#he was SO dramatic in that snippet as far as I remember

[blorbosexterminator]

I don't know why but this has been bouncing round my head for a few hours and I need answers. Does Rafael exist in the Children of the dust universe??? And if so, does he ever meet the step children his father loves more than him? Please and thank you!

Excellent question. Here is a little bit of history. While I was writing Children, and the first season of season 5 was released, I decided to be democratic and ask readers whether they'd prefer Rafael to exist in that universe or not. Not surprisingly, the unanimous vote was Andrés-core (they didn't want him), so I didn't mention or allude to him in the main verse.

But between us, I always was fond more of the idea that he exists in that universe, mainly just because it makes everything funnier.

There is an old snippet I have somewhere in a forgotten document where Rafael does meet the twins and it's killing him because Rafael's entire worldview is that his father doesn't love him not because of any personal reason but because he's just not a father material, so he sees the twins and all of that tumbles down and his misery is very funny to me.

The bottomline answer is he exists and he doesn't depending on what we want!

(Except that if I do write the sequel and the sequel's sequel I'll have to bring Rafael into existence because I wouldn't want to make any major changes to the heist trajectory itself. Tatiana is Gabriel's piano tutor in that verse btw.)

[ninyard]

I would absolutely love to see something about Betsy and Andrew post Easthaven!

a lil snippet of bee and andrews first session after easthaven that i dont want to get long as hell but will probably end up that way anyway??? (tw drake/thanksgiving/easthaven you know the drill)

-

It was a Wednesday, as it had been a thousand times before, and at ten to the hour Betsy thought about her first session with Andrew.

She thought about his humourless laugh, and how he'd dramatically left the room less than twenty minutes into the session. She remembered how he smelled like stale tobacco and smoke, how he smiled at her, and pushed her limits.

Betsy thought about the second time she met Andrew, the third time, the fourth time. How he'd slowly started to crack himself open and let her in, how he'd allowed himself to trust again.

Betsy thought about their last session before the holidays.

Talking about his family had always been a sore spot for Andrew, uncharted territory most of the time, with far too many boundaries and ‘do-not-talk-about’s to be worth exploring further. They had dipped their toes in on a handful of occasions, tense discussions more often than not shut down as soon as Andrew felt the conversation becoming too close.

They’d made progress, that being said - they’d spent that last session before the holidays speaking about one of the last times Andrew had seen his cousin’s family in person. How interested he was in seeing how their dinner would pan out, about how he couldn’t wait to see the look on Neil’s face when he realised what he’d gotten them into.

(Betsy would not forget Neil’s face for quite some time; stoic, unbothered, with blood on his clothes and no emotions other than Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.)

At five minutes to the hour, Andrew swung open the door with a room-shaking bang. Betsy waited for him to sit down, but he stood there for a moment too long, watching her, and only when Betsy fixed her glasses did she see why.

Betsy had never met this Andrew before.

His eyes did not have much behind them, and it startled her to read his emotionless expression. This didn’t even look like him - it looked more like Aaron, the brother who did not speak, who did not sport the same medicated smile that Andrew had for over a year. It didn't take long for her to realise it was the absence of that medicated smile that made him look so wrong; it was as natural on Andrew's face as the clouds were in the sky. Him stepping into her office without it was as if he'd stepped through the door with a new hair colour, or piercing, or a bizarrely colourful outfit he'd never worn before.

“Andrew,” Betsy smiled. At her voice, he shut the door to her office behind him, and made his way over to the couch at the back end of the room. “We’re overdue a few formalities - happy New Year, for a start.”

He didn’t respond while she made their usual cocoas, and so she filled the silence with meaningless chatter, things that she knew he didn’t care about, but were words nonetheless. She got a better look at him as she placed his mug down, and caught his eyes, glued to her, waiting, watching. Perhaps the light was playing tricks on her, but he had subtle yellow marks on the skin of his face where bruises had faded to almost nothing.

“I don’t think it’s what you want to hear but I’ll ask it anyway,” Betsy checked her seat was clear before sitting down. “How are you feeling? It’s really great to see you.”

It was impossible to tell if the pause that followed was Andrew’s hesitation or reluctance. Was he not speaking because he had nothing to say, or because he didn’t know what to say at all? It was not Betsy’s place to fill that silence, either. If any session were important to hand him the reigns, this was it. He had to do this himself.

It was ten minutes, or an hour later before he spoke. “They shouldn’t have called you.”

“When?” Betsy asked after a pause. When he didn’t answer, she continued cautiously, “In Columbia?”

His lack of a response was response enough. His dead stare, his tired eyes emphasised by un-creased cheeks, his smile nothing more than a hard line across his lips.

“They had no choice,” she said, calm and measured. “You know they had to. You know why they had to."

"They shouldn't have."

Betsy had spent over a year trying to understand Andrew, to figure out whether his smile was genuine or chemically manufactured, trying to figure out what he meant when he spoke in riddles. They'd reached a point of understanding, a point in their therapeutic relationship where she could read him well enough to know what he needed her to say. This felt like square one again. This felt like trying to read a completely new patient.

"Why?" Betsy asked, and she tilted her head ever so gently when he looked her way. "What would you have preferred them to do?"

Andrew paused, and was slow to look away before he spoke.

"I don't know."

It was quiet, and there was something else in the room, something in his voice. Something that told Betsy he meant it. He didn't know. He didn't know what had really happened to him, he didn't know who he was anymore, he didn't know why he didn't want them to call the only person who truly understood, because all of it was far too real. Betsy being there only made it official.

"Talk to me," She said, careful not to change her tone, careful to avoid falling back into the typical therapist mode that Andrew had always despised. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Andrew stared at the wall for a moment before finally moving himself into a more comfortable position, taking off his shoes slower than he usually would, tucking them up beneath him on the couch. He shut his eyes for just a second, and then turned his gaze on Betsy.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, and Betsy felt her stomach bottom out. "Why Easthaven?"

"We agreed on it." She said slowly, trying to hide the defensiveness in her voice, trying to hide the fear that an unmedicated Andrew had started to regret his decision to come off them. "I told you why-"

"That's not what I'm asking." He interrupted with a gentle shake of his head.

When they'd spoken about it, it'd been a messy scrapbook page of pasted reasonings and a scribbled out pros and cons list. There were several different truths as to why Betsy pushed for it, a truth that had been hard for others to understand, but a truth that Neil seemed to understand the best.

"Tell me why." She offered. "Why is that something you want me to answer, when you already know?"

"Because I need to hear it without all the noise."

Easthaven had always been the plan - it was difficult to concisely explain the choice as to pull forward Andrew's timeline of events, but it was something Betsy had had to explain over and over again. To her superiors, to the boards in Easthaven, the courts and parole officers that didn't understand it at all. It had been almost hardest to explain it to Andrew himself, bruised and bloody after a night of retraumatisation and a concussion that left him barely able to focus, who's only coping mechanism was to make jokes to cover the fear that he hadn't even been allowed to feel.

Betsy took a deep breath and took off her glasses before saying, "Do you remember laughing?"

Andrew looked away as quickly as the words had left her mouth. She couldn't read his face well enough to tell if he was remembering, or if he couldn't remember at all. It was a silly question though, she thought, knowing how crystal clear Andrew's memory had always been, but perhaps she wondered whether between the haze of withdrawals and events of that night had led his reaction to become somehow buried amongst it all.

Andrew had kept his past a secret for so long, even to her, that he'd nearly given it his own statute of limitations in a way - nothing can be done about it now. Betsy had promised not to pursue any legal action, perhaps against the protocols she was required to follow, for the sake of his honesty way back in the beginning. For the sake of his openness, Betsy was willing to do anything. Andrew had allowed enough time and distance to pass before he handed over even the tiniest of details about the abuse he'd faced as a child. Enough time had passed that he felt as though they were nothing more than stories. Drake would never be in his life again, whether it be for justice or for some sort of closure, so, to him it felt safe to talk about. Any time he'd found his way into a conversation, the son of the mother that could've been, it was obvious how much it bothered Andrew to talk about it; the way his eyes glazed over recounting the details, the way even the mention of his name stilled him as if he were a mannequin on display. But Drake alone was far enough away from the Andrew that sat in her office months beforehand, and he felt like it was okay to divulge the truth.

But against all odds, Drake had come back.

He'd found Andrew, he'd put his hands on him, an adult now, more capable of fighting back, but still in Andrew's eyes he'd won again. It had been funny to him, the night of, that after so many years he'd finally, naively, stupidly allowed himself to feel safe. He had stopped looking over his shoulder each and every night before he got into bed. He had spoken Drake's name freely in a therapeutic setting without fear of repercussion. Yet he had looked him in the eyes again. Yet he'd felt like that child all over again, and years and years of progress were destroyed in an instant.

And Andrew laughed.

A terrible sound, a joke in the face of shock and trauma, a flick of his wrist as if the bruises that circled it were not enough to tell him that this was not to be brushed away. Betsy remembered sitting across from him that night as if it had been only the night before. She remembered the awful sound of his hoarse laugh as well as she remembered the painfully long drive from her sisters home to Columbia. She remembered it almost as well as the foggy conversation she'd had with Abby over the phone.

She looked across that room at him now, his demeanor that of a stranger, and sighed.

Why had she done it?

For him. Anything else was irrelevant - the season, the courts and their mandated recovery timeline, the opinions of anyone who thought they understood. All of it had been for him.

To keep him alive.

To keep him safe.

"I'll tell you," Betsy lifted up the cocoa she'd sat on the table between them, to rest her lips on the warm ceramic. Andrew watched her as she spoke, and she watched his chest rise and fall after a purposeful deep breath. "But Andrew, I need you to let me finish."

[bittenbyyou]

Stolen Moments

High School!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Best Friend!Reader

genre: fluff

description: You and Peter’s first kiss didn’t go the way you planned.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: references to Spider-Man: Far From Home, Peter not knowing any fairytales/Disney princesses and being a lovable dork

a/n: Another snippet based on real life events of how my bf and i got together lol. Enjoy the fluff and please feel free to let me know if you liked it!

One thing you loved most about your best friend was his inability to remember classic fairy tales. No matter how many times you summarized them, Peter would find a way to botch it every single time. Even going so far as to invent alternative story lines, which never failed to crack you up. You would tease him endlessly for it, but then he’d grill you for having never watched Star Wars or any of the Harry Potter movies. That’s what we’d call balance in your friendship.

“Fairy tale pop quiz!” Peter groaned dramatically as he plopped down on his couch, phone in hand with your big grinning face on FaceTime. 

“Not fairy tales… anything but those. They’re my weakness,” he whined. You laid on your side in bed, giggling.

“The great Peter Parker who’s in band, robotics, and the decathlon can’t recall a few simple fairy tales?”

“Well, I actually quit those,” he shared, ruffling the back of his hair with a sheepish grin. Your face fell, eyes wide and concerned. 

“Wait, when? Why?”

It’s not like Peter could tell you he was Spider-Man even though he really, really wanted to. The less you knew, the better. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to you.

“I’m really busy.”

“Stark Internship?”

His eyes lit up when you gave him a reason. “Right, yes!” 

Thank god for your incredible memory. “Makes sense. It’s been a while since we’ve even FaceTimed each other. You’re usually so busy at night.”

He saw the way your lips pouted as your crestfallen eyes looked away from the camera, making his chest feel tight. “I miss you too.”

Your gaze flickered back up to meet his own. Peter gulped, wondering if he sounded too emotional. Too affectionate. Too… obvious.

“Touché, Parker,” you said, rolling onto your back. “Okay, no more stalling. Tell me… which fairy tale princess ate the poison apple?”

Peter shut his eyes tight, thinking carefully. You both went to LegoLand one time and there was a display case that had the poison apple. You had asked him the same question then, pointing at the apple excitedly.

“Before we’re old would be nice,” you teased. Peter lifted up his index finger and shushed you. 

“Hold on, I got it,” His eyes fluttered open after remembering there was a small sign next to the poison apple display. “Little Mermaid.”

“Why would The Little Mermaid eat a poisonous apple?!” You bursted out into laughter at his confidence. “Dude, you said the same thing back when we went to LegoLand. The sign was in the wrong spot.”

“Darn it,” he muttered with a snap of his fingers. 

“I’ll give you a hint. Weather.”

“... Tornadoes?”

“What princess has “tornado” in her name?!” you exclaimed, trying your best not to wheeze. Peter couldn’t help but join in the laughter, knowing he was making a fool of himself. 

“You snorted,” he said in a taunting voice. “Gross.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

It’s true. He loved your laugh. Mostly because you always laughed with your whole body and sometimes would keel over. Even in public. In fact, you were probably about to fall off your bed right this second because your face suddenly became blurry and shaky. 

“Did you almost fall?” 

You successfully caught yourself and your phone before it fell on your face. “No,” you readjusted your position and cleared your throat, “Try again. It’s cold weather.”

“It can’t be Frozen… I think I’d remember that. You’ve never said anything about an apple in Mulan the many times you’ve told me her story…” You nodded many times, appreciating the fact he remembered your love for Mulan. You saw how his brows furrowed in concentration, loving how serious he was taking this. “Snow White.”

“Good j—”

“Oh!” he shouted all of a sudden, almost giving you a heart attack. “She’s the one with the seven smurfs, right?!”

Oh Peter Parker….  You’re the cutest human alive, you thought. 

Another wave of laughter overcame you, which intensified tenfold once you saw the big dumb smile on Peter’s face. The boy really thought he got it right.

“No… honey, they’re dwarfs,” you said once the laughter subsided.

“... Same thing,” he said, followed by a shrug. “I knew that.”

“Oh, we’re in for a long night. How about Jack and the Beanstalk?” That one should be easy.

“Ooh! Um… wait, I got it, quit laughing, I haven't even started,” he said, chuckling at how you placed a hand on your mouth to refrain from laughing more. “A guy sells a dog or cow or sheep for beans that grow into a big bean stalk and climbs up there and I think there’s a giant in the clouds? I don’t know.”

“I like how you completely disregarded the part where he was persuaded to sell his animal for magical beans, but okay. Pretty good.” You gave him a wink, which he returned. 

“Told you I’m good at this.”

“Uh huh. Last one.”

Peter gave you a nod. “Go for it.”

“Cinderella.”

“Easy. She’s the one with long hair, with the glass shoes that’s supposed to be a perfect fit but somehow falls off and I think the guy uses her hair to find her and climb the castle before midnight when some magic wears off…”

You didn’t have enough energy to laugh and risk your abs becoming a liability, so you opted for parting your lips open slightly, shocked at how someone could be so, so wrong. 

“I think there’s some sisters or step sisters in it too!” he added, giving himself a pat on the back. “Nailed it.”

“Quite the opposite,” you said, shaking your head. “I love your dumbass sometimes.”

He knew you were using the word as a term of endearment, so it made him smile. He loved you too. So much. 

“What’s occupying all that headspace of yours these days that you can never remember the stories?” you teased. 

You are… and Spider-Man, Peter thought to himself. 

"Oh you know, there's an ongoing battle between my inner monologue and my stomach's incessant cravings for Aunt May's chocolate chip cookies. Spoiler alert: the cookies usually win."

“Oh my gosh, her cookies are the best.”

“Right?”

You both laid on your sides, a comforting silence blanketing the two of you for a few seconds. 

“So um…” you started to say, a twinge of nervousness in your voice. “Because your knowledge on Cinderella is so—”

“Awesome?”

“Awful,” you corrected, smiling at his lame joke. “I was wondering if you wanted to go see the school play this Friday. They’re performing Cinderella.”

Peter sat up from his couch. “You mean, you and me, g-going together?”

“Yeah. MJ didn’t want to go because seeing a damsel in distress who solely relies on a man saving her kills her vibe.” Peter chuckled at that. “Are you and Ned doing anything?”

“No.”

“Oh good,” You paused. “You can invite him to come too!”

Oh. 

Peter hid his disappointment by placing his phone down on the couch for a split second, gathering his thoughts. Why was he assuming that this was a date? Of course you’d ask Ned to come too. He was so silly.

“Peter?” you said. “Peter~, are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m here.” He picked up the phone and gave you a thumbs up. “I’ll go. And I’ll ask Ned about it.”

“Cool. See ya then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Peter was so nervous. Which he knew was ridiculous because this was not a date, yet he spent hours picking out an outfit. What does one even wear to a school play anyway? In the end, he slipped on a white button-up with some jeans and headed to the school. 

He saw you standing by the front doors, wearing a pretty blouse and shorts. Simple but cute nonetheless. You always looked pretty to him. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” Peter said while running up the steps to get to you. “Were you waiting long?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. The play starts in five minutes, so you made it on time.”

“Good. Good…” Now that he was up close, Peter noticed how you styled your hair differently from what you usually did. “Did you do something to your hair?”

“Yeah… is it weird?”

Peter shook his head rapidly. “No, you look good.”

“Just good?”

“Great. Spectacular. Fantastic,” he said with exploding hand motions.

You giggled. “Okay Mr. Thesaurus. Where’s Ned?”

“Ned told me he didn’t want to go.” Which Peter was secretly thankful for, but he’d never let you know that.

“Okay. Then it’ll just be us two. Let’s go.”

The two of you walked to the front doors and you didn’t miss how Peter practically ran in front of you just to open it first. You thanked him and then made your way to the school’s auditorium. Peter always suggested sitting in the back, claiming it had the best view but in reality, it’d be the easiest for him to slip away if duty called.

You did notice his backpack, finding it slightly odd he brought it to school after hours. However, you didn’t think too much of it because Peter always carried a backpack. It was handy when the two of you hung out at the mall and snuck in snacks into the movie theater or when you accidentally bought too much stuff at Target after claiming you only needed one thing.

“I bet Betty is going to look so beautiful. She’s Cinderella,” you said as you sat down on Peter’s left side. 

You’re beautiful. 

“Really? And Ned’s not the prince? I wonder how he feels about that.”

“Oh, they broke up,” you informed him. “I found out yesterday.”

“What? Dang, we could’ve had a double date,” he joked, testing the waters with you. You playfully smacked his arm. 

“In your dreams.”

The lights soon dimmed, letting you and Peter know the play was about to begin. Honestly, the play was far more entertaining than expected because it turned out to be a parody of Cinderella, much to your horror. Peter was relishing at how upset you were, whispering to him every few minutes on how the story “wasn’t accurate.” Honestly, it was super adorable seeing you so worked up.

You leaned close to Peter’s ear, causing his breath to hitch. “This is so ridiculous. It’s supposed to be a pumpkin carriage, not pumpkin pie.”

“... There’s supposed to be a carriage?” he whispered back. 

“See, this play is tainting your mind.”

“But you can’t tell me you’re not enjoying it.”

“It is pretty funny,” you admitted, noticing his arm on your shared armrest. You were about to place your hand on top of his when Nick Fury’s stern voice echoed loudly in his ear.

“Parker. Are you in position?”

“No,” Peter said loud enough for you to hear. You immediately retracted your hand and Peter realized what you were about to do. 

“No…?” you said softly. The look of hurt in your eyes made Peter panic.

“And why the hell not?” Nick Fury interrogated. Peter slapped his ear/earpiece to shut it up. 

“I-I didn’t mean that. Um… I need to go to the restroom.”

“You okay?”

“I’m…” His mind raced for an excuse. “I’m feeling sick, um, I ate dairy and you know I’m lactose intolerant and all that.” He got out of his seat awkwardly, your eyes never leaving him. It pained him to see you so worried. “Oof, I’m feeling it now. Gonna be a while.”

He held onto his stomach to make for a convincing act. 

“Okay. Feel better.”

He apologized to you and then ran out of the auditorium.

“Parker, you better be on your way,” Fury’s voice warned.

“I’m coming,” Peter huffed, looking at the backside of your head one last time before disappearing. 

Peter finished his mission by the time the play had already ended. He saw you were sitting at the front of the school on the steps, so he had to go through the back and exit as if he had come from the restrooms. 

“Whoo~! That was painful,” Peter said as he approached you, hand on his stomach and backpack on his back. He let out a sharp exhale and watched your expressions to see if you were buying it. “I really shouldn’t have eaten that ice cream… I’m sorry. I left you all alone.”

“It’s okay. Betty says hi by the way.”

“Oh. Hi.” He held his hand up and waved at you as if you were Betty. That earned a chuckle from you. “I really am sorry. What did I miss?”

He took the seat next to you on the steps. “Well, it’s safe to say you’ll never learn the real story of Cinderella. Or at least the Disney version.”

“Was it that bad?”

“The worst.” 

He nudged his shoulder against yours, flashing you a warm smile. “Are you mad at me?”

“A little. I waited outside the restrooms for you, but you took so long.”

“... It really hurt my bowels. The battle was rough.”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh. You know what, I’ll forgive you if you can answer one thing. What’s something pretty much all the Disney princesses have in common?”

Peter pouted his lips in confusion, searching his brain for a possible answer. “They’re… girls?”

“No… they all get kissed by the end of the movie.”

“O-Oh… Oh. Oh~,” he shot you a perplexed look. “Have you… ever been kissed?”

You nodded. “Yeah. By my ex-boyfriend.” Ah, right. Peter was not fond of him at all. “What about you?”

“Me? No…” he looked down at the cement. “Not yet.”

“Didn’t you and Liz date? You guys didn’t kiss?”

He shook his head. “No. And I’d probably messed it up anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well in the movies and stuff it’s always perfectly well executed.”

You scooted a bit closer to him so that your knees would touch. “That’s only in movies. Most people’s first kiss is awkward.”

“Was yours?”

“Yeah. But I’d like to think I’m way better at it now.”

That made Peter’s eyes widen, but he still kept his gaze glued to the ground. “I-Is that so?”

“I mean… Do you want to find out?”

He finally lifted his head up to look at you. You reached your hand over, caressing the side of his face and he leaned into your touch right away. Was this a dream? Because his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Having his first kiss was one thing but having it with you? That’s all he ever wanted. 

“There’s no such thing as a perfectly executed first kiss. But I’d like to try to give you one if you want,” you said softly. 

“Y-Yeah… that’d be nice.” 

You smiled and leaned in closer, but Peter got too eager and pecked you on the lips first. He couldn’t help it. He’s been wanting to kiss you since forever. So yeah, it was sloppy and unplanned with zero technique. He honestly almost missed. You stared at him, too stunned to speak for a moment before your face twisted into frustration. 

“Peter!”

“What?”

“That's not how it was supposed to be! I was going to kiss you soft and sweet and slow and it was supposed to be romantic. You ruined it!”

“I’m pretty happy with it,” he said nervously. The look you gave him screamed murder. 

“Ugh. Well, that’s all you get. Your first kiss. Rushed and terrible.”

“I can live with that.”

You blushed for the first time that night and Peter had to stop himself from doing a backflip out of joy. 

[a-zalea-garden]

How do you feel about the pride comic so far? :D

I actually hadn't sat down to read it until I got this ask, but the snippets I'd seen were ADORABLE. I'm writing this as I read it for the first time:

pg. 1: "Hypnosis was so much easier" HE WOULD! And him rehearsing with Whisp is so sweet. I love that they tied her and their friendship into the story more; I kind of thought she was done for good. Valentine hitting his face on the locker is SUCH a diary thing, too. I don't know if it was meant to be a callback or anything, but that's what it reminded me of. And Whisp saying "good luck!" while Kier is half-dead on the floor is PRICELESS. I love that he's still trying to make amends with Drac though.

pg. 2: Him blurting everything at once and then stopping to be all ✨composed✨ is perfect. UGH but the accent. Kieran, dear, she knows you're Romanian. I like the call back, though, and if you really look into it, it's a reflex because he's embarrassed and panicked. I LOVE the cut between him saying "it's fine" and him absolutely panicking, all zoned-out. It's such a simple thing that's meant to be comedic but it really shows us how he thinks and how vulnerable he is in a world without his prestige.

pg. 3 BIG SPELLDON REVEAL DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!! I love the small details of his character design that bring him to life, like the rings on his fingers and the mole on his lip. and the necklaces <3. Valentine IMMEDIATELY crumpling the paper in his big dramatic moment is so silly. And spelldon ignoring it and just taking a rose. It's such an easy, domestic kind of moment. And they're both so pretty ugh the close ups. "Like my soul" ok princess val 🙄 and spelldon worried, "You still love draculaura?" I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SPELLDON CAULDRONELLO

pg. 4: the moment of realization is priceless. Kieran is just in awe of this man. and Spelldon is just so enthusiastic about it (I love how he's just like 'this is dumb' but goes along with it anyway. Okay mr. malicious compliance). The height difference is also perfect to me. It makes sense that Spelldon is way taller because he's part (like 70% ish if I remember right from that time I did a pedigree) god. Casta's tall too isn't she? Valentine lost in his own little world ❤️ my little yapper.

pg. 5: Valentine trying to be over prepared, he's so me. And it's a nice (probably unintentional) callback to his diary where he says "better have it and not need it than need it and not have it." Spelldon's blunt humor is one of my favorite things ever. And him flattering Kieran about biteology >>> ugh they're so sweet. Val's facial expressions are so funny too he's so dramatic. Him trying to be humble and change the subject when Spelldon compliments him is so cute. AAAA they're so sweet.

pg. 6: Spelldon being all nonchalant while Val is literally falling over is so them. That is such a fun dynamic for them to have and I love it so much. I don't even know how to describe or "analyze" it because it just feels so naturally them that there's nothing to point out as "unusual." AAA Spelldon catching Val is such a sweet moment in the comic. Poor Val has his eyes closed, he can't even see Spell's face when it happens. And his hand is HOVERING over Val's back; he's not even touching him and he's blushing like that. I don't even think I need to mention the smirks (they're so precious)(Spells had an eyebrow slit this whole time and I just didn't see it??😭)

pg. 7: EEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA Val you're going to give poor Spelldon a heart attack leave him alone. He's so dramatic clasping his hands like that. The mausoleum is really cute though, I approve. If I were a vengeful ghost, this would be my haunt (get it?). Spelldon having this whole plan thought out to get the ingredients when he's the one who thought it was a useless plan to start with 🤨 okay Spelldon we all see what you're doing. Especially since the whole plan is to get Val clinging to him. Scarah to the rescue!!! Not the return of the accent val STOP PLEASE. I'm glad they're talking about it, though. And he doesn't do it to spelldon 👀 because he's being himself with spelldon and doesn't feel the outside pressures to be someone else. He subconsciously knows that spelldon will accept who he is. Spelldon's face when Val admits that is priceless. BUT SPELLDON NOOOOOO WATCH OUT!

pg. 8: Val regretting the potion because he's in loooooove is so cute to see. "A couple thousand years" you want to spend a couple thousand years with your feelings for Spelldon awww. And he doesn't even act like he needs them to be reciprocated. Like, duh we all know what he's doing, but he never spells (pun unintentional but fully embraced) it out. The bracelet too from the Val's rose is a sweet little detail. Especially since they chose to give us THAT angle for that panel. They wanted us to see that in this moment. Valentine voicing his development is perfect. He really has grown and learned so much. SPELLDON WHAT?????? NOOOOO! and Val immediately regretting this whole thing because oh nooo Spelldon won't love him (🤨)

pg. 9: Okay Spelldon you trickster. "You really think i'd let you excise your emotions like that" (okay mom) "Yes? I asked you to!" Bro. That's super sweet though, he's been looking out for him this whole time, but couldn't just tell him no. Awww he wanted to spend time with him. AWWW VAL. I'm surprised Val didn't feel the love but maybe i've been reading his powers wrong. And then we have The Moment™ of course. Aww

pg. 10: Aw he and Drac made up. I'm glad they got closure from everything (the Pit Incident... and everything beforehand). WOAH val is so pretty, that turning panel??? Spelldon watching silently from the sidelines all proud. We have to remember that he met Spelldon BEFORE Whisp (and long before the two of them had their makeshift therapy sessions), and the day of the dance (where he failed his attempt to fix everything) from the original comics. He was still a mess then. He has been here since then, and got to see him grow. KIERAN VALENTINE FULL NAME RAHHHH COME OUT YE BLACK AND TANS COME OUT AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN🇮🇪💪i'm glad they're pushing that because so many people think Valentine is his full name, it's actually crazy. Whisp wanting to meet Spelldon 👀 I need to see that now too! And Val ignoring her to hold Spelldon's hands, he's so clingy. I guess he has been this entire time with his yapping. And they walk into the sunset!!!

THE END!!!

I don't know if I wrote WAYYY too much, but I wanted to make sure I gave my full reaction (because lets face it, we've been starved for a while. thats why I got into fanfic like three-ish years ago). The notes got progressively longer as I went 😭

All in all I absolutely adore the comic. It's such a sweet glimpse into Valentine's growth and development, and I'm so glad to finally have a real Spelldon. The entire thing is such a good slice-of-life story that just feels calm and domestic and unforced, like there is no antagonist or unneeded tension to force things along. It's just Spell and Val.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hey I hope you have a great day! Could I get a snippet of arsonist neil please?

WIP Wednesday (8/7) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 208)

The next afternoon, Andrew finds himself in the middle of a Skype call with Aaron and Nicky over lunch. The two of them let Nicky ramble and show off his goofy dog and its giant paws for a bit before Aaron drops the news on him. And Nicky nearly drops the dog. 

“She’s what?! Oh my god. Erik, Aaron’s girlfriend is pregnant!” Nicky shouts into his apartment before turning back around in his chair with a pout. “Oh fuck. He’s not even home yet.”

“So you just deafened your whole building for no reason.”

"Ah, who cares?" Nicky shrugs and sets the puppy in the floor. “Fuck. I can’t believe it. I’m gonna be a grandparent. I’m too young.”

Andrew rolls his eyes at that, but Nicky just points at him through the screen. “What about you, Katelyn-hater? Aren’t you surprised?”

“I don’t hate anyone.” Andrew says, cooly taking a sip of water. “Aaron told me yesterday.”

“YESTERDAY?!” Nicky pouts. “Why didn’t you—”

“Because you’re dramatic.” Andrew says. “Besides, it was late when he told me.”

“How far along is she?” Nicky says, ignoring him.

“We’re not really sure. She made an appointment for, um,” Aaron thinks for a moment. “I can’t remember when. Uh, shit. Soon. And the, uh, doctor will be able to tell us then.”

“You’re going with her, right?”

[wisteriagoesvroom]

Blind Date x Forgotten First Meeting AU landoscar

Hilarity of slightly mutual friend groups so they assume the other is the other half of the blind date (they aren’t 😂 friends assume they are too different to work) even tho they don’t *know* each other but one of them (A) remembers a very young encounter/friendship that really struck a cord in A and has been on their mind forever but assumes B has completely forgotten or it wasn’t as profound or B doesn’t realize the other component is A (would be funny if B talks about the friendship/encounter around A at some point but has no fucking clue the person B is talking about is right fucking there 😭😭😭)

As I was writing this it definitely felt like lando would be more B and oscar more A but I trust this in your hands wiz 🧡

Feel free to ignore blind date aspect if it flows better another way ✌🏻

Idea for very young encounter totally not ripped off from an episode of Bluey: they meet at a campsite locale to one of them as little kids and spend the entire week just getting along like a house on fire but eventually the week ends and the other has to go back to his country and they are too young to keep in contact. Bluey episode totally not for reference cause it’s really really cute 8 minutes 😭😭😭 https://www.bluey.tv/watch/season-1/camping/

-brooke <3

brooke/ @scuderiabs my friend i literally sat on this for so long cus i genuinely wasn’t sure what else i could add to your gourmet ask right here.

but! on the night of the blue suit oscar debut, it’s perfect because either of these would work beautifully… especially if oscar or lando met again at a friend’s wedding (alex albon’s is always gonna be my default setting for romcom-at-the-wedding AUs).

and obviously we gotta have some supporting visuals so here you go:

and ahoy… maybe a glimpse into this world.

snippet below:

————

“I didn’t think it was you.”

“Why?!”

“You look… the same. But different.” Oscar says, tapping the rim of his glass.

The evening light’s dipping into darkness, sky going blue and sooty. Yellow candlelight casts soft circles on Lando’s face. The years have been kind to him. He’s handsome, in a way that endears easily, draws people close to him in a way that works well for Alex’s large contingent of groomsmen.

“How different?”

“Older.”

“Well you look exactly the same as you did when I kicked your arse at tennis. Remember the instructor?”

“Yeah. Thomas was never subtle about the cigarette breaks behind the shed.”

“Pretty funny when your serve hit that citroën though.” Lando shakes his fists in the air dramatically.

“Arrêté!” Lando adds, in a poor imitation of Thomas, the very harried summer school tennis instructor.

Oscar snorts with undignified laughter. One of Alex’s stern Thai aunts looks at him disapprovingly.

“Sorry.” Oscar mumbles. This is far too much emotion for a communal setting. A flush creeps up his neck, and he wonders if he’s getting a food allergy. Maybe it’d be easier if he disappeared to the bathroom to play tetris on his phone and stay inconspicuous like he’d planned after all. Or maybe he could walk into a wall and take refuge in an ambulance.

“I think I saw a tennis court out there earlier.” Lando says, sipping his gin and tonic. There’s a sprig of boysenberry in Lando’s that somehow perfectly matches the cheery boutonnière on his brown suit. Oscar’s not sure how Lando got the bartender to do that up as a special, because it was presumably off menu from the carefully curated wedding drinks. (Probably Lando’s bizzare Prince-Charming-via-Clapham-Common act, and god knows the charm offensive has been working on him too. Nonetheless, it’s really the least of Oscar’s priorities at the moment.)

Because Oscar is looking at Lando’s face. At the quizzical slant of the other man’s brow. He’s watching as Lando leans in curiously, knee just microscopically close enough that they could touch. Though Lando stops just short of doing so, as if sensing that Oscar needs to come in willingly.

Oscar knows Lando has been flirting with him all night. Saying look at you in that amused voice, finding excuses to clink their glasses together far beyond the wedding toasts were over, with flimsy excuses to do so (“god save the queen!” “she’s long gone, mate.” “then god save us all!”).

They’ve also been reminiscing about that one summer camp from over a decade ago. From when they’d lost touch, and all the things that have happened in their lives since. Life in Australia, life in England. Finishing Engineering school. One dropping out of college to pursue music. Births and deaths and having to pay taxes now.

And of all the millions of possible places, of the skipped stops and lost connections in the world; of all the phone numbers and emails and social pages they’ve near-missed, they’ve met again, right here.

Oscar remembers summer sun. Shouting across the net, knocking elbows. Chocolate and marshmallows stuffed into a baguette, sticky on his hands. Dogeared detective novels passed back and forth. A blur of curly hair streaking past him, both of them jumping headfirst into a lake, surfacing to take in huge lungfuls of air.

“You fancy a rematch?” Oscar asks, sipping the last of his drink. He’s not sure if he’s talking only about tennis.

But he doesn’t break eye contact, and hopes Lando understands what he’s really asking.

Lando’s gaze stays steady at him.

A corner of Lando’s mouth tips up into a smile.

(Cicadas hum outside. It’s summer, again.)

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[sseniita]

in which villain partakes in academia

Snippet #2

The last few months had been the most peaceful the city has had in years. Most heroes had been keeping busy with mundane city work and perhaps in a night there’d be one or two arrests- which for this city, was getting kind of boring. The city’s top villain had disappeared without a trace and most weren’t too keen on finding them. The only concern was Villain’s assigned hero, Hero. 

Hero had been slowly disappearing as well, ignoring night watches and skipping meetings, this had raised a red flag but most considered it Hero coping with their life long nemesis disappearing. Little did the public know, Hero was busy grabbing groceries and the occasional coffee for the Villain while they were non-stop working on their thesis. And this night was no different. 

Villain heard the jiggle of keys opening his apartment and their stomach began to growl. 

“Villain!” Hero drawled out in a melodic tone, closing the door with their hip as they balanced brown paper bags on their right arm. The Villain quickly went over to set down the bags on the kitchen island. 

“Sorry I’m late,- thanks- they had some sort of meeting about denial or something. Attendance blah blah. I was gonna skip but they caught me before I left. Hope you’re hungry!”

“Starving.” answered Villain. 

The Hero hummed as they cooked whatever concoction they were brewing up. The Hero’s food was never good, it had gotten edible over the weeks but still far from what you’d want to give someone. Hero had insisted when they learned Villain would be gone for a while and after Hero listed all the things the hero owed the Villain- they gave in and decided it’s probably for the best for Hero to learn how to cook. Though timid and awkward at first, slowly, Villain had started to enjoy Hero’s company and the noise they’d make while Villain typed away for hours on end. So much so that Villain hadn’t told them they had finished the thesis two weeks ago. 

“I was thinking, after you finish your thesis-” Villain cringed and began typing some poem he remembered to look busy. 

“We should have a huge comeback battle. Rooftops, one-liners- do you still have your cape? Bring your cape.” 

“Seems a bit too dramatic, don’t you think?” Villain said over their shoulder, still typing incoherencies. 

“Cinematic, maybe. Theatrical.” Hero exclaimed, waving their arms around. The Villain chuckled. They knew they had to go back at some point but they liked to think domestic life suited them, maybe Villain even wanted it. Unfortunately, that’d mean losing Hero. Something Villain’s fought against multiple times. The Villain continued playing scenarios in his head until they heard Hero complain in the kitchen. After the third ‘Ow!’ they closed the many tabs on their laptop and went over. 

“Ya, ya, I’m coming.” The Villain was starting to think Hero wasn’t improving on purpose.

[nani-nonny]

Uhh… you know that peepaw fic I had in mind?

I decided to call it Our Final Resting Days

So far the outline I have planned for it is 7 chapters long, a short fic maybe. And F!Leo let’s Lil Leo call him “Lee” :D

Here’s a snippet vvvv

Leo pouts as he stares out the window, resting his chin in his palm. He knows he’s acting like a child, and it’s the way things are in the future. But it’s so… bad. He hates that this is what the future looks like. He hates that this is all he has to look forward to. He just wants to go back home.

“Whoa, hey, who’s that handsome face?”

Leo doesn’t have the energy to agree. But he makes eye contact with his future self’s reflection. His counterpart is smiling brightly, a harsh contrast to Leo’s saddened expression. And it makes him feel just a little shitty that he’s pouting, so he turns away when his counterpart sits next to him.

Lee leans back on propped hands and stares out the window. There’s nothing much to see except the large mess hall that’s currently empty. The windows were more for decor since they live underground.

“You okay?” Lee asks, not touching Leo but leans long enough to question the younger.

Leo looks away from the window, not wanting to whine to his older self.

“I heard what happened from Junior,” Lee mentions with a nonchalant tone.

Leo rolls his eyes. Of course Case told Lee.

“I get it, you know? The future’s a huge disappointment,” Lee admits with a shrug.

“How can you be okay with that?” Leo asks with a hint of a snappy tone.

“I’m not,” Lee replies.

“Then why are you so happy?”

Lee shrugs again.

Leo gestures with his hands to the empty mess hall as he asks, “What’s so good about the future? Everything sucks! Everyone I know is dead or close to death, the food is rationed, it smells super bad, only one of my brothers is alive, somehow I’m in charge of a family friend’s kid, and there’s nothing to do. Nothing but wait until a fight breaks out or the Krang attack.”

Lee nods as he listens to Leo, wordlessly agreeing to everything the younger is saying.

“And you keep saying that it’s not that bad, but it is. It’s so bad, it’s like a fucking nightmare. How can you be so chill about everything? Nothing’s good about the future, and you’re telling me this is my future?”

“Well, you’re right. The future’s a huge disappointment compared to what we thought it would be,” Lee agrees again. “We thought we’d be living it up in New York with our brothers, fight a few bad guys, be the hero, all that good stuff.”

From the reflection, Leo sees in the corner of his eye, Lee’s expression softens with a hint of sadness.

“But… remembering the good stuff is why I’m okay. And it’s why I keep going,” Lee pats Leo’s back a few times.

Leo is still bitter about it all, but he finally turns to face the window again. “Seriously?”

Lee shrugs again. “Yup. And it’s not all that bad,” he smirks before nudging Leo with his elbow. “Come on,” he gets up and finishes, “I’ll show you how we have fun in the future.”

Leo hesitates, watching Lee standing with a hand outreached for him.

Lee doesn’t wait any longer and pulls Leo up. “Quit staring and lets go, Brat,” Lee scolds lightly and pulls the younger onto his back for an impromptu piggyback.

Leo slumps against his future counterpart’s back and asks tiredly, “Where are we going?”

Lee slams open the window, smacking the pane against the wall and alerting Leo.

“What are you doing?!”

Leo’s shock is ignored as Lee grabs onto the hinge of the window with one arm and holds Leo tightly with the other. Lee leans out of the window, letting his weight fall slightly but securely holding onto the window pane. The hazardous act makes Leo panic and hold tightly to the elder.

Lee inhales dramatically before he calls out in a booming voice that nearly pierces Leo’s tympanum, “LAIR GAMES!!!!!”

The elder’s voice echoes throughout the mess hall, reaching beyond the several doors and through the separate hallways connected to it.

Leo immediately perks up, grabbing onto the sides of Lee’s face and clambering onto the elder’s shoulders to lean over and look him in the eyes. “Lair games?” He repeats excitedly.

Lee smirks with confidence oozing from his scummy expression, “Apocalypse edition.”

[salllzy]

Sal's snippets #4 (hidden in the shadows #3)

For a demon, she would be considered an anomaly, but given that she was half angel it wasn't all that shocking that sometimes she was more virtuous than the average human and demon. That didn't mean that demons didn't have virtues a lot of them did, but they were buried so far down that they were impossible to find.

But she was her father's daughter. Her dad hadn't raised her to allow anyone to walk all over her and with the angels now forcing them to reveal themselves and just what they are? Well, she wasn't going to play nice, regardless of who they were. Sarah knew bits and pieces about angels and how they behaved, her dad, tried to get books on them. Which had been a painstaking task to do. So she knew that angels formed flocks and bonds with those who resided in their flocks. Her flock was her and her dad, that was it. The same was true about her dad.

For as long as she could remember it had always been her and her dad, no one else. Sure he was a serial killer with bodies in the hundreds and he was a cannibal, but no one was perfect. He had never laid a hand on her and he had done everything in his power to keep her safe, even going as far as to learn voodoo from his mother. While the woman herself had never used it, she had proven to be a fountain of knowledge. She pressed a golden-covered hand to his back and focused on his wounds, his self-inflicted wounds. She would call him dramatic but in this situation, she felt as if dramatics were warranted. Neither of them wanted to join Heaven and be part of their flock, not when they had proven how easy it was for them to toss a member of their flock out. She and her dad were different, they would never fit in. They would be tossed out well before they even reached the gates. "Oh, papa." She pressed her hand into his back, she knew that he didn't like touch from those that he didn't trust and men. And for good reason. Her aversion to touch stemmed from a different place, the only person who had ever touched her without the intent of harming her was her dad.

She had stopped trusting her dad's mother when she kept trying to force her to go to church and that all she needed to do was pray and all would be forgiven.

The thought of praying and begging for mercy for something that she had never done, had never sat right with her. She had been a child when the older woman had begun dragging her to church, her small wrist in an iron grip. She would sit in church and try to mimic what was being said, as her tongue blistered and bled. She had never mentioned it to her dad.

Her dad had been so happy that she was spending time with his mother that she had kept her mouth shut. Now she wondered if she had done the right thing, perhaps she should have told him. But what was done was done and she couldn't change it. All she could do was keep going forward and hope that they would be able to deal with whatever was thrown their way, as they had always done. "Don't worry papa, no one will hurt you while I am here." Her eyes flickered into dials before they returned back to normal, she wasn't going to let her anger rule her. She was better than that. Once she was sure that he wasn't in any danger she left his room, she knew that she looked a fright covered in gold-tinted blood. In all honesty, she didn't care, her red eyes took in every detail as she made her way through the hotel. She knew that she would have to be on her guard, she didn't know them and her dad hadn't said whether or not she could trust them, to an extent. But she knew that she had to stay away from Vox and the rest of the Vees, which wouldn't be too much of a problem, she had heard the shouting match that the Vees had gotten into when she was healing her dad. She doubted that any of them were still at the hotel. The Vees were all style and no substance. But if they were in the hotel? Well, she didn't have to play fair.

[goodomensgotmeeffedup]

Here's a snippet of a GO Mafia au I'm working on that nobody asked for. Would you read it? What do you think?

GO Mafia AU

"Crowley, boss wants to see you."

The man in question sighs. "'Course he does." He doesn't say thank you, just stands and tosses back the rest of his drink before walking towards the kitchen. 

It's not a large bar, and they rarely serve any food, but a kitchen is good cover. No one really questions the oddly timed delivery trucks that come by early in the morning or late at night. Got to have groceries after all. That's not what Crowley is after though, no, he's heading for the freezer. 

The inner circle of a hellish crew found at the bottom of some stairs hidden within the walk-in freezer of a bar called Dante's?

A bit on the nose for his tastes. Lucifer loves his dramatics though. He read <i>Dante's Inferno</i> once as a young lad in school and has stuck with the theme ever since. He got it honest though; the previous head of the family went by the codename God.

Now, <i>she</i> had a flare for the dramatics. 

Crowley remembers the first time he ever saw her. She was tall and stunning, so pretty he was convinced that he'd died and she was the angel sent to collect his soul for Heaven. Not that he had been far off. A couple more nights on the streets of London and he really would have died. She saw him there, a ratty little boy, starving and cold, crawling through dirty alley filth looking for a single scrap of food, and kneeled beside him. He remembers the pretty velvet of her dress soaking up the gray water of melted snow as she gently lifted his chin to meet her eyes. 

"Hello, little crawley," she'd said, painted red lips stretched into a smile. "Would you like to come home with me?"

He nodded and she draped her expensive fur coat over his shivering body and gently lifted him up. It was the warmest he had been in weeks. He couldn't even remember his own mother's arms being as warm as this. 

She fed him, nursed him back to health, sent him to school, and adopted him as her own. She never treated him any differently from her own sons. It was a far better life than he ever imagined. And when he was old enough to leave, she asked him to stay. She could have asked him for anything and he would have said yes.

That's when he found out about the family business.

[cyren-myadd]

Do you have a chapter snippet??

Hey guys, the last two weeks have been really busy for me, so chapter 19 is going to be late. Thank you for your patience and in the mean time, here's a snippet!

Wainfleet hopped off his bed and bounced over to Spider with a big stupid grin on his face. For a moment, Quaritch looked like he was going to say no, but then he heaved a sigh and waved for them to leave. Spider followed Wainfleet out of the room and down the hall, following an arrow that pointed them in the direction of the restroom.

“Maverick’s on the way to making a full recovery, by the way.” Wainfleet said cheerily.

Spider started walking towards the bathroom faster. The last thing he wanted was to put up with small talk from Mr. Clean’s evil twin. “Right… um, who’s Maverick again?”

Wainfleet looked slightly offended. “My dog. You hurt him the night you tried to run away, remember?”

“Oh,” Spider cringed at the memory of snapping jaws and razor sharp fangs. Privately, he wished the dog wasn’t going to make a full recovery. “Look, man, I’m really sorry, I—”

“Don’t look so nervous, kid, I ain’t mad at ya!” Chuckled Wainfleet as he patted him on the back. His big, thick fingers probed uncomfortably over his half-healed lashes. “Besides, you’ve already paid your dues for it, haven’t you?”

Spider shrugged his hand off and doubled his pace towards the bathroom. Why did the damn thing have to be so far away? “Yeah, I guess I have.”

If Wainfleet picked up on the signals that he didn’t want to talk, he must’ve ignored them, because he easily caught up with Spider and continued, “all water under the bridge! By the way, you cost me a lot of money when you ran off. I really believed you when you said you weren’t gonna make a run for it. We had a hell of a time placing bets on you! Ha!”

“Well, I’m glad somebody’s having fun here.” Spider hissed between his clenched teeth.

Wainfleet stopped in his tracks as it finally seemed to dawn on him that Spider wasn’t enjoying their conversation. “Wait, c’mon, kid, I didn’t mean it like that.”

At long last, Spider finally reached the bathroom. He grabbed the door handle, but before he could yank it open and escape Wainfleet’s presence, a big, pale hand slammed it shut. Spider yanked on the door handle, but it was in vain. Wainfleet was just too strong.

“Dude, I’m gonna shit my pants. Let me go already.”

“Just wait a minute, okay?” Wainfleet pleaded.

Spider heaved a long, dramatic sigh before releasing the door handle and turning to face him.

“Look, Miles, I know things have been… hard for you here.”

Spider scoffed.

“But I promise, this really is for the best. I know your dad was pretty harsh on you the other night, but he only does it because he’s scared for you. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…” Wainfleet glanced around to check if anyone was listening and lowered his voice. “Ardmore didn’t really want him to get you back, especially after the whole fiasco with the court case and him going to prison. Your dad is working really hard to convince her that you’ll be an asset to the RDA, and every time you run off or disobey an order, it gets harder and harder for him to do that.”

“And what happens if he can’t convince her?”

Wainfleet grimaced and poked a finger into Spider’s chest just like Quaritch had done earlier. “Your dad wasn’t just saying all that to be mean. He really is scared for you, so if you don’t listen to him, he has to punish you to keep you in line. Trust me, it hurts him just as much as it hurts you, but he doesn’t have a choice. He’d rather do that to you than let you run wild and end up with the labcoats. So, please, don’t give him a reason to punish you, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t try to run off again.” Spider nodded in agreement while internally his head was reeling with the confirmation that he actually could get dissected or something. As far as he was concerned, Wainfleet had only convinced him even more that he needed to escape.

[kdmerchant]

Alright.

I havnt managed to write this much I'm such a short period of time in so long. I'll admit there is a lot of me in the character. Way too much for comfort but I'm letting it out in this fic.

I remember writing when younger and everyone saying no one likes a self insert. I'm disregarding that sentiment completely in this fic, so there is about to be more truama talk in this chapters and those to come. Some of it is icky. I won't go too far into the bog of eternal ick, but it's there.

Not all my work will be this way, this one's for me. Read it or don't, my feelings won't be hurt. I'm processing (constantly). 😊

I'm going to try and finish out this next chapter today, and thought I would drop a snippet.

---

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Halsin held up a hand as he spoke and turned to leave. Paradigm pulled away from Astarion who pouted.

“Wait,” she held out a hand, “Are you here for that healing session?” Her

Halsin nodded, and Astarion shifted his weight sitting up to glare at the intruder.

“You can stay if you want.” She said while straightening out his shirt collar. “Making my arm better will suit the whole group. He also said there will be talking, you can get to know me through misery.” The derisive tone in her laugh made him eager enough to stay.

“I’m not sure that’s advisable.” Halsin said while Astarion stood up and helped Paradigm off the rug.

“I thought this was my healing session.” Paradigm furrowed her brow.

“It’s up to you, but I figured he may serve as a distraction.” Halsin supplemented with praise. “If that isn’t the case, don’t worry about it.” He set incense of cedar wood and lavender on the table, ignited it long enough to blow it out, spreading a thick calming scent through the small space.

“I think you should stay.” Paradigm insisted. “I bet there are some stories that will be brought up that I don’t want to repeat all that much. It will also leave you to decide whether I’m worth the trouble.”

“She keeps alluding to trouble and yet I see none.” Astarion said waving a hand dramatically towards Halsin. He took a backpack filled with clothes, threw the bedroll over it for a makeshift chair and curled up in the corner watching as the tall druid motioned for Paradigm to lay face down on the cot.

“Want me to remove my shirt?” Paradigm asked genuinely not knowing if that would help.

“It would make this more effective.” Halsin said as he slathered his hands in some oil that smelled of rosemary and honey. The scents mingled in such a pleasing way that it almost put Paradigm at ease.

Almost.

[misc-obeyme]

Arsenios's Story: Preview

Since today is Arsenios's birthday, I'm sharing this little snippet from his story that I've been working on. The story still doesn't have a title, but I swear I'll come up with one at some point.

I wanted to share something a little fluffy. I think this is a cute little scene. It's before all the really dramatic stuff happens in the story lol.

Note that this is just a preview and is subject to change in the final draft. As always you can find more information about Arsenios in his profile post.

GN!MC x Arsenios (demon OC)

Warnings: none this is all fluff

A few days later you were in your bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Your mind was whirring, your thoughts steadily tumbling over each other. You wanted to rest, to shut your eyes, and sleep. And yet, for some reason, you couldn't.

You sighed. You rolled over in bed and picked up your D.D.D. hoping something there could distract you.

You were going to scroll through Devilgram, but you accidentally opened your contacts instead. You saw Arsenios's name there, new among your list.

Your finger hovered over the send message option. It was late. He was probably asleep, like you should be. And it wasn't like you guys were close enough that you could just text him in the middle of the night.

And yet…

Your mind was a little cloudy from exhaustion, so you went ahead and sent a message anyway. You'd deal with any consequences later.

MC: Hey, are you still awake? Or do you have a normal sleep schedule?

What a dorky thing to say. But you didn't care because you were tired, but couldn't sleep and your brain was not fully functioning. You just needed to talk to someone. Sure, you could have sent a message to any one of the brothers. Actually, you could have just left your room and talked to them in person. Levi was certainly still awake and a good gaming session might even be something that could help. Lucifer might still be awake, too, but you were far more likely to encounter a lecture from him. But for some reason, you didn't want to do any of that.

Your phone vibrated and you nearly dropped it in surprise.

Arsenios: What's sleep? Is that a human thing?

You rolled your eyes. Now you felt a little less like a dork because you were clearly talking to someone who was even more of one than you were.

MC: Ha ha, very funny. So you are awake.

Arsenios: I am now. Did you forget to do your curses and hexes homework for tomorrow? Because if that's why you're texting me, I regret to inform you that I didn't do it either.

MC: No, unlike you I actually care about school. I know better than to think you've done any homework ever.

Arsenios: That's a relief. I wouldn't want to be known for doing homework. So what's up? Everything okay?

You paused for a moment. Was he worried about you? You shook your head. You were being silly.

MC: Nothing, really. I just can't sleep, that's all.

Arsenios: I can do something about that. Hang on.

You read this last message in confusion. You stared at the screen for a moment, not sure how to respond, when it scared you to death by ringing in your hand. Arsenios's name flashed across the screen.

He was calling you?

You swiped to answer because what else could you do?

"Um, hello?" you said.

"Hey," Arsenios said. "Sorry to just call you out of nowhere like that, but I can't help you sleep if you can't hear me."

"What are you talking about?" you asked.

There was the soft strum of guitar strings on the other line.

"Have you already forgotten?" His tone was amused. "I can sing you to sleep."

You stared at the phone for a minute. "What?"

He laughed, a soft rolling sound that sounded like music itself. "My power, remember? If you're having trouble sleeping, it would be easy for me to put a little magic into my song to help you fall asleep. Is that okay?"

Your cheeks heated up and you were glad he couldn't see you. At least he asked this time. You thought about it. It would be nice if you could just sleep right now. "Okay. But if I fall asleep…"

"Don't worry," Arsenios said. "I'll hang up. I won't hear you snoring or talking in your sleep."

"I don't do either of those things!" you said and he laughed again.

"Just get comfortable and tell me when you're ready," he said.

You readjusted yourself so that you were comfortable in your bed, keeping your D.D.D. beside you on the pillow.

"Okay," you said. "I'm ready."

"Sweet dreams, MC," Arsenios said. He started to play the guitar before you could respond. Moments later, he was singing something soft and sweet. You hadn't heard it before, so you figured it was a Devildom song of some kind. It was mellow and quiet. The baritone of his voice easily rising and falling with the notes. It was hard to believe this was the same voice that had been practically growling on stage with the band. Right now it was smooth and gentle, the acoustic hum of the guitar strings mingling perfectly.

Soon enough, your eyes began to drift closed. You felt yourself falling into a restful slumber. It was like you were wrapped up in the song's melody, held close and kept warm. Your dreams were mild and pleasant.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[nhstadler]

A/N: I’m sick at home and feel very sorry for myself so I wrote something a little weird and a little dark and a little different. 

I wasn’t going to share it, but then I thought, maybe some of you might enjoy it, even if it’s turned out slightly strange.

So, here it goes… this is a snippet about post Hogwarts Seth and James (Seth POV) that takes place the night before the “In Another Life” snippet.

I would LOVE to hear what you think.

T H E    P O E M   O F   U S

The lights are low, flickering in the salty breeze that drifts up from the ocean. It’s too dark to see the waves, but I can hear them - rising, falling, crashing, drowning out the tangle of sounds from downstairs. There’s music and laughter and I know I should be a part of it. 

I want to be. 

But I need to take it all in, first. To make it last, make myself remember every little detail, before the night is over, before I can’t get it back.

It’s a little dramatic, but I can’t help feeling the weight of it. The melancholy that lives in nights like this; in the easy laughter and the familiar faces and the old stories that take me back every time. 

I haven’t been home for a year. Which isn’t much, but it feels like it. Like time is moving a little too fast, even as I try to hold on to it. 

“Woodley.”

I hold my breath for a second. For one wave. 

Rising, falling, crashing.

Because I know his voice. 

I think I'll always know it, even when there are a thousand others.

James is standing in the doorway to the veranda with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, not smiling but almost, and, for the smallest moment, it hurts. He is framed by the dim kitchen counter light and it takes my heart a second to remember what my head knows. 

That it’s OK. 

We’re OK.

I don’t exactly know what I’m doing when I push myself away from the railing and walk towards him, but he does the same and we collide in the middle, like a wave. Crashing. I let my arms slide around him, let him pull me closer - into him - until my face is pressed against his chest. Against his old Gryffindor sweatshirt that used to be his dad’s. The one that I gave back to him in a box when it was cold and snowing and we were both crying.  

Everything is so familiar and yet so strange; his warmth, his arms, his scent. I thought I’d forgotten it all but my body hasn’t. It’s melting into him, finding the spot beneath his sternum where my head still fits too perfectly, remembering everything.

James’s head settles on top of mine, tucking me underneath his chin as his arms wrap even tighter around my neck, and it feels like yesterday, when the ocean was wild and I was careless and swam out a little too far and the waves were a little too high.

“Holy Sorceress,” I say as I pull back from him, my palms pressing against his shoulders to bring some distance between him and my clumsy heart. “James Sirius Potter.”

He’s grinning at me and my gaze catches on the corner of his mouth, on his dimple that makes my chest feel too tight. There was once a version of us that was fighting over IKEA furniture in his and Freddie’s empty flat until we were laughing so hard that we ended up on the floor, with me in his lap, running my fingers through his hair. It was hard to let go of those people; of who we were. 

It still is sometimes.

But it’s OK to miss him. Even if he broke my heart.

“I’m glad you lost the man-bun.” I pat his shoulder and he snorts and shakes his head, one hand raking through the dishevelled dark brown strands. It’s so gut-wrenchingly familiar that my heart misses a beat. 

Two beats.

“Oh come on, Woodley.” James gives me his best smile. “I looked smashing.” 

I laugh and it feels real for the first time. Like maybe we can do this after all. Maybe we can assemble the pieces and glue them back together into something else.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I say as I lead the way back into the kitchen. It’s cold outside and the salty air has crept into my hair, curling the ends and making them frizzy. “Katie said you have practice until late tonight.”

“I did.” He looks at me, his face barely visible in the low light, and I think that he’s going to say more, but he just frowns and then bites his lip, his gaze lingering strangely.  

“You - you look great,” he finally says - quietly, gravelly - and my cheeks feel hot as I think about my hair again. About my jeans and my jumper and about how, for a dumb second, I wish I was wearing my new dress with the strappy back. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” I say softly, because it’s true. It’s been more than two years. Two years since I saw him in that hospital bed - in a tangle of IV lines and bloody bandages - and it feels like a different life.

“Gee said you’re a professor already?” He leans against the kitchen island, his arms folded across his chest as a small, lopsided smile curves his mouth. “You little Dumbledore.” 

“Assistant Professor.” I snort and shake my head. Leave it to Genie to completely oversell my phenomenally low-paying gig at a medium-tier university. I wonder what else she’s told James. If he knows about Adam. What he knows about Adam. “I mostly have to grade potentially explosive undergrad projects and teach two very basic introductory level courses.”

“And you love it.” 

“I do.” 

His smile softens to something else - something entirely more disastrous - and I look away. It’s self-preservation. Because, even though I know his smiles and his frowns and everything in between, it doesn’t mean that I’m immune. I fell for him a million times before.

“Congratulations on winning the World Cup, by the way. That last goal was very impressive.”

“You watched?” 

“Yeah.” I brace my hands on the kitchen counter and hop on, looking at my legs as I swing them back and forth. I hadn’t watched a game since the accident. I couldn’t. But it was England against the US and every magical place in Boston was broadcasting it. There’d been no way around it. “Genie was screaming my ear off when you did that fly-jump stunt.” 

James laughs and I can see him untie his arms from the corner of my eye. My heart stopped when he’d launched himself into the air, but I don’t tell him that.

“I’m taking classes at uni again,” he says suddenly and I look up at him again, unable to hide my surprise. He’d given it all up to play professionally. The youngest chaser to ever play for England. He’d fought with his parents that night, with me. I was crying and he stormed off. We’d never been in a fight like that before.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, tousling it at the back, looking almost bashful. “Sports science and healing.”

“That’s - I…” I  try to find the right thing to say. I want to tell him that I’m proud of him, but the words get tangled up in my throat. Because it’s not my place anymore. “That’s amazing, James. Really.” 

“After the accident, I thought a lot about what you said to me.” His dark gaze is intense and I wonder if he remembers how he showed up at my dorm at midnight with that deep frown pulling on his beautiful face because he’s always cared too much. We spent an eternity in the cold hallway, wrapped up in each other, whispering promises of never fighting again.

I should have realised it, then. How badly we could hurt each other. How easy it was to break someone’s heart. His heart.

“It’s tough with Quidditch and everything, but I really like it.” James’s mouth slides into a devastating half-smile as he pushes himself away from the kitchen island. “Potions is still kicking my arse, though. I could use a good tutor.”

He’s coming closer and my chest is rising. Falling. 

Like waves in the darkness. 

“Can you remember our first tutoring session?” I ask, pressing my hands against the counter, my fingers curled around the edge of the wooden surface.

Rising. Falling.

“I remember everything, Seth.” His voice is low and raspy and he is so close. 

Rising. Falling. Crashing. 

I am the wave and he is the tide.

Pulling me out into the dark ocean. 

[ant1quarian]

What do you think Misery's and OG's relationship would be like? Like, we've seen the snippets so far, but yk I can't help but crave more haha

Pfft- I also love Misery and OG's dynamic.

Both of them, essentially become familial besties. They gossip together and both bring out each other's inner gremlin.

They are the siblings they no longer had.

Misery is a silly gal who loves to take walks. This helps Dust a lot because there's always the internal urge that he has to pace constantly.

Dust is a guy whose main love language is acts of service, which helps Misery because she doesn't often remember to do work.

They built each other up and help each other to adapt to every situation that comes their way, and they are both fiercely protective of the other.

Dust also likes to goof off and be like "my lady" with a dramatic bow whenever he does anything for her

She really helps Dust with his whole self-worth problems

So, all in all, they are wholesome familial friends

[paperstorm]

wip wednesday

Thanks for the tag @wtfuckevenknows

Have a snippet from tomorrow's chapter of The Firehouse (which fyi clocks in at 10,361 words. It's the longest chapter of the fic.)

-

“It’s so fucking hot,” TK complains.

Carlos hums his agreement. “It’s only April. Summer is gonna be brutal.”

He tosses the basketball in TK’s direction, but TK leans out of the way and lets it pass by him.

“Dude, I can’t. I’m gonna actually melt.”

“Coming to the park was your idea,” Carlos reminds him. He points in the direction of the ball as it rolls away along the steaming pavement. “Go get it before it ends up in the street.”

“Don’t care.” TK flops dramatically down onto the pavement. It’s much worse than standing up, it turns out, because the asphalt is boiling, but he doesn’t get up.

Carlos laughs and shakes his head and calls TK a drama queen, and goes after the ball himself. He playfully kicks TK’s shoulder lightly as he passes by him, and then returns a moment later with the basketball. He nudges TK’s arm again, pushing the side of his shoe into him.

“Get up, I’m worried you’re actually gonna get burnt. Let’s go sit on the grass.”

TK groans but pushes himself back to his feet and follows Carlos off the court and toward a patch of trees. Their spring leaves are still small and bright green so they don’t provide as much shade as TK would like, but it does feel better to sit on grass rather than concrete so hot it’s practically simmering.

He leans his back against the trunk of one of the trees and Carlos sits beside him. There’s sweat sliding down the sides of Carlos’s face, turning small hairs along his temple curlier than they would otherwise be. One of them doesn’t smell very good. TK thinks it’s probably him. His mom keeps nagging him to put on deodorant every morning but that’s a somewhat new part of his morning routine and he keeps forgetting.

“Okay, what do you wanna do instead?” Carlos asks. His head is tipped back against the tree trunk and he turns it, looking at TK with his endlessly dark eyes.

“Bust open a hydrant?” TK suggests.

Carlos laughs. His eyes get squinty when he laughs. “Maybe not that. It would be nice to swim, though.”

“Oh!” TK sits up straighter. “We could go to Coney Island.”

“Isn’t that in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah. Have you never been?”

“With my parents, when I was like ten. I don’t remember that much about it.”

“There’s a beach,” TK says. “We could swim there without breaking any laws.”

Carlos looks hesitant. He wipes at sweat on his neck with a wrinkled-up nose. “I’ve never gone that far on the subway without my parents.”

“It isn’t that far,” TK argues.

“They definitely wouldn’t let me go with just you, unless your mom was coming.”

“Oh.” TK licks his lips and nods. He leans back, defeated, against the tree. He wants to suggest they just don’t tell anyone where they’re going, but he doesn’t want to pressure Carlos into breaking a rule he isn’t comfortable breaking. “Okay. It was just an idea.”

Carlos turns the basketball over in his hands. “You promise you won’t tell anyone where we went?”

TK perks up again. “Yes. I promise. We’ve gone lots of places together they don’t know about.”

“I know, but … around here. Brooklyn feels far. They’d be pissed. More pissed. Like the time we went to the zoo.”

“I won’t tell. If they ask, we were just here. Shooting hoops. We got a drink at Mick’s and met up with some friends from school and pooled the change in our pockets to order some fries so they’d let us sit in the air conditioning for longer.”

Carlos presses his lips together. He smiles slowly and nods, laughter and mischief dancing in his eyes. “Okay.”

Tagging @strandnreyes @chaotictarlos @reyesstrand @liminalmemories21 @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lightningboltreader @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @alrightbuckaroo @tailoredshirt