#alli writes shit

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day thirty-one

"I won't let you down."

fandom: 9-1-1

word count: 655

a/n: i said that if i caught up to 9-1-1 before the end of october i would write a bucktommy fic for my final entry and what am i but a woman of my word... i rarely pull the "please be nice to me this is my first time writing this ship" card but i am pulling it tonight

A dislocated shoulder wasn’t the worst injury Buck had gotten on the job, considering the number of near-death situations he’d been in. And that one time he actually had died. 

But when Tommy had offered to play nurse and come over for the night, he wasn’t going to say no. 

As Tommy shut the door behind him, Buck said, “Thanks for offering to stay over. I’m pretty sure my shoulder is gonna be fine, but…” He raised his eyebrows, hesitating to invoke his name in his own apartment. 

“I’m more concerned about you hurting yourself again than a cowboy curse, Evan.” 

“Hey, there’s no slipping hazards here.” Buck glanced around his apartment. “Unless Billy Boils has another trick up his sleeve.” 

Tommy crossed his arms with a laugh. “As far as I can tell, no pumpkin guts here.” 

“Yeah, there was a reason I left that part out.” 

He set a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Just go get comfortable. I’ll order in. Pizza sound good?” 

“I can do pizza.”

Buck made his way to the living room and plopped down on the couch. The rough landing sent a twinge of pain through his shoulder, making him wince. Okay, yeah, maybe he’d busted it worse than he thought. 

He checked the group chat to see what was happening - thankfully, not roasting his slip. As he closed it, his finger hovered over the browser app on his phone. Maybe this was the perfect time to do more research. 

But before he could, he heard Tommy coming in from the kitchen. “Here’s an ice pack.” He stepped in front of him to press it into his shoulder, one hand holding his other arm. Any thoughts of Googling “how to break curses from spirits you pissed off on accident” evaporated as he watched him try to gauge the best place to rest it. “That good?” 

“Mm? Oh, yeah.” It took a moment for Buck to realize he ought to put his own hand there to hold in place, their fingers brushing for a moment. “Thanks.” 

“You’ll just have to hold it there for twenty minutes, and by then the pizza will be here.” Tommy joined him, sitting on his right side.

“Good.” He set his phone down on the coffee table. “This is not how I imagined spending the night before Halloween.” 

“Oh, really? What did you have in mind?” Tommy asked. 

“I don’t know.” Buck shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. “Maybe find a horror movie marathon to pass the time. Maybe even inviting my boyfriend over and pretending to be scared to have an excuse to hold onto him - because obviously I wouldn’t be scared by a silly horror movie.” 

“Right,” he said, voice full of amusement. “Says the man who believes he’s cursed.” 

“Curses are real, B-movie monsters are not,” he retorted. Gesturing to his shoulder, he added, “Proof.” 

“It’s proof of something, alright.”

Buck huffed. “Well, he’s taken his revenge on me for tonight. Hopefully, he’ll leave me alone now, especially since you’re here to protect me.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Tommy said, “I can do a lot of things, but I’m a firefighter, not a Ghostbuster.”

He grinned. “You don’t have to bust any ghosts. But I know Billy Boils won’t even try anything with you having my back.” 

“Well, I won’t let you down.” He leaned to kiss him, gently at first. 

But Buck deepened the kiss, letting himself get carried away. He attempted to cup his face, but moved his shoulder wrong and pulled away. 

Tommy’s face was full of concern as he looked over him. “Oh, God. You good?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He moved the ice pack back into place. “There go our movie night plans.” 

“We can just be very careful. Though.” He stood up. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen.” 

“Alright.” 

As he walked away, Buck closed his eyes and leaned his head back. 

Yeah, he was a fan of Nurse Kinard.

[buddie-buddie]

Buck drums his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of his Jeep, his left knee bouncing as he waits out the red light in front of him. His shift ended half an hour ago, but the tension in his shoulders hasn’t budged. He thought the drive across town to Tommy’s would help— windows down, music blaring— but it’s done nothing to quiet the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin.

The light turns green, and Buck presses the gas pedal a little too hard, the Jeep lurching forward. Driving through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Tommy’s neighborhood usually settles him, quiets his mind in the way that only the promise of strong arms and that warm, familiar smile can. But tonight, even the hum of crickets and the soft glow of porch lights can’t soothe the unease twisting in his gut.

He pulls up in front of Tommy’s house and sits for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel. He stares at the front door, watching as a couple of moths flutter around the porch light Tommy always leaves on for him. It’s something so small, yet it hits him right in the chest every time. It makes Buck’s skin flood with warmth, makes those three little words rise in his chest until he can practically taste them on the back of his tongue.

In every other relationship, those words felt like a lifeline— something he had to cling to, something that had to be said and something that had to be heard, just to make sure he wasn’t standing on shaky ground. He found himself constantly waiting for that reassurance, always needing to feel wanted. Even when the words came, they didn’t bring the safe, steady feeling he was so desperate for. Instead, they left him restless, chasing a sense of belonging that slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.

It’s different with Tommy.

He doesn’t feel rushed, doesn’t feel pressured. He doesn’t feel like there’s a countdown ticking in the background, waiting for the moment those words will finally fall from his lips or Tommy’s. He’s content to let it be what it is, for as long as it takes.

Because with Tommy, it doesn’t have to be said. He can feel it.

He hears it in the quiet moments that hang between them on slow mornings, when they’re curled up together in bed, limbs tangled beneath the sheets, the world outside forgotten. He feels it when they’re in the car together, when Tommy’s left hand rests on the steering wheel and his right hand settles on Buck’s thigh like it belongs there.

It’s in the small, thoughtful things— like the porch light, glowing softly and guiding him home. It’s in the way Buck’s favorite coffee quietly appeared in Tommy’s cabinets, how his fancy, hard-to-find body wash showed up on the ledge in Tommy’s shower one day.

It’s in the way Tommy leans in close, steadying him when his mind runs too fast, grounding him without a word. How he always remembers the little things— like Buck’s complicated coffee order from the cafe down the street from the loft, or how he always wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night. 

It’s in the glass of water that’s always on the nightstand next to Buck’s side of the bed. It’s in the feel of Tommy’s hand on the small of Buck’s back when they’re out, a touch that says I’m here without needing to say anything at all. How, when Buck has had a hard day, Tommy makes space— quiet, gentle space— for him to just be, without asking for anything in return.

It’s in those little moments, tucked away between heartbeats and breaths, where words aren’t needed. 

Tommy leaves the porch light on. And even if they haven’t said as much yet, it feels like love, all the same. 

Buck leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a second, exhaling slowly through his nose. The knot of unease in his chest hasn’t disappeared, not entirely, but it’s loosened just enough for him to get a deep breath and turn the engine off. 

He finally gets out of the car, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. He walks up the path to the front door, the sound of his boots quiet against the brick. The porch light casts a warm glow over everything, and Buck finds himself smiling, just a little.

Before he can dig out the key Tommy gave him a few weeks ago, the door swings open, and there’s Tommy— hair mussed, barefoot, wearing one of his old threadbare t-shirts that’s too soft for its own good. Buck’s heart unclenches just a little. 

“Did they let you out early for good behavior?” Tommy says by way of greeting, his mouth curling into that little lopsided smirk Buck loves so much. He steps to the side, his back against the open door to let Buck through.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Buck mutters, pausing as he steps inside to meet Tommy’s lips in a soft kiss. While Gerrard didn’t technically let him out early, it was the first time in the last few weeks that he didn’t approach Buck in the last twenty minutes of the shift to saddle him with a ridiculously tedious task–– the kind that takes at least an hour–– and tell him he wasn’t to leave until it was finished. Which meant that Buck actually left the station on time for the first time in the better part of a month. 

“Hi, baby,” Tommy murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck exhales, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit as he leans into Tommy, chasing the kiss for a moment longer. His hands come to rest lightly on Tommy’s hips, grounding himself in the familiar feel of his steady, solid warmth.

“Hi,” he whispers back, his voice low and tired. He lingers there, forehead pressed gently against Tommy’s, letting the moment stretch between them. 

Tommy pulls back slightly, his thumb brushing along Buck’s jaw in a way that feels like both a comfort and a promise. “Rough shift?”

“Uh,” Buck toes his sneakers off, leaving them beside the door next to Tommy’s boots. “Weird one,” he says, trying and failing to suppress the weariness that pulls at the corners of his voice.

He lets his bag drop to the floor beside his shoes as Tommy turns to close the door with a quiet click. Buck watches as he locks up and flips the porch light off, a quiet confirmation of Buck’s suspicions that Tommy turns it on for him, a 60-watt beacon guiding him here, guiding him home.

The realization settles deep in Buck’s chest, spreading warmth through him like a slow-burning fire. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of being cared for like this— so subtly, so consistently, without any sort of fanfare or obligation. It’s not something he had to ask for or fight to get. It’s just here, waiting for him.

Buck swallows hard, the tight knot of exhaustion and frustration from his shift loosening just a little more. Tommy catches the look on Buck’s face, his expression softening as he steps back into Buck’s space.

“C’mon,” Tommy murmurs, his hand finding the small of Buck’s back, the same familiar touch that grounds him every time. 

Buck leans into the touch, letting Tommy steer him toward the couch. He slumps onto it, dropping his head into his hands with a low sigh. Tommy sits beside him, close enough that their knees bump, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s good at that— letting the silence sit until Buck is ready to speak.  

“Gerrard hugged me,” Buck blurts out, his hands tugging at his hair. 

Tommy goes still for a second, and then— “He hugged you?” There’s disbelief in his tone, and when Buck lifts his head to meet Tommy’s eyes, he sees that crooked smirk forming again, fighting to stay serious.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Buck mutters, voice tight with frustration. “He— He told me he’s gonna take me ‘under his wing.’” He tears his hand from his hair long enough to make air quotes around Gerrard’s words.

Tommy blinks. Then snorts.  

“Under his wing?” Tommy echoes. “That’s where all the love and joy of life go to die.”  

Buck huffs out a laugh. He leans back against the couch cushions, his hands falling to his lap. “You’re not helping.”  

“I’m not trying to help yet,” Tommy replies, smirking again. He nudges Buck’s knee with his own. “I’m trying to make you laugh so you don’t spiral. Looks like I’m halfway there.”  

Buck shakes his head, but the small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth anyway.  

“Okay, seriously,” Tommy continues, his voice softening. “What happened?”  

Buck sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I– I don’t know. He had us line up at the start of shift. Went down the line and was his… usual self to everyone else. And then he got to me and– and…” Buck’s voice trails off, discomfort curling in his gut as he relives the moment. “He– He told me I saved his life and then he hugged me.” He drags his hands down his face. “And now, suddenly, I’m his pet project.”  

Tommy’s brow furrows. “He really hugged you?”

Buck makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Yeah. A hug. Not, like, a friendly slap on the back, but a full-body, completely awkward, get-in-here-son hug. You should’ve seen everyone else’s faces. I thought Eddie was going to keel over.”  

Tommy lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “That’s... something.” He leans back, resting an arm along the top of the couch behind Buck. His fingers slip into Buck’s hair, running through his curls as the silence hangs between them. Buck relaxes into the touch, tipping his head toward Tommy, leaning into the warmth and steadiness of his hand.

“Under his wing,” Buck mutters again, almost to himself. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re officially his new favorite. Congratulations, babe. You’ve leveled up.”

“Oh, yeah. Lucky me,” Buck deadpans, dragging his hands down his face. “Just what I’ve always wanted—mentorship from a guy who makes my skin crawl.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers still threading gently through Buck’s curls. The silence between them stretches, comfortable but charged, like Tommy is waiting, watching, reading Buck the way he always does. The humor fades from his face, replaced by something softer, more careful. “Okay,” Tommy murmurs after a moment, his fingers brushing lightly along the nape of Buck’s neck. “What’s really going on?”

Buck freezes for a second, caught between wanting to say it and wanting to shove it down. Tommy always has this way of coaxing things out of him without even trying. He approaches him with equal parts gentleness and insistence, like peeling back layers until Buck has no choice but to lay it all bare.

“It’s nothing,” Buck tries, voice thin.

“Evan.” Tommy’s voice is low, steady, patient. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the back of Buck’s neck. “Talk to me.”

Buck blows out a breath, frustrated more with himself than anything. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair as if it might shake the thoughts loose.

“I don’t even know that I meant to save him,” Buck admits, his voice tight. “I can’t... I can’t tell if I pushed him because I heard the blade, or if I just— snapped.”

Tommy stays quiet for a beat, letting the weight of Buck’s words settle between them. His hand doesn’t leave the back of Buck’s neck, fingers still working in soothing circles. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Both?” Buck glances at him, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugs, his expression steady but kind, his gaze warm with quiet understanding. “You’re not exactly known for your patience, Evan. But that doesn’t mean your instincts aren’t solid. Maybe you snapped, and maybe you also saved his miserable life at the same time. Those things don’t cancel each other out.”  

Buck lets the words sink in, his jaw tightening as he rolls them over in his mind. He exhales slowly, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit. “I– I don’t know. I keep thinking, what if– what if it wasn’t instinct? What if it was just... me losing control?”

Tommy’s thumb strokes a slow path along the back of Buck’s neck, and he leans in even closer, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re human,” Tommy says, his voice gentle. “You get angry. You hit your limit. But you wouldn’t have let him die, even if you wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Buck huffs out a wet laugh, shaky but real. “I definitely wanted to knock his teeth out.”

Tommy grins, brushing a kiss against Buck’s temple. “Rightfully so.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into the warmth of Tommy’s presence, the steadiness of his voice, the way his hand stays firm and reassuring on the back of his neck.

“I just don’t want him anywhere near me,” Buck admits, well aware of how petulant and childish he sounds— and yet, he doesn’t care. Something about Tommy makes it easy for Buck to drop the mask he wears everywhere else, to let the frustration and helplessness spill out without fear of judgment. With Tommy, he doesn’t have to be composed or tough all the time; he can just be— messy, tired, and human. Tommy’s presence is like a safety net, one that will catch him no matter how ridiculous he sounds or how tangled his emotions get.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this,” Buck mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You will,” Tommy says without hesitation. “Keep your head down, lean on all of us who’ve got your back, and wait him out. He's going to burn out or screw up sooner or later. You’ve just gotta outlast him.”  

Buck huffs a tired, bitter laugh. “I’m not good at keeping my head down.”

“I know,” Tommy murmurs, his lips brushing the top of Buck’s hair in a soft, steadying touch. “But you’re good at the important stuff— like saving people. Even assholes who don’t deserve it.”

Buck closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy, the familiar weight of his hand still resting on the back of Buck’s neck. The knot in his chest loosens just a little more, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit under the warmth of Tommy’s words. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m getting tired of being good at that.”

Tommy’s arms tighten around him, pulling Buck closer. “That’s okay, too,” Tommy says simply. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, low and steady and full of quiet, unwavering conviction. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

Buck closes his eyes, sinking deeper into Tommy’s embrace. This time, when those three little words rest on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t swallow them down. Even though he knows they won’t ever be enough, he can’t think of anywhere better to start. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers, the words slipping out like an exhale, simple and unforced.

For a moment, Tommy stays perfectly still, as if letting the words settle between them. Then, slowly, a smile curves against Buck’s temple. 

Tommy presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s birthmark, soft and reverent. “I love you, too.” 

And just like that, everything feels lighter. Not perfect. Not fixed. But it’s enough.

It’s quiet between them, the kind of silence Buck used to hate. The kind he used to scramble to fill with words, desperate to bridge the gaps. But here, in Tommy’s arms, the silence feels different. It feels easy. It feels safe. 

It feels like home.

also on ao3

[theactualsunshinechild]

I think Aventio and Screwtio shippers shouldn't fight. After all, Ratio has two hands!

That's right. Two hands.

One for his chalk.

One for his codex.

Both of which he's holding in an embarrassed death grip as they chat away with each other about him.

[see-arcane]

I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. [...] I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.

Jonathan, no, don't give into the guys' peer pressure noooo

It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men.

[...] Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read.

Mina, no, you have to communicate now, in the present, you're you, you can un-acquiesce, you can break the curse, just talk to Jonathan now, noooooo

GOD this is masterfully infuriating work, Bramward Stokerbroker. Here we have on paper just how much this new status quo--the 'proper' status quo--grates against both of them. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth with the effort to keep smiling and nodding through this unanimous* decision. They know it is For Mina's Sake that they are doing this. Sure, they both hate every second of it and it breaks a loving rhythm they've shared for years together, BUT THEY KNOW BETTER NOW :)))

(Lucy is screaming in the afterlife. Renfield has his head in his hands.)

But all that aside, a thing I'm hooked on this read-around is the fact that, hey. We are reading this. Spoiler, but the entirety of Dracula is actually compiled together by Mina after the story closes. These are all written documents we're reading that the entire group has laid eyes on already. With everyone (bar Art and Quincey for some reason, thanks Mr. 3 Lines Allowed and Mr. Laconic :/, Jack is just talking and waiting for Mina to transcribe now, augh) on duty in some way to record the progress of things so that they can be read later as reference...I have to wonder now.

How honest are these pages the Harkers are putting down now versus what they wrote before joining Van Helsing's Scooby gang? Neither one is writing in shorthand. It's all plain English.

I had a class once where one of the assignments was to keep a daily journal. One page filled out every single day, about anything. Anyone want to guess how many personal secrets or honest feelings I put in those pages for the guy grading my class to read? If you said anything higher than 0 you're wrong.

The Harkers have an audience to worry about right now. An audience of Prof. Et Cetera, Dr. Asylum Director (whose asylum they're currently living in! the kind of place where Jonathan could've ended up and innumerable women have been imprisoned for being women the Wrong Way! whee!), Incredibly Wealthy and Empowered Lord, and Mr. Likewise Rich 'We Should Do Guns About It' American. Who all seem to like them, fresh-from-the-lower class, industrious and Dracula-confronting sorts that they are. Fast friends, all of them.

(Jonathan is still only Harker to them. Simultaneously the Man Who Survived Castle Dracula and the gofer guy doing the footwork and the paperwork/property hunt while Van Helsing hits the library and the others...well, I'm sure they're doing something. Other than re-reading the first half of Dracula.)

(...Which was compiled and transcribed by Mina. Who faced down Dracula in her jammies. Unarmed. At night. For Lucy. But she can't handle your scary stories about the houses full of dirt boxes, let alone join you on the hunt she was explicitly prepared and eager to help with. Can't risk it, little lady, off to bed now.)

This is where they are now that they've ~joined forces~ with Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad. After all they've done, all they're still relied on to do, the Harkers are with allies who have had their acquaintance for less than three days. And now, to appease those allies and their opinions and to keep everything placid with these nice, outnumbering, socially and monetarily endowed parties, they do what they've always done when faced with the fact of their being perpetually on the low rung of the ladder.

The Harkers accommodate. Including in their own diaries, as these too are now deemed forfeit important to the Cause, should the gang need to comb back through it all for clues.

That's why the Harkers are the only ones writing it down--because they already were. They're the kids in the group project who can be trusted to do the work. So just let them keep doing it. Keep an accurate record now, kids! You do such a good job of it, we'd only be getting in the way, ha ha. Remember that we can and will read everything you put down in the future.

Hence: All of what we read today. And will read in the dates to come.

The Harkers are writing under a (friendly) gun right now. They can purge some feelings, but not all of them. And not completely. And not in any way that certain doctors and upper class people of power they barely know might misconstrue as ungrateful or mad in any sense. The Harkers are good people. The Harkers are helpful. The Harkers are team players even if that means no longer being a team themselves. They chafe a little at this, but it's all so new to them! It's alright. God's will and Van Helsing's be done. They know better now.

With all this in mind, it makes much more sense why Jonathan chooses to use shorthand for a Very Particular Entry we see coming up. An entry that Mina alone could read and decide to enter in the distant future, after the storm had passed.

And why, in light of all that happens, he cannot trust himself to put more than a vignette's worth of lines down as time goes on. Not if he wants to keep himself from laying out some actual honesty for everyone to read. Mina's entries will be weightier things, while she still has the capacity to write--carefully. Always carefully.

[lovevalley45]

new chapter is up! 🥀🩸🌩️

Stolen from the Spade (Power Payback #1)

In the debaucherous Bright City lies a well-kept secret: Talents, superpowered individuals who’ve called the city home for over half a century. Some attempt to keep their abilities a secret, while some try to exploit their powers to make a living. Sprout Marotto and Magni Quinn are childhood best friends turned partners in crime - crime-solving, that is. When Talents start disappearing from a resort on the famed Neon Avenue, Quinn and Marotto Investigative Services get called in to get to the bottom of things. However, when it involves them to step inside the Talent-on-Talent brawls that take place there, Sprout is forced to confront her past in their attempt to find the stolen fighters before it’s too late.

Chapter Six: Sprout preps for her first night in the ring.

[aliennachos]

I so desperately require a sub species of whump categorized by watching a character slowly but surely lose their shit

Hear me out, (you're on Tumblr you probably want to get in on this anyway)

You could fill more than two silos at the very very least with the ragdoll bodies of characters this should apply to. Think along the lines of CryOfFear, the earlier seasons of Hannibal, even pathologic would fit in this if you look at it in the right way (I'll just be tagging a shit load of characters I've slathered this on)

This shit would still apply to characters that weren't okie dokie to begin with. Look me in my eyes and tell me lord protector Corvo Attano was an entirely stable man before the events of dishonored 1. I'm sorry, prison and torture or not, normal people don't jump to inter dimensional sugar babying and eating rats that quickly

Usually this trope doesn't even have to be angst-y, I have seen more than 6 people refer to Corvo as "rat dilf" and I find that fucking hilarious

[ceasarslegion]

"Why don't you talk about either your jewish ethnicity or your atheism that much anymore caesar, you used to all the time" idk man maybe it's all the being-compared-to-terrorists and accusations-of-supporting-palestinian-genocide and uncritical-glamorization-of-hamas thing that's been going on here ever since the oct 7th massacre. That and the increasing animosity towards anybody who isn't religious or spiritual in some aspect. Having a double whammy of things people hate right now and a history of being a target of online public shaming makes me not want to talk about those things anymore

[alliekitaguchi]

honey, honey timeline

someone on ao3 asked about the timeline of days and i totally forgot that i had actually plotted everything out!!

there's a comprehensive timeline below the cut for everyone curious!

also, while making this, i realized that i was off by a few days on something, so if you get a notification that i updated something, my bad y'all LMAO

PRE 1 MONTH TRIAL:

the gala happened (day 0)

rendezvous with the zaun team (2 days after the gala)

enforcers arrive in the city (4 days after the gala)

ekko and powder tell vik to go into hiding (5 days after the gala)

vik holes up in his apartment (days 6-9 after the gala)

ekko tells viktor that they broke into the lab (9 days after the gala)

vi tells viktor that the enforcers are gone (10 days after the gala)

viktor returns to the lab (11 days after the gala)

jayce & caitlyn arrive in viktor's lab (14 days after the gala)

viktor decides to come to piltover (15 days after the gala)

THEN, once viktor gets topside, i counted everything via day!

day 1 - viktor meets heimerdinger and sky, and tells jayce about his poor health/lungs

day 2 - heimerdinger comes by the lab

day 5 - jayce finally contacts ximena about dinner and caitlyn apologizes to viktor (he also learns that the enforcers are looking at zaunites as suspects in the bombing)

day 6 - vik sends a letter to the last drop and learns that jayce is bisexual while in the forge with him

day 7 - ekko arrives in piltover and jayce & viktor finally admit their feelings for one another. they also have dinner with ximena and viktor asks him for space

day 10 - jayce and viktor begin growing closer again

day 11 - the field test and subsequent hospital visit

day 12 - jayce and ximena send letters about viktor's health to the last drop

day 13 - viktor wakes up in the hospital, the zaun siblings arrive, and jayce & viktor have their first kiss

day 14 - the boys leave the hospital and go home

day 15 - viktor confesses about the bombing

day 16 - jayce spends all day in the forge making viktor's cane (the last time viktor sees jayce before the most recent chapter)

day 17 - cait nearly arrests viktor and the two leave jayce's apartment

day 18 - viktor spends all day in the kiramman estate

day 19 - viktor and cait talk about his options moving forward

day 20 - cait realizes jayce is missing

day 21 (current) - vi, ekko, powder, and jayce find viktor in the kiramman estate

viktor and jayce were separated for 4.5 days and started acting like that... they're insane i love them

in total, honey, honey has spanned 35-36 days!

viktor lowkey having the craziest month of his life LMAOOOOO sorry bud

[kloppenheimer]

watching season 2 of Black Sails is like discovering empathy for the first time

[lovevalley45]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Behrad Tomaz | Behrad Tarazi & Zari Tomaz | Zari 1.0 Characters: Zari Tomaz | Zari 1.0, Behrad Tomaz | Behrad Tarazi Additional Tags: but like b1.0, campaigning for a b1.0 tag for me solely, Post-Season/Series 05 Series: Part 1 of back on my behrad 1.0 bullshit Summary:

Zari’s first year in the totem had been one of utter isolation. Going back into the totem opens new doors and allows her to see someone she has seen recently, but in a very different way.

[taniushka12]

me: lock in! you've got three days to study four different topics! get your head in the game!!

also me: hm... the alwake ao3 tag doesn't have any fic in spanish 🤨🤔😔... I should probably translate some fics I like 😏😏😏😌

[darks-arts]

damn tavros got a lot more internalized homophobia than people depict in fan stuffs, bro straight up "feels weird and bad" when liking boys is brought up. Forgot how often it comes up. Dave just brings out all the weird thoughts lmao

i wonder tho if its internalized bs or maybe he just doesn't like men! this kinda stuff always fun to explore with characters

[bonefall]

You could play with the dirty part of the canon description by having Slash and his people roll in mud to hide their scent.

Parts of the Code labelling using weapons/traps as dishonorable could have started as agreements made that Slash's people wouldn't keep using their old tactics, maybe forced on Thunder's Clan to keep them from becoming too powerful, if they DID fuse.

I'm more liable to just remove the "dirty" thing entirely honestly; I just think it's so shitty I'd like to nuke it from orbit, you get me? Every single time they want you to hate someone, they make them fat and/or stinky. I'd rather just put that kind of rhetoric in the mouths of cats like Clear Sky and The Wind Runner, a lie to demonize their enemies, not really based on truth.

I think I might take the trap stuff though; that actually fits in nicely with how ThunderClan's the only one that uses spears. I won't have it be code yet, though, that's going to come a lot later. First two commandments of the code are Borders + Mercy, followed by Law 3 when Riverstar dies in some decades.

Also gonna need a name for Slash's new group. Hey, maybe THESE guys can be called Warriors, actually. Warriors of the Forest, like what the first arc used to be called before it was renamed TPB.

[lovevalley45]

new chapter is up! 🍹👻🤼‍♀️

Stolen from the Spade (Power Payback #1)

In the debaucherous Bright City lies a well-kept secret: Talents, superpowered individuals who’ve called the city home for over half a century. Some attempt to keep their abilities a secret, while some try to exploit their powers to make a living. Sprout Marotto and Magni Quinn are childhood best friends turned partners in crime - crime-solving, that is. When Talents start disappearing from a resort on the famed Neon Avenue, Quinn and Marotto Investigative Services get called in to get to the bottom of things. However, when it involves them to step inside the Talent-on-Talent brawls that take place there, Sprout is forced to confront her past in their attempt to find the stolen fighters before it’s too late.

Chapter Seven: Sprout has her first fight, while Magni and Haley bond in the crowd.

[uldahstreetrat]

i love seeing all the stuff on my dash the last few days about Zenos and his parallels to the WoL, he's such a good foil of a character, im thriving reading everyone's thoughts

[2d-beefcakes-my-beloveds]

Once during Dick’s Robin days, he and Marina painstakingly bedazzled one of Bruce’s Batsuits in Superman’s colors with a giant diamond S and everything right before a JL meeting they were attending with their mentors. Alfred was so happy they were behaving like semi normal teens that he hid every other Batsuit and made them matching ones.