zuss bumps her shoulder. “I won’t laugh anymore.  I swear.  Cross my heart.” And he does, pulling his face into a somber expression, lips turned down and eyes wide.

“Whatever.”

He drops it, back to casual. “So, why’d you say they scream again?  A warning?  Coulda used that before the train, I’ll tell you that-”

Eve’s lips twitch as she fights a grin. “No, it’s not that kind of warning.  It’s an omen, that someone in your family is gonna…”

She trails off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.  She tries to be optimistic, especially about Emma.  She’s heard rumours that the Airborne have gone back to England, have a break before they have to go back into combat again.  So she should be fine.  As far as she knows, everyone else in her family is doing well, except her grandfather.

She hasn’t gotten any letters from home since her stay in the hospital.

“Could it be, like, any of the soldiers?  Since it appeared here?”

Robbie’s voice is softer than before, and she appreciates it.

Eve considers his words for a few seconds. “I don’t think so.  It’s always a family member who passes.”  Her fingers flex on her rifle and she takes a shaky breath in. “I mean, my grandfather is sick, and Emma…”

She doesn’t want to think about that.  Her father’s been having those back issues again - what if they got worse, or something went wrong?

“Hey, I’m sure everything’s fine.  Besides, maybe banshees aren’t right all the time.  You know, like those near death experiences!  You said she’s supposed to show up outside a house, but she didn’t here.  So maybe there’s some give and take here, some room for interpretation, if you will.”

Eve hums, but she doesn’t say anything, worrying her lip.  Would she get a telegram if Emma was killed in action?  Or would she have to wait for her parents to receive it and then send a letter to her?

“So, you didn’t see her at all?”

He’s trying to distract her from thinking about death and instead focus back on this creature, and she takes the bait easily.

“No.  I don’t think you’re supposed to.  All you hear is the scream.”  She shudders again, the wail echoing in her mind. “The caoine .”

“Damn.”

There’s still a tingling in the back of her mind, a worry and dread that someone she loves is dead and she’s just left in a state of unawareness.

“Well, what do you think she looks like?  I’m picturing some old, hunched over old woman, covered in warts!  She’s mean, and she’s got ugly, gnarled teeth-”

Robbie bumps her again as he holds up a hand as if to show gnarled teeth, grinning at her, and she shakes her head with a smile.

“No, no, I think she’s tall, and young, and-”

“No, she has to be short-”

“You’d never even heard of her until five minutes ago!"

[sleepy-steve]

Steddie sw au. I needs it. For the WIP title game.

🤩🤩🤩🤩

from the wip title game!!

ohoho my little secret project!! my steddie sex worker au!!

i've had this one on the backburner for A While. basically since before i even started posting fic this year. i'm so passionate about this idea but i really want to be able to do it justice so i'm letting it cook.

while i don't have anything solidly written, i have close to 4k in notes. everything from conflicts to soundtracks to various looks the boys will have bc this one is gonna span years of their lives.

basically it's a 90s AU about stripper steve and metal singer eddie who meet right before eddie's band takes off and becomes famous. they have an instant connection but steve is wary of falling for a customer and eddie is travelling a fair bit with the band. they keep meeting on and off between eddie's tours and continue to fall for each other but due to a variety of reasons they can't be together.

unfortunately i don't have a proper snippet for this one, but i do have some silly notes and a very very drafted scene from chapter 1!

eddie comes into the club after his band’s first big show in chicago

eddie is shouting a night for the band and small crew using a healthy chunk of the money they earned from their gig bc holy shit they actually made good money from it and had a sold out venue even! 

eddie is gay but still enjoys going to a strip club, he enjoys the stage shows and finds that strippers always have the most interesting stories to tell, plus he loves to shout for his friends to get dances 

the last thing he expects is a male dancer to grace the stage in a pale yellow lingerie set and platform heels with tanned muscly legs for days, swoopy soft hair, and the cheekiest smile he’s ever seen

it takes literally every ounce of his restraint to not hand over the entire amount the band made that night to that man the second he flashes a smile at eddie, but he does throw a decent stack of cash onto the stage

steve comes around after his stage set to thank eddie for tipping and to hustle his way into some more cash (part of the job babey!!) but actually finds this sweet little punk with big doe eyes, a huge smile, and a slutty little waist to be really super charming and actually fun to talk to

it’s to a point where he’s almost sad that the club is closing, but he won’t complain about the stack of cash he made that night (now he and robin won’t worry about making rent that month at least)

MAYBE the first night eddie is a bit drunk and accidentally asks steve to go out with him, or even worse, to marry him. lmao.

“i’m drunk” the voice croons. the beat kicks in. the spot lights flash on. the dancer’s head flicks back, hair jumping softly, long neck exposed, and holy shit?? that’s a Man. “but right now i’m so in love with you” the song continues. the dancer brings a hand to his face, slowly dragging it down his jaw, his neck, his chest, across a soft yellow lace bra. his body is rolling effortlessly with the sound of the music. the rolls start at his chest, travelling down his toned stomach, down his hips, all the way down to his clear platform heel. “and i don’t wanna think too much about what we should or, shouldn’t do” he takes his extended leg, dragging it underneath his bent leg, turning his body around, pole dragging across the back of his shoulder lazily until he’s facing the pole, back arched, ass sticking out, endlessly long legs stretched. his hips swivel back and forth in turn, and he brings a hand slowly up the pole, wry smile on his face. eddie is fully losing his mind and it’s like 15 sec into the song.

[splish--splash--minecraft]

Sometimes you just have to brush the dust off an old wip and go back to your roots

So here have a c!beeduo snippet

Tubbo throws another log into the fireplace before turning and directing his attention to Ranboo. The hybrid has his tongue sticking out of his mouth in his concentration as he focuses on knitting.

If Ranboo hadn’t told him before what he was knitting, Tubbo wouldn’t have had any idea what it was. It looked almost like a scarf, but Ranboo had told him earlier that he’d wanted to knit a hat for Michael since it was starting to get even colder than normal as the days grew closer to Winter. 

It definitely didn’t look like a hat, but Tubbo wouldn’t say that to Ranboo.

…Okay, that was a lie.

“That does not look like a hat,” Tubbo teases as he plops down onto the couch next to Ranboo, immediately sinking into his side and ignoring Ranboo’s protests as he loses focus.

“It—I’m getting there!” Ranboo tries to defend, but with another glance at the scarf-hat, he lets out a sigh. “Okay, fine, so maybe it’s not perfect. I’m sure Michael will appreciate it anyway, unlike you.” Ranboo playfully sticks his tongue out at Tubbo, breaking out into a grin at Tubbo’s offended gasp.

“You’re a dick.”

Ranboo shrugs. “You’re the one that decided to marry me.”

Tubbo is silent for a long moment before heaving a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I did.” He watches Ranboo for a bit as he (unsuccessfully) tries to make it look more like a hat. “You’re still a dick, though.”

Ranboo rolls his eyes though his gaze is fond as he looks back at Tubbo. “Honestly, why do I even try.”

“Beats me, bossman. You ever gonna make that look like a hat?”

“Do you have anything better to do than pester me?”

“Nope,” Tubbo responds, popping the p. He leans further into Ranboo’s side until Ranboo sighs and sets the knitting aside so he can wrap his arms around Tubbo instead. “Hi,” Tubbo says, looking up at Ranboo who smiles down at him.

“Hi,” Ranboo softly responds.

Tubbo curls into Ranboo’s side, looking into the fireplace and being warmed by both it and Ranboo.

---

I started this fic 2 years ago but now I wanna actually finish it. This scene was also written 2 years ago I only recently finished a different scene but one day I will finish this. It's just a bunch of scenes of c!beeduo being soft and also Michael is often there. Most of the scenes (...maybe all?) were inspired by posts from tubbo3091. I miss that account...

[stolitzsings]

💖, 🖋 and 👨‍👩‍👧 for the ask game! (I probably got at least one of the emojis wrong but hopefully they still make sense 😂) - @blitzwhore

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

Can't believe you're gonna make me think of something nice to say about myself 🤣 I've been told I have a very "lyrical" style of writing, and sometimes I'll write a sentence or paragraph that flows really well and just Hits. I love those moments when I feel like I've really nailed it at a word-for-word level.

👨‍👩‍👦 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic?

Most people in my life know I do writing of some sort, but I'm pretty vague with the details lol. I only talk about writing fic with irl friends who also write/read fic (and I don't tell most of them that I write smut, just bc I know it isn't their jam). I told my therapist I write "character studies," because what is smut if not horny character analysis? 🤣

🖋 Post a snippet from a current WIP

Putting this one under the cut!

Ok I was a little nervous about sharing this because it's from a longer AU I've been toying around with, and historically I'm very bad at sticking to longer projects. But regardless of what I do with it I had a lot of fun writing this scene of M&M tormenting Blitz lmao

Blitz could feel his face heating up. “He isn’t— It’s not like—” Fuck, he was losing this one fast. “Okay, so maybe we’re boning or whatever, but it’s just a casual thing, you know? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” Moxxie raised an eyebrow. It was almost impressive how smug he looked. “Who said anything about dating?” “I think he just did, babe.” Okay, now they were getting on his nerves. He could feel his spines starting to bristle.  “Look. It’s just a convenience thing, ‘kay? He gets to have his bad boy fantasy, and I get a reliable fuck who I know won’t steal my kidneys while I’m asleep.” It wasn’t like Stolas would ever really consider a relationship with someone like him. Disowned or not, he was still a royal. And that was fine! Blitz didn’t want anything complicated, anyway. Fucking was easy. It was comfortable. It was all either of them was looking for.  “If you say so, sir.” Moxxie had somehow dialed the smugness up to eleven.  Blitz rolled his eyes and walked towards the door. “I’m firing both of you. And I’m keeping your shares for today.” He was pretty sure Moxxie started to say something in response, but he was out the door before he heard it.  He let himself stew as he made his way down to the parking lot. “Looking for excuses,” for fuck's sake. They were hired killers! What did they expect? He was going to get injured sometimes. And it only made sense to go see Stolas, who knew more about this shit than any of them did. Besides, a quick fuck sesh was good for you, or something. Boosted your sero-whatever levels. Got your blood pumping. It was basically healthcare, anyway. Talk about a bedside manner, he thought to himself, grinning. He made a mental note to use that one with Stolas later. He'd think it was funny.

“C’mere, B, let me take a look at that scratch for you.” Millie had opened up their first-aid kit and had just finished bandaging a shallow cut on her thigh. Blitz looked down at the wounded arm that she’d gestured to. It wasn’t serious— an annoyance, more than anything. He shrugged. “Eh, that’s okay. I’ll just have my guy take a look at it.” Millie eyed him skeptically, like she was trying to catch him in a lie. “You know, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with this mysterious “guy” of yours lately.” Moxxie looked up from his paperwork with a conspiratorial smile. “You’ve been seeing him for everything, even minor injuries. Almost like you’re looking for excuses to pay him a visit.” Oh great, the famous M&M tag team. “What? No, I haven’t.” Even he knew he sounded defensive. “Sure looks that way to me.” Millie crossed her arms and perched on the edge of the desk so that she and Moxxie could give him the double stare-down. Cute. “Are you sure that medical attention’s all he’s been giving you?”

Thank you for the ask @blitzwhore! I'm still answering these prompts if y'all are curious 😊

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

it's 2am so it's tuesday here already, and I can't wait to post a snippet of the alive shannon fic so I'm gonna start tease tidbit tuesday today with a lil buddie moment haha I'm sooo excited for this fic, I hope it'll turn out as good as it is in my head haha

___

He doesn’t know how much time it’s been, when he feels someone’s hand on his shoulder, and almost jumps. He’s sitting on the hard chair in a hospital waiting room, Buck right next to him – it’s his hand still resting on Eddie’s shoulder, while in the other he’s holding a cup of coffee, extending it to Eddie. He’s out of his uniform already, but Eddie’s not sure if their shift is over, or if Bobby just let him go early – because he knows that Buck must have insisted, that he’d come anyway, no matter the consequences, just to be there for Eddie. That’s Buck.

“Hey. Any news?” he asks, and Eddie can just curtly shake his head once. He just notices that he’s been clenching his jaw so tightly he doesn’t know if he can open his lips enough to speak right now. He doesn’t think he trusts himself not to burst out crying. He needs to keep it together for just a while longer. “Got you some coffee.” he adds when Eddie fails to take the cup from him. Eddie shakes his head again. He doesn’t think he can stomach anything right now without throwing it up. “Alright.” Buck puts the coffee cup on the floor next to his chair, his hand falling off of Eddie’s shoulder in the process, now resting on Buck’s thigh, fingers fidgeting nervously. “You wanna be left alone? I can go-” another shake of Eddie’s head. On impulse, he reaches for Buck’s hand, as if he’d leave anyway. Eddie knows he wouldn’t. They haven’t known each other long, it hasn’t even been a year, but in that short time Buck became the best friend Eddie’s ever had. He trusts him more than anyone, and he knows Buck would never leave. “Alright.” Buck breathes out, leaning back against the chair. “Just so you don’t worry, I called Carla, she’s fine staying with Chris a couple hours longer. I can go take over later, if you wanna stick around here.” he adds, and Eddie just nods, so grateful for Buck, so grateful that he cares, that he thought to check in on Eddie’s kid, when all of Eddie’s thoughts are consumed by what’s happening. He doesn’t even know what time it is, he didn’t realize Christopher already got off school. He doesn’t know what he’d do without Buck.

(...) Buck lets Eddie hold his hand, even when his grip tightens and he squeezes it as hard as he can to keep from crying – which he doesn’t notice he’s doing until he looks down and sees his white knuckles. Buck doesn’t complain, just smiles reassuringly, and Eddie almost cries for a whole different reason. The kind of support he gets from Buck, has gotten from him since they met, the way Buck always has his back – it’s amazing, and touching, and so unlike any other relationship in Eddie’s life. He likes to think he’s reciprocating as much as he can, that he’s better at it now, that he won’t ever run again, not from Buck. Somehow, with Buck at his side, everything always seems better and brighter, and more hopeful. Even now, sitting here and waiting to hear if his wife survived the accident – Buck’s mere presence makes him allow himself to hope that maybe, just maybe she’ll be fine, even if it shouldn’t be possible, not with her injuries, not with how her heart stopped in the ambulance once already. They’d need a miracle to happen, and Eddie doesn’t think he believes in those.

___

no pressure tags: @jeeyuns @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @ladydorian05 @diazass @elvensorceress @translasso @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @thewolvesof1998 @shortsighted-owl @watchyourbuck @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @honestlydarkprincess @housewifebuck @wildlife4life @jesuisici33 @diazblunt @cowboy-buck @lover-of-mine @911onabc @giddyupbuck @theotherluciferr @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @eddiediaztho @jesuisici33 @forthewolves

[thebisexualwreckoning]

Mind analysing your poem a little? 👀

Incredibly long post alert to anyone who plans on reading this

Obligatory transphobes and terfs dni. The following poem is about and written by ‘them gotdamn trannys and queers’ and is about beautiful beautiful t4t sex

i am kissing you. on the mouth.

thank you so much for sending this in i genuinely love talking about my poetry so much muah muah muah!!!

Original poem if anyone wants to read it:

Anyway.

Welcome to Prof A. 's line by line analysis of his poem*. So buckle your seatbelts because this is gonna be loooong ride. Let's get started!

*Disclaimer: you might interpret some of these lines differently then i do and that is perfectly alright. poetry depends on everyone's own lived experience and that does not make any one interpretation less valid. i might have written the poem, but your interpretations are still just as true.

I'm going to start with inspirations and the title first because i love providing backstory and talking about other poets. Very specifically one poet that inspired me to write this actually. You can skip this part if you just want to know about the technical structures and literary devices and specific meanings behind the poem

The title was originally part of a completely different short story/prose poetry  (i hadn't made up my mind yet) thing i was going to write but then never got around to finishing. but i just so happened to be going through my old writing (always keep a handy little notebook on hand. it has saved my life so many times) and find the little snippet i wrote and go, 'wait i actually like this very much' and decide to reuse it for something else.

but anyway, couple hours later im doing a voice of country thing for my literature class and analysing poetry by indigenous and aboriginal Australian poets. and i come across this little poem called 'a portrait of a genderkweer on fire'  by a certain Ellen van Neerven (who belongs to the Mununjali Yugambeh people of south east Queensland btw) (go check out their poetry it is genuinely life changing) and it sticks with me you know. it really does. poc trans people writing about their lived experiences as poetry? why didn't I, a poc trans person, think about that!

(no seriously, in all my years of writing poetry it for some reason never occured to me to write about my people. so genuinely thank you Ellen for that!)

now i've already got a first line ive been wanting to use, i am feeling extremely queer and angry because of unrelated transphobia a friend faced and i have a mechanical pencil and notebook in hand.

So i start writing.

(Apologies for my awful handwriting. i was writing while pacing and waiting for the bus)

Alright, kiddies. As you can see, most of the poem was taken verbatim with very few changes to the actual word choices behind the poem. (I will be doing a deep dive into the language as well, dont you worry)

The biggest change made actually is the switch from prose poetry to a more traditional stanza poem. i made the decision to do this actually because originally the poem was meant to be much longer and incorporate the original piece i decided to rework this into.

The quote 'sometimes i imagine what heaven is like' was meant to be repeated at the start of different stanzas which would be written in prose form, each detailing a different phase of queer love in secret, from secret night time affairs (this specific poem) to escape and loving loudly (the original thing i wrote). however, it didn't really work the way i wanted it too and i decided this was fine as it was and started to edit and play around with it a bit.

i changed 'sometime i imagine what heaven is like' to 'Do you imagine what heaven looks like?' and made it the title of the poem instead of the first sentence. the poem itself now becomes the narrator's idealised image of what heaven would be like for them. i go a bit more on depth about this in point 3 of Changes to the structure

Changes to the structure

As mentioned, the first change was from prose to stanzas. I'm about to get full on literature student about this so bear with me

Each stanza has one (1) extra line from the previous one in the poem. For ex: stanza 1 has 4 lines, stanza 2 has 5 lines, and stanza 3 has 6 lines. this was a deliberate choice i made. not to be too english teacher about this but it shows the narrator is coming to some sort of a revelation soon. (i wont spoil too much about this tho. for reasons)

ENJAMBMENTS!!! if you don't know what an enjambment is, it refers to a line break that interrupts the flow of a sentence: usually the line usually doesn’t end with punctuation, and the thought continues on the next line. now, i heavily fuck with enjambments in poetry. which is why i was so eager to use them over here. they represent a kind of stream of consciences here rather than structured thought. enjamments also help in rising tension and drawing the reader in deeper, making them want to continue reading to find out what happens next.

syntax: now the poem is actually meant to be wish fulfilment of sorts for the narrator, where they imagine all the things they wish they could do with their lover. that's why its not written in present tense using sentences like 'the moon shines' or 'the bedsheet are sweaty...'. The narrator is basically telling the moon to shine through his windows and the bedsheets to be stained and his lover to run a finger down his spine. we don't actually have anything written in present tense till 'She holds me close...'

the random spaced out/missing words a.k.a SYNTAX 2.0! because yes. there are certain words missing. ive intentionally left a space between 'left' and 'tramp' and between 'Boy' and 'fuchsia'. there is also a missing word before 'count'. now, if you read my original version of the poem, you can find out what words are actually supposed to be there, but when i put it into verse form, i found that many of the words id written in prose didnt actually fit. but without them the sentence kind of fell apart. so i decided to leave blank space where those words were supposed to go to signal to the reader that something is missing while not actually needing to mention that

4.5. just like the stanzas growing by a single line in each verse, the missing words also increase in a frequency of one (1), zero of them in stanza 1, a single missing word in stanza 2 and 2 of them in stanza 3.

5. capitalisations and Punctuations to immerse the reader more and help with the stream of consciousness style of the poem, most of the poem is written in lowercase with no punctuation being used throughout the only things capitalised are 'Factory Made Cunt', '... Boy' and 'She holds me...' you may have noticed a common string between these words is they are all related to gender. 'Factory Made Cunt' especially was written to put emphasis on the inherent transness of the character while '... Boy' was capitalised for this and to have more of a visual distinction from the black space that follow. 'She hold me...' however was written to directly contrast the lowercase 'god' and how to the narrator their lover is the divine being instead of any so called god (which is weird because i personally am a religious person).

Language choices and line by line analysis:

'moon shine through the' - moon shine over here is meant to show how queer people often can only exist in the freedom on night time and their love is often only seen within the secrecy of moonlight and not under the brightness of the sun. (also all moon deities are queer icons).

A friend of mine also provided the connection to 'moon shine' being a reference to illegal moonshine (home brewed extremely strong alcohol) and how that itself was a reference to illegally transtioning without the goverment knowing/able to get medical stuff

'window illuminating short bristles of': the narrators lover being a trans girl with a buzz cut was an intentional choice to show that gender expression does not equal actual gender. buzz cuts are traditonally associated with men, but also many butches in the community rock a buzz cut as well and its too show that there's no right way of being trans and presenting as a woman.

'her hair tickling' and 'the underside of my nose': im going at these two together since i don't really have much to say about them separately. it's more meant to be visual imagery, reinforcing the two are intimate in some manner but not really expanding whether it's platonic or romantic yet. its also meant to evoke the image of the narrators lover lying on their chest and but the narrator not caring about the fact that they might be slightly uncomfortable but loves their girl too much to push them away

'bedsheet sweaty and cum': confirming the fact that they are in a sexually intimate relationship and are lying post-coital (i cannot believe i just used the term coital. this has become an academic essay)

'stained entangle around the curve of' - some sensual imagery and tactile imagery

'her thigh where my' - more imagery

'lipstick left        tramps stamps on her' - tramp stamp is a reference to how trans women are often oversexualised and is meant to be a reclamation of their own bodies and sexualities

'Factory Made Cunt' - emphasis is placed on these words by being the first capitalised words in the entire poem as of yet. its meant to kind of condemn the never ending discussion about trans women's bodies and especially their genitals and the hyper sexualization of girlcock by fetishisers (not that there is anything wrong with girlcock. this user loves girlcock and boypussy). its kinda like the narrator is saying 'so what if her pussy is surgically made. how does that make it any lesser)

'           count down the' - once again, not really much to say

'knobs of my spine leaving behind a shivering' - more more sensual imagery

'mess of a Boy    fuchsia bright silicone' - just like how 'Factory Made Cunt' condemned speculation on trans women's bodies, this condemns speculations on those of trans men. it also challenges the assumption that just because you are a man or that you top, you immediately have to be the dominant one in the relationship. 'fuchsia bright' was also a deliberate syntax choice. the silicone is the bright thing here not the fuchsia giving the narrator the chance to have a dick which is bright/illuminated moment for them as a trans boy.

'dick still hard whispering lover' - the 'dick still hard' part was meant to be an ironic comment on how cishetero patriarchal society is always going about people in sapphic relationships using dildos and saying that they should just fuck a real man instead of a fake approximation of one (not that they are that eloquent) but the joke is that while those criticising sapphics who use dildos actually need to wait for a dick to get hard again before they can have sex while the sapphics don't have to worry about that since dildos are always hard. also the 'whispering lover' thing was written completely out of spite to prove the friend with the moonshine interpretation wrong when she said that lover cannot be an appropriate term of endearment and to her credit she has since changed her mind and has been very gracious about it and glad to be immortalised in a poem in this form

'in my ear She holds me close' - more more more sensuous imagery along with auditory imagery of whispering in ears.

'leaving behind no space for god' - a play on the popular phrase 'leave some space for Jesus'

Anyway, this turned out way to big and way to detailed for a simple little analysis but once again, i am a student of literature and this is quite literally my life's passion, made even easier since i have direct access to the writer's brain instead of having to make my own assumptions and spend hours researching.

I hope you enjoy if you or anyone else even bothers to read through considering just how much i actually wrote. but yeah, here's my final literary analysis of my poem Do you imagine what heaven looks like?

[lusthurts]

for the fanfiction writing asks, 7, 12, and 74 please <3

ofc thank you :)) fanfiction writing asks

7. Post a snippet from a wip. (I'll post a bit from what I think is chapter 9 of Until We Burn Out!)

Sebastian rolls his eyes and turns back around, but Blaine sees him smiling anyway. “I’ll deny it if you tell anyone I said this, but you guys are the best friends I’ve ever had. It’s gonna suck leaving next year.” 

Blaine’s heart feels like it’s melting, and he thinks he might cry at Sebastian’s words alone. Trent squeezes Blaine’s hand this time, and Ethan looks like he’s going to cry, too. 

Ethan looks around, trying to pull it together. “Enough of this emotional crap. I’m starting to feel like we’re in a soap opera.” 

“You started it,” Blaine points out. 

“We need snacks or something,” Trent agrees. “The munchies are taking over.” 

Ethan sits up, stretching lazily. “Good call. Thinking about those pop tarts Jeff wouldn’t stop eating.” 

“It was the same pop tart for 20 minutes,” Blaine says. 

“You two should get out, go back to the lounge and we’ll meet you there in a bit,” Sebastian says, nodding toward Ethan and Trent. 

Ethan and Trent glance at each other, then Ethan narrows his eyes at Sebastian. “Oh, I see how it is. Take us all the way out here then kick us out so you two can bone.” 

Sebastian sticks up his middle finger, then unlocks the car doors so they can get out. “If that’s the way you want to see it, that’s your prerogative. But get the fuck out.” 

Trent and Ethan both roll their eyes, and Ethan flips them off, but they exit the Porsche and start walking away while Sebastian leans closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

I usually start writing and then write an outline when I get to a point where I'm stuck and/or feel the need to map out the whole story. They range in detail a lot - some of them will be just bullet points of the general thing that needs to happen in each chapter, some of them are detailed descriptions of scenes that need to be included, and some don't have outlines at all. I like to allow myself the freedom to stray from them quite a bit, mostly because I find once I actually get to the point in the fic where I'm following the outline, the stuff I had originally planned doesn't fit as well anymore, so I go in a different direction and rework the outline.

74. Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love?

maybe 'til the veins run red and blue?? it's on the lower end for kudos and comments compared to my other works and it's a fic that feels very short and sweet but I think I wrote the pining well in that one, and it feels very true to canon seblaine to me

[heartofspells]

Ugh, Dani. Why are you coming into my asks and making me cry? It feels so weird to not be posting a new chapter. What the hell am I going to do once it's finished???

But I mean, since it is posting day, and since I did promise snippets...

--

"Someone's having me on," utters Sirius as he gazes across the room with mystified eyes.

Trying to follow his line of sight, Benjy frowns. "What are you talking about?" he asks, sounding bemused, but Sirius shakes his head slowly, his lips quirking up in a half-smile.

"Never mind. C'mon, follow me."

Benjy sticking close to his side, Sirius guides them both across Lily's lounge to the other side where the food is spread out on a large table. He stops and clears his throat, gaining the briefest flicker of eyes before they fall to the table again.

"What do you want, Black?" asks Chrys in a crisp tone. "I'm busy. Make it quick."

Snorting, Sirius says, "You can't boss me around. We're not at work. This is my friend's house. And it's my birthday."

"Do I boss you around at work?"

"You try."

"Hmm. Seems I should try harder," mutters Chrys, picking up a sausage roll and inspecting it like it might be poisoned. "You didn't answer my question. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Thought you weren't coming. Bit surprised to see you here."

"Yes, well," she says slowly, taking a small sniff of the roll before dropping it onto her plate. "I got hungry." Her tone is deadpan, and Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to withhold a laugh as Chrys lifts her head to look at him properly. "And also, that boyfriend of yours is insistent. He's grating. On my nerves. And my sanity. But he doesn't take no for an answer. I can admire that."

Sirius can feel Benjy's eyes turning on him, asking silent questions Sirius doesn't have the answers for. Sirius has the same questions, gaze flickering towards a confused Benjy, the other man only shrugging in response.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about. I didn't do anything," says Benjy to Chrys, but the woman glances at him scathingly.

"I didn't say you, did I?" she barks. "I said boyfriend. Him." Chrys jabs her thumb over her shoulder, angling towards the corner where Sirius finds James standing when he looks around, his stomach twisting in an awful way. "What's his face. Jack, I think he said."

"James," corrects Sirius automatically, his chest tightening uncomfortably. He can still feel Benjy staring at him, but Sirius forces himself to remain as cavalier as possible.

"Right, that's it. He's very pushy. I told him I had no interest in your festivities the same as I told you, but he kept at it. Luckily for you," informs Chrys without a hint of humor, gaze fluttering over the food again. "Don't get used to it. I won't be back next year."

Benjy clears his throat. "That's me," he states, drawing Chrys' attention.

"What?" she clips out, expression unimpressed as she drags her eyes over Benjy. "What are you on about?"

Heaving a sigh, Sirius says, "James is my best mate. Benjy." He points his finger at the man beside him. "Boyfriend."

"The words coming out of your mouth make no sense," declares Chrys in a dull fashion.

"Boyfriend. Me. Hi," says Benjy flatly, like all the air has escaped him. "I'm Sirius' boyfriend."

Chrys looks over him again, eyes starting at the top of Benjy's head and dropping to his feet before roving up once more. Her lips purse when she's finished.

"I don't see it," she claims, turning away from them, obviously done with the conversation.

Sirius turns to face Benjy, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry about her," he dismisses, trying to brush it off. "She's a good enough person, but she's detached from people. Bit clinical."

"Yeah," mumbles Benjy, sounding disheartened. He's no longer looking at Sirius, gaze staring over his shoulder at the corner where James is. "Think I'm gonna go get a drink. I'll find you in a little while."