#fanfic snippets

[autumnmobile12]

There's not much to see through the window of his prison.

Dabi: Yumi...

Fuyumi: Yeah, Touya?

Dabi: ...do you remember when we were kids...and you used your Quirk...to make frost patterns in the window...

Fuyumi: You remember that?

Dabi: ...

Fuyumi: I still do it sometimes.

Dabi: ...liked how the light...caught the crystals.

Fuyumi: *smiles* Yeah. I did, too.

Dabi: ...

Fuyumi: Did you want me to make one? On the glass?

Dabi: ...not much...to look at in here...

[atomicrebelfire]

Thinking about how Tommy would only ever want Buck to hear his real vows, and now I'm emotional about it 🖤❤️

💍Tommy’s Proposal and Wedding Style — Some Soft Headcanon! (+ A Tiny Private Vows Sketch)

As confident, flirty, and outwardly composed as Tommy is — the real stuff? The heart-deep, fragile, raw stuff? That’s private. That’s sacred. That’s only for the person he loves to see.

So when it comes to proposing and marriage, Tommy wouldn’t want a big spectacle.

🖤 Proposal Style: He'd want it quiet, personal — probably just at home, sitting side by side on the couch. No grand speech. No audience. Maybe even a little rambling or awkwardness because it matters so much to him. A hand squeeze. A soft look. A few words that tumble out before he can overthink them.

("You make the whole damn world feel like home. And I want that. I want you.")

And Buck would probably blink too fast, like he couldn’t quite believe it, before smiling so wide it hurt. Because of course he would say yes.

🖤 Wedding Style: Small, simple, intimate. Maybe even an elopement or a quiet civil ceremony. But the real vows — the real promises — wouldn’t be shared in front of a crowd. Tommy would want only Buck to hear those. No stage. No applause. Just them.

Because those words are supposed to belong only to Buck. Always. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------💬 What do you guys think Tommy’s proposing or wedding style would be? Would he go super small? Would he elope? Would he just ramble a confession into Buck’s shoulder and call it done? 🥹 I’d love to hear your thoughts!

(And because I couldn’t resist... here’s a tiny soft sketch of what I imagine their private vows could look like.) 🖤 ❤️❤️ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ✨💖 After the Wedding — Just Them ✨🪢💑💍💫🕊️

The door clicks shut behind them. The city hums outside. The wedding papers are signed. Rings are heavy on their hands.

Tommy sinks onto the couch with a long exhale, running a hand through his hair — the nerves still buzzing under his skin. Buck stands there for a second, like he doesn't know what to do now, until Tommy looks up at him.

"Come here," Tommy says, soft, tugging him down by the hand.

They sit, knees knocking. No music. No flowers. No one watching.

Just them.

Tommy presses his forehead to Buck’s shoulder, breathing him in. For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there, heart hammering against his ribs.

Then, into the quiet, rough-edged:

"I know it wasn’t fancy. I know we didn’t do the whole thing like people are supposed to." "But Evan— it’s always been you. It’s only you." "I don't need a stage. I don’t need anyone else to hear this." "Just you."

He pulls back just enough to look at him. Eyes shining. Voice thick.

"I promise I'm gonna choose you. Every day. Even when it's hard. Even when it's messy. Even when I screw up — and God, I will screw up." "I'm yours. I want to be yours." "I wanna be the place you come home to. Always."

He pulls back just enough to look at him. Eyes shining. Voice thick.

"You make... everything better. Even me. I— I want you. I need you. Always."

Buck’s hand finds the back of his neck, grounding him. His own voice shakes when he says it back:

"I love you. All of you. Forever."

Tommy lets out a choked laugh, relief and awe tangled up together, and leans in — forehead to forehead, breath to breath.

No one claps. No one cheers. No one has to.

Because it’s not for anyone else.

It’s just them.

And it’s enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------P.S. Bored and waiting for lunch, so I just typed this straight into Tumblr. No re-read, no edits. Likely rushed and no forethought. Please pardon any typos, mess, or errors. 🖤

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Writing Challenge!

I was tagged but the lovely @harnitbee

Rules: Post a snippet of a current WIP

I’m very indecisive and have works and mutuals from lots of fandoms, so I’m posting a few. Pick your poison.

Bridgerton

Anthony trotted easily down the three flights of stairs from the master bedroom to the kitchen the next morning. He slotted easily underneath Kate’s arms when he walked two steps ahead.

“So nice of you both to finally show signs of life,” Edwina hummed amusedly, hitting her mug against the island and making Anthony almost hit the ceiling. Kate tensed and tightened her knuckles.

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” Kate asked, highly annoyed. Anthony wanted to shrink into nothing.

“I have questions,” Edwina shrugged innocently. Kate untangled their fingers, loosely gesturing for Anthony to sit and wait at the dining table across the room while she made breakfast.

“If I had’ve known you were visiting, I would’ve asked Maya to do breakfast,” Kate said airily, opting to avoid Edwina’s point entirely, as she pottered around the kitchen.

“We don’t need a chef,” the youngest rolls her eyes, still easily slumped against the counter, “what I need is answers.”

“And you think you deserve them?” Kate muttered, before clearing her throat and deciding she would be the one to ask questions, “where is Francesca this morning? You abandoned her again?”

“She’s visiting her mother for the weekend, we’ll head back to Cambridge together tomorrow night. Don’t worry,” Edwina spun around, staring pointedly at Anthony, “she is well taken care of. But apparently, not quite as well taken care of as you.” Anthony gulped, words caught in his throat. He enjoyed this back and forth decidedly less than he had last night.

“If you have something you want to say to me, then say it,” Kate huffed, putting a mug of chai in front of him as he sank further into the bench seat against the wall, not allowing the time for Anthony to reach a conclusion on what he should respond with.

“You see,” Edwina mused, “you said repeatedly you don’t do relationships, there were rumours that hit your reputation in business deals, and next thing I know you have this arm candy with you at every event. I can say that objectively, I’m a lesbian. And let’s not forget I’m dating a Bridgerton as well, I know they don’t have money.”

“I’m not asking these questions of your relationship,” Kate fired back, angry at her sister’s dangerously accurate assessment. She could see Anthony’s embarrassment in her peripherals.

“How could you?” Edwina laughed, “we met at a uni party at 19. Besides, I don’t have a company to keep pretty.”

“No,” Kate snapped, “only a trust fund.”

Hawaii Five-0

A few beats of silence pass through them both, the lingering air feeling full of things they want to say but can’t quite articulate.

“I’m in your office you know,” Danny says quietly.

“I do,” Steve mumbles, “I want to come home,” he adds eventually.

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I’m,” Steve chuckles ironically, “I’m actually in Jersey right now.”

“What the hell are you doing in Jersey, Steve?” Danny says in disbelief.

“I spent ten years falling in love with you, maybe I would fall in love with jersey too,” he shrugs, saying it so casually despite the weight of the words. The confession, always unspoken but never forgotten, hangs between them on a pendulum.

“You might,” Danny considers, “but you wouldn’t have to. Ten years ago I met a man who made me fall in love with Hawai’i, which I didn’t think could be done.”

Suits

“Harvey, what are you—“ Mike fumbles over his words when he opens the door of his crusty Brooklyn apartment, and sees his boss in his overpriced three piece suit.

“Shut your fucking mouth, and let me talk,” Harvey demands, barrelling past Mike into the small apartment.

“Harvey—“

“Let me talk, goddamnit!” the older shouts in anger, slamming his hands on the table and turning around with a seething breath to lock eyes with his associate. Mike gulps, and sits on his couch with a small nod. “Don’t you ever come into my office and talk to me like that ever again, how you did today. That was so far out of line, you should be glad I didn’t throw you out the window. I wanted to fire you! Donna said—“

“I know what Donna said,” Mike chuckles.

“Is this all a joke to you?” Harvey snaps.

“At this point, I wish it was,” Mike laughs bitterly, “because if you don’t get your shit together, I’m gonna be the first person in your office tomorrow.”

“Mike, you don’t get it—“ he grits.

“No, you don’t get it!” Mike yells, standing up and firmly locking eyes with Harvey, “I get that you don’t like feelings, but I’ve seen through you since day one, and all I get in return is your constant bullshit excuses. First it was Cameron Dennis, then Daniel Hardman, then it was the merger, and Ava Hessington. So I left, like any self respecting dom. I convinced myself that I was reading every single signal wrong. But now I come back, and you act submissive when no one else is around. What do you want from me?!”

“I didn’t bring you back,” Harvey mutters.

“That doesn’t change shit, and you know it.”

“Feelings are hard,” Harvey conceded angrily, not backing down from a fight, “but you know what’s harder? Having clients constantly ask Jessica how the hell my name got on the door, and they can expect loyalty, if I can’t even get married—let alone be open about my position.”

“Then be open Harvey,” Mike scoffs.

“You know why the hell I’m not,” Harvey counters, jaw set square, “I tell one client, and suddenly all of Manhattan knows, and I’m gonna get marriage proposals until I suffocate under them.”

“Fuck off,” Mike eventually says after a few long beats, breaking eye contact and walking to the door. “You came over here, and abused the shit out of me for trying to make a move, then complained how hard your life is while you choose to be single. If you can’t say what you want to say, then get the hell out of my face.”

~

Okay! That’s it. Let me know what you want more of because I’m kind of at a standstill with all of them tbh.

I’m tagging @hydriotaphia @andthebubbles @mayberrycryptid @butdaddyilovehimmm @gonnadosomethingwmylife and whoever else wants to!

–GW xo

[raving-raven-writing]

Stray Kids FanFic--Snippets

So I have started writing a couple of Stray Kids fics....because my brain can't seem to be normal when it comes to obsessions/fixations. Anyway, here are a couple snippets from one of the stories. It is currently untitled and still has some fleshing out that needs to be done. But there were some people that seemed interested in it--so here it is! Enjoy!

@hyuneskkami @luvely-lino

Family was everything. Having a small family and being an only child, Minho had grown up used to being alone. He’d grown up being his own best friend and learned to entertain himself; his attempts at making friends always seemed to fall through the cracks as they either started to bully him or thought him to be too strange to befriend. He was glad to have met Chan and Changbin, because both of them wanted exactly what he wanted. Family. However, going about getting a family of their own didn’t seem to be in their favor. None of them currently had girlfriends–their work kept them on their toes and ate up much of their time which left them with little to no social life. The most excitement they got was a quick outing to get burgers because they were too tired to attempt to try and cook most nights. However, given their field of work, their schedules never seemed to align and that they were all single men, a social worker might not see them as the best fit for children. The first social worker they’d been in touch with had thought exactly that, and although she complimented them on being very nice men, she didn’t think that at the current moment they’d be a good fit for a child. It was disappointing, as were the second and third meetings they’d arranged with other social workers, hoping that their opinion would be different. But people seemed to find it strange that three men wanted to raise children–but did it really matter the gender of the parents, or how many parents there were, so long as the child was loved and cared for?

**** And he fought as hard as he could, but that all went to hell when he was injected with something. And for quite some time, the passage of time became null to him—days, weeks, months–they all blurred into one another as Hyunjin was too drugged up to keep it straight in his brain. Along with the near constant drugging, there was the alcohol. The non-consensual touching. Not to mention all the weird ass kinks and fetishes that the “clientele” brought in. And his pimp let these people do just about anything to him, just shy of severely maiming or killing him. But that’s what landed him on the side of the road left for dead in the first place, right? That was how he’d landed with these three fucking weirdos. But that damn tattoo was a reminder of all the horrible stuff he’d endured. It was unconscious at first, scratching at the inked thorns and roses, but it became a habit to do that whenever he became severely uncomfortable. Scratching, scratching at the tattoo as though it was suddenly fresh or that maybe, if he scratched hard enough, he could scratch the ink straight out of his skin. Hyunjin whined, wishing that the mark were somewhere else on his body–out of sight, out of mind, right? When the incessant scratching gave way to bleeding, he wiped at it with his sleeve, on his pant leg, trying to ignore the sudden sting in his wrist. For years he’d suffered at the hands of hundreds of men-and women- who were fixated on pleasuring themselves, not caring in the slightest who they harmed in the process. More often than not, the clients that came in were some rich fucks that had more money to spend than they knew what to do with.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Sometimes, occasionally, you write a one-shot where you just had to include not just your horrid little fox familiar OC but put the microphone in her little head and she has the best internal monologue of anyone in the fic.

[westenraskiss-writes]

Just a little something from chapter four of the Hogwarts AU

I think it’s only fair that I let Alicent be as prissy as she wants

[haedia]

ooo please talk about the catching crows modern au shenanigans

So, this one is inspired by this post about annoying Lucanis with bad cooking videos.

I got thinking about Kiore having curated playlists of videos for when Lucanis is stressed out or otherwise annoyed (either because of Veilguard people sending him heinous cooking videos or Crow Business). And then I was struck by the idea of her having multiple playlists for him AND Illario.

So, one is for Lucanis when he's stressed and needs to decompress alone. One is for when Illario is there and hanging out with him. And another for the rare times it's just Illario that wants to veg out.

It's specifically in a room next to the kitchen, a kind of parlor/sitting room converted into a chill, cozy gaming and tv den. So that if Lucanis has downtime between checking on stuff in the kitchen, he has a comfy space to hang out in.

The main snippet I have right now is this one:

Illario and Lucanis are lounging on a sumptuous couch, practically spellbound by a video playing on the flat-screen on the wall. It's of a man (though only his hands are visible most of the time) building a beautiful, scenic aquaterrarium while soothing, barely there music plays behind the footage.  Illario is stretched out on one end of the couch, feet up on a leather ottoman. He's in all black today. Shirt unbuttoned to his sternum and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His toes, snug in smooth black socks, twitch at times to some thought or other as he watches the man's hands work moistened clay and plant fiber into the shape of a miniature cliff face. Lucanis is half asleep on the other end of the couch, half-curled up, his head resting sideways on the back pillow. He's much more dressed down today in comfy athletic wear, his bare feet tucked partly underneath him.

Kiore is making snacks for them and checking on them at times, from the kitchen. She's talking to someone on the phone -- probably her cousin Nera, who is on her way back to the Villa after several weeks away. Kiore is pretty sure that Illario is as nicely dressed today as he his because he's anxious to see her again, though he'd never admit that to either Kiore or Lucanis. Not publicly, anyway.

WIP game this ask came from came from this post.

[cowboylikeyouu]

liar liar pants on fire 🫵🏻 BAD BUCKY

[rscroogedraws]

Here are a couple of my favorite (not too spoiler-ific) scenes from a couple of my in-progress fan fics.

I've had an uphill battle with bad writer's block and inconsistency with any kind of creative fiction for the past several years now. It hurt having such a hard time with that since I've wanted to become some kind of fiction author since I was six and I used to actively write analyses for YouTube stuff. So the fact I've eked out a couple chapters for each of these feels like a huge accomplishment to me.

I appreciate all of the feedback or interest I've gotten for pretty much any of my projects over the past year or so. Seriously, even if you're just leaving a like, it's made a difference to me knowing someone enjoyed my work enough to take a second to interact with them in that kind of capacity.

A03 is down for maintenance at the time I'm posting. I'll update these with links once they're back up later today or tomorrow.

Edit: Links have been added!

Not Quite an Elevator Pitch

O.K. K.O. Let's Be Heroes! Fan Fic

Synopsis: Professor Venomous is back in Lakewood Plaza Turbo! He thought returning would be as easy as move back into Boxmore and start attacking the Plaza. Instead, he's not quite sure what to do next and is trying to find himself. Then he gets stuck in an elevator with someone unexpected and they give him a much-needed reality check.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56784448/chapters/144365029

Snippet from Ch. 2: Definitely Not Silver Spark

When Venomous awoke the next morning, he was surprised he slept at all. He wandered into the living room and read 9:08 AM on the digital oven clock. That was a personal achievement after the last week or so of staying up until 4:00 AM, hanging in there long enough to pull together a bare bones breakfast and box lunch for Fink, and then crashing until 5 or 6 before Fink returned from school or Boxmore.

He padded into the kitchen as he mentally cataloged notes to send with Fink on why she was late as well as easy but actually nutritious lunches to send with her. So much of him hated that he’d relied on Snackables so much the past few days. He kept imagining an okay-ish tuna sandwich next to flimsy cardboard packaging with crackers, dubious lunch meat, plastic cheese, and radioactive colored candy. Fink loved it. She bragged that her friends were jealous with a big grin on her face. That was now. What kind of look would she give him when she was in her early 30’s and remembered that he knew how to competently cook but opted for shortcuts instead?

That train of thought wasn’t even needed. Today was Saturday. Fink said she’d be gaming. Then Venomous found a note attached to the fridge: Hey Boss! The tournament got rescheduled. So I’m helping Raymond and Shannon raid a cruise liner today! They have lobster. I’ll make sure to bring home leftovers.

A mix of hurt and pride panged through Venomous. Previously, Fink asked to join him on every villainous caper, business trip, or big event. Lately, if she wasn’t gaming with friends, she was hanging out with her step-siblings or new friends somewhere “irl.” She still said hi, let him know where she was going, and kept a generally friendly rapport. After the horror stories Venomous heard from other parents about teenagers, that had to mean something. Fink was just starting to enter her teenage years though. There was still time for heLinkr to develop resentment towards him.

That’s probably how K.O. felt right now. He had every reason to hate PV and never talk to him again. That’d been earned. Very painfully earned. The part of him that still gripped his head on straight with little ribbons of hot glue and sticky tack knew he should leave all of that alone. The part of him that was itching to throw back a full bottle of absinthe before 11:00 in the morning was making a beeline for his phone.

He’d dialed the number before stronger self-control would have stopped him.

“...hello?” Silver Spark’s voice drifted in from the other line. “Carol speaking. Sorry for not recognizing your number. I think it’s been long enough since we exchanged numbers I don’t remember. Who is this?”

“…Lase-Professor Venomous.” He swallowed heavily and felt like he’d been hit by an intense bolt of lightning. “Professor Venomous.”

“Um...oh. Ahm, okay.” She didn’t sound completely upset but her tone wasn’t as pleasant as before either. “Did you need something for paperwork?”https://archiveofourown.org/works/56784448/chapters/144365029

“….no.”

“Okay….” Carol cleared her throat. “We got all of your child support payments. If that’s what you were calling about. Everything on that front has been smooth sailing.”

“Good.” Venomous stared intensely at the nearest kitchen counter. There was a marbling pattern over everything he hadn’t noticed before.

“Yeah….” Impatience was starting to creep into Carol’s tone.

“I’m sorry.” The words just tumbled out. “I’m sorry….about everything.”

It felt like time itself stopped. If the oven clock digital display wasn’t flashing, Venomous would have started entertaining the thought of a time wizard or a highly-advanced lizard creature with space-time warping powers crawling around the apartment. Almost two agonizing minutes passed. Carol’s breathing on the other end of the phone became a little strained.

“Are you okay?” Of course he had to follow up dropping an emotional bomb with an equally stupid foot-in-mouth comment.

“Professor Venomous,” Carol said with a slight stutter. “I-If we’re talking about this, I’d rather do it in person.”

“I...understand.” He felt his heart start fluttering around his rib cage like a hummingbird desperately trying to break free.

****

Our Beloved Docktor Frogg

League of Super Evil Fan Fic with some O.K. K.O.! crossover references

Synopsis: Docktor Frogg is starting to feel stagnant towards his overall life and career as a mad scientist. He wonders if the grass is greener somewhere else working for someone other than Voltar the Saturday morning cartoon flop.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56704720/chapters/144145309

Snippet from Part II: Sandwich Artist Gene

“Can I take your order?” The waitress’ voice was familiar but Frogg couldn’t quite place why.

“Lizzy?” Frogg immediately shot up at Voltar’s excited tone of voice. “It’s been awhile! How are you?”

“It’s Elizabeth, Voltar.” Lightning Liz, sans her trademark yellow exo-suit, stood behind the counter in a light blue polo shirt, washed out capris, a black apron, and a nametag with her name written in the same crude scrawl as the sign out front. It’d been a few years since Frogg had seen Liz in person instead of the newspaper or videos on various news sites. So it floored him a bit how much older she was now. Didn’t she just graduate from high school not too long ago?

He remembered Voltar gushing about Liz graduating as class salutatorian as if she was his younger sister.

“I’m doing great!” Liz continued with a small and genuine smile. “You got the invite for Tiff and I’s wedding, right? You better RSVP. Soon.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Voltar flapped his hand. “I saw the many, many links for your wedding registry. I haven’t RSVP’d yet because I’m working on getting that-”

“Don’t tell me what you ordered! It’ll ruin the surprise.” Liz squealed. “I have something fantastic in mind for your birthday later this year too. You better keep that day open if you know what’s good for you.”

“I have it marked on my planner. Whole day is open.”

“Good.”

“So, we have this coupon….” Voltar pointed towards Red and not so subtly shifted his gaze towards the thin strip of paper in Red’s big hand.

“Yeah, yeah.” Liz returned the sass Voltar dished out less than a minute ago. “So, I’m getting the vegan sandwich for him.” She pointed at Red. “An extra meaty sandwich for him with extra provolone cheese.” She pointed at Frogg. “And you want the meatball sub with the works?”

At that, Voltar gasped and his antennae started shaking with his excitement. “You guys have that extra spicy mustard?!”

“Of course!” Liz nodded, but her cheerful disposition immediately turned sour. “I skimmed the 4-page essay you sent me about it.”

When Voltar whooped and started doing a victory dance in the middle of the restaurant, Frogg visibly shuddered and looked around Red to see if any other stools were open.

“You’ll be happy to know you’re not the only one that has a weird fascination with that mustard.” Liz sighed. “There was a weird woman in here the other day raving about it too.”

“From now on, I’m the only one getting that mustard here!” Voltar declared with an anime gesture fist to the air. “I get exclusive rights to it. Exclusive.”

“I still think you’re the only one that actually likes it,” Frogg said. “I don’t-”

“Don’t. Get. Him. Started.” Liz jabbed a finger in Frogg’s face for emphasis on each word and matched the points with a warning glare.

“How did you know what sandwiches we wanted?” Red tilted his head. “Are you psychic?”

“No.” Liz placed her hands on her hips. “Voltar writes about you guys on his blog.”

“You have a blog….” Frogg scratched his scalp. The past 5 minutes had revealed a lot about a side of Voltar that Frogg didn’t know much about, except for the spicy mustard obsession. Metrotown might not know that L.O.S.E. existed but random strangers definitely knew how particular Voltar was about his condiments.

“It’s not a blog! It’s supposed to be a newsletter…” Voltar grumbled.

“I told you that Zitter would get more reach,” Liz said with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m hungry. Can we place our orders now?” Voltar deliberately looked anywhere but Liz’s face.

“SANDWICH ARTIST GENE!” Liz yelled. “Order up!”

That’s when a painfully familiar face appeared at the order window in the kitchen. There was a surprisingly jovial Justice Gene with a wrinkled paper hat sitting on his head at an awkward angle. He had a couple of deep shadows under his eyes but otherwise, he had a legitimate smile on his face instead of the haughty, try-hard smirk Frogg was used to.

Liz rattled off food service industry shorthand that Frogg would never be able to translate despite his best efforts. Then Gene looked up a moment later. Recognition flashed across his face and Frogg was tapping his claws in a vain attempt to prepare the laser engraver setting he installed there a few days ago. Maybe it could be used as a laser gun with the right angle and a little imagination.

“Hey guys!” Gene said, emulating the friendly and personable air that came naturally to Red Menace but was really awkward on him. “Didn’t expect to see you at opening week of my new restaurant. I’m happy you’re willing to bury the hatchet to support a budding young entrepreneur!”

“I don’t know about young…” Frogg muttered under his breath while thinking about the gray hairs he’d pulled out of his scraggly tree of hair earlier this morning.

“What’s the catch, Gene?” Voltar snapped. “We haven’t seen you in almost a year and now you’ve lured us out with delicious subs. I demand to know what you’re planning!”

“There’s no catch,” Gene said. “I just got tired of not getting anywhere in the hero biz. Even for the five minutes I was a hero, I was still the guy that cleaned toilets and picked up fancy coffee orders. It was worse with an official costume because even though I’d technically made it, nobody respected me. I think you guys of all people know what that’s like…”

Both Gene’s personal account and the way his face fell struck an unnervingly deep chord with Frogg. The mix of sympathy and existential dread hit his heart hard enough it felt physical. He looked down and saw himself gripping the fabric of his lab coat right over his heart.

“The one thing everybody liked were my sub sandwiches.” A dreamy expression drifted onto Gene’s face. “The only time I got a real compliment from Glory Guy was for my magic touch with the panini press. I got demoted to trash collector one day and just started thinking ‘Is this the rest of my life?’ As I spent the day collecting trash, all I could think about were sandwiches. How sourdough is the king of bread. Flatbread is a perfect base for a classic BLT. I realized then: Instead of a superhero, maybe my calling is...making the perfect hero sandwiches for superheroes!” Gene gave an awkward laugh. “And everybody else, of course! Villains included. Everybody deserves a good, home-made sandwich.”

“I didn’t ask for your life story, Gene,” Voltar scowled.

“I’m so happy for you!” Red gushed and his affirmation drowned out Voltar’s snark. “You deserve to be happy. I hope you’re successful!”

Gene’s face was red and he bashfully ran a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

****

[symbiotic-slime]

last line game!!

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

thanks @reaperlight for the tag! I’m gonna follow your example and post a bit more than the last line I wrote

here’s the last paragraph I wrote for my fic:

Eddie leaned into the more monstrous side of the transformation. The sweet embrace of the tendrils, weaving across his body and twisting it into something new, made his heart race. His face shifting, his teeth elongating and sharpening, his tongue growing, his eyes shifting into glossy, iridescent white made him feel more comfortable in his own skin. Which was odd, considering it wasn’t truly his skin.

He was more like himself while in their combined form, while Venom.

tagging (no pressure, only do this if you want to!)

@kitausuret @bluebladerose @soodoonimin @shibanagame @softgrungeprophet @merelypassingtime

[soaringbubblegum]

Me opening my Google Docs like it’s a cursed vault of ancient secrets:

🧠: you should really organize these 👁️: shut up I know where everything is by vibe

✨ current doc titles include:

"jason hits someone with a fridge (metaphorical?)"

"tim_drake_emotional_damage_FINAL_finalv2"

"sukuna_fixes_nothing_but_makes_it_worse.docx"

"out of context horny but it’s about trust"

"this will never see daylight but i’m writing it anyway"

[greygullhaven]

Fanfic Snippet!

This snippet is from the Primeval fanfic @darthlorexa42 and I am writing! New chapters are up and more to come!

It was Friday evening and it was a rare case where both Stephen and Laura had the weekend off together, she was glad that they had the weekend together, she had some exciting news that she wanted to share and she couldn’t wait for Stephen to come home.

She was making spaghetti bolognese for them with salad and garlic bread and she hummed contentedly as she went about making dinner for them.

Stephen was glad when he finally pulled into the driveway and put his truck into park. It was a long day at the end of a long week and he was ready to get home and enjoy the wonderful weekend with Laura. It was too rare a chance that they got time together like this and he planned on making the most of it.

As he got out of the truck Stephen made sure to avoid the one slick spot on the sidewalk, making a mental note to put out the sidewalk salt in the morning since the temperatures were definitely getting pretty irregular the last few days. The last thing he needed was either of them slipping on a patch of ice and going down.

“Laura, I’m home!” he called out as he opened the door and walked in, making quick work of his boots and jacket as he sighed happily to be home. “Oh, something smells absolutely amazing!”

“Stephen welcome home,” Laura smiled as she went to greet her husband. “I’m making spaghetti bolognese, with garlic bread and I’m putting a salad together,” she told him, “how was work?”

“Now you are going and reading my mind again!” he said with a smirk as he headed to the kitchen. “Ive been craving spaghetti bolognese for a couple of days now actually” Stephen walked over and met Laura halfway and wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. “Work was work, but it is all good, I am here now where I belong.”

Laura contentedly leaned into her husband’s embrace and kissed him happily. “I’m glad work went well,” she told him, “I’m looking forward to spend the weekend together, I can’t think when the last time was that we both got to spend the weekend together,” she said, her smile widening at the mention of cravings. She supposed soon enough she was going to be experiencing more and more cravings. She wondered when she should break the news to Stephen, before dinner or during or after dinner … she decided to focus on just enjoying this moment with her husband.

“Always good to be home where I belong,” Stephen said with a smile as he placed a soft kiss on Laura’s forehead. “How has your day been? I know I had to head off earlier than usual this morning, sorry...” he said with a sheepish grin. “But at least we have the next few days together.”

Laura smiled and then decided that she really couldn’t wait to tell him any longer. “My day was good, in fact, I’ve got some news,” she smiled shyly as she gazed up at her husband. “Really exciting news,” she added, her smile widening.

Read the full story from chapter one here!

[bylightofdawn]

Fanfic snippet

This made me feel very squishy writing it so I have to share it with the world. Longing and UST are just....-vibrates into another plane of existence- Look, I just love it. I know it can be handled poorly and end up bring a bit cringe if not handled correctly. But I grew up reading silly Regency romances and it definitely left it's mark on me. And something about the soft intimacy of just touching hands is better than 90% of sex scenes I read. (This is prolly compounded by the whole being ace and I know not everyone feels the same way).

But...-lip bite- Give me those saucy lingering touches and furtive glances which finally end in gazes catching and they spend a stupid amount of time just looking into each other's eyes. Give me all the tropey cringe I want it all.

The realization that Cahir was awake and he’d lost the gray almost deathly pallor sank in and the elf immediately pushed his still aching body up.

“You’re awake, how are you feeling?” The concern was plain to see on his face as he looked down at his friend. Cahir managed a tired-looking smile and for the first time in the better part of a week, his eyes actually looked clear and focused.

“Better, thanks to you.” He said a little hoarsely.

“Thank the healers, they did all the hard work.”

“And you rode through a blizzard to get me here, you rescued me from Aretuza. I owe you my life, Gallatin.” Cahir said seriously and reached across the space between the two narrow beds to touch Gallatin on the wrist. He was being careful to avoid the bandages wrapped around the elf’s hands. “I won’t forget it.”

Something about the way the human said that, felt more like an oath than a simple statement. Gallatin didn’t know how he felt about the idea of the human owing him any sort of life debt. Their friendship had always held an element of playful competitiveness but real debt and keeping count of when one saved the other’s life? That wasn’t something they did.

“And I probably owe you for saving my hide more than once. Who is keeping count?” He tried to play it off like a joke but he could tell by the way Cahir’s mouth thinned into a frown that the human wasn’t going to accept that.

“This is different, and you know it. No one else would have gone to such lengths to save my life. Just accept the debt, your pointy eared bastard.” The last bit was said with another tired attempt at humor.

“Fine, if it will shut you up, your blunt-eared savage,” Gallatin responded in kind and something in his chest loosened. He carefully turned his arm underneath Cahir’s grip and shifted until their fingers lightly laced together.

The temptation to ask him about the kiss was overpowering but Gallatin still hadn’t made up his mind on whether he was going to press the human about it. Besides, he was still sick and he didn’t want to Cahir to break out in another coughing fit midway through their conversation so he shelved it mentally for now.

Soon enough, the cabin door creaked open and the healer from last night, Fiona, stepped in carrying a tray filled with steaming hot soup and Gallatin reluctantly released Cahir’s hand.

[raving-raven-writing]

Recom Smut Snippet

From my previous post, I mentioned posting a snippet. I intended to post that last night but fell asleep at my laptop instead. So here it is now, better late than never. This is not from the one I am currently working on editing, but one that is in the line up to be posted soon. Honestly, I am starting to run a bit dry with ideas, so if anyone has some ideas to throw my way, I will write it if I'm comfortable with it. Anyway, please enjoy this little snippet. It is meant to be more of a comedic one shot than a smutty one--it was fun to write. ***************************************************************

He just stopped and stared at the scene before him, wondering just what the hell were they doing tying each other up in only their underwear. It would have been funny, considering it kinda reminded him of a class where boy scouts learned to tie knots, but normally, the knots were applied to tying up equipment, not people.

“And then you’re going to take this rope-” Zhang said. Spider closed the door loud enough to draw several pairs of eyes that all went wide in surprise, some of them frozen mid action of tying rope around their partner. “Kid!”

Several of them moved in front of their partner to hide the fact that the woman were either scantily clad or naked in their nether regions.. “MJ, what are you doing home?” His mother’s nudity was shielded by his father, her head poking out around his shoulder.

Spider lowered his bag to the floor, gesturing  to the living room windows where sunlight tried to filter in through the mostly closed blinds. “Uh, it’s morning. I thought since I didn’t get any text about staying longer, that I could come home.” His mother sighed, slightly annoyed. “I thought you texted him, Miles.” His father stared at the ground a moment before glancing over his shoulder at his wife. “I thought you texted him.” “Well no one texted me.” Spider glanced around at the others, all in various states of undress, still shielding themselves from Spider’s view. “Why are you guys tying each other up?” “That’s none of your business right now, boy,” his father muttered gruffly. 

“Can’t I watch?”

“No!” Several people exclaimed at once, appalled that he would think such a thing.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

My Perfect Little Bastard™ (affectionate and derogatory)

[inkpotsprite]

Snippet from my "Bruce gets his kids early AU."