#pk snippets

[ex-vespidae]

the worst kind of gjinkas is when people take a fucking canonically ancient character and make them into the most bland looking anime teenager-looking person

hhh

[milliesfishes]

Omg I could really use some PK coryo angst from you, every time you write an angsty snippet about him I die 😭 PK coryo is something else

꣑ৎ౨ৎThe Bodyguard꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: attempted kidnapping pairing: peacekeeper coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: after a scary incident, your father takes what you deem unnecessary precautions author’s note: anon I apologize for not answering this sooner but I hope this fulfills the need <3 tagging @melo-bees thank you so much for this idea lovey!! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Skipping through the town square, you dodged a few stray people, bestowing them large smiles and letting your bag swing as you passed through. You hummed something to yourself, basking in the sunlight. Summer was in full bloom, and you reveled in it, feeling as though you were in a whirlwind of happy things.

Maybe you shouldn't be out here by yourself. Maybe you should have told someone where you were going, like your mother or a maid or something. But it was just a quick pop into the market, to say hello to a few people and maybe get something pretty for yourself.

The arduous years of school had ended in the spring, and you'd proudly taken your diploma and hung it in a silver frame on your wall. A part of you mourned the loss of that time, knowing the innocence of those years would be pried from your hands and twisted into something worth marrying. But the other held onto the spark of youth that somehow hadn't been doused by your parent's warnings of the future.

"A young lady shouldn't wander the streets by herself." "A young lady needs protection." Given your father's prominence, there were legions of Peacekeepers at his disposal, and he'd made empty threats of putting one or more on your tail. But you waved them off. They were nothing but air.

Clasping the hands of a woman behind a vendor's stall, you squealed, bouncing on your heels. "Oh, Ember you've outdone yourself this week." The jewelry spread out across the wooden surface of the table was exquisite, metal twisting around itself, stones embedded as the tiniest of details. You held up a pair of earrings, letting the light catch the gold and emphasize the red shine of the tiny rocks nestled in the crafted design. "Would it be alright if I got these?"

"Of course, honey," she smiled, taking the coins you slipped into her hands. Counting them, she frowned and tried to pass a few back. "That's too much-"

"Really? Could've sworn you undercharged." Grinning, you swapped your old earrings out, stowing them safely in a pocket of your bag.

Ember gave you an exasperated look. "Now-"

"It's been a pleasure, I'll see you next time!" You tossed a few more coins on the table, letting them rattle and clink against each other as you broke into a run, skipping away. Ember's laugh followed you like an echo, and you smiled as you pictured her shaking her fist at you.

Your new earrings bounced against your cheeks as you ran down the alleyway and down the lush forest path, holding your skirts in both hands. It was always while running that you felt the freest. And so you did it over and over again, through the trees and streets, through every place you could think of.

With the wind on your legs, you felt liberty's sweet caress all around. It lifted the corners of your lips and practically made you levitate. If feathers sprouted from your limbs and air built up under your arms, sending you soaring into the clouds, you wouldn't have been surprised.

This could be your life. Dancing around town and supporting your friends in the way they needed you to. Nodding along to your father's requests and then turning your cheek. This was boundless, beautiful-

You smacked something firm, the force of it knocking you backwards. Shoulders hitting the dirt, your hair became a curtain over your eyes that you didn't part right away. The collision had stolen your breath, and you chased it back, finally able to grasp and shove it back into your mouth.

Blinking wearily, you swept your hair out of your eyes and got a good look at what had interrupted your joyful flee. A man, clothes tattered, face streaked with dirt. A hat shaded his eyes, but you could see the firmness in them.

An apology bubbled up, escaping your lips as you scrambled to your feet. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where-"

"You're the mayor's daughter." The words were frozen like glaciers, and you lifted your lips in a sweet smile, hoping to thaw him.

"If you'll excuse me-"

His hands were gripping you tight suddenly, roughened nails leaving imprints on your skin. You gasped, wiggling in his hold and trying to squirm away. "I really...if you'd just let me go-"

"How much d'you think Daddy's gonna gimme for givin' his pretty daughter back?" The question sent snakes slithering up your spine, wrapping around your throat. The look in his eyes was haunting, hungry. You cried out, trying to reach out and push him away but he held your wrists fast, twisting one and sending a sharp pain up your arm.

It happened before you could even think. Your knee shot up like a missile, landing between the man's legs. When he shouted, releasing your arms to clutch himself, you caught a glimpse of his mouth. It was unclear whether he was missing teeth or if they were blackened by dust.

You didn't stick around to find out. Now your running had a new purpose, and you sprinted down the road, sobs moving past your lips choked and desperate. Hot tears stung your cheeks as they poured down like rain.

Fear struck you like an arrow, hitting dead center. Over and over you'd been told of people who would be out to get you solely because of the position of your birth, but never before had you witnessed it. As you reached the edge of town, darting back through the narrow alleyway and leaning on the wall to catch your breath, you shuddered involuntarily and hurriedly wiped the tears away from your face.

"Are you alright?"

A gasp clenched your breath and your head snapped up, heart pounding before you realized who stood before you. A tall man in a Peacekeeper's uniform with blue eyes like cornflowers, clutching a weapon. Your shoulders sagged in relief, and your eyes fell to the ground, foot toeing at the cobblestone. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." His voice was low and you managed to meet his eyes, holding your chin high.

Studying him, you were almost surprised at how young he appeared to be. Close to your age, surely. It was such a strange thing, to be so close in age and yet so starkly different.

"I'm fine. I'm just having a bad day," you said, wiping your eyes again. It felt humiliating to talk about what had just happened, and so you sealed your lips.

The Peacekeeper's mouth was set in a firm line, and you could tell he didn't believe you for one second. "May I walk you home?" Now you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes, and you knew the idea of your father was bouncing around in his head. Maybe he wanted praise, or a monetary reward. The chances of him doing it out of the goodness of his heart were low.

Mustering a smile you hoped was sweet, you shook your head, clutching your bag and sidestepping him. "No thank you. I'll manage."

"You're-"

"I'm fine!" you called, already walking away. This time you clung to the shadows rather than enjoying the sunshine. Nobody else needed to see you like this.

It was embarrassing enough that a man with eyes the color of the sky you so badly wanted to soar into had.

The delicate lace of your curtains looked so pretty in the sunshine, and you clasped them in your fingers, pleased to find them warm. Lying stretched out across your bedspread, you smiled brightly, kicking one foot up into the air. The bundle of wildflowers on your nightstand was tied with a ribbon, and their sweetened scent greeted your nose.

It had been a perfect day in the forest, lying amongst the flora and fauna. You'd brought your picnic with you as usual, reading to yourself and enjoying the quiet. In the past bit you'd hardly been able to have a moment to yourself, making today all the more magical.

Since that awful day a week ago you hadn't breathed a word to anybody about what had happened, although you knew your mother suspected something was wrong when you came home with dried tear tracks staining your face like berry juice.

She'd occupied you with social visits of all kinds, to people far and wide across the town. There were only so many parlors you could sit in, so many polite smiles you could offer for so many days in a row before you went crazy.

Of course she meant well. But today was your day, and you had enjoyed it immensely.

Your father's voice pierced the quiet and you sat up when you realized he was calling for you. Swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you stood and stretched, muscles popping like bubbles. It was rare that he summoned you before dinner, and you wondered what he wanted to discuss now. If it was the prospect of another son of a wealthy acquaintance you wanted no part of it.

Making it to his office, you paused in the doorway. Had you known your father wasn't alone, maybe you would have taken the time to smooth your dress or run a brush through your hair.

Standing there in front of him was a young man in a Peacekeeper's uniform, blond hair buzzed to his scalp, hat under his arm. You shyly clung to the frame and watched them exchange words for a moment before they noticed you.

When the other man turned it hit you like a stone. Those eyes. The color of a summer sky. You were frozen for a moment, staring at him and feeling nothing except your heartbeat pounding your ribs. His gaze didn't tear away from you either, and for a moment you felt as though you were the only two people in the room.

What was he doing here?

Your father broke the tension, clearing his throat. "I'll expect you back here tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." The man tore his gaze from you and nodded at your father, shaking his extended hand. "I look forward to it."

On the way out, he paused, giving you a nod. "Miss." You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest.

It wasn't until the front door shutting announced his departure that your father spoke to you. "That was Private Snow."

"Ah." You nodded, shifting on your feet and further entering the room. "Is he going to be here more often?" Now you were imagining him standing guard with the other Peacekeepers protecting your home and family, gorgeous eyes piercing your soul every time you left the bounds.

"Yes." Your father smoothed his beard, studying you. "He'll be here for you."

Straightening, you tilted your head, brow knitting. "For me? What-?"

"For your protection." Before you could argue, he firmly said, "An incident was brought to my attention recently. Apparently, you were seen hysterical in an alley."

Your lips parted and you tried to speak, the words coming out in a pathetic stutter. "I...it was...nothing-"

He held up a hand, effectively silencing you. Your fingers found your skirt, twisting the fabric and clenching it tight as every possible excuse swam through your head. But you could see now that it would fall upon deaf ears. For every time he'd warned you, he'd finally made good on his threat.

"You've been far too careless," he began, each word with an edge like a knife. You swallowed, bowing your head as he continued. "Running around town and cavorting with whoever you want. That ends now. It's very clear you can't handle yourself."

Tears were pricking your eyes, and you suppressed a sniffle. This was humiliating, to be reprimanded by your father for something that wasn't even your fault. In a whisper, you tried, "I didn't mean to-"

A shake of his head cut you off. "Private Snow will be accompanying you from now on wherever you go. You'll have constant supervision so I don't have to deal with you every time you get yourself into something stupid. There will be no further discussion." He turned back to his desk, waving a hand and indicating your dismissal.

The walk back up to your room was slow and shameful. Frustration brimmed at the edges of you, poking and prodding at your head. Constant supervision...already you mourned the loss of your precious alone time, the freedom you had enjoyed. Now you would have a shadow trailing behind you carrying a gun.

Shutting the door, you let your tears fall freely, though no sobs parted your lips and split your soul open. You tried to convince yourself that maybe this could be okay. It wasn't like your routine would be interrupted. It only meant that he would be there.

Sniffling and drying your eyes, you took a deep breath, eyes falling on the wildflowers again. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. It was for your own safety after all.

You tried to picture it then, a prophetic vision. The man who'd looked at you in a way nobody had before, who'd awoken some strange feeling in your heart protecting you.

It stayed with you for the rest of the day, trickling into your dreams.

In Coriolanus' life, he'd been mildly interested in a great many people. Ones who could aid his journey to the top or help him play the game of the Capitol's choosing and change the rules for him. He'd been interested, is all.

But he'd never been utterly enchanted by anyone before. Not until you.

All too often he chided himself. The daughter of the mayor, the girl he was only supposed to be keeping an eye on. Really, whatever he was feeling needed to stop immediately. It was blatantly unprofessional.

And yet here he was, standing in a field under the shade of a tree and watching you use your skirt as a makeshift basket as you gathered strawberries into it. Tucked haphazardly in the crook of your arm was a messy bunch of wildflowers. Your hair was loose, taken out of the braid he'd watched your mother approve before you left the house.

You were a vision, something not meant for his hopeless eyes.

Coriolanus took every bit of his life as a Peacekeeper seriously, but this was another matter entirely. It perplexed him how much more committed he'd found himself once every aspect of his duties were steered in your direction.

He'd once felt fascination for Lucy Gray, whom he'd pulled every stop for to get her out of the arena. A girl with a voice like a songbird whose dedication to her found family had inspired him. She had been his ticket out of poverty, and he clung to it with every fiber of his being. When his methods had been unveiled, resulting in his life sentence to the military, he'd kept at his trying, attempted to bribe his way to her.

The attempt had failed, and now he was in Two, among forest confines. At least he wasn't breathing in coal dust. And now there was you.

Given strict instructions on where you were and weren't supposed to go, Coriolanus had known you would be a stubborn case. From the moment he'd recognized you in the alley he'd gotten the feeling that you were as free spirited as a bird. Your father had seemed all too happy to hand you off. Coriolanus hadn't understood why until this morning.

"It's not dangerous," you'd protested in the kitchen this morning, cutting a few slices of bread. "I go there all the time. There's nothing but trees."

"Your father said not to allow you to go past the town limits," he countered, voice firm. He felt like a giant next to you as you delicately gathered your food into the wicker basket shaped like a heart, pink linen lining the insides.

Giving him an exasperated look, you brushed a stray strand away from your face. It had been bothering him for a minute, and he'd longed to do that exact thing. "What could possibly happen if you're going to be with me the whole time?"

Huffing slightly, Coriolanus felt the beginnings of a headache twinge at his temples. A week into this endeavor and he could already tell you were going to be difficult. You fought him at every turn, pleading with him to let you go literally everywhere on the list of prohibited places.

The market on the wrong side of town. A nighttime club with live music. And now the forest, which had particularly been emphasized to him by your father.

You'd batted your eyelashes and shut the lid of the basket. "Please? You've done such a good job at keeping me safe. And it's not that deep in the forest, just a little bit of a walk."

The white dress you were wearing was edged with fine spun lace at the neckline, exposing your collarbone. He tried not to stare at it, tried not to make it so obvious that he found every angle of you beautiful.

Unhelpfully, the look you were giving him reminded him of a doe, the pretty one who pranced among snowflakes in the picture books with rich illustrations his mother used to read him. He was struck dumb for a moment, staring at you.

"Okay."

The little squeal you gave was worth it alone, along with the way you grabbed his wrist and squeezed. "Thank you!"

Now he was watching you in your element, feeling like he'd stumbled upon a nymph. Your essence trailed behind you like fairy dust.

You spotted him watching you and threw him a sweet smile, one that gnawed at the edges of his heart. He somehow found it in him to snap to his senses, boots crinkling the grass as he made his way over to you. No longer did he have to carry the enormous Peacekeeper's gun, only a small one at his hip. This was one of many perks of working directly for your family, among being moved from the base to the servant's quarters of the house, and of course, you.

Now close to you, he solemnly said, "We should head back," expecting your face to fall or for you to try and pout your way into thirty more minutes. Coriolanus had grown accustomed to your methods in very little time, as they were tried and true.

Instead, you nodded and tried to shift your flowers up the crook of your elbow. "Could you take these? I want to put the berries in my basket."

Coriolanus removed your bouquet, feeling a little silly as he watched you deposit the strawberries. The skirt of your dress was lightly stained with red juice, and he wondered if it was as sweet as you were.

You reached your hand out from where you were kneeling, about to take the flowers when you groaned, letting your arm fall. "My hair. I have to braid my hair. Hold on-" you gathered it up and let it fall behind your shoulders, clumsily separating it into three sections. Your movements were messy, the result a crooked pattern traveling down your back. Tying it off with your ribbon, you reached up once again, expecting him to hand you the bouquet.

He was staring at your hair, frowning. You re-emphasized your hand. "I can take them now-"

"Your hair doesn't look anything like how it did when we left." He studied the messy attempt, and you half smiled.

"It's fine. Nobody pays attention to that."

Coriolanus pressed his lips into a firm line. If you came back looking even slightly like you'd been in the forest, his entire position could be jeopardized. It was bad enough your skirt was stained, but that could be played off. There was no place in town you were allowed to go where you'd be able to take your hair down. Women around here always had it pinned up or pulled back in some way.

Anxiety pulsed at his heart as he imagined what would happen if you were discovered. He'd be disciplined for not following orders and sent back to the barracks, maybe even demoted. Worse, he wouldn't be allowed to be near you anymore. You, who were quickly becoming what he orbited around.

Dropping to his knees and setting your flowers to the side, he paused before he touched your ribbon. "May I?"

You raised your eyebrows. "it's not a big deal Coriolanus."

He ignored how his name sounded with your lips wrapped around it. That was something he could dwell on later, when he was staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep. Instead, he gave you a look. "Just let me."

Shrugging, you faced forward and nodded. He untied your ribbon, fingers unweaving the mess you'd made of your soft hair. It was pretty- tumbling down your back like a waterfall, and he savored holding it.

Coriolanus combed his fingers through it once before meticulously separating the sections. You were perfectly still, the peace of the area enveloping you both. He was lost in the task for a moment, carefully weaving the strands together.

Your soft voice lilted his ears. "How do you know how to do this?"

"My cousin used to have me braid her hair," he murmured distractedly, careful as he smoothed one section before folding it over another. "Every day before she went to school."

"Oh." The word was quiet, and he had the feeling you'd have turned around if he'd have let you. "Do you miss her?"

He was surprised by the question, swallowing and nimbly finishing the bottom half of your braid. "Yes." Nobody had asked him about his family since arriving. The closest had been when he'd filled out the Corso address on the form that directed where his pay would be sent.

Tying the silky white ribbon around the end, securing your hair in place, he cleared his throat and sat back, getting to his feet. "All done."

You lifted your eyes to him, and he was rewarded by that sweet smile again. Coriolanus held out his hand and you took it, standing up with your flowers in one hand and your basket hooked over the same arm. For a moment, your soft hand stayed in his, soft fingers wrapped around his palm. "Thank you," you breathed, meeting his gaze.

It took a moment for him to find his words. Even the mere sight of you shook him to his core. "You're welcome."

On the walk back home, you let go of his hand and he mourned its loss for a moment before you slipped your own into the crook of his elbow, eyes darting around the space. He'd noticed you do this on the walk over too, searching the space as if you were expecting something to appear from the tree line.

As you walked quietly beside him, he thought of the first day he'd seen you, with tears falling and eyes blown wide. You'd come from the forest then too, and he wondered what had scared you so badly it had lingered. You bit the inside of your cheek and took in a shaky breath.

"I'll keep you safe." The words slipped out, but he made no attempt to remedy them.

If his heart was going to spark every time you looked at him, it would be a fire in no time. You searched his eyes, squeezing his elbow. Even through his uniform shirt he could feel your hand warm from the sun. If he wanted to (and he very much did) he could count every freckle you'd gained from your time outside.

With no more than a smile and a sweetheart's demeanor, you'd ignited something so untouchable in his soul, something that almost scared him. It was untouchable, boundless. An ocean of wonder he was only beginning to set sail on.

If the boat capsized and drowned, he'd go happily.

[bropunzeling]

to motivate myself to get back into working on seattle au (i wanna be DONE by SUMMER) here is a wip wednesday snippet featuring our favorite wrecking ball, brady tkachuk

As soon as their game against the Senators starts, Leon’s certain he made the right call about not going out for drinks after. For one thing, Ottawa scores three goals on them in five minutes to start everything off, which isn’t exactly something Leon appreciates. For another, Leon gets the distinct sense that Brady did not like him slashing Tim when the refs weren’t looking, which, whatever. Tim can take it, even if he did double over. He’s just being dramatic like always.

Brady’s opinion of him seems to really start going downhill during the second, though. First, Leon manages to score, bringing them within one; next, it’s Matthew’s turn, notching his second of the night and grinning obnoxiously at the Senators’ bench as they circle around for their fist taps. Once the game gets tied up, the stupid penalties start coming—tripping on Carson, then matching cross checks for Joseph and Big Rig. Despite all that time on their admittedly shitty PK, Matthew seems to only be getting more amped, bouncing next to Leon whenever they’re not skating, barely able to keep his ass on the bench as he yaps in Brady’s general direction. Brady, however, looks steamed, red-faced as he yells back at Matthew. By their last shift of the period, Leon has the same distinct sense of looming danger as a scientist handling nitroglycerine in an earthquake. It’s only a matter of time before something blows up.

Except it’s not another goal or Matthew saying something that finally sets Brady off. No, it’s Leon, chasing after the puck in the corner, only mostly looking where he’s going and managing to knock Tim on his ass. Again.

The whistle goes. Leon groans. “Fucking Christ, Tim,” he mumbles, “stay on your goddamn feet.”

That earns him a hearty fuck you back as Tim gets to his hands and knees, but it doesn’t register nearly as much as the fist suddenly in Leon’s jersey, yanking him off-balance. “I swear to god, Draisaitl,” Brady hisses, even as the refs are trying to get between them, “if you keep targeting Tim—”

“I’m not targeting anyone,” Leon protests, trying to twist around so he can shove Brady off. “Get the fuck off me—”

“What’s going on?” Jesus, now Matthew’s here too, trying to wrestle his way into the scrum. Surely that will help. “Hey, let go of Drai—”

“Matty, I swear to god, if you can’t rein your boy in I’m gonna do it for him,” Brady hollers, still trying to haul Leon in by the neck of his jersey no matter how hard Leon tries to wrench himself around and whack at Brady’s shins. “I don’t care how much you like him—”

“Lay off,” Matthew shouts back, “Tim’s a fucking diver and you fucking know it—”

“I’m fucking warning you,” Brady says as the linesmen finally break them apart, Giroux tugging Brady back while Matthew clamps a hand on Leon’s shoulder and Lars comes in to put another body between them. “Fuck around with my guys one more time and I’m dropping the gloves.”

“Is he really gonna fight me?” Leon asks when at last the period ends and they shuffle down the tunnel to the locker room.

“Nah, he won’t,” Matthew says, in a not entirely reassuring tone. “He’s just pissed that we tied ‘em up.”

“Wait, who’s fighting?” Yanni asks as they peel off to find their stalls. “Drai, are you fighting?”

“No,” Leon says flatly.

“Sounds like Tkachuk wants to,” Adam adds in his most unhelpful tone.

“Shit, dude, the fuck did you do to tick him off?” Borgy asks. He sounds way too delighted at the prospect of Leon getting his nose broken. “Piss in his coffee? Sleep with his girlfriend?”

Leon glares at him, then grabs a water bottle full of sports drink and chugs some. “Fuck off,” he says after wiping off his mouth. “I didn’t do shit.”

“I mean, I’ll fight him if you want,” Will says. “Chucky, tell your brother I can fight him.”

“Boys, let’s talk about how we’re gonna win this fucking game,” Coach says, and thankfully all discussion of fighting Brady gets tabled.

[cartoon-brainrot]

Could you please describe the Dad Donald AU? I’m interested in this.

WHEN I TELL YOU I JUMPED OFF MY SEAT,,

No one usually asks about my AUs so this was a surprise!

Now, at first I was a bit confused because,, “Dad Donald AU” is very generic, so my first reaction was “WHICH ONE” because I have around,, 10? AUs? I think? So yeah!

But then I thought that maybe you meant the “Dad Donald AU” Series from AO3 because my fic is in that series! So to explain really quickly, that series will just be a sort of collection of all the fics where Donald is a dad, to either the triplets or Lena or both! Or even April, May and June! My usual theory about Donald being Lena’s dad is either her being adopted by him or her being his actual, biological child!

I have a couple of AUs (by a couple I mean dozen) and I will make art and/or fics about all of them, so do not worry about that!

Now, the main theme is Magica using Donald’s DNA to create Lena, because let’s be real here, no way she could create Lena from her shadow for one simple reason!

Here is an illustrated guide :)

And also Lena is more similar to Donald than the triplets are, so I like to headcanon that Donald is her biological father most of the time!

BACK ON TRACK-

The Dad Donald AUs are many, and I would love to talk about them, but since that would take forever, I’ll just make you guys a list and you can ask me about the ones you find more interesting! I think I’ll start writing snippets of them as well!

The biological Dad ones are around,, 6? Or so? Then there’s just the ones where he takes care of Lena or straight up adopts her, and of course, takes care of the triplets! In special cases, also the girls and/or Gosalyn!

- The Ducks (fluffy AU where Donald lives at Quackmore institute, currently making fanart for it)

- Stuck on the Moon (Donald gets stuck instead of Della, except Lena is with him, so he raises her on the moon)

- In the Depths (Where Donald gets stuck into the ocean by saving Della from the Spear, and Lena is semi-raised by Gladstone while she tries to find her dad)

- Undercover PK (Donald raises Lena but has to disappear because of FOWL, Lena spends her time with Gladstone at McDuck manor- the others don’t know about Lena and Donald, it’s a long story)

- Singer AU (Of course, I had to do it. He’s a singer named Misfortune and adopts Lena, who, obviously, becomes his Number one fan)

- Magic AU! (Where the triplets have magic and Donald teaches them how to use their powers, Lena tags along from the very start because she’s also interested in magic)

- Adoption AU (Where Donald sees homeless Lena and after the third or fourth time meeting her, decides to adopt her. She becomes the triplets’ older sister!)

- His girls (Daughters au! Donald is Lena’s biological father, but he’s also adopted April, May and June! And a baby Shamrock he just rescued from FOWL!)

- Golden Luck (Where Louie inherits Gladstone’s luck, but he doesn’t let that stop him- Donald is their parent, so Louie uses his luck to help him out)

- College buddies (Drake and Donald are college buddies and when Drake decides to adopt a girl, Donald helps him out, since he already raised April May and June and has adopted Lena already!)

I think that’s most of them? Let me know which ones you find more interesting and I’ll do a in depth description! Maybe even add some concept art or snippets/comics! :D

(Shamrock’s a girl cus personal headcanons, tell me if you’re also interested in that and I’ll explain why!)

[pedge-page]

WIP GAME

Rules: Make a post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how nondescriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

Thank you @berryispunk for the tag!

So many of these have been abandoned or been working on slowly for months....

1. Joel dealing with preggo wife : lunch switch

2. Water Park

3. Plushies Joel drabble (build a bear)

4. TF4 - PK

5. Joel dealing with preggo wife : how i met your mother

6. Show Me

7. Joel , dark!tommy : breeding cult

8. Best Man pt 6

9. The Warden

10. Homecoming

11. Mother May I

12. Pathetic Stepdad - 2

13. Step grandpa Joel

14 icky public PK Joel

15. Early himbo

Npt: @romanarose @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @bonezone44 @toxicanonymity @evolnoomym @iamasaddie @absurdthirst @ghotifishreads @wardenparker @pedropeach @beefrobeefcal @tightjeansjavi @tateypots @covetyou

[agentplutonium]

WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @romirola *checks notes* over a month ago, but never late then never, right! ,,, right?

ANYWAY I’ve been very slow on some of my writing recently (burn out from school is a BITCH) but here’s a small snippet of a Milo/Sweetheart fight fic and mayhaps a little snippet of original work I’ve been chipping away at:

(No pressure) tags to: @pinksparkl @zozo-01 @angelicaether @lovelylonerliterature and anyone else who wants to join! I’m really bad at tagging people ngl

I was really captivated by the idea of Sweetheart snapping at Milo for constantly bashing their job, no matter how correct he is, so I ran with it. Here’s the beginning of that:

It was always a strain on their relationship. Milo knew that. He just didn’t think it could ever come to this.

Sweetheart came home with a limp. A limp that was not there when they left, and one that was certainly unwelcome in their typically confident gait. Milo was onto it immediately.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” they said hurriedly. “Fell at work today.”

“You didn’t get it checked out?” Milo asked.

“It’s nothing, Milo. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Milo paused what he was doing, turning to look at Sweetheart fully. They weren’t facing him, set on emptying and putting their things away. They never took that tone with him, and it concerned Milo. Did he do something? Were they mad at him?

“Are you okay?” Milo asked, standing.

“I told you I’m fine!” Sweetheart snapped. “Stop looking into it.”

“Okay,” Milo said, tone hardening, “you don’t get to talk to me like that when I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

Sweetheart let their bag slump to the ground, taking a deep breath. When they turned to face him, their eyes were closed. They opened them a moment later, saying, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve just had a hard day at work. That’s all.”

Milo eyebrows furrowed, one corner of his mouth turning down. “Do you need anything? I can—“

“No,” Sweetheart said quickly. They realised how that came off and back tracked, “no, Love, I just want to go lay down for a bit. Is that alright?”

“Of course that’s all right,” Milo said. “I can come get you once dinner is ready.”

“Thank you,” Sweetheart sighed, kissing Milo’s cheek. They stalked off toward their bedroom, catching the attention of Aggro who followed them.

Milo didn’t like how that went. Sweetheart was hiding something from him. But, he trusted them to bring it up later, maybe after they decompressed after today. They wouldn't keep secrets from him.

And now for a small snippet of my boys (gn); Terra and Caelus. I just really wanted to write something for them so I can share them with more than just me and PK. ANYWAY:

The night was young, the drinks were flowing, the band playing joyously in the corner, and Terra was having a very good time.

She never got to have nights like these, where time slowed and she was able to conjugate with her humans. She loved watching how they interacted with each other. She loved watching the dances that they’ve come up with, and how the translated to group settings like this. They were very creative creatures, that was for sure. Terra liked to take credit for that part.

Terra could feel magic warp behind her, bending and expanding, leaving a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She smiled, recognizing the figure that appeared behind her.

“How does anyone have any fun at these things?” Caelus’ voice vibrated within her.

“They find their ways,” Terra hummed. “You can’t fault them for that.”

“All it is just stuffy dances in stuffy clothes,” Caelus complained.

“Don’t you see what I’m seeing?” Terra asked, turning her head to look at him.

Caelus hummed, stepping closer, “What do you see?”

Terra took Caelus’ jaw in her hand, turning his head toward two young people chatting away on the edge of the room. “Love.”

“That’s love?”

“The beginning of it,” Terra hummed, “and it’s always so beautiful watching them fall in love. Not to mention,” she redirected Caelus’ gaze to the band, “that’s love, too.”

“How is that love?” Caelus questioned.

Terra chuckled, letting go. “Look at how they play, look at how they are so encapsulated by the sound that they are making. You can’t tell me that someone who plays an instrument is not in love.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Caelus said.

“And the musicians would agree with me,” Terra defended.

“You say that about everything,” Caelus muttered half-heartedly.

Terra sighed, expecting this answer from Caelus. He never understood, despite Terra feeling the innate curiosity burning within him. To see how their creations interact with one another. She knows that, fundamentally, that same desire to love and protect what he creates is in him. It was in all of them. A base functionality to their existence. However, for some reason, Caelus’ love, and hers, are two completely different things. He sees love as a neat and tidy thing. Not conditional, by any means, but there is always a cause and an effect. A means to an end. A list of tasks that must be done, and the meticulous upkeep of said results. He doesn’t like restarting a process unless it is inevitable. Terra, on the other hand, doesn’t have a process. Until something is finalized—with a consciousness—she does not feel like she is stuck with one design. However, even if a design has it flaws, Terra will often let it live anyway. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy something she created just because it didn’t go to plan. It was cruel. She could always build off of the prototypes, and evolve them into what she wanted them to be.

They were two sides of one coin. Perfection in different forms.

Terra got an idea, turning to Caelus. “Come see the celebrations in the town,” she insisted.

“What for?” Caelus asked her.

“I want to show you something.”

Thank you for reading !

[true-blue-sonic]

X, W, K, and F for Pirate AU.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Silver is often my go-to, but that's because I write him the most out of everybody, haha. On the one hand, I don't want to make him suffer for suffering's sake: Silver is powerful and strong both physically and mentally, and I don't want to show him as feeble or a pushover. In my writing, I keep a sharp eye on that he doesn't get hurt because he's a weakass or uncharacteristically stupid or anything of the sort (with which I mean Silver can 100% be shortsighted and he acts without thinking at times, but he's not an idiot. The fact his PK is entirely OP is something I really try to work into my writing too.). For example, in Run To You there's a scene wherein Silver gets injured quite badly while trying to get an Emerald with Sonic, but he's actively protecting someone else's life in an emergency and that is why he gets hurt. So I try to balance the "suffering" with showing that Silver's a strong person, but who gets injured because he's selfless and brave.

And on the other hand, there are many things about Silver that seem concerning, to say the least. We don't know if he's got friends or family in the future, for example, because he's never mentioned anything about it. Plus, his backstory from '06 shows he's been through a lot: apparently he's been fighting Iblis for half his life, according to a Sonic Channel story iirc. Plus, the future is good but not fully safe, since Nega is causing/used to cause world-ending trouble there. So things like that is where I try to get the "suffering" for Silver from. Basically, in my writing he suffers because he is incredibly stubborn and takes on too much, the latter of which is one of his personality characteristics.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

Both have their pros and cons for me! General prompts allow for more room to fill them in, which can be easier with creating, but it's also possible that they're so broad that I can't come up with anything. Specific prompts in that regard give more guidance there, but then it's possible that it's too restrictive and I'm not feeling it. I think it depends most on the prompt in question what I can do with it, haha! Some of them strike me with inspiration like lightning, and that is always a great feeling🍀

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

I once wrote a fic wherein Espio had died in an Eggman attack, and the Silver from that timeline went back to the morning of the day it happened to implore the Silver from that moment to protect Espio. It's a really sad fic; I recently read it again and I had to cry about it, and I know for sure I did too when I was writing it. I remember very well that I did not want to make it too angsty and leave a Silver in a timeline without Espio, so I deliberately wrote that the timelines "merged" golden-ending-of-Majora's-Mask-style so that that did not have to happen. That's probably the angstiest idea I've ever had!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Let's see if I can find anything fun ^-^

It was a bit of a search, but I like this one: Silver got Espio a blanket from his bunk because he saw Espio was cold (and sad and lonely and pitiful etc etc, according to Silver, haha). But the Captain found out Silver left Espio unattended for that (though Blaze kept watch in his place), and promptly comes in in his Robotnik kinda way, but Espio stands up for Silver. The blanket and this basically mark the beginning of their friendship! <3

☆☆☆☆☆

But before the protest could slip past his lips he froze at footsteps stomping closer, both Silver and Blaze whirling around at the loud “YOU!” that bounced around the walls in an ear-splitting cacophony. “Swabbie!” Captain Robotnik’s voice added in a roar, the man himself rounding the corner- and grabbing Silver, the hedgehog crying out as Espio jumped to his feet. “You dare leave the captive unattended?! Unforgivable! Death to the traitor!!”

“Wait- Captain!” Blaze cried out, Espio rushing closer to the bars by pure instinct alone. The man had Silver in a death grip, hand wrapped around the other’s neck and the hedgehog’s irises pinpricks of terror-! “He was not unattended at all!”

“SILENCE!” the Captain roared, Blaze crying out as one of the robots with the Captain lashed out at her. “I give you one task, and you-!”

“You’re wrong!” Espio yelled, and the whole room fell into a ghostly quiet. “You’re wrong,” the chameleon repeated in a lower hiss, glaring at the captain from between the bars. “Your swabbie did not leave for a single moment since you threw me in here. He spent the whole night keeping an eye on me.”

“And why should I believe the words of a captive?” Robotnik jeered, a yelp from Silver following as the hedgehog was unceremoniously dropped onto the ground.

Unwaveringly Espio met his gaze. “Were you here to see for yourself? Or your robots?”

“...No. But!” Finger twirling through his moustache Robotnik glared down. “I know that blanket, boy. And I also know who possesses it after that rat gave it to him.”

“It was handed to me by your Quartermaster,” Espio retorted, not daring to shoot a look towards Blaze to urge her to go along with the story. “Your swabbie told her it was cold and drafty in here, so she retrieved it at his behest.”

“And what was my Quartermaster doing here, hmm?”

“Writing your letter for ransom.”

If Robotnik’s narrowed eyes were any indication he did not believe a single word of it, but Espio refused to flick his gaze over to either of the two anthros. “Y-yeah,” Silver shakily added, the hedgehog scrambling to his feet. “Of course Blaze is allowed to get stuff from my bunk, Sir.”

“And it would be a shame if we had to tell his Clan he died from a lung infection or the like during the time he is kept here,” Blaze added, voice quiet and eyes firmly on the ground. “It... did not seem like an unreasonable request, in my opinion.”

“Hm.”

But Robotnik took a slow step back, scrutinising Blaze and Silver next as both crew members stared at the floor. “I see, then. Do forgive my intrusion,” the man spoke eventually, stepping away and gesturing for his robots to follow, and Espio could only stare dumbfoundedly as the group stepped back into the hallway and their footsteps slowly echoed out.

[devilsupdates]

Sorry I missed last game I didn’t have service.

But here is this game for devils vs Utah

#NJDevils  starters:

🏒Cotter-Haula-Noesen

🏒Dillon-Hamilton

🥅Allen

Jake Allen leads the Devils out. He’ll start for the second time this year. Karel Vejmelka will make his first start of the year for Utah.

#NJDevils  facing Dylan Guenther today who was just named the No.1 star of the week (5 goals, 3 games).

Logan Cooley nearly snuck the puck through Jack Allen. Casey cleared the puck from danger.

From earlier, Jesper Bratt can thank Jonas Siegenthaler for saving him. Can't skate the puck through the crease... through traffic...

#NJDevils  going to their first PP

Just about halfway through the first, the #NJDevils  defense has certainly been a lot better to start this game.

Winning puck battles and using their physicality wisely.

First PP was also better.

Didn't score, but more active, more movement, more crisp passes & decisions.

Kovacevic sitting for two. Tripping.

#NJDevils  PK.

Solid PK.

Back to even strength

Hamilton and Keller each sit for roughing.

4on4.

48.1 left in the first period. #NJDevils 

Looks like Keller came out of the box. He was in there.

#NJDevils  PK.

End 1: No score.

Shots: 6-5 Utah.

Second period underway

Got a little snippet of top-line Paul Cotter in the first period as Hughes and Meier took the ice with him just after Jesper Bratt helped kill a penalty.

Perhaps not the last time we'll see that this season

Seamus. Casey. 1-0 #NJDevils 

From earlier, Sean Durzi goes down the Utah HC tunnel in pain.

#NJDevils  going back to the PP

2-0 #NJDevils .Noesen.

Primary assist Seamus Casey

#NJDevils  to the PK.

Tatar for holding.

Stefan Noesen spends so much time practicing his net-front game. It pays dividends here.

Another successful, high-pressure PK.

Seamus Casey (5-9, 162) just won a puck battle along the boards against Jack McBain (6-4, 219).

Utah too many men.

#NJDevils  PP.

Utah announces Sean Durzi won't return.

They're down to 5 defenders. #NJDevils 

Hamilton shaken up. Skating to the bench after taking a cross-check high.

Appears ok, staying on the bench. #NJDevils  PP.

Seamus Casey QBing PP1.

End 2: 2-0 #NJDevils 

Shots: 20-12 NJ

Underway in the third period.

#NJDevils  PP for 1:44

Cotter to the box. Interference.

#NJDevils  PK.

Tatar blatantly hooked. Yeesh.

#NJDevils  PP coming up.

Called a high stick

Hischier PPG.

3-0 #NJDevils 

#NJDevils  back to the PP

#NJDevils  are the first ever team to beat Utah.

They win 3-0 & improve to 4-1-0.

Seamus Casey was the driving force in this one.

[twothpaste]

deliriously surreal little 1k fic snippet under the cut. three psychics try to tame the rampaging natural killer cyborg with some gentle telepathic persuasion. but it turns out the creature's mind palace is a very strange place...

(cw: blood, body horror, animal death, general visceral unpleasantness)

Leder's got a library copy of the Inferno. A scrappy, shitty, well-loved old paperback, with dog-ears on half its pages. Kumatora ate it up, during her punkass Satanic phase around age nineteen. Even got a Cerberus tattooed on her back. It ain't any snappin' teeth or serpentine horrors, though, that stuck with her most dearly. Not even the torturous plights of all them sinful human souls. Nah. What's haunted n' captivated her ever since, is the fate of the underworld's overlord. The great reveal, that even Lucifer himself was utterly damned to his Ninth Circle. If y'ain't read it, she'll tell ya: it goes like this. Dante n' Virgil find him down there, at Hell's deepest depths, imprisoned in a lake of solid ice. Frozen just as miserably solid as the wretchedest traitors he held prisoner. Cryin' frosted tears from his three hangin' heads. "Y'can't help but feel sorry for the guy," she'd told Ash. N' Lucas. N' just about everybody else. "He ain't some kinda evil king. Ain't even callin' the shots, really. All he did was stick it to the man - shit, I wouldda, too! N' then he's stuck with the rest of 'em. Freezin' his nuts off, 'til the end o' time…"

… Anyways.

She thinks of that. While she lets loose PK Freeze Ω from her stalwart palms.

An icy barricade seals pig to pit. Clings upon its walls of flesh, like binding chains. Holds it, softly, forcefully, in place. Maybe the cold-numb'll coax it to settle down, wishful thinking suggests. Maybe it'll ease its agony. If just for a short while. Steam billows where ice meets pink-red skin. A hot-blooded protest. Its bellows would put Cerberus to shame. Wet brain meat writhes, sickly swollen, against a half-shattered glass dome.

Claus joins his brother, at the labyrinth's gate.

("He's from a dream I had, you know," Master Porky said. With deathly shrieks still ringing in his nightmare ears.)

(The Capsule keeps screaming.)

(Lucas grips Claus' wrist, as they tread forward. Sticky sap tugs at their boots. Crunching tiny exoskeletons, and brittle wings. He wonders - and therefore, they both wonder - whether fruit flies and mosquitos screech as they suffocate, too. How many death throes we can't even hear. Or if, through some dark, impossible miracle, they're still alive. Schrodinger's smother. Amber crystalizes, turning your whole world gold in retrospect. You can't budge. Can't even breathe. But your mind thrashes evermore against its binds.)

("There's a way out," Claus insists. Shakin' their head. "I know the way. We do. We can show ya.")

("Shhh…" comes Lucas' soft spring breeze. It brushes over both chimeras.)

(The screams grow louder.)

(The heart-splitting sound of a child's untimely demise. Ribs shattered on solid stone. Some could mistake a pig's distraughtest wails for a human's, given the right-wrong acoustics. A tweenaged Butch'd said ol' Gertrude was due for slaughter in a couple weeks. And cracked a joke about makin' bacon. Biff elbowed him real hard. N' said he ain't s'posed to say crap like that in front'a the rugrats. Kid Claus chased a piglet about. Jested that it'd make a fine Christmas ham, someday. Little Lucas scooped the thing up, in the grass-stained arms of his sweater. Covered its floppy ears. N' sobbed himself halfway to hysterics. Claus was laughin' so hard, he could barely wheeze out an apology. He'd be screamin' like hell when it came for him, though. Crucified on the chopping block. Teething his goddamn limbs off. While a ten-year-old Lucas sulked past the old slaughter shed. Exhaled a silent, wintry cloud. And pulled his scarf over his chilled-pink ears.)

("These… These aren't your memories.")

(The Commander had stared into the Natural Killer Cyborg's vessel. Only to find its own reflection, cast back on the glass.)

(The boy named Lucas had tried to quell it. Ended up with his hands at his own throat. Gaspin' the same strangled breaths as every other chimera he'd ever bashed into submission.)

("It ain't like that. I swear, we don't wanna hurtcha. Y'can let us in.")

(They're up to their knees, now. At the Capsule wall, where ice stings flesh. It's searing hot to the touch. As if all the red and guts smeared to its surface are still broiling, and seething, with live mammalian body temperature - and a rage that spans far beyond. Lucas tends the fresh burns on his brother's hand, when they wipe it clean. Claus does the same for him.)

("M'sorry. M'so, so sorry. Y'didn't deserve any of this.")

("We're gonna make it up to ya. We promise.")

(Their pity earns them boils, and lesions. Skin charred black, like an overcooked waste of meat. A persistence that speaks volumes of burned pages. The two of them find the window, prying with peeling fingers. Wipe away the human carnage that sullies its pane.)

(They show it the Sanctuary. Straight from their minds' eyes. A sleepy sunset, over the palms and coral trees. It's mellow-warm. Summertime's brink. When they last left, the Hippo Launchers'd already taken to the tides and puddles. N' the Rhinocerocket herds were nappin' peacefully in the shade. Where all creatures've got a right to life - just as they always have - and all 'cause they've made it so. The real world's a beautiful place, they tell it. It's out there. Waiting for you.)

(A porcine nose twitches between the crimson smears. Between vicious screams. Close breath fogs up the pane. Somewhere, on the very fringe of consciousness, Kumatora's valiant struggle seems fainter than before.)

("Easy, now…")

("That's it…")

(A set of tusks glints perfect white.)

(The beast bashes its full weight against the Capsule's interior.)

(It rolls forward. And crushes them both.)

The Natural Killer Cyborg activates a PSI Counter Device.

They snap back sputtering. The older twin reaches, outta sheer muscle memory, for his cane. The younger lifts an arm, to summon a Shield. Tries to, rather. It's with shivering shock that they realize they've been sealed stiff - in a gnarling ridge of PK Freeze spires.

"Agh! God, damn it!" Kumatora yowls. Clamped up right beside 'em.

Ninth Circle indeed.

[pedge-page]

who's your favorite Joel to write for? I need new recs because I've just been reading the pk!joel ones

My easiest Joel to write is Dealing with Preggo Wife!Joel. That's usually why if im on a hiatus of writing, I usually put out preggo wife snippets and drabbles because it eases me back into writing again.

Hardest is most likely PK!Joel fics. Gotta be in a real specific mood for me to write PK...

But this does not mean least favorite or most favorite. I love all my Joel variations. Some just require more effort to write than others.

If you like PK joel, I would recommend plushies!Joel because they give the same chaotic energy

[roscolate]

Ohhhh, what a fun and sweet lil’ idea! I’m in!

Ok so, this is a snippet from chapter 3 of my current fic, “Waves of White Under a Dancing Night Sky.” To my current readers…take this sneak peek as my way of making it up to y’all for having y’all wait for an update for so long. I’m still working on this fic, I promise! Life has been busy for me to say the least 😅

—

The King lets out a hummed laugh at their banter…before a cluster of excited voices suddenly cry out and quickly grow closer. Young chants of “PK!” call for the King’s attention, luring his head the other way. Mario follows his gaze, and a smile grows on his face when he spots a waddle of chicks running from the nearby ledge towards their King. Sets of adorable, sparkling eyes and tiny flippers in the air peek out from the tight-knit mass of blue and white. A series of loud, joyful laughs burst from the King as he eagerly waddles his way towards his young citizens, his robe flowing lively behind his back.

“Greetings, little ones!” He bellows before the chicks happily encircling him, laughter ever-present in his voice. He reaches out and holds a few outstretched flippers in greeting. The pure mutual adoration between them widens Mario’s smile.

One head further back curiously peers over his gathered friends to look past the King. Once his eyes lock onto Mario’s, he lets out a gasp. “Are those the guests you were talking about?! They’re here?!"

His remark draws more eyes toward the brothers until, soon enough, every one of them notices their presence.

“Yes, indeed.” The King extends a flipper behind him to gesture to them. Mario gives the starry-eyed crowd a wave, and he spots Luigi do the same in his peripheral. “This is Mario and Luigi. You can go say hello to them.”

The chicks rush past the King and head towards them at once– all with a resounding chorus of “Yay”s and excited squeals and giggles.

“But give them some space please!” The King calls out, turning around while holding a flipper to his beak, seeming to hope his voice carries through the cheers.

Fortunately, they seem to hear their King’s request as the first line of crowd stops within a few feet of the brothers. Mario greets them enthusiastically, waving both his hands and shouting “Hello!”. He hears his brother laugh then holler “Hello, little penguins!” with a spirit that matches his own.

Then comes the barrage of questions.

“Wow, green guy, you’re tall! Do you hiccup a lot?”

“How did you guys get here?”

“Are there any penguins where you come from? Would they like us?”

“How do you grow hair under your noses?”

“Is it true humans pee and poo in a bowl of water?”

Mario laughs, joining in with Luigi’s slightly more baffled laughter. “Wow, quite the curious crowd!”

“And I’m sure they will be happy to answer all your questions later.” The King gracefully intervenes, stepping in beside Mario to regard the chicks directly. “For now, I’ve promised to show them all we have here.” The smile on his beak grows more eager, and he leans forward a little and holds his flippers behind his cloaked back before presenting a question he evidently knows the answer to already: “How would you younglings like to see what the items in the glowing blocks do?”

The chicks’ eyes light up, and a harmony of gasps emit from them.

“The glowing blocks?!” One cries out amongst them.

“We get to see?!” Another voice.

Then they begin to cheer in a mixed voice of “Yes”s and “Yay”s. They bounce and flap their small flippers in excitement, their jumps creating a lumpy patch of disturbed snow underneath them. Mario’s heart warms at the sight of their collective joy and the idea of them being his and Luigi’s little witnesses. Turns out the discovery of this new power-up will be a first experience for them too.

“Well, let’s head our way there, shall we?” The King turns his head to the brothers, gesturing to the blocks hovering nearby. “After you, Mario Bros! Go ahead and give them a good hit!”

He didn’t have to tell Mario.

My fellow writers, I want to invite you to share something from a WIP that you’re proud of. You don’t need to worry about context or when the full story will be completed, just provide a little snippet of a project you’re excited about. Hopefully, we can all give each other little boosts.

@silenzahra @itsavee4117 @peaches2217 @vulpixfairy1985 only if you guys want to! This was inspired by a recent post I saw all of you reblog, so I just thought I’d tag.

I’ll go first…

Love Languages

Daisy had come to visit the Mushroom Kingdom a few weeks after the brothers had moved there from Brooklyn, and Peach had arranged for the four of them to meet at the castle. Luigi smiled at the memory of that day—how confident and jovial the Princess of Sarsaland was as she presented herself. Mario was ready with a big grin and a handshake while Luigi nervously straightened himself and his cap. A klutzy greeting stumbled out of his mouth as he took in her green-blue eyes, freckles, and wide smile. She was beautiful, undoubtedly, but the exuberant energy radiating off of her also had him taken aback.

They’d all gone out into the castle gardens after the introductions, and at one point, Daisy took off her heels and flitted about in the open space. Luigi had watched in quiet awe as she laughed in the summer breeze, so utterly carefree. His heart just about stopped when she swept her red hair away from her face and ended up looking right into his eyes. There was a beat, and then she’d grinned warmly at him. His face burned, but he managed to maintain eye contact for a second or two, giving a shy smile in return. That image of her—smiling into his eyes, shoes dangling from one hand, wind billowing in her hair and the skirt of her gold dress—was one would go on to replay in his mind daily.

[agentplutonium]

Cu-wip-osity tag game ~

I think if I don't go through with this I think that PK will murder me (/j) so

rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. let others ask questions about the ones that interest them, and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

Tagging: I,,, i don't want to tag people yet, I don't like taging people and idk who hasn't done this yet, BUT if you haven't and want to, this is your tag I promise and double dog dare you.

The problem with this is I usually have very basic doc titles for wips cause like I don't want to put that much effort into something that may or may not get posted. but here they are anyway.

Imp!Sam/Darlin'

Another Aspec!Sweetheart Fic

Imp!Milo

Sam/Darlin' + Rain

Supernatural AU - will add a bit of context here, this is a redacted supernatural au with milo/sh

Francesca Song Fic - more context, Francesca by Hozier

Uriah Meeting Alonzo - this is actually a NeXus Fic/concept actually

OSCAR FIC??? - another NeXus concept fic oops

SH/Milo Shade Fight

TLOU AU: Milo/SH, Asher/Baabe, Angel

Spidersneaks AU - context: Spiderman!Sweetheart that is

Traitor Sweetheart

______

that's all!! ask box is open, but also a lot of these I haven't touched in MONTHS so fair warning i might not have a lot of info for you-

[scarlettjohanssonnf]

Quantum cryptographic key function:::::::HAARP.matrix.EPX

If you’re looking for a Perl code snippet to convert cryptographic keys using elliptic curve cryptography for a variable-interstitial telephone matrix, here’s a basic example:use Crypt::PK::ECC; sub convert_key { my ($private_key, $public_key) = @_; # Instantiate elliptic curve object my $ec = Crypt::PK::ECC->new; # Load private key $ec->import_key_raw($private_key); # Derive public key from…

[asimplearchivist]

Okay! Just finished writing the next chapter of Thought I Dreamed Her! (I’ve been trying to keep them around 3k to make it easier on myself but this one jumped up to 6k…why am I like this)

I haven’t started on the next chapter of Promises Kept, still thinking about where exactly I’ll take it. I have a general idea but I want to flesh it out a little more in my head before starting on it

I have started writing for Steven/Marc/Jake also! I’ve dabbled a little before but nothing really flowed like PK did at the time of the height of my first MK fixation (now firmly in my second God help me), but I’ve settled on doing a series of snippets rather than an overarching plot bc I’ve got this weird thing about not knowing where canon will go after S2 (if ever we get it please Mr Diab I’m begging you). (And we’ll ignore the fact that the third act of PK is going to be post-canon and I’m terrified it’ll seem dumb or stupid or cheesy in any way.) They’ll be connected and likely posted in the same fic for convenience, but they’ll probably read more like one shots in a loose series than a real story. Im just going ahead and warning y’all that it’s 99% self-indulgence on my part (bc my feelings are all over the place rn bc of my recent breakup), so while it will remain as a reader insert fic, I’ll be adding in a few more background details than I usually do.

I think I’m going to go ahead and post the next installment of Your Prime, His Spark this coming Sunday though—it’s been demolished in the polls so far so I’m gonna give my old tf fanfic fans a break lol, so keep an eye out for that! :)

[josephinegerardywriter]

Tag Game: Word Find

Thank you so much for the tag @oh-no-another-idea!!

My words are taste, health, ankle, and ache, and I shall use my wip, Puppet Kingdom, for this. :)

-----

Taste

A pulse jolts through the air as we pass through and my scarf buzzes against my skin. Magic fills the air and my senses are plunged into its indescribable presence. It leaves a taste along the roof of my mouth and a lingering tingle on the back of my neck, like the feeling of being watched by some unseen entity.

Health

Goldie then signals her gardes and they close in on me. “We will escort you back and this time be sure to keep Lacolle with you. It’s good for your health.”

Ankle Feet

“Are your feet hurt?” [Royal] finally asks. He’s been letting me use his elbow as a crutch, but I didn’t realize I was leaning so heavily on it until now. “Do you need to rest for a little while?”

I shake my head, letting his arm go and giving a tense smile. “I’m fine. I’ll- they can wait.”

Ache

Days have passed too quickly since everything went to pieces, and figuring out how to glue it together again has been a constant on my mind. It plagues me even in my sleep, and I have since grown a headache of unbearable proportions.

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I shall tag (with no pressure!) @zmwrites, @the-orangeauthor, @sleepyowlwrites, and whoever else would like to do this! Your words are rethink, retro, retract, and random. :)

[voiddemon]

Patch "I wanted to take a crack at beating the reaper in a fight also i bet my soul on it despite not understanding what that means" Knight