#Canon Snippets

[westbrook-writings]

It wouldn't do to not chronicle breakfast. Even if she had forgotten until halfway through the meal. She'd packed the night before, as indicated by her wheelycart already next to the door out. It wasn't much longer to pound through the rest of breakfast, and the weasel zipped right over to that cart, to get it outside.

This would be the beginning of the venture... But she now had the help of Big Gideon, the Tauros that Laplace had rented for just this trip, and not only did Lily need to take some time hooking the cart up...

🌸: Yo, Gids, do you need me to get something for you to eat? I forget if you guys can just sorta...

A snort and a little sound from the bull.

🌸: Okay, but I'm still gonna zip in and get a few spare berries for ya.

It's a little longer than it probably has to be, Lily having to clamber her smaller buizel body a little extra to open cabinet doors and such, but a few extra berries for her trip-friend, a hop into her favorite plush-bag, and she is Ready! Now she can at least check her messages and rotomblr between here and Ecruteak. Ah... Let's just make sure, notifications are silenced. If Gideon decided it'd be easier going through Mt. Mortar, having her phone make noises would probably attract too much attention.

[joejhang]

my favourite bits of the unhinged kandreil draft snippet

honestly this is a goldmine of insane moments. love nora for this.

THEIR BANTER THO

good to know neil's always been a cunty diva

it's giving you'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you. r.i.p. kandreil au kevin you truly had infinite rizz.

the way i feel like i've been sledgehammered

andreil still going strong

the way they have me giggling and twirling my hair kicking my feet booktok couples could only DREAM of having this kinda chemistry

i don't think i need to say anything

[mlobsters]

jared padalecki and jensen ackles nj con 2025 - gold panel

team stinky boys ✅ filled with regret

[ink-ghoul]

hermit fanon swap - an art game!

Reblog this to let your followers know they can send art requests to your ask box

if you are a writer you can also reblog this and make little snippets about hermits and their new traits

Vex!Grian and Avian!Mumbo as fun examples

Artless version behind the cut:

[limboni]

"Children in the woods" 5/5

<- Previous

[passengerprincipessa]

what if i briefly lost my mind due to this photo and wrote a 1.5k landoscar strip poker drabble. what if (landoscar, 1.5k words, nsfw)

Sometimes, Oscar wonders if Lando does things purely to torture him.

They’re on the private jet McLaren’s chartered for them back from the FIA Awards. Zak and Andrea are somewhere up in the front of the plane, probably sleeping off their hangovers. Andrea looked like he might puke at any second when they got into the car that morning to head to the airport. Oscar and Lando are at the back, sitting across from Sam Bird, one of McLaren’s drivers in Formula E.

Oscar likes Sam well enough, but he can’t help but wish Sam was literally anywhere else. Oscar feels like he’s going insane with Lando sitting right beside him, buried in an oversized hoodie, his curls still sleep-mussed. Lando keeps shooting Oscar these cheeky little grins, like he knows exactly how crazy Oscar’s felt all weekend.

Their rooms at the hotel were right next to Zak and Andrea and they couldn’t do anything without risking being overheard.

But it didn’t stop Lando from sending Oscar a mirror selfie after his shower, Lando’s towel slung ruinously low around his hips, water dripping down his torso. It didn’t stop Lando from following Oscar into a single-use toilet at the awards ceremony and palming Oscar’s dick through his tuxedo, kissing him hard and wet and filthy, before leaving Oscar panting against the sink, desperately trying to calm down. It didn’t stop Lando from sending Oscar a text in the middle of the ceremony that just read, can’t wait for u to fuck me tmrw 😇. Oscar had to work very, very hard to keep a neutral expression on his face.

At this point, Oscar sort of feels like he might die. He knows you can’t literally die from blue balls, but he also can’t help but feel like Lando’s trying his hardest to test that theory.

Two hours into the flight, Lando announces, “I’m bored.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. He’s not feeling particularly sympathetic at the moment, not when he’s half-hard and trying desperately not to go get himself off in the plane toilet while his bosses are on the flight. 

“Play your Switch or something,” Oscar says shortly. “Don’t you have, like, a million films on your iPad?”

“Yeah, but I’ve already watched all of them,” Lando says, pouting. “I want to do something fun.”

Oscar’s about to snap that he reckons Lando’s had more than enough fun these past few days.

But Sams interjects before Oscar can, saying, “I have a poker set?”

“Brilliant,” Lando says, face lighting up. “I love poker.”

“Why do you have a poker set?” Oscar asks. It seems like a bit of a random thing to just have on you in case the opportunity arises.

But Sam just laughs. “Love of the game, mate. Love of the game.”

Lando tips his head toward Oscar, grinning. “Only real poker heads would understand.”

“Oh my god,” Oscar says, shaking his head. “You only got into poker, like, a month ago—”

“Two months!” Lando says, holding up two fingers.

Oscar has to look away. The sight of Lando’s massive fingers has Oscar feeling things he really, really shouldn’t only two hours into a nine-hour flight.

“Oh, well then,” Oscar says, voice only slightly choked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar sees Lando grin, like Lando knows exactly what Oscar’s thinking.

“You know how to play, right?” Sam asks Oscar.

Oscar shrugs. “Well enough.”

In truth, Oscar’s pretty shit at poker. But not as shit, apparently, as Lando.

Within three rounds, Lando’s down to a measly pile of chips. He keeps playing horrible hands, betting huge on hands that even Oscar knows almost never win. Hands like queen-high or a flush draw when Lando only has one card from that suit in his hand and there’s only one matching card on the board after the flop. Like, Oscar’s not good at poker, but he knows enough to know that Lando’s playing so poorly it almost seems like Lando’s trying to lose on purpose. 

That theory’s confirmed when Lando finally runs out of chips and says, “Shit.” He looks over at Oscar, his expression all wide-eyed innocence. “Reckon I’ll just have to start betting clothes, then.”

Oscar almost chokes. He briefly fantasizes about jumping out of the plane. It’d stop Lando from fucking torturing him at least. 

Instead, Oscar says, “I’m not playing strip poker.”

Oscar expects Sam to back him up, to realize what an absurd idea it is to play strip poker on a plane with their coworkers.

But Sam starts banging his fists on the table chanting, “Strip poker, strip poker, strip poker.”

Lando cackles and immediately joins in, and soon enough the two of them are making such a racket that Oscar’s worried they’ll wake up Zak and Andrea. Oscar has no interest in being on the receiving end of one of Zak’s tirades after being woken up in the middle of a nap.

“Fucking fine,” Oscar grits out. “Fine, we’ll play stupid strip poker.”

The thing is, though, Lando’s the only one out of chips. Which means Lando’s the only one actually having to bet any of his clothing.

Oscar prays Lando will start small. Maybe bet a bracelet or a shoe or something.

Instead, Lando says, “Hoodie.”

So that’s how it’s going to be.

Lando, predictably, loses, playing fucking eight-two offsuit when Oscar has a set.

“Rats,” Lando says gleefully, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto a seat across the aisle. He knocks his shoulder against Oscar’s. “Shit luck, eh?”

“Yeah,” Oscar grits out, studiously ignoring looking over at Lando. He sort of hopes that if Lando doesn’t get the attention he clearly desperately craves, he’ll stop.

But on the next hand, Lando says, “Shirt.”

“Fucking hell,” Oscar groans, under his breath.

Lando giggles. “What was that, Osc?”

“Nothing,” Oscar says, staring dejectedly at his hand. He wishes it were something awful, something he could just lose with to keep Lando from ripping off his shirt, but it’s a fucking pair of kings. Oscar feels like the universe is conspiring against him.

The only blessing is that Sam seems oblivious to whatever sexual psychodrama is playing out on the other side of the table, whistling happily as he looks at his cards.

Lando loses again, peeling off his shirt and settling back in his seat.

Oscar really, really doesn’t want to look, but he can’t help but glance over at Lando, his dark nipples tight in the cool air of the plane, lean muscles on full display. Lando’s eyes spark, lower lip pulled between his teeth, grinning like the cat who got the cream. While Sam’s still looking down at his cards, Lando brings a hand up to his chest, running it over his skin before dragging it up to his neck, fingers wrapping suggestively over the thick muscle. Almost like he’s imagining Oscar’s hand there.

“Oh my god,” Oscar groans.

Sam glances up. “All good?”

“Yep,” Oscar says, voice tight, forcing himself to stare at his cards. “Everything’s really, really good.”

Next to him, Lando lets out a delighted little giggle.

As they go around placing their opening bets, Oscar pleads silently with Lando to fold. Just once.

But Lando doesn’t fold. Instead, he announces, “Sweatpants.”

Oscar stumbles to his feet, praying his hoodie’s hiding his boner. He chokes out, “I have to—” and pushes his way past Lando, beelining for the toilet.

He’s furious as he pulls his sweatpants down. Angry as he wraps a hand around his cock. Pissed off as he starts to stroke himself. 

Fucking Lando. Always fucking teasing. Knowing exactly how to get Oscar riled up, how to make him feel like he wants to say fuck it and drag Lando into the plane toilet in front of their coworker and bosses. Even though Oscar feels like he’s losing his mind, he can’t deny that it’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. That he knows he’ll put up with it every fucking time if it gets him off this hard.

But he sort of wants to torture Lando back.

Oscar pulls out his phone, opens his camera, and hits record. He tries to put on a show, thumbing over the head, zooming in on the wet tip, twisting his wrist the way Lando always likes when Oscar does it to him. But Oscar's so on edge that he’s coming before he’s even really gotten started, spilling over his fingers to the image of Lando on top of him, Oscar’s fingers on his nipples, Oscar’s hand around his throat as Lando fucks himself on Oscar’s cock. Reminding Lando who’s in control.

But as much as Oscar likes to pretend, he knows it’s not him.

Still, Oscar feels a surge of power as he opens his texts with Lando, sends him the video of him getting off, and writes, Don’t touch yourself until we’re home.

When Oscar comes out of the toilet, he’s pleased to see Lando squirming in his seat, glancing up at Oscar with flushed cheeks, eyes desperate. Sam’s not paying any attention, headphones on, watching something on his phone.

“Having fun?” Oscar asks, blissfully relaxed after his orgasm.

Lando squirms a bit, tugging his hoodie over his crotch. But he grins up at Oscar, the gap between his front teeth on full display, and says, “Loads.”

[viviarts-c]

Happy Valentine's! Have a College Mystery Trio Valentine's Day special!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Valentine's Day Special

[ri-writes-if]

What if Oracle, in there dying breath was thanking RO for everything? Not mad. Just genuine happiness that they, and there friends loved them, and for the time they spent together.👀

It would break their heart even more. I can't put their reactions into a couple words in a way that won't feel repetitive, so I'll write a snippet for one character.

I wrote the last one with Vez, so I'm writing this one with Os!

Os cradles you in their arms, a rare lost look on their face. Pain spreads through your body like a fire that devours you from inside, piece by piece. You barely have any strength left, but you force yourself to speak. "I'm happy," you mutter, choking on the next breath. "Thank you. I have your love, and it's more than I could've asked for. So don't make such a face. I'll leave... happy." Your reach your hand up and trail your fingers over their cheek. As it falls, smudging their skin with blood, Os catches it and lifts it to kiss your palm, closing their eyes for a moment. "Don't thank me," they murmur, looking down at you with tears welling in their widened eyes. "We should've more time. I should've done more for you. This isn't how it's supposed to end..." It is. You always knew your story would end in tragedy. They were too blind to see it. Blindfolded by their love for you. Too drunk on the sweet illusion you spun to notice the darkness waiting ahead with the patience of a hunter. You're not scared anymore. You know you'll leave loved. It's all that matters to you. "It's just a pity I have to leave you heartbroken," you murmur. Your vision blurs and darkens, and you can't see their face anymore. "Don't leave then," they beg, their voice broken by the cry they stifle. "Stay. You've always been too stubborn to give up. Do it again, like you always do..." Silence is the only answer they get.

Thank you for the ask! 💛

[felassan]

DA:TV spoilers under cut.

"GENERAL FELASSAN AGE RANGE: 40 CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: The second in command of a resistance army. You've an elf who's fought against the tyranny of your gods, cruel despots who've enslaved your people. You're practical, level-headed, and have good sense for what other people are feeling, which makes you well-suited for your role. Your leader is an elf called Solas, a powerful mage who isn't quite the people person you are. You respect him, and are there to help him with whatever he needs - especially when he needs guidance about being the face of a resistance."

--

"BETRAYAL OF FELASSAN CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: A powerful undead born from Solas's regrets and betrayals (in this case, Solas's murder of his friend Felassan by stabbing him in the back)."

--

"DIVINE SPIRIT OF FELASSAN CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: Originally a spirit of Babe until he had no choice but to manifest physically outside of the Fade in order to bless us with his presence. Thedas didn't deserve him and he is definitely still alive somewhere. The greatest of all time. Is probably the Maker."

ok i made the last one up

(source: Datamined character descriptions from the game files, [source post])

[westbrook-writings]

On The Nature Of Nightmares, or "At Least Before It Just Hurt"

Last time Lily had nightmares it was just because everything felt like poison.

These new nightmares are worse.

These new nightmares focus on the poisonous part of her that never left.

On a poison that now felt like it ought to be righteous. It was fueled by a 'good' desire, right?

Filling this disgusting desire.

At least before it was a poison she could know that she wholeheartedly wanted to reject.

Now it was something she wasn't certain she could ever get rid of.

At least before, when it was about her old body, it only hurt. At least before she just wanted to get rid of it.

Now that her nightmares are about violence, about the drive to protect her friends twisted to horrible horrible visions, there was also a desire she couldn't satisfy.

A bloodlust she couldn't sate.

... At least the nausea felt familiar.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Ok, this is from a Rafayel x Reader. However, the focus in this scene is on Sylus (are we surprised? No, I just like bestie Sylus vibes. The banter is fantastic). I think I do a good job of showcasing that Reader and Sylus are best friends rather than dating. Here it is!

Warning: Cursing

You reload your handgun in Sylus’s car.

“I don’t know why they aren’t aiming for your tires,” you mutter.

The owner chuckles. “Not everyone’s as smart as you, kitten.”

You roll your eyes, pop your head out of the sunroof, and lock onto their wheels. You put several of them out before your phone rings. You drop back down to look at it, but Sylus is already holding it up.

“Painter guy?” he questions.

“Yep,” you confirm.

“Put him on speaker,” the light-haired male requests.

You arch your eyebrow but agree. “Alright.”

You pick up the call, clicking the speaker icon.

“Hey, pearl, what’s up?” you ask.

“I found a cool seashell and I’m also—” he starts before hearing the background noise. “Are you in another Wanderer fight?”

Sylus speaks.

“Nope, car chase,” he corrects.

The line is silent as wind and bullets rush past the car.

Rafayel changes his tone.

A silky smooth voice comes out. “And you are?”

“Sylus, Leader of Onychinus. Nice to finally meet you. Kitten’s been talking about you recently,” he comments.

Your jaw drops as you give your best friend a scandalous look.

“You did that on pur—!”

He puts a hand over your mouth, trying to keep in his laughter.

“I’m trying to help you,” Sylus murmurs, amused.

You shove his big hand away.

“More like sabotaging my plan for a healthy relationship,” you mutter.

The big boss rolls his eyes and smirks, noticing your voice isn’t loud enough for the speaker to pick up.

You deadpan point your gun at him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he answers, grinning. “I’m sure that’ll get him fired up, sweetie.”

Before you can say anything back, the back windshield shatters. You spin around.

“You distracted me again, (affectionately) fucker,” you accuse, moving to your original position.

“I beg to differ,” Sylus retorts. “I think it was your painter boy.”

“Don’t dump your faults onto someone else. It’s rude and looks bad. If your reputation wasn’t so poor, I would tell it to people,” you reply.

“Damn.” You hear him breathe out.

You focus fire on the black SUV behind you. You vaguely hear the boys talking about something from below you. You can’t hear their voices over everything else. Something wet sprinkles across your arms. You glance up and the moon is blocked by clouds.

You duck back into the vehicle.

“Rafayel, can you check the weather? We’re on Highway 47 going eastbound,” you request. “We’re about to get some rain and I wanna know how much.”

The white-haired male glances at you before saying in a saccharin-sweet voice, “I’ll be careful, sweetie.”

Your face drops, and your gun fires. He laughs, stopping the bullet from hitting him.

“Feisty kitty,” Sylus teases.

Another gunshot to his face.

“I hate you,” you reply.

Your best friend raises an eyebrow, humming. “Last time I heard, you loved me.”

You intentionally raise your voice super loud as you turn to start firing at the enemies.

“You need hearing aids, old man,” you yell.

“Old?” Sylus protests.

You look back and smirk.

“You’re halfway there. You got the white hair. Now you just need wrinkles and you’re all ready to go, grandpa,” you answer.

The side mirror next to you shatters.

“Oh shit, back to work,” you comment.

“You’re going straight into a thunderstorm, [Y/N],” Rafayel informs. “There’s a warning for flash flooding.”

Your finger pauses and you glance at Sylus.

He grins at you. “You know the drill, baby.”

“(Lovingly) Asshole, you almost killed us last time,” you answer.

He points out, “You’re still alive.”

“Pretty sure you skimmed off 10 years of my life. Dr. Zayne said my heart rate was off the charts after that incident,” you claim.

Your best friend gives you a concerned eyebrow.

“Exaggerating,” you clarify, rolling your eyes.

“Better safe than sorry. I know you have a heart condition.”

You hum. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

Then, Sylus smirks and nods to the phone.

Your jaw drops, knowing he brought up your medical concerns on purpose. You purse your lips and flip him off. You haven’t told Rafayel about it yet. He grins.

Without warning, the red-eyed man pulls a U-turn. You screech, holding on for dear life. He uses his Evol to flick your phone out of the car. Your eyes widen, as true offense and hurt gleam in your eyes.

Despite the insane speed he’s going at, Sylus softens.

“Trust me. He’ll come looking for you. I want to test him. I wanna see how long it takes him to get here. Can he figure out where we are? I want to make sure he’s good enough for you,” he explains. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

You frown, still slightly upset, but his reasoning makes sense. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, so you let it go. It’s a good idea to gain his approval anyway.

“You have to get me a better one,” you stipulate.

“Obviously,” the tall man replies. “Now, focus up. Let’s knock them out.”

You gain a bit of life back, sitting up in your seat. “More like knocking them out for eternity.”

Sylus smiles, glad you're feeling a little better after his stunt.

(This hasn’t been super edited but it’s good enough lol. I’m sure multiple people will like it lol)

[steviewashere]

Another little WIP Snippet, except this time it's from the start of my second part in my text fic universe. Things get a little meta and a little wild all in one.

CW: Referenced Omegaverse/Aspects of Omegaverse (this is not an omegaverse fic though)

————— Eddie: stevie i’m gonna write fan fic about us <33

Steve: Do I wanna know what fanfic is?

Eddie: for the sake of my brain I need you to just pretend to know..ok?

Steve: Fine. Sure. Whatever.

Steve: So…are you writing about us going to see a movie or something?

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Eddie: mmmmm or something………

Steve: Oh god, what are you doing?

Eddie: sex :3

Eddie: animal style :D

Seen 5 minutes ago

Eddie: do you think you’re more alpha or omega or a beta???

Eddie: this is important information to me

Eddie: I need you to respond now

Steve: Isn’t that alpha stuff just stupid shit that conservative cucks argue about online?

Steve: Where they try to compare themself to Patrick Bateman as if that’s a good thing?

Eddie: …yes…but that’s not what I’m talking about right now.

Eddie: basically do you think youre more

Eddie: …actually

Eddie: don’t answer any of my questions right now I’m taking this into my own hands

Steve: I think I just felt a disturbance in the force. What the fuck are you about to do to me?

Eddie: well you want six kids somehow

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Steve: Eddie…

Eddie: :3

Eddie: youre gonna be bouncing on my knot

Steve: What the fuck does THAT mean?

Eddie: shhhhhhh….daddy says that kitten doesn’t need to worry about that right meow

Steve: Don’t call me that.

Steve: Also. If anybody’s any sort of daddy in this relationship it’s me and I think you know that.

Steve: Also also. You saying that pun gave me the ick.

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Eddie: Who the fuck taught you what the ick means?

Eddie: I’ve never heard you say those series of words ever. In my life. You have never. And I mean never. Said that to me ever.

Eddie: Are you online?

Eddie: Are you lurking somewhere online?

Seen less than 1 minute ago

Steve: …

Steve: Robin forced me to download TikTok.

Steve: The shopping menu is bullshit and super invasive.

Steve: But also people on there are funny.

Steve: And also there’s people on there who share facts about praying mantises and sharks and I didn’t know I could learn so many facts, but I’m having the time of my life. Did you know that hammerheads go hunting by themselves? So, because they’re carnivores, they hunt down other sea wildlife. And they can dig through the sand on the ocean floor to find stingrays to eat. Also, great hammerheads—which is what I’ve been talking about—they have pups once every two years or something and can have, like, fifty of them in one litter! Live pups, too! Not eggs! They don’t lay eggs like other fish do, like clown fish, you know? Isn’t that crazy?! That’s crazy!

Steve: Well…smooth hammerheads have up to fifty, last I heard. Great hammerheads can have, like, up to forty-two. But that’s still a crazy number!

Steve: Imagine having that many children at once?

Steve: I can’t even handle the seven I accidentally picked up over the last few years! They’re not even my children!

Seen just now

Eddie: can you come home from the gym and talk more shark facts with me

Eddie: I love when you talk about sharks

Steve: You should make me talk about shark facts in that fanfic thing of yours.

Eddie: come home and give me an in person example of you talking about sharks. I wanna get the gleam in your eyes when I write about you.

Steve: Okay ❤️

Eddie: I love you so fucking much

Steve: I love you too

Delivered 10 minutes ago

Steve: Also, I looked up what you were asking me.

Steve: You should make both of us alphas. And then you should…hold on I have to look it up again.

Steve: You should “bitch” me. Wow, that sounds really derogatory. Is that derogatory? Side note, how many feminists do you think are into this omegaverse stuff? Do they “get the ick” when reading about bitching or is it like a secretly sexy thing to them that they’re too ashamed to admit out loud?

Steve: Okay, I’m reading some…some Arcane Jayce/Viktor thing on my phone right now and I think you should definitely still “bitch” me. The way this bitching thing works changes so much from story to story, I don’t even know what’s lore accurate to the omegaverse or what’s just people’s kinks taking on new shape.

Steve: But you should do it me on, like, accident. And I should be kinda mad at first, but then I realize that I love the new version of myself. Like so much more than I loved my previous self. And that I am happier in my new body and stuff. And you should delicately eat me out because you’re still nervous about fucking up with me, but then I yank you by the hair and make you choke on my “slick”—why is it called that; I don’t think I like that part very much, but whatever. And I’m all euphoric and shit.

Steve: And then I have a pussy like I was destined to have.

Steve: Okay, some of this stuff is so cool. Also, there’s some depressing stuff in this ship’s tag.

Seen just now

Eddie: got a boner too fast. Nosebleed.

Eddie: also. babe, I think you might have something to work through, maybe.

Eddie: and also I feel like I just created a monster. are you reading fics right now instead of coming home?

Steve: I’m eating a cheesy Gordita crunch in my car while reading and sipping on my large ass Baja blast. So…yeah, I guess.

Steve: I’ll be done soon, though. It’ll be fine.

Delivered 2 hours ago

Eddie: so are you coming home now?? do I need to report you missing???

Steve: Do NOT read the playlist jayvik fic. Do not do it. Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up from crying I am not okay right now.

Eddie: oh no you discovered it

Eddie: just…just get yourself calmed and come home when you can please don’t drive with tears in your eyes I don’t need you dying

Delivered just now

Steve: You are not allowed to kill either of us in your fanfic.

Steve: But I still want you to do that bitching thing.

Steve: Please.

Eddie: I don’t wanna push you in any sort of way…but do you think that we should maybe have a conversation about why you’re so fascinated with that part?? It’s starting to not sound like a kink.

Eddie: in fact, I feel like I have it on good authority that this wasn’t a kink to start with.

Steve: Maybe, but I’ve gotta focus on driving now, so I’m not worried about any of that stuff right now. Bringing you a Doritos taco. And your piss colored Mtn Dew.

Steve: You should suck my dick when I get home to make me feel better.

Steve: After you eat and brush your teeth, though. I don’t need nacho cheese powder on my dick.

Delivered just now

—————

[gilmorenights]

More lover’s oath by @dasketcherz because this au is genuinely taking up all of my brain space 😔

[sandflakedraws]

so i'm readin various stuff on the xray cause this silly film is my current source of joy and

wait

hold up.

what...

WAHT ??? WHAT

XRAY CAST DESCRIPTION????

YEARS???

xrAY dESCRIPTION eXPLaIN!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN FLOYD WAS HELD CAPTIVE FOR YEARS, WHAT SECRET INFO DO U HAVE ACCESS TO???

[queenbasicallynotbasic]

post-Order 66 AU where Obi-Wan breaks into the Fortress Inquisitorius for some (very important) reason or the other and finds Cody in a cell.

He desperately holds Cody's face through the bars and both of them start tearing up.

Obi-Wan tries to break Cody out, only for Cody to tell him to run, it's a trap.

The door at the end of the hallway opens to reveal Darth Vader.

"The perfect Jedi, with his attachment," Vader steps forward. "Tell me, Obi-Wan, what would the Council say if they could see you now?"

Obi-Wan turns towards Vader.

"When his time comes, I will let Cody go to the Force, Anakin," he unclips his lightsaber from his belt, "something you could never do with Padme."

A menacing, heavily modulated growl. "DO NOT SPEAK OF HER!" Vader ignites his lightsaber, and red light illuminates him from below. He points an accusing finger at Kenobi. "YOU ARE THE REASON SHE IS DEAD!"

The hand around Obi-Wan's lightsaber twitches. "I am not," he calmly responds. "And neither are you, Anakin. Padme died of a weak heart. She died believing in you-"

"LIAR!!"

Vader lunges. Obi-Wan ignites and raises his lightsaber just in time to block a blow which would have taken his head off.

"Now, Obi-Wan," Vader pushes in. Kenobi pushes back. "Now you will feel the pain of losing the one you love."

[magenta-somethings]

trick or treat!

treat! (aka a snippet fic i ended up writing on the bus about tim asking yj for advice re: the huntress/nightwing/oracle situation)

“So, wait, Nightwing is dating Huntress?” asks Cassie.

“I don’t know what they’re doing!” Tim replies. “That’s half the problem.”

“And do we like Huntress?” asks Cissie.

“Yes—no—it’s complicated,” Tim replies. He’s doing a lot of replying and he doesn’t entirely like it—more out of an instinctual avoidance of being on the interrogatee side of an interrogation than anything else—but he had been the one to ask for advice. Which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake, but it’s one he’s now committed to. “I do like her. But she struggles with following Batman’s rules. I mean, we all do, but she struggles with the no killing aspect of it specifically.”

“But has she, like, actually killed anyone?” Kon asks. He’s floating in the air, cross-legged, with one of Cassie’s pillows hugged to his chest. It’s kind of cute—especially with his oversized Superman t-shirt, because, thankfully, he doesn’t actually sleep in his costume.

Not that Tim would ever say it’s cute out loud. 

“No, not since we started working together properly.”

Kon shrugs. “Then I don’t see the problem? Yeah, it’s majorly screwed that she’s killed but it also sounds like she’s changed." Tim might be imagining it, but he almost sounds wistful? "And being able to stand up to the bat seems like a point in her favour more than anything.” He pauses. “Plus, based on the picture you have of her, she’s a total babe.”

Tim just knew visual aids would be a mistake. This is on him for not being able to resist a corkboard. Cassie, acting on behalf of the team, throws a pillow at Kon. It does smack him in the face—he still needs to practice his catches—but before it can fall to the ground his TTK catches it and now he’s hugging two pillows and maybe that backfired slightly. 

Tim puts his corkboard face-down on principle. Huntress probably doesn’t even know he has the photo—her foot in the middle of kicking a bad guy’s face, her fist breaking the jaw of another. He doesn’t have much time for photography anymore, but sometimes he just itches to go out and capture Gotham and its heroes.  The photo of Nightwing, meanwhile, is him shoving his face full of pizza, a hand reaching out to try, in vain, to block the camera lens. 

Oracle, of course, is represented by her icon. He still hasn’t started thinking of her as Barbara.

“It’s not all about looks,” says Cassie. “Even if she is really hot.” She pauses. “Like, really hot.”

“Okay!” interrupts Tim. “That’s enough of that.” He did not need his friends calling his co-worker hot.

“Yeah, it really doesn’t matter,” agrees Cissie, and of course he can count on her to have his back. “Especially since Nightwing is way hotter than her.”

A part of Tim dies inside. Just shrivels up and expires, there and then.

“Okay, but Nightwing is hotter than, like, everyone,” points out Kon. That part of Tim is currently being cremated. “And cooler, and more badass. Or whatever.” 

“Most documentaries on 20th-21st century heroes talk about Nightwing’s attractiveness at least once,” says Bart offhandedly from the corner where he’s playing Polyp-mon. It’s one of his first contributions to the conversation. The part of Tim that died earlier is now having a funeral held in its honour. Suzie, at least, is still absorbed in the game. She’s spent the conversation peering over Bart’s shoulder, occasionally asking him to catch a specific polyp-mon. Though he doubts her additions would be worse than what is currently passing for advice.

“Guys, please,” Tim says, desperately trying to course-correct the conversation. God, it’s so much worse having them talk about how hot this co-worker is. “Stay focused on the problem.”

“Is that you like Oracle more?” asks Cissie.

Tim hesitates. Oracle is one of the most impressive people he knows, and getting to actually spend time with her—especially when it’s her teaching him about tech—is awesome, and she’s saved his life more times than he count or probably even knows about. But he’s only known her face-to-face for a short time, while he’s been fighting side-by-side with Huntress almost as long as he’s been acting properly as Robin. 

“That’s not what’s important,” he deflects. “What’s important is what’s best for Nightwing.”

“Right,” says Cissie. 

“What if they all just dated each other?” asks Bart

“You can do that?” asks Kon, at the same time as Tim says, “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t fix it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that would make it worse.”

The silence stretches. 

“Well, good luck with that!” declares Cassie. “Now, who wants to watch Xena?”

Tim sighs, but let’s the hang-out move on. What’s happening with Nightwing, Huntress and Oracle is such a mess that there’s no way a bunch of teenagers are going to be able to untangle it, especially when most of them don’t have much experience in romance or life or both. Tim certainly doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to having non-messy relationships. He’s sure Dick will figure it out. Eventually.

Kon floats down next to him as Cassie and Cissie go looking for the VHS, with that grin on his face that Tim just knows means he’s come up with some terrible joke. “Look on the brightside! When the divorce happens, you’ll have not one, not two, but three Christmases. Not four, because I’m pretty sure Batman doesn’t celebrate, but three is still pretty good.” 

“Yay,” says Tim, voice as flat as he can make it.