#excerpt from my fanfiction

[starchaserdreams]

Sirius: you know, it's kinda flattering for me that you're dating my brother

James: how so?

Sirius: one of me as a best friend wasn't enough, you had to go and find a me to date too

[misscalming]

(Spock got completely fucking wiped out while in a small tinny boat and is living his best “castaway” (2001) life rn ) (( edit: excerpt from my fic ))

[finch-artt]

The things that happen, when your mom makes you a mid-patrol snack at the same time she makes your baby brother's school lunch...

Description under the cut:

[Opening frame of the Red Hood, the Spoiler, and (Tim Drake) Robin sitting on a rooftop at night. The panel is captioned: "Team 'Cooler Kids' on patrol snack break."

Steph (Spoiler): "Y'know, I think it's cute how you can always tell when Talia is in town."

Dick (Nightwing), from over the Coms: "Yeah? How?"

Stephanie (Spoiler): "She always packs Jason dinosaur shaped sandwiches."

The comic pauses on a frame of a startled Jason Todd. He is, indeed, holding a stegosaurus-shaped PB&J.

In the next panel, the Coms erupt in shouts of, "Wait really?!"(Dick) "Cute!"(Cassandra). Off-screen but in-person, Tim says, "lol," out loud, like a heathen.

Louder than all of them, a blushing Jason shouts, "Fuck OFF!"]

[captivatedbyurhubris]

‘What’s the D in your name stand for?’ Ace asks, looking thoughtfully at Luffy.

‘Dumb!’ Sabo volunteers.

Ace glares at him, unimpressed. Luffy blows a raspberry.

‘Dunno!’ the little boy says, ‘maybe donuts!’

‘Dunno works as well,’ Sabo mumbles.

That startles a laugh out of Ace, that he seems to be surprised by himself. Sabo looks up to Ace beaming at him. Sabo gives him a shy smile in return. 

scenes from my fic that I'm proud of 6/?

< read on AO3 >

[sparrowmoth]

🌹🌹🌹 Gimme the wips

@reonnex As you wish!! 💕 Here is a glimpse of a super normal WIP, the most normal of my WIPs, which I will one of these days finish...

“You’re not losing him,” said Nina, conviction in her tone and the way she grasped his forearm. “We’re not losing anybody. I won’t allow it.” She pulled him forward, starting walking again. “If it comes to it, believe me, I’m not opposed to playing villain here.” “What does that mean?” Jesper asked, eyebrows raised in alarm. “It means, if I have to, I will drag that boy unconscious to the nearest medik and see to it they fix him. He won’t know a thing about it until I’ve well and ensured he’ll live long enough to get over hating me.”

[mytalesandyou]

" I feel either you'll make me kneel for you this time Or win this argument cause the way you unravel me everytime brings me to my fucking knees and yet I can't help but worship you just like the way you are, Magnificent. "

- Rz

[hirukochan]

Excerpt from "Your tears are of no relevance" next chapter

Something about writing Dad!Snape adopting two little girls and loving them unconditionally heals my inner child 🥺

I did not plan to write more Lilian & Snape scenes in this chapter but here we are...they are just too cute together.

“My mother, she married a Muggle.” “A- a Muggle?” Lilian frowns. Snape can see her brain working behind her eyes, so similar to her mum’s, trying to understand his words. “That’s possible?” She whispers astonished. Should he maybe not have told her? How will this look if the Dark Lord- Fuck it. “She left her family, left the wizarding world and I think a part of her always regretted it.” “But why would she do that? Magic is so cool.” “I don’t know. She thought he was her true love.” “Was he?” Snape flipped the fish finger in the sizzling pan, spreading their aroma through the small kitchen, reminding him of rainy days, running along the river when it was still less polluted, bruised knees and builder’s tea that told him today would be a good day. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think they did love each other once. My father wasn’t a good person.” “Was he like mine?” Her fingertips brush over the spot of her cheek he once saw dark red, carrying the evidence of her father slapping her, a then five-year-old, for having the audacity to miss her sister, her mummy, the only caregiver and parental figure she had ever known. Snape places his hand over her own, cupping her cheek. His thumb strokes over her skin soothingly. “Yes.” “Did he hurt you?” “Yes.” “Why? Why do fathers do that?” Tears pool in her eyes. Did Snape reopen a wound that had successfully scabbed over? Should he have never mentioned his mother? A part of him, that part that still emitted a consistent dull ache, sometimes a sharp sting, no matter how many years pass, knows better. Some wounds never truly heal, especially those inflicted during childhood by those meant to protect and love you. “True fathers would never.” Snape says and hugs her, cradling the back of her head gently, letting her cry against his chest, clutching Ferdinand to her own chest. With a brush of his magic, the spatula takes flight and continues cooking while he comforts his daughter. “Will you?” She sobs and looks up at him with such childish, innocence, insecurity, fear and such hope it makes Snape want to resurrect her father just to kill him again. “Never.” He says firmly. “And anyone that tries to or does hurt my girls will have to answer to me.”

[compacflt]

Home. February 2009.

Mitchell’s got the radio on in the garage—quiet, but still loud enough that he doesn’t hear Kazansky come through the door. He’s working on one of his bikes, crouched low, parts and tools scattered on the concrete around him—but, in typical Maverick fashion, with a method to the madness. Kazansky leans up against the doorjamb and watches him work for a few moments—his intense laser-like focus, even as he’s tapping the toe of a cowboy boot to Duran Duran’s “Rio;” the steadiness of his hands; the way the gears turn so obviously in his head…watching Mitchell think is sometimes as entertaining as a football game. Around others, he makes a point of annoyingly remarking on every little thing; but when he’s by himself, he’s quiet, systematic, methodical. When one piece doesn’t fit, he sets it down and tries the next. The two of them really are more alike than they are different, when it comes down to it.

It takes a few more minutes, but Mitchell finally looks back for something, and catches Kazansky watching him. “Jeez,” he says with a facetious sigh of relief, “you scared me!”

“Your ass is hanging out of those blue jeans, Captain.”

“Oh, yeah?” says Mitchell, standing to hoist them back up. “And how long have you been standing there admiring the view?”

“Either a few seconds or a few hours, depending on who’s asking.” He comes closer. “Whatcha doing?”

Mitchell leans back against his workbench and taps his little crescent wrench against his grease-stained palm. “It’s kinda boring. Just fixing shit. It was long overdue.”

Kazansky shrugs. “Show me. I got time.”

“Well,” says Mitchell, crouching again and gesturing to the gaping-open wheelwell of his bike— “This old girl’s got trouble with her gear shifts. It’s a known issue with Kawasakis. Once you disengage the clutch, sometimes the flywheel slips between fourth and fifth gear and you get stuck there without moving up. Normally it’s not a big deal, I just pull the clutch and slow down a little and then gun it back into gear, but it’s been pissing me off for a decade, so I figured I’d just fix it myself. Ordered a smooth-shifter kit a few weeks back. Now I’m just trying to get it onto the P.V.C. module. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Uh-huh,” says Kazansky, and that’s when he notices that he hasn’t looked at the bike once. Sometimes he gets a kick out of just watching Mitchell talk. “You’re the only one of us with an actual mechanic's license, so take my advice with a grain of salt, but I think the process would go a lot smoother if you actually bothered to read the instruction manual…”

“I have an A. and P. license to work on planes,” Mitchell specifies, “and just our plane in particular.” Then he tosses his head with a smile. “Sure, it might go smoother with instructions. But where’s the fun in that?”

It’s one of those slow little moments where Kazansky isn’t thinking—and, more importantly, when he doesn’t want to think. He rests his hand on Mitchell’s hip, tugs him gently forward, leans down, and kisses him—a little chastely, but only a little—and then can’t control himself away from smiling against Mitchell’s mouth. Keeps his eyes closed. “I just came out here to tell you—I’m hungry, and I was gonna go get food, and to ask you if you wanted anything in particular.”

Mitchell still has a hand on the nape of Kazansky’s neck, a thumb on the shell of his ear. “Let’s do Mexican,” he decides after a second.

“Again? We just had Mexican on Tuesday.”

“I’m a hardworking boy,” he counters, “and I deserve a burrito.”

“Fine,” says Kazansky, already stepping away and fishing out his keys. “I’ll just go downtown. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in forty-five.”

“Oh, you know me, Ice,” says Mitchell, turning back to his precious bike. “I never go anywhere.”

He’s already come back to a laser-focus, his smile dropping; he crouches again and gets back to work, and he really is something of a genius, because he’s putting together this puzzle without even looking at the picture on the box, and so intently focused that he never even notices Kazansky standing in the doorway, watching him work for another three-and-a-half minutes straight.

Many, many years later, Tom will tell Pete he loves him—as he so often will, in those days; it will eventually come to him as easily as breathing—but for once Pete will stop and jokingly reply, “Why? —No, go on, give me a list. Why?”

And that’s such a complicated question Tom won’t know how to respond for a few seconds.

But then he’ll think of moments like this one, moments that at the time had seemed insignificant and forgettable—if not forgettable, then like they should be forgotten—but were of course impossibly important in hindsight. Tom will think of all these little moments, all these little ways they said they loved each other without ever needing to actually say it—and it’ll make him want to cry.

But he won’t, because in the grand scheme of things, moments like this one were always the furthest thing from sad.

He’ll still need to answer Pete’s question. “Well,” he will say slowly, “you might think this is a ridiculous answer, but…you know how you never use instructions when you’re building something…?” —and that’s how the very long list will begin.

[lineffability]

“You will fall back in line soon enough, once Crowley’s influence over you weakens. You’ll be free of him, Aziraphale. We will save you. Hell will punish his treason.” There was no love or kindness in the Metatron’s benevolent smile. “But Heaven will welcome you back. We will forgive you for what you’ve done.”

Oh, it burned. Forgiveness. Aziraphale wanted to spit it out, reject it with such a ferocity that it shook him to his core, the realization: what he had offered Crowley, what he was being offered: what they both did not want. I don’t want to be forgiven. Heavenly forgiveness, offered to him, to the Supreme Archangel – how ironic was that? And it felt as wrong and hollow and disingenuous as when he’d spoken the words himself. It was condescension.

Forgiveness meant nothing if you didn’t want it.

The rejection clawed its way up his throat and it tasted of ash and triumph at once.

“Don’t bother.”

“Oh, but I do bother. I know you want to be saved, deep down, and I will usher you back into the light. To her grace.”

“You’re insane if you think–” If he thought what? What was he thinking? That he was carrying out God’s will? 

Not very ineffable of him.

Maybe he truly was insane?

Aziraphale set his jaw. The cracks of his self-control unearthed an anger so scorching he did truly feel like he was burning. “If anything happens to Crowley, I…!”

“It doesn’t matter now, Aziraphale. It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.” Aziraphale grit his teeth. If Crowley had taught him anything through the millennia, through fire and death and despair, it was to hold on to hope. To hold on even when everything seemed lost. It was the only thing holding him together, now.

[continue reading chapter 17]

[read Meanwhile the World Goes On from the beginning]

[duxinteritio]

Excerpt from a current WIP fanfiction

Tsu'tey tensed as his mate began struggling beneath him. A thrill shooting down his spine at the fire spitting from.the warrior's eyes. Jake's mouth opened but then the words he was going to snarl choked in his throat. Jake's eyes rolled back and his body went limp beneath Tsu'tey.

"Jake?" Tsu'tey stared down at the still warrior, releasing his hands to grip the relaxed face instead. His mate wasn't dead, the ripping pain he would feel if he was didn't strike him, but Tsu'tey did feel a deep hollow echo in his body as of they were suddenly separated by a great distance even as he straddled his mate's waist.

A snarl ripped from Tsu'tey's throat. The sky people had done something to his mate.

[mirror-to-the-past]

I am but a measly 2:00:15 into the genre-defining "Riku is Gay" video, but like. Damn, Tennelle Flowers is a cinematic genius. I've remained so thoroughly enthralled by the tasteful spacing of audio commentary, clips from the games, and excerpts from the novels/writer interviews that I've hardly even noticed the time passing. What is this video laced with, man- I love video essays, but usually I have to rewind a gazillion times due to my attention slipping against my will.

That collage of comparison clips from KH2 Beast's arc and Riku's KH1-KH2 arc is killing me, man. Ever wish you could tattoo a part of a video to your forehead? Apparently, now I do.

[celestialseawitch-ff]

💐

(( That's a WHOLE ASS bouquet! ))

Harry didn’t say anything. She came around her desk and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why are you so fixated on me? On this? I’ve told you I’m not interested.”

“Then stop staring at my lips.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped up to his, her cheeks pink. She swallowed thickly.

“Sexual attraction does not mean we’re compatible marriage partners.”

“But it means we’re compatible in some way.” He tucked a lock of curls behind her ear. His fingers traced the curve of her face. “I think we’re compatible in more than a few ways.”

Hermione felt her heart hammer against her ribcage. Her body trembled. 

“That’s not- that’s not good enough,” she whispered. 

Harry stepped closer and his scent of wind and sage enveloped her. Her lashes fluttered.

“I thought you wanted to settle down,” he whispered. “That’s what I want too.”

“I don’t even know you.”

His nose lightly brushed hers. “Get to know me,” he breathed.

His lips touched hers and Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut. She leaned into him without thought. His lips were so soft and full against her own. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His hand slid up her back and tangled in her loose curls. She felt herself get lost in the security of his embrace. His enticing scent had her melting into him.

He tasted like peppermint.

Hermione moaned.

A throat cleared.

Hermione’s eyes shot open and she pushed Harry away. He broke the kiss and swallowed before stepping back. Hermione raised a hand to her mouth and felt her entire face turn red when she saw Minerva standing in the doorway.

The headmistress’ eyebrows were high on her forehead as she stared at the sight before her. 

Harry winked, completely unashamed. “Morning, Minnie.”

“Harry, darling,” Minerva greeted warmly, if a bit amused.

Hermione glanced back and forth between them.

“I like that shade of lip gloss on you,” Minerva quipped.

Hermione’s head shot around to Harry and she felt herself die a little inside at the sight of her lip gloss on his face.

Harry’s grin widened. “Thanks,” he said as he wiped the makeup onto his hand, “it’s strawberry flavoured, I think.”

Hermione dropped her face into her hands. “Oh my god.”

“The children will be arriving soon. Perhaps this can wait until after hours?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione rushed to say. “I’m so sorry. It’s completely unprofessional and I-”

“-We’ll pick it up over dinner tonight, Minnie. Don’t worry.”

Hermione glared at Harry.

“Dinner?” Minerva questioned, amused.

“I already have plans with Min and Otis, thank you,” Hermione snappishly informed Harry as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Harry was unswayed. “A double date then?”

Hermione scoffed at the same time that Minerva said, “That’s a lovely idea.”

“Minerva!” Hermione took a few steps towards her colleague. “We have other things to discuss tonight.” 

They were going to talk about the school and their options over dinner tonight. 

“Other things can wait,” Minerva told her. She raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Seven sharp, Mr. Potter. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Minnie.”

Minerva left with an amused smile on her face. Hermione turned and glared furiously at Harry.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

“I’ve made an opportunity for us to get to know each other.”

“You’re impossible.”

Harry nodded and shrugged. “I’ve had people say worse.”

“Do you ever quit?”

“Not if it’s worth it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “How did you even know I worked here?” 

He opened his mouth- 

“-You know what? No. I don’t care. Just go. And don’t you dare show up for dinner tonight.”

Harry laughed as he headed for the door. “As if I’d disobey Minerva McGonagall.”

“I’m going to hex you so badly,” she threatened.

He turned and smiled at her. “Is it bad that I kind of hope you do?”

He left before she could draw her wand. Hermione stood in the middle of her classroom, furious, frustrated, and ridiculously aroused. 

“Absolute wanker.”

[captivatedbyurhubris]

‘Let’s buy Luffy a toy!’ Ace exclaims, his earlier foul mood forgotten.

‘Why?!’ Sanji rolls his eyes, ‘he’s seven!’

‘Exactly!’ Ace tells him, looking at him strangely, ‘he’s seven, he needs more toys!’

‘I never had toys at seven ,’ Sanji insists, saying it in a tone of voice that implies it’s a ridiculous concept for him.

Ace stares at him for a long moment, his mouth downturned.

‘We’ll buy you a toy, too,’ he finally says, patting Sanji on the head.

Sanji sputters and blushes a furious red, yelling at Ace and pushing his hand away.

Ace only laughs and runs off, Sanji at his heels.

scenes from my fic that I'm proud of 3/?

< read on AO3 >

[trouvailleamor]

“My two favorite people,” Sirius says. Harry wraps his good arm around Sirius’s leg and Sirius drops a hand to his head. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Remus’s cheek. “How was your morning?”

Remus laughs and says, “Started off a bit wrinkled, but it ironed itself out.”

“Well, that’s alright then,” Sirius says, and he’s smiling again. This time, it just about reaches his eyes.

-from Part II, Chapter 10 of The ghosts we both see

[sexynetra]

ITS STILL SUNDAY TECHNICALLY SO I CAN STILL DO SIX(ish) SENTENCE SUNDAY :)

If I stop being stupid for like 3 seconds, chapter 5 will be up this week :)

————————

One shot.

Sugar and Anetra were together. And there was nothing Marcia could do about it.

Two shots.

There was something Marcia could have done about it. But she had chosen not to. So she had no right to be upset now that she had given them the go-ahead.

Three shots.

She was upset. Incredibly upset. Getting drunk wasn’t making her any less upset.

Four shots.

Five.

[walkawaytall]

“An’ I need you to keep an eye out for Bossk in case I get out of there as planned. He was way too excited that we had bounties the last time we ran into him.” Han paused. “An’ Boba. Skorr. Jas. Merc—“

“Just how many bounty hunters are you on a first-name basis with?” Leia asked, squinting at Han.

“Dunno. A normal amount?”

“The normal amount is zero.”

-----Collateral-----