#katy wroted fic

[the-kr8tor]

It is done

[jovenshires]

the right side of my neck (6.17.23)

happy one year, spommy nation <3

[chenziee]

Second of my three pieces for the @opblondebombshells zine!! It's available for download for free, so check it out! ✨

This one is with perfect illustrations done by @trashchaser, please just look at them they're so beautiful ;__;

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-FI | Commissions ]

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“White Knight” Cavendish in Trouble?!

NEW WORLD, Grand Line | by Absa

Is “White Knight” Cavendish in some kind of trouble? That was the question running through our minds as we stalked—excuse me—secretly followed everyone’s favorite Pirate Prince after anonymously interviewing him about the cursed Straw Hat’s Grand Fleet. (See yesterday’s World Economic Journal for details.)

When we said our goodbyes, we noticed Mr. Cavendish was slightly nervous about the time, as if he had somewhere else to be. Naturally curious what had the usually confident pirate so out of character, we decided to see what was going on.

His first stop was his ship… but we knew that couldn’t be it. And so, we waited patiently for two hours for him to come back ashore—and boy, was the wait worth it! My dear readers, the sight this man made! He was shining even brighter than usual, his outfit flawless and worthy of a front page on the most prestigious fashion magazines and perfectly accentuating his princely appearance. It was clear he put a lot of care into his look today and it honestly made us wonder whether he spent the entire two hours just getting ready.

Having seen him walking away looking like a fashion star, it was quite obvious he had an important meeting (or perhaps, a rendezvous?!) ahead of him. And we couldn’t miss out on a scoop like that.

But then, we couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw him approach—believe it or not—none other than the most hated pirate on all the seas, Bartolomeo the Cannibal!

It was near-impossible to hear what they were talking about, but from the few words that carried over to us it was clear the hooligan was scolding his partner for being “three fucking hours late!”, to which Mr. Cavendish simply shrugged, smelling his beloved rose and muttering something—something that only made the Cannibal throw his arms into the air in annoyance.

Mr. Cavendish seemed unphased by his barbarian behavior, however. He smiled brightly, so much in fact that our visual transponder snail was momentarily blinded when we tried to take pictures. He didn’t even protest when after a few muttered complaints, Bartolomeo grabbed his wrist to drag him somewhere, not at all fighting the violent grip on his hand the entire time they walked together.

Confused by why the “White Knight” would let himself be treated this way, of course we followed them. We were surprised even further when they arrived at an expensive looking restaurant, where the two of them were led to a table that was seemingly booked in advance.

What were they talking about? Was the Cannibal blackmailing him somehow? That was something we aimed to discover when we sneaked inside the restaurant.

Unfortunately, it was not possible for us to get close enough to the pair without a waitress tripping over me and becoming my wife—I mean, without being discovered.

What we can tell you, however, is that they ate a full course dinner together, chatting the whole time. By the way Bartolomeo rolled his eyes a few times, it seemed that Mr. Cavendish talked about himself a lot—but on the other hand, he also looked annoyed whenever Bartolomeo would start talking about something excitedly, pointing at a copy of Straw Hat Luffy’s wanted poster he pulled out of his wallet for some unknown reason.

At one point, it looked like they got into a fight with their faces very close to each other. It almost looked like they were kissing… but as the Pirate Prince and the Cannibal being that close is frankly unthinkable and honestly straight up impossible, we are assuming some secret information was being passed—possibly to threaten Mr. Cavendish!

What is going on between them?

Is “White Knight” Cavendish in danger?

Can he get rid of Bartolomeo the Cannibal somehow without harm coming to him?

We shall keep an eye on them and keep you, our wonderful readers, updated on the wellbeing of your most beloved star in the following issues of our magazine!

For now, we can only pray for Mr. Cavendish’s safety together.

- If you are able to provide us any more information on this matter (or want to become my wife), please contact our editorial team via the News Coo! -

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

79 for shaymien tyvm - katie (the last one was also me you get it)

79. “i like being close to you. you’re warm.”

linked on ao3 || read under the cut || 4k, rated m

summary:

"Would it be okay if we just sat here?" Shayne asks quietly, the exhale of his speech warm on Damien's shirt. Damien scratches over Shayne's scalp and it's like his best friend turns to liquid in his lap. Damien grins. "We can sit here as long as you want." || Or, Shayne's tired after a workout and it leads to a conversation that's been a long time coming.

It's not like they ever plan on doing stuff like this. This happens every time they're both single, every time neither of them have seen their families in a while, every time one of them needs and the other can provide. Damien unlocks the door of Shayne's apartment without a bit of pause. Shayne is at the gym at this time most days, so Damien isn't exactly surprised to find the flat empty. He smiles at the two stacks of video games already set up on the coffee table, the groups divided by whether the game is multiplayer or single player, all ten of them games they both enjoy. His boy knows him too well. They hadn't even discussed hanging out today. 

He's been combing through the snacks in the kitchen for about five minutes when he hears the door being unlocked once again, cracking a smile as he closes the cabinet he was rifling through. 

"Hey man, let me get a quick shower and we can game?" Shayne calls from the living room. Damien makes an affirmative sound and begins transferring the snacks he had collected to the coffee table, barely aware of the sound of the bathroom door shutting behind his friend. Despite the fact that Shayne still shops like he and Damien live together, most of what Damien's grabbed are Shayne's favorites- the guy's always starving after working out, and if Damien gets him snacks now, he won't have to hear about it. Not that he even really minds when Shayne does complain. 

That was honestly the first thing that made Damien think that maybe his relationship with Shayne was different from all of his other relationships, that maybe this is what people are talking about when they say they have a best friend. It's not that he doesn't know who he would be if he didn't have Shayne. It's that he doesn't know that he became himself til loving Shayne shaped who he is. Who would he be without Shayne's hand over the gearshift, laughter ringing in their ears nearly an hour after the joke had been told, Shayne's smiling face colored pretty by the pink of the setting sun? 

He grabs Shayne a bottle of water. He heaves out a breath. He sits on the couch. 

He doesn't know how much time he's lost writing a sketch in his head before Shayne walks out of the bathroom, steam rolling out after him like some early aughts Old Spice commercial. Damien can't help but grin at him; Shayne throws the towel he'd been rubbing through his hair at Damien's head. Damien catches it, throwing it back faster than Shayne is apparently prepared for, as it strikes him directly in the chest rather than being caught in his hands. Despite being the one to throw it first, Shayne seems a little out of sorts. He's got that look to him that he gets after live streams sometimes, the one that's half tired and half overwhelmed, though the look is mellowed some by the comfort of being in his own home. Still, Damien leans back against the side of the couch and pulls his legs up as well. He's not even entirely settled, arms wide to hold his best friend and knees apart to accommodate him, before Shayne is diving into his lap, arms wrapped around Damien's waist, face rubbing into the other man's chest affectionately. Like a fucking cat.

A chuckle punches its way out of Damien's chest at the sight. "You alright there, bud?" he asks, settling back into the arm of the couch and running his hand over Shayne's hair. Shayne hums.

"I like being close to you. You’re warm," he says simply, as if that's all there is to it, like being with Damien is the easiest thing in the world. Damien knows it isn't. The way that Shayne has always disagreed with him on that still makes him feel warm after this many years together. No matter how much time he spends with his best friend, he doesn't know that it will ever feel like enough. Sometimes the sheer luck of meeting Shayne, of being on the same set as him at the same time, it hits Damien in the chest. On a universal level, he was so close to never having this. He holds onto Shayne a little tighter just because he can. Shayne hums again, pressing in and nuzzling his face into Damien's chest.

"You wanna play something or you just wanna sit here, baby boy?" Damien asks, his tone making it clear that he doesn't mind either way, even if the words aren't so clear. Shayne makes a noise of protest and starts pushing himself up, but Damien keeps him settled in the cradle of his hips with a gentle hand; it's obvious from his face and posture that Shayne is only trying to remove himself because that's what he thinks he's supposed to want to do. Damien runs his fingers through Shayne's hair, making the other man relax against him nearly instantaneously.

"Would it be okay if we just sat here?" Shayne asks quietly, the exhale of his speech warm on Damien's shirt. Damien scratches over Shayne's scalp and it's like his best friend turns to liquid in his lap. Damien grins.

"We can sit here as long as you want," he says, sliding down a little bit more so that Shayne's face is against his throat and they're settled chest to chest. He pulls the blanket off of the back of the couch, spreading it over Shayne's back.

"Thank you," Shayne murmurs. His mouth is right against Damien's throat, his breath warm and the vibration of his speech something Damien didn't know he found comforting. He should know, as many times as they've done this.

"Any time, bud. You know that," Damien reminds him, pressing a kiss to the side of Shayne's head. That's not new either, a long time habit from when they were so much younger and so much more scared, broke as fuck all the time and never knowing what the fuck to do about it. Shayne tilts his head up to brush a kiss against Damien's jaw, settling back down quickly. If Damien didn't know to look for it, he might miss the proliferation of rose spreading across Shayne's ears. But he does know to look for it. And seeing it always warms him from the inside out. The idea that he can still make Shayne blush is one he'll always be grateful for, and maybe a little winded that he can. He loves this boy so much.

They don't talk for the next little while; Damien couldn't even hazard a guess of how long, his phone left abandoned on the coffee table and his watch missing entirely. He doesn't always put on everything when he's just coming over to Shayne's, leaving off accessories at random just because Shayne is one of the only people in the world that Damien doesn't feel like he has to present himself well around. Sure, he gives some of his best to Shayne, but Shayne has also been the person to handle a lot of his worst, to hold him after breakups and reassure him when he's scared and all of the bullshit that comes with being just a little bit too codependent with your best friend. Damien brushes another kiss on the crown of Shayne's head just for thinking of it. Boredom doesn't pick at him in this quiet place with Shayne as it typically would. The weight against his chest, the warmth of another body, Shayne, it's all very calming.

"I love you, you know," Shayne says quietly, virtually apropos of nothing. Damien hums, rubbing his hand up and down Shayne's back.

"I know, baby boy. I love you too," he replies, natural and easy. Shayne lays a kiss down on Damien's shoulder.

"I mean it," he stresses. Damien raises an eyebrow even if Shayne can't see it, his hand moving from Shayne's back to the back of his head, gentle as he pulls Shayne up to look at him, pushing back to sit up a little himself. Shayne reluctantly moves to support himself so that he can make eye contact. Seeing the question in his gaze, Shayne sighs. "You're my person," he whispers, looking at Damien with so much emotion that Damien has no idea how to pick through it. Instead of trying, he cups Shayne's jaw.

"You're my person, too, Shayne. No one I trust more than you," he assures. It doesn't seem as if this was the response Shayne was looking for, his head listing into Damien's palm and his lips pursed. Damien raises his eyebrow again, asking Shayne to elaborate without asking aloud. Shayne kisses his palm before resettling into his grasp.

"You're my best friend and it still never feels like enough," he says quietly, no longer making eye contact with Damien. A hard feeling settles in Damien's chest, the easy happiness of a moment ago draining from him. Not enough is something that Damien has heard before. It's never been a good thing.

"Did I do something?" he asks, unable to keep the shake out of his voice. Shayne's eyes snap to his and then go soft; immediately, he gets his knees more steadily beneath himself so that he can reach up and cup the back of Damien's head, careful fingers tangled in his hair. Unable to make himself think any better of it, Damien catches his hands on the backs of Shayne's thighs and pulls, shifting Shayne to have his knees spread across Damien's lap. Immediately, there's relief in every place they touch. Reassurance. Peace. Shayne is smiling at him. He looks fucking beautiful.

"Move back in with me." Shayne drops this suddenly, his gaze still soft where Damien can practically feel it against his skin, and it sends Damien blinking in surprise. Of all of the things he might have thought Shayne would say, that wasn't one of them.

"Beg pardon?" he asks. Shayne's smile falls.

"It's- it's just an idea," Shayne says, looking away from Damien and looking like he wants to disappear in his own apartment and Damien can't have that.

"Shayne, you live in a one bedroom apartment," he says gently, putting it ahead of any of the other protests knocking in the back of his mind, addressing the most practical first. Shayne tries again to push himself up and out of Damien's lap, but he's still doing that thing he does. Sometimes, typically when he's showing any emotion at all instead of handling the emotions of most everyone around him, Shayne tries to recede back into himself. He'll pull in all of his tells and shut Damien out and it's so fucking frustrating, not because Damien doesn't want to do the work of loving his best friend, but because Shayne thinks he has to. Because Shayne thinks this is what everyone else wants from him. For him to be easy. Damien has only ever wanted Shayne. Not so interested in easy. He keeps his hands on Shayne's thighs and Shayne isn't trying particularly hard, so in Damien's lap he stays.

"I miss you," Shayne mumbles nonsensically. After a moment, though, it makes a lot of sense to Damien, honestly. He misses those early mornings with Shayne, the nights when Shayne would climb into bed with him just because they were still talking, the reassurance of knowing that no matter what kind of day he had, he'd be coming home to Shayne fucking Topp. Damien lifts one of his hands and holds it to Shayne's chest, fingers brushing his collarbones through his shirt. Shayne looks at him with far too much melancholy for a face like that.

"How about when both of our leases are up? Mark can find a new roommate, you and me can find a two bedroom, we'll live together again, yeah?" he suggests, surprised then when Shayne's expression twists before he catches himself, smoothing it out into a smile. "No, no, I saw that. What's up, Shayne?" he asks, patient and even. Shayne closes his eyes.

"It's stupid," he says. Damien hums, encouraging him to elaborate. Shayne sighs. "I don't want a two bedroom apartment." When he opens his eyes, Damien tilts his head at him, confused.

"Come on, man, you know I don't really get the whole beating around the bush thing. We've gotten as far as you want to live together again, but I don't know what that part means. Tell me what the problem is." He moves the hand on Shayne's chest over to his side, thumb stroking over his oblique. With a deep breath, Shayne seems to steel himself.

"I haven't been sleeping well lately," he says, the words falling out of his mouth like they're the beginning of something, but Shayne pauses once they've hit the air. Damien nods, silently imploring him to continue. "Best sleep I've had in months was when we were sharing that hotel room in Vegas." His voice is thin, and it only takes Damien a second to figure out why. Their room had been scheduled incorrectly in Vegas. Technically, anybody in their party could have shared the room with one bed and let them have one of the rooms with two, but it was the room Damien and Shayne had been given and they hadn't made any sort of fuss about it. He'd woken up with Shayne beautifully sleepsoft, tucked comfortably into his chest all three days they were in that hotel.

"You want to move in together, and you want to share a bed," Damien says; Shayne's face colors a deep red, but he nods in confirmation. A smile creeps its way onto Damien's face. "I guess we're about to have a lot of sleepovers til my lease is up, yeah?" he asks, watching with delight as Shayne's expression goes from that melancholic fear to overwhelmingly pleased. Impulse control completely with the fucking wind, Damien leans up and kisses his best friend on the mouth. Like that's a good idea. He doesn't even realize that Shayne is kinda kissing him back before he reels backwards, putting space between their faces even if they're still touching more than they're not. Shayne makes a soft noise, quiet protest clear as he tugs Damien back into another kiss, harder but no less full of care. He's delicate with the way he holds Damien's face in both hands, his movements deliberate as he tries to tell Damien through touch alone that he wants this too. That this is all he wants.

"Dames," Shayne breathes out against his mouth. Damien leans up to catch him in another kiss. For this being the first time they've done this, it's the easiest this has ever been for Damien, the most comfortable, the only first kisses he's ever had that didn't feel like a hostage negotiation he was having with his brain to wrest enjoyment from the clutches of discomfort. Of course he's comfortable. It's Shayne. There's not a more comfortable place in the world for Damien's hands than on Shayne's skin, no more comfortable weight in his lap than Shayne's warm body. Damien pulls back again and this time Shayne lets him, makes no move to stop him from burying his face in Shayne's shoulder, breathing out his overwhelm as best as he can. His heart is fucking pounding. Still, he can't help grinning when he lifts his head to look at Shayne. It's Shayne. Loving him is the easiest thing he's ever done.

"Are we doing this?" he asks, smile coloring his words with fondness more overtly than he's ever allowed himself to display. Shayne's grin is confident, but when he speaks, his voice is quiet.

"Please," he says, broad hands warm on Damien's face, and this is it. It is different. His relationship with Shayne is different because he fucking loves him, not just the barrage of platonic affection that has bowled him over for nearly half his life, he loves Shayne like cracking his chest open and letting the other man stick his hand in. In that moment, it needs to be said again.

"I love you," he says, turning his head to press a kiss against one of Shayne's palms. At that, Shayne climbs out of his lap. Not expecting the movement, Damien makes no protest, instead raising an eyebrow at Shayne once he's on his own two feet.

"I'm in love with you. I also want to be in bed with you," Shayne says, pulling him up by the hand. Knowing it's not what he means, Damien leers suggestively anyway.

"Very forward, baby boy. Here I thought you were gonna treat me like a gentleman," he teases. Shayne huffs out a laugh and looks down at his socked feet, smiling at the floor.

"Not what I meant, you asshole. I mean- we can do that at whatever pace, like, works for us? But I want-" Shayne cuts himself off, that deep red taking over his face once again, trailing down his neck. Damien knows exactly how far that blush goes, but that doesn't mean he's not thinking about it still. He wants to taste the heat on Shayne's skin. He wants to hold Shayne so he'll sleep well. He leans further into Shayne's space, not quite close enough to kiss but close enough it definitely wouldn't be hard.

"What do you want, Shayne?" he asks, the rasp of his voice sending a visual shiver down Shayne's spine. He leans his forehead against Damien's shoulder.

"I want you to hold me," he whispers, less like he's afraid to say it and more like he's afraid to break this moment. Damien nods, grabbing Shayne by the hand.

"I can do that."

He leads Shayne by the hand to his own bedroom, strips him of his shirt gently, and then of his sweats, even getting Shayne to pick up his feet so that Damien can take of his socks for him, and suddenly he realizes that none of this is new so far. Well, the kissing, that's new. But holding Shayne's hand? Leading him to his own room? Undressing him? He remembers late nights in their shared space, Shayne's tired eyes strained from practice script after practice script, his energy scraped thin. Damien would take his hand then, get him comfortable, tuck him in. Stay if Shayne grabbed for him, which he almost always did. Damien never minded. Divesting himself of his own clothing, Damien has to ignore the way that Shayne's eyes roam over his chest, his stomach, his boxers. He never thought when they were younger that Shayne would ever look at him like this. Looking retrospectively at all of this, he can't imagine he would have done anything differently if he knew then what he knows now. Who knows how long he and Shayne would have lasted if they'd jumped into this young and unsettled? He wouldn't do it any other way.

The chief sound of the two of them getting settled into bed together is laughter; they've never been able to share a bed without getting into some kind of wrestling match. Staring down at Shayne's pretty face with his best friend on his back underneath him, it strikes Damien that perhaps that wasn't always as platonic as it had felt. He leans down to kiss Shayne again, but they end up having to pull away given that they're both still laughing. His heart feels fit to fucking burst. Just looking at Shayne makes something catch in Damien's chest. Fuck, he loves him. Fuck. Shayne pulls Damien down on top of himself, knocking the breath out of Damien in the form of a surprised bark of a laugh. Grinning against his temple, Shayne runs his hands along Damien's back with eager hands, digging in his fingers in a way that feels good, and Damien groans.

"God, magic hands," he mumbles into Shayne's collarbone. The rumble of Shayne's laugh beneath him is probably one of the best things in the world. Right after Shayne's fucking magic hands, his wide fingertips digging into the knots in Damien's back, slight ache of it smoothed out by his broad palms. He's always liked Shayne's hands though. The feel of them, the weight of them, the look of them, the blunts of his nails, the scar between two of his fingers he got breaking a glass when he was thirteen. There's so much story in those hands. So much story in this boy. He kisses his way along Shayne's collarbone, not with any heat really, but just to move his lips across Shayne's skin. One of Shayne's hands moves up from Damien's back, clutching at but not pulling Damien's hair as he guides him up to look at him.

"I love you," he says again, voice laced with awe like he's lucky just to be able to say it, to be able to love Damien aloud. He gets halfway up on his knees between Shayne's thighs, making them fall a little wider to accommodate him. With the way Shayne is looking up at him, he doesn't think he minds.

"I love you so much." With that, Damien dips down and connects their lips. Shayne is pliable under him, soft skin and hard muscle both giving way to being manipulated by Damien's whims. His hands are hungry as he grabs at Shayne, nails skating across the other man's skin. He doesn't know what it would be like to love Shayne without a certain degree of violence. His love for him has never gone quietly, never been something that Damien could pack away into boxes like everything else, reduce the clutter of his mind and move on with his life. Instead, he built the whole world around him, the chaotic life of a performer in Los Angeles moored by the touchstone that is Shayne Topp. Things, in a lot of ways, make a lot more sense with Shayne's tongue in his mouth. Like, at least now he knows why he never really liked any of Shayne's exes. Just thinking of it makes Damien pull away from Shayne's mouth, laughing into his best friend's shoulder. Is that still what he calls Shayne? They should probably talk about that.

"You gonna share with the class?" Shayne asks, teasing in his tone as he nuzzles his face into Damien's hair. Damien kisses the junction of Shayne's throat and shoulder.

"I guess this kinda clears up why I never liked any of your exes," he says wryly, delighting in the bark of Shayne's laughter that immediately follows.

"I mean, yeah." He could have said anything, really, for as much as Damien is paying any mind to it- Shayne has freckles on his shoulders that Damien has always wanted to count, maybe in the back of his mind somewhere always wanted to kiss, and the opportunity begets compulsion. 

He traces feather-light kisses from one to the next, counting in his head with his mouth otherwise occupied. When he gets down Shayne's chest someways, he gets a giggle out of Shayne kissing one a few inches below where his armpit hair stops. When he gets to one not far from Shayne's nipple, the touch of his lips brings a gasp out of him. Another compulsion begotten by opportunity, Damien touches his mouth next to that nipple, already pebbled beneath the contact. Not wanting to take things too quickly, he abandons the journey down the route of Shayne's freckles, instead pressing kisses on his way up til he meets again with Shayne's mouth. He just brushes him with a kiss then, rolling off of Shayne and onto his back. Shayne tilts his head in question.

"How do you want to be held?" Damien asks, reminding Shayne of why they had moved to the bedroom in the first place. Half hard in his boxers, Shayne takes the pivot with admirable grace, still grinning as he pushes his way against Damien's chest.

"Like this," he says, tangling their legs together and nudging Damien until he puts his arms around Shayne's shoulders. His grip on Damien's waist is nothing to joke about either, his hands splayed possessively across Damien's lower back. Damien presses a kiss to the side of his head.

"I can do that."

[firstdegreefangirl]

This is Pretty Perfect

“It’s broken.” Grace points out the fracture lines on the X-ray of Lucy’s hand and arm. “A clean break, fortunately, so it’ll just need a cast, and maybe a little bit of PT when it’s healed to help regain full muscle function …”

Lucy doesn’t hear the rest of her explanation. She doesn’t need to listen right now. Her head is pounding, her mouth is too dry, and every time she tries to focus on her injured wrist, it sends sharp stabs of pain up her left arm.

Besides, Tim is there, sitting on a vinyl-covered stool beside the exam table. She trusts him to listen now and fill her in later. He’s already been invaluable today, calling in her officer down while he chased down the suspect she’d followed over a chain-link fence. He’d handed the guy — cuffed and ready for transport — over to another pair of officers and helped Lucy sit up to lean against the fence.

Even though her legs and back were fine, he’d moved her so gently, one limb at a time until he could crouch in front of her and check her awareness.

He’d stayed until she was loaded into the ambulance, promised he’d be right behind her to Mercy, and made it into the waiting room before the paramedics had even unloaded the stretcher.

When Lucy had begged for water, desperately thirsty after the exertion of a foot pursuit, the ER attending had refused, in case she needed surgery.

It had been Tim who intervened, asking for a cup of ice chips and holding it where Lucy could reach every time she wanted to fish a couple out and let them melt on her tongue.

She’ll pay dearly for it later, she’s sure. Probably in weeks of extra paperwork once she’s healed, and a whole new series of Tim Tests she can’t even begin to imagine.

But for now, he can do the listening for her too.

Read the rest on ao3 here!

[crime-wives]

will you help me figure out (who i'm supposed to be)

Arabella’s eyebrows scrunch together, almost adorably on her face. “You’re a- lesbian ?” The sheer contempt dripping off her voice is no surprise to Jules. However, there’s something underneath the overt distaste in her tone that catches Jules’ attention. Tinges of blatant curiosity color her voice. and Jules remembers the feeling, the freedom, the fear, of another way. So she nods. “But- but you were dancing with him. Surely that must mean something?”

or the crack fic i wrote for a hallmark movie

1.4k 1/1

read on ao3

[icezansky]

staring balefully at my open word docs that i haven't typed a single word into all day

[myloveforhergoeson]

half of logan's scene, all of carlos' scene, all of the new year's party scene and then im DONE jesus christ im so excited for you all to read this chapter. i've put a lot into it and i hope you can all tell :)

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tags @martsonmars, @palimpsessed, @moodandmist, @confused-bi-queer, @creepyspice, @johnwgrey, @cutestkilla, @nightimedreamersworld, @artsyunderstudy, @whogaveyoupermission, @excalisbury, @larkral, @ionlydrinkhotwater, & @ivelovedhimthroughworse 😘😘 tumblr’s being squirrely today so if you tagged me and I haven’t seen it I swear it’s not personal!

Here’s some unhinged nonsense from the epilogue to my Marta gift-fic, The Wedding Bet, which is complete and fully posted if y’all are interested. If not, have a silly snack version of the fic:

“In my defense, I have none,” Baz admits.

[…]

“It’s also why his anchor sign-off is, ‘And that’s the news.’”

Well. That’s news to me. “I thought that was because… he’d just, you know. Told us the news.”

[…]

“Gaia’s Bouncing Bosom,” Agatha whispers.

[…]

Cockarat dips his head in serene benediction.

I want spicy jalapeno chips next time! Those salt and vinegar ones suck ass.

Then, he scurries off into the shadows.

Tags & hugs to @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @stardustasincocaine @forabeatofadrum @aristocratic-otter @takitalks @jbrrring @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @tea-brigade @bookish-bogwitch @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @letraspal @im-gettingby @orange-peony @annabellelux @messofthejess @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @stitchyqueer @castawaypitch @erzbethluna @bucketfishy @hushed-chorus @yeonjunenby

[stargazerdaisy]

Last Sentence Tag Game

I was tagged by @orlissa and @vesperass-anuna

Last Sentence Tag Game: Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

I finally made some progress on a fic last weekend, so I can include this now.

"But I didn't," she whispered. "I didn't die. He saved me."

"Yeah, but does Tim see it that way?"

Phew, it was a set of sentences that get to the emotion but not the whole story of the fic. But I can bet a few people will guess where this is from and demand more. :D

Tagging: @firstdegreefangirl, @alexihawleys, @fromiftowhen, @kyliafanfiction

[jovenshires]

smosh girlies week: day eight → you gotta take a chance on something sometimes (free day)

arasha just wants to talk to the cute sales representative. spencer lives for the drama.

[chenziee]

I'd like to request katakuri for your 600 followers drabble 👁👁

Finally an excuse to write my precious soft donut boy

Somehow, he was harder to write than I expected but I hope you like it! :D Thank you for the request!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧🍩

(Requests are closed!)

Character request: Katakuri

There were a lot of things Katakuri expected to happen after Flampe took his pictures and spread them over Totto Land. He had expected the jeering, awaited the apologetic looks from Oven and Daifuku, knew his fanclub was going to disband. (Long overdue, if you asked him; he never wanted one in the first place and never understood the purpose of its existence.)

He did, however, not expect… this.

This mountain of love letters that he was currently sitting in front of while Brulee giggled to herself behind him.

“I thought the ‘fanclub’ thing was over,” Katakuri muttered.

“There’s a new one,” Brulee replied with amusement. “I hear there are even more members now!”

Katakuri heaved a deep sigh; he was so tired for some reason. “Why?”

“To borrow the words of the new club president, your teeth are ‘cute and sexy’.” Somehow, despite  Brulee’s serious tone, it sounded to Katakuri like she was about to burst out laughing. But then, her voice turned soft. “We just love you, big bro Katakuri.”

Katakuri didn’t know what to say to that so he simply pulled his scarf higher, making sure not a single bit of the bottom half of his face was visible.

He could only hope these letters would stop coming sooner rather than later.

[firstdegreefangirl]

Will/Angie & "Why do you run away from your problems all the time?"

"Why do they always chase after me?" Will thinks Angie is trying to bite into the words, but she just sounds weary.

He pulls his chair around to her side of the desk and knocks their knees together.

"Maybe that's the universe telling you that it's OK to stick around and fight sometimes."

[didsomeonesayventus]

In regards to last reblog idk i have a lot of works i probably should orphan (and in ff.net's case nuke entirely) but like. Idk man it feels weird and wrong to let go of something i was genuinely invested in and happy with even if it's incredibly cringe like hey i made that for fun i've grown out of it but like. It's still something that made me happy once and i dont want to pretend i wasnt stupid and free and cringe

[gdcatboys]

Techno X Phil X Kristin poly ship 👉👈

Sorry I am new here and you are like the only Technoshipping account that’s active 😭

Hey there! So, this blog is honestly mainly for one specific au, just so we could post other stuff on our blogs. If you want some suggestions for people to follow for technoshipping, here's a list!

Me

Cee

Pastry

Jewels

Peachy said he's been meaning to make a comeback as well!

Uuuuuh yeah, the tag is a little more dead than it used to be, but those are the ones I know off the top of my head. I don't spend a bunch of time in the tags anymore, but I know dsmpshipping is going to be the main shipping tag, and if you're having problems in the techza tag, maybe try the dreamnoblade tag or something. Worth a shot!

[shiranuigenma]

the worst part of reading fanfic is when the fic ends