#maybe share snippets

[husbandograveyard]

@blueflamebimbo told me to make a playlist for my fic and while I love the idea, I have been dreaming about it all day to come to the conclusion that my taste in music isn't all that varied, nor does it fit any of the moods I'm setting (ಡ‸ಡ)

[cacaocheri]

thinking about how sun is a touchy bastard and needs to be soooo sneaky to get closer to yn

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[wordsofwilderness]

Found this beauty in my writing notes:

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[wikiangela]

several sentence sunday

so this is another fic I started on my vacation (I started three, and had one idea I haven't started yet lol - and one is already posted) - also, the two weeks here might change bc I'm struggling with the timeline (which doesn't matter but also it does lol) but I'll figure it out haha

(I'm still writing all my other wips btw, and gonna get to all the asks, but the writing beans have been gone lately, and I've been too exhausted lol - and my brain is so all over the place with my wips, idk what I wanna get to more)

___

Evan knows he’s in love with Tommy about two weeks into their relationship.

(...)

They still barely know each other, but Evan knows. He can’t explain why, can’t explain how, he just knows. Tommy Kinard is it for him.

The moment he realizes it with utmost clarity is nothing special, really. He just spent the night at Tommy’s – not the first one, but it’s still new enough to fill him with nervous, giddy excitement, butterflies swirling in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt in years before Tommy. Everything about Tommy makes him feel like this. Tommy’s eye-crinkling, nose-scrunching adorable smile; Tommy’s eyes, always so fond when he looks at him; Tommy’s lips that taste so amazing Buck never wants to stop kissing him; Tommy’s big, big hands that feels so good in Buck’s, those strong arms and broad shoulders… – just everything about Tommy. At first Buck thought it’s the newness of this, of Tommy, of knowing about his bisexuality. But he’s also gotten so comfortable with Tommy in such a short time, and it doesn't even really feel new anymore, he knows it must be just him, must be Tommy making him feel like a giddy teen with a crush. Except the way this feels… Buck’s a grown man with tons of experience, and he knows how infatuation feels, how a simple crush and attraction feels, how real love feels. And he knows, deep down in his core, in his soul, in his heart, that this is real, that this is definitely more than a crush. This is what love feels like.

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @reformedplayerbibuck @spotsandsocks @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @girlwonder-writes @perfectlysunny02 @dadbodbuck

[lizardkingeliot]

the moment i allowed myself to think "could this rockstar lestat/photographer louis fic be a multi-chapter thing tho" i doomed myself to it not only absolutely being a multi-chapter thing, but one of those multi-chapter things that starts exploding in my head to the point i need a notes doc to keep track of the vibes and the yearning and the scenes that force their way into my head while i'm just trying to live my life and do my lil tasks...

[quadrantadvisor]

This post reminded me of the time I got entranced by the idea of in-universe rpf and wrote an "excerpt" of a hypothetical accidental selfcest fanfic.

The Lore tm is that in a universe where Bernard never met Tim, he became a prolific Capes RPF writer as well as conspiracy theorist, and that the popularity of the Bruce Wayne/Batman ship gave him the fun idea of pairing up the Wayne kids with Batclan counterparts, which lined up surprisingly well! Tim, who frequents the Gotham Capes RPF tag for normal reasons (as a kid he wrote a surpisingly popular series of gen fics where his self insert oc got adopted by Batman, he was like 11 don't judge him) sees this fic and finds certain details, such as, y'know, shipping his family members with themselves, highly suspicious. He must investigate this person and find out how much they know.

-

[...]

“What are you doing here, Nightwing?” Officer Grayson sighed. He looked tired, the hero noted. He understood that. A city like this could make a man tired in his soul. “The case is over. There's no reason to see eachother anymore.”

It didn't take long for Nightwing to find a reason. “There's no Batman in Bludhaven,” he said. “I need to take allies where I can get them, and you… I think you're in the same boat.” He remembered the photos of young, pretty Richie Grayson, smiling in the tabloids,  and thought about how the force could beat down someone like that. “I know you want to make Bludhaven a better place. We can keep helping eachother, working together. We need eachother.” That was all true. But none of it was why Nightwing had come to the officer's apartment balcony.

Grayson rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't think you understand how much trouble I could be in. If the other officers found out I was slipping information to a vigilante…” He frowned, the dark circles beneath his eyes even more pronounced with the expression. “They don't trust you.”

“Do you?” Nightwing couldn't help but ask.

Grayson clenched his jaw, and his gaze on Nightwing became piercing. Looking at him, the vigilante knew—he had been beaten down, but not broken. His free spirit compressed into something stronger, harder. There was fire in his eyes. “I don't know,” the officer said, “should I?”

In some ways, the display of dominance was adorable, and Nightwing couldn't help flashing his signature sharp grin. “You can,” he promised. “It's up to you. But I could show you.” He hopped onto the balcony's railing with his inhuman grace, and held out his hand. “If you put your trust in me, I'll make it worth your while.”

The man looked dubious, gaze flicking from Nightwing's shielded eyes to his outstretched hand. “How?”

“You used to be an acrobat, didn't you, officer?” the hero asked.

Grayson looked away. “That was a long time ago.’”

“Well,” said Nightwing, still grinning that wicked grin, teeth flashing in the dim light, “how would you like to really fly?”

The officer's eyes went wide, and for a moment, Nightwing worried he would close the door, shut him out, and it would all be over. Then a determined look swept over him, and he stepped forward, reaching out.

Grayson's hand slipped into his, and Nightwing took the leap.

[...]

End notes:

😭 why did you have to become a cop richie how am i meant to acab like this????

like yes cops are Bastard but like. Richie Grayson was an outlier and should not have been counted. he's perfect your honor. he's never done anything wrong in his whole life. no one tell me otherwise pls

also nightwing is some kind of fae creature but don't worry about that

[fanboyzuko]

Cracks knuckles we got a full set up today boys let's write a scene or two

[formalmess]

i rly want halloween to come sooner so ive been thinking abt spooky stuff these last few days and i thought: i might as well post my vampire and vampire hunter au... lord luigi (turned by antasma) and vampire “hunter” peasley

[z0mbie1uvr]

snippet of potential fic?

Jean tunes out their bickering in favour of staring out the window. The scenery of dead grass and rolling hills whipped past him violently, causing him to swallow against the ever growing lump in his throat and unable to help but rub a thumb across his top lip to wipe away the slowly accumulating sweat. He wishes that he at least had the urgency to call for shotgun before they left. But alas, Laila beat him to it. Who was he to argue that? To fight her on it would’ve raised flags, and he doesn’t need attention put onto this silly childish quirk of his. He did always pray that he’d grow out of it- too bad that never happened. 

Jean was shook out of his thoughts minutes later by Jeremy leaning in towards him. His breath tickled Jean's neck as he spoke. “You okay?”

Jean sends him an expressionless look, but no amount of apathy could hide the green hue to his once again pale skin. Instead of responding though, Jean gives a curt nod before turning to stare back out the window. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as sweat drips off of body parts that he didn’t even know could sweat. If he can avoid any more attention on him that would be great, though unrealistic. He can feel Jeremys big brown eyes staring him down once he shifts back onto his respective side of the car, and it's making his skin crawl- not to mention Cats thumping music, which also isn’t helping. In some kind of last-ditch effort he rolls his window down in an attempt to cool himself off, but the strong wind is loud and almost painful on his face. And while the fresh air is nice, the wind thrashing against his ear is making it ring awfully so. He takes one last gulp of that oceanside air before dreadfully rolling the window back up. 

Jean delights in ignoring Jeremy for the next twenty minutes, letting everyone else carry the conversation while he simply half-listens. Though the more time that passes, the worse he feels. His stomach lurches as they take a windy bend in the road, and he clutches a hand onto the door pull in his sudden panic. He feels a splash of bile lick the back of his throat and he swallows it down with vengeance. It isn’t until they make it back onto a straight stretch that Cat looks back at him from the rearview mirror. “Do we need to pull over?” 

And with that, Jean can feel the remaining pairs of eyes flick over to him in interest. He opens his mouth to argue that, no, they do not need to pull over, but he's stopped dead in his tracks when a gag almost comes out instead. Jean tightens his grip on the door and squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to get some form of control over his body. 

This is miserable. Wretched. Jean would rather run out into the road and let a car run him over if it meant that he could stop feeling this way. He once again swallows against the slimy film in his throat as the car pulls off to a stop. If he could talk without the fear of what would come up, he would demand Cat to keep going. Everything was fine. 

[mauvemischief]

Because Ronan knew grief like he knew Adam Parrish, unknowable Adam Parrish. In breath, and heartbeat, in the lines around his eyes and the freckles on his shoulders. Ronan Lynch knew Adam Parrish in the tilt of his smile, the light of his eyes and the lines over the palms of his hands. Because Ronan Lynch would know Adam Parrish in life, in death, and in all that was in between. Then, now, tomorrow, always.

[overtake]

I was tagged by @powerful-owl to post the last 6 sentences I wrote in a WIP. I'm cheating quite egregiously. It is far longer than 6 sentences. I cannot control myself to post just six sentences. This is from a tennis AU.

Max smiles into Daniel’s pec. “Going to hide on the farm forever?” 

“It’s not hiding if you know where I am.” 

“Still have the dirt bikes?” 

Daniel thinks of Max drenched in Australia's golden sun at 23 — his smile blinding as he took the bikes over jumps with the same ease he used to swing a racket. He'd spent days inventing funny backstories for the cows, making friends with the evil poodle at the nearest grocery store that Daniel swears is plotting to chomp off his leg, and diving off a boat into the ocean with reckless abandon. He took great glee in teasing Daniel from the water. Daniel always dipped a toe in and searched for anything that could kill him before he jumped.

Max hasn’t been back in the years since, but Daniel sometimes imagines Max in the mundane parts of his long, lazy days at home and subconsciously reaches out to find him in all the places he should still be.

“There’s a dirt bike for you any time you want,” Daniel promises, “and Monaco would miss me if I didn’t come back for a game of padel every so often.” 

Max presses a gentle kiss over the tan skin where he rests his chin. Daniel holds him tight to his chest and imagines the ball popping between them one final time tomorrow: current gentle smiles twisted into hard stares; orgasmic moans shifted into effortful grunts. He falls asleep with a fresh hard-on.

Tags: I feel like everyone's probably been tagged by now because I took days to get to this so please do it if this game speaks to you and say I tagged you!!!!

[hold-him-down]

here's a snippet from part 2 of the hospital arc. as with the last, if you're wanting to wait until there's a more polished, more complete piece, please skip this one! just some offerings to spread some holiday cheer and maybe spark the writing bug.

✥ ✥ ✥

Luke takes a breath, his fingers working in a fist-release-fist-release motion that does nothing to calm him down. “There’s a… there’s a handler here, too, but everyone has been much kinder to me than they have to him,” Rob says carefully.

Luke nods, although Rob can’t see that. He sucks in a breath through his nose, then releases it. “What is his involvement?” he asks slowly.

“He was… at the store, I guess. He followed the ambulance.” Rob puts space between each word, and Luke forces himself to slow down. To think. 

He opens the door to and finds Miles (reminder: his assistant), standing anxiously outside.

“They’re stalling the vote,” he says, and Luke nods. “Do you want me to tell them there’s an emergency?” 

Luke’s fingers are white where they grip the phone, and he nods. There’s no choice here, he thinks. His responsibility to Leo is the only thing that keeps him upright most days, and he isn’t prepared to sacrifice whatever trace amounts of trust that they have built so far.

[dragon-tidbits]

And with that I think I should stop messing with it-

Oh what wonders and sights you can see with a dragon's eye view.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

😈 love love love young blood!!!

Thank you so much! Here's another snippet:

“Charles!” Edwin shouts and Charles glances up in time to notice that one of the ceiling-high piles is beginning to tilt, a swell of junk hurtling down the side like a sparkly avalanche, bringing what seems like dozens of people with it. It’s heading right towards them. There’s no time to get out of the way. Swearing, Charles pulls Edwin against him, tucking Edwin’s head against his chest, and braces himself with his back to the approaching avalanche. There’s a faint sting as tiny coins and jewels ping off his back and shoulders, before something larger and heavier hits him in the back of the neck and he flinches. Then there’s shit raining down around them—jewelry and silverware and broken porcelain plates and stuff that Charles can’t identify before he's swept away by the tide. For a moment, he can only cling onto Edwin, desperate to hold onto him, before something—a body, he thinks—slams into them and Edwin is gone, lost in the rush. Charles screams for him and flails, but he can’t see anything and he’s helpless to do anything besides let himself be dragged along. And then everything is still, with Charles lying trapped under what feels like a thousand pound weight.

Make me write