#proud of snippet tag

[aalinaaaaaa]

Proud of Tag

Thank you @karkkidoeswriting for the tag!

Premise: Post a snippet you've written that you're proud of/pleased by and tag some people!

This snippet derives from a certain angsty pining scene that exists in my files and in splinters on my blog 😅

—

He took another step backwards, his resolve ebbing. “I assure you that’s not the case, at all.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Then why wish for things to be switched? You should be fortunate to have emerged unscathed.” “Unscathed?” He scoffed. “Do you know how it felt like being forced to watch you have that wretched poison shoved down your throat? Watching as you shivered, screamed and convulsed on the ground, eventually knocked cold to the point you went still? I thought I lost you. Of all the ways, it had to go like this.” “Don’t remind me.” “Eshani Faison,” His voice took a harsher tone, yet wavered. “You have easily got to be the most impulsive, reckless, self-sacrificial person that I have ever met. You are stubborn beyond words, your interference infuriates me, I-“

—

Sending tags to @jev-urisk @space-writes @winterandwords @frostedlemonwriter @bardic-tales @inkednotebook @illarian-rambling @tryingtimi @thecomfywriter plus an open tag to share your favourite lines!

Obsidian Sapphires plus General taglist (ask, comment, message me if you'd like to be added or removed): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @did-i-do-this-write @threeking @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @outpost51

[wickedsmille]

snippet saturday

I got tagged by @takemetomyfragiledreams for a Snippet Saturday! (I love getting tagged in these things. You spoil me so good. 🖤) And I did a thing. Like a continuation of my jaytim one-shot monster mash kind of thing. And what's under the cut is probably more than a snippet but, hey, short and concise just ain't my thing and I've made my peace with that. That being said, enjoy this heap of dragon!Tim riding in to save his damsel familiar demon!Jason. (I didn't edit nuffin' so beware, probably typos afoot.)

Idk who to tag 🥲 So, if you're reading this, I tag you. No take backsies.

-

Most people wear their glamors whenever they’re out in public. The mixing of humans, creatures, humanoids and all those in-between has come a long way. It’s harmonious, almost. Not everywhere, not all the time. Crime against creatures and hybrids is higher still than humans and those creatures human enough to pass for normal. So whether out of fear or consideration or conformity, glamoring is as prevalent as it has always been.

For Robin, for Tim, that is doubly true. 

Dick and Jason were witches. It didn’t matter for them. The ethereal, glowing eyes of a witch in their half and full forms are hidden by the dominos. For all anyone else could tell, Robin was something but no one could ever pin down exactly what. There’s too many magical beings now openly living shoulder to shoulder with humans for it to matter. Too much magic freely floating through the air to definitively pick out a specific thread and follow it from the vigilante to the person behind the mask. Being witches allowed them the freedom to fully spread their wings without fear of giving away their identities whether they were Robin or Dick or Jason. 

Bruce has the world convinced Brucie is a bumbling idiot of a human while Batman is very obviously more but there’s enough creatures out there like daevas to muddy the waters. 

Of course, Tim’s parents wanted a flashy hybrid to parade around the balls and galas they bothered to attend when they were in Gotham. A new treasure his father could point to and boast about, proof of his mother’s superiority over the other children of the elite. They’d hoped he’d even get the unique ability to function without a familiar afforded to creature and humanoid hybrids. Rarely, the tempering magic of a humanoid would be enough to balance and tame the raw, electric power of creature magic. Then there’s no need to balance the scales through unnecessary attachments. 

Tim visited enough doctors as a kid, paid enough to keep their mouths shut to do procedures typically only done after seventeen at the limit of when bonds form, for his parents to come to the early conclusion Tim wouldn’t be one of the lucky hybrids. They got their trophy to stuff into stiff suits and march across marble floors but their disappointment in the knowledge Tim wouldn’t be able to function independently was a weighted, palpable thing. 

It’s always been customary for the wealthy to hide their true forms but, after that, they gave him a talisman to wear to events on top of his own glamors.

Becoming Robin and having Bruce harshly demand he always keep his glamors up wasn’t jarring because he’d already grown used to it. The magic started to itch if left too long. Sometimes Tim would forget to remove them even at home despite the cold, empty rooms being his only company. Sacrificing the truth of himself for Robin wasn’t a hardship. Nowadays, it’s second nature. He hardly even remembers what he looks like in his half and full forms. But he does know a half dragon, half elf is too conspicuous to ever be seen as Robin. It would be all too easy to connect the dots between such a rare hybrid and Tim Drake. 

Even just the thought of breaking his glamors, in public no less, is enough to make his heart race and his palms sweat but his bond is screaming familiar in danger over and over again as pain dances along every nerve. Tim can’t see any other way to neatly wrap up the mess Jason has created. From his vantage point perched on a billboard across the street from a nondescript warehouse on the southside of the docks, Tim counts at least fifty heavily armed mercenaries and one Red Hood.

Jason is powerful. Incredibly so, but everyone has their limits. The relative stability of Tim’s fused magics, his more prominent elven blood making the powerhouse magic of his dragon side more docile, compared to the volatile churning of Jason’s does come with the perk of not needing contact with his familiar as often. Which is all the better since Jason has made himself scarce since their last meeting. He’s posited that Jason likely doesn’t enjoy the same benefit given the incendiary nature of his magic, where the demon side reigns supreme and feeds, feeds, feeds off the magic of the witch. 

He can’t imagine what state Jason is in. Tim had already drafted a plan to hunt Jason down again for his own damn good. 

Now he’s being forced to speed up his timetable and make what seems like an impossible choice. Fifty guys, most likely armed with bullets and magic themselves, is something Robin can’t handle with a handicapped Red Hood. The thought of calling in Batman and Nightwing for back up rankles. There would be no hiding the bond with him and Jason close to one another, not from Bruce and, by extension, from Dick who serves as his familiar. Tim isn’t ready to share this part of himself yet. It’s a tender, open wound Jason tore open again, a weakness he hasn’t created a workaround for yet. 

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, though. 

Heaving a long, weary sigh, Tim straightens up and hops down off the billboard while casting a temporary veil of invisibility over himself. With deft fingers, Tim does the latches on the Robin uniform and stuffs them into a cache stored inside the defunct AC unit nearby. Left with nothing but his undershirt and tights, Tim stands at the edge of the roof and grimaces. He can feel the swell of magic bubbling under his skin, equally soothing and irritating the pain channeling through the bond into him. 

Man, he really hopes he isn’t making a terrible mistake. 

Mind already made up, Tim shoves away his self-doubt and leaps off the roof with his arms spread. He closes his eyes and wipes away the haze of the glamors while pulling on his own magic to wrap around himself. To embrace himself and what he truly is. It’s pain and relief rolled into one, like scratching an itch viciously enough to bleed. His skin ripples and stretches, bones breaking down and knitting back together while muscle and sinew stretch to accommodate. As much as it sucks, because it does, Tim feels freer than he does swinging from his grapple through Gotham’s skies. 

He wants to laugh but it comes out as a chuff because of his snout. His paws slam into the concrete of the road, claws digging in and ripping it up. Bounding towards the warehouse, Tim decides to go for shock and awe. Most people don’t expect a full-fledged dragon to run into them head on. He knows even as a drake he's on the smaller side for dragons and doesn't have the added bulk wings would give his silhouette. Still, a dragon no matter the sub-type is a dragon and their reputation as an apex predator has been well earned in and out of the magic community.

Running on four legs is weird, especially with the unwieldy weight of his tail thumping clumsily against the ground behind him, so Tim stumbles the first couple steps but he settles into a loping run as he closes the distance between himself and the warehouse. The spines along the top of his head and down his spine shift with each powerful push of his legs. By the time he’s throwing himself bodily into the wooden bay doors of the warehouse, Tim has even managed to wrangle his tail into some semblance of order so it's not throwing off his balance so badly. 

The wood gives way easily, no match for Tim’s plated scales and thick hide. He skids across the warehouse floor, claws leaving gouges in his wake. Everything inside the building stops as Tim settles in the center of the room. No one so much as moves, too busy gaping at Tim to fire their guns and shoot off a burst of magic. His inner elf wants to preen at the stunned attention but Tim squashes the stupid impulse. 

Instead, he roars into the silence of the warehouse. The sound of it reverberates off the glass of the windows, completely destroying the ones closest to Tim. Tim’s tail swings back and forth agitatedly as he bears his teeth. The deep black of his smooth scales explode into a brief starburst of color when the light catches them like he’s been armored with plates of black opal. Tim rears his head back and roars with his whole chest this time as his tail slams into the floor and cracks the concrete.

The first roar was an announcement of his presence. The second is a warning to stay away from what is his.

[yume-fanfare]

trust

[habibisagi]

the oliver pet play fic i started ages ago and never finished……..the start of it / intro was kind of bananas in writing ngl

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

can I tempt anyone with some idiots in love bokris angst featuring Kris/Urban and jealous Bojan, perchance? 👀

[fatuismooches]

EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE 🙏 (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)

[vsnotresponding]

proud of tag

thanks to @seastarblue for the tag :]

there isn't a specific reason why i like this i just do

chapter one - the creator - ira ii

I miss the sun. Not the sun exactly, but the light and its warmth. It’s dark in here, and the light the woman brings with her is cold and unfamiliar. There’s no sky, no infinite horizon to lose my gaze in, no endless sea to trail with my eyes as poison comes off it. It’s still raining on the surface. I think. There’s a repetitive sound, drop after drop hitting the floor. The only thing that breaks the silence beyond the rattling of the chains and the rasping of my uneven breaths. A leak, perhaps? When light appears, I glance at where the sound is coming from. Not a leak, but blood. Craning my neck to find its origin sends painful jolts down my spine, but I don’t mind them. The manacles at my wrists have cut into my skin, and blood slowly falls from the metal into the floor. If I could reach those drops, if I could touch my scarred left hand to the new blood, I could create. But my hands are too far away, chained up over my head and back. And, I remind myself, I am too weak.

when i say she can catch a break when she's dead i mean it

tagging @my-cursed-prince @mxxnlightwriting and @albatris + open tag ! i wanna hear about what others are proud of in their stories :]

[nalascat]

Star Trek au moment 💙❤️

I like to think this is the first time I've ever written Jay in character /j

-

Someone in a red shirt sits down beside him in the Navigator's chair. There's the sound of tapping at the screen before the chair swivels and whoever it is is staring at Kai.

Kai moves his head to see a guy with an unruly mop of brown hair and far too many freckles with his hand outstretched and waiting.

“What?” He finds himself asking, and the guy laughs.

“Lieutenant Commander Jay Walker,” He speaks, “I'm your Navigator. I can already tell we'll be a great team.”

Okay?

Kai hesitantly takes his hand. “Lieutenant Kai Jiang-Smith.”

Lieutenant Walker grins.

“Don't let the Operations Red deceive you,” Walker winks at him, “I'm anywhere and everywhere. Communications, check,” He starts listing them out, using his fingers to count as he goes. “Navigation,” Another wink. “Check! Engineering? Check. Sickbay? Uh, no, they kicked me out last time I tried. But, Rec Room Seven on video game nights? Always.”

"Okay," Kai turns back to his console, getting acquainted to the new controls. He's only piloted this big of a starship once or twice before, at least outside of simulations. His past few placements on larger ships have been either Navigation or some other needed role.

"What about you?" There's an impatience in his tone. Almost as if he was expecting more of a reaction.

"Mainly a pilot," He speaks, grabbing the handle for the warp speed and gripping it tightly. He doesn't push it. "But, I've been on Navigation before, along with other roles the past few years."

Lieutenant Walker hums some sort of approval, and Kai can hear him drumming on the console with his fingers.

[trixierosewrites]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thanks to @notwritinganyflufftoday for the tag!

Rules: share seven lines, and tag seven people. This is from my (finished) short story, For Want of a Ticket, which is set in the American West!

“I’m tired,” he said, quietly. “Can I—can I sleep, Cassie?” “You can’t stay here. You know that.” She turned away from him, because if he kept looking at her like that, her resolve would falter. “You’ll get caught as soon as the sun rises, and ya can’t ride fast and hard with a wound like that.” “Come with me.” “What?” “Me and the boys,” Oscar said, and swallowed. “We’d be glad to have ya, Miss Cass. I’d be glad to have ya.” “Don’tcha want me to watch the train?” He made a valiant attempt at getting to his feet, and she caught his arm when he wobbled. “That’s just it. We’re movin’ on. Greener pastures. We won’t be needin’ your train anymore, but we still need you.”

No pressure tags: @aromanticsky, @times-of-drought, @raevenlywrites, @vsnotresponding, @seastarblue

@flock-from-the-void, and for no.7 let's call it an open tag because I cannot remember anyone else I think would be okay tagging them oops

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

last line wip tag !! :3

rules: in a new post, show the last line(s) you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

(@seiwas sel i am . so late to this forgive me 😔😔 BUT i just got started on another fic so i thought i’d jump in !!! tysm for the tag beloved 🍵)

this is just a little line from the best friend’s brother!gojo fic i started on this morning!! i’m trying to make it mildly funny and mildly bittersweet but mostly i just think bfb!toru is. attractive. 😔😔 so we all know it’s just gna be me drooling over him for 5k words …. as always ………

most of all, he wants to protect you from men like him — men whose emotions get lost somewhere between their minds and their mouths. 

no-pressure tags: @catchuuu @staryukis @dollsuguru @elusivemoon @mossmurdock 💐

[author-a-holmes]

Proud Of Tag Game

Thank you @oh-no-another-idea for the tag! (Here)

Tagging forward, with no pressure to; @kittensartswriting, @vesper-roux, @shellyscribbles, @charlesjosephwrites

@moonscribbler, @dyrewrites, @winglesswriter, and anyone else that wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

How to Play: Post a snippet you’ve written that you’re pleased by/proud of and tag some friends

Darkling Spoilers Beneath the Cut, proceed at your own risk <3

One eyebrow arched slowly, and Booker backed down almost immediately, running both hands through his messy hair. “You want to place a blade in my hand and teach me to kill,” Booker muttered, and Lizzy’s breath caught as the pieces began falling into place. “And I… I can’t even lie and say I want you to. I don’t.” “Booker?” Lizzy asked softly, waiting until he looked at her, before reaching out unsteadily to touch his mind. He let her in, but his emotions were almost overwhelming. The pain, the regret, the self-disgust over the way he’d ravaged Olwen’s mind. But there was more buried there. More than Booker’s natural dislike of fighting, or the fears she’d managed to pull from him when he could hide parts of himself in the shadows of the night. But this tremulous fear; this was about his parents.

[space-writes]

proud of tag

tagged by @memento-morri-writes, thank you! I’m still really proud of the opening line of claws, honestly: I think it’s maybe the best opening I’ve ever managed.

Rules: Post a snippet you've written that you're pleased with/proud of, and tag some friends!

[ID - a red and black decorative divider]

The first time Vivien breaks into Magus Mortem’s office, he still has tits.

[ID - a red and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @eccaiia @noblebs @olliexwrites and @revenancy

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit @coven-archives @noblebs @mjjune

@revenantlore @sarandipitywrites @k--havok @asterhaze @verba-writing

@indecentpause @bootstrapparadoxed @olliexwrites @cowboybrunch (ask to be +/-)

[victorluvsalice]

WIP Word Game

I was tagged in this by @dont-offend-the-bees in this post -- thanks for thinking of me, Newt!

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that start with each letter of that word. Word assigned by Newt: BITES

Because I'm a rebel, I'm going to do a bit from both my current WIP "Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland" and my just-finished-posting-today Valicer In The Dark story "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of" --

B

LB:DQ -- Briefcase Guy nodded, trembling. “What – what if their case is full of newspaper?” he got out after a second.

“Then at least we get to watch your illiterate ass try to read it later for laughs,” the leader spat, giving him a shove. “I know they got the goods. Just don’t ass it up, or they’re gonna kill the lot of us. Now get ready, it’s going down soon.”

SATBSO -- “By practicing my v-vows down the wrong alley,” Victor replied, worrying his bottom lip. “I – oh dear…” He grabbed his spoon and had a couple of fortifying sips of soup. “It’s like this – I’m due to be w-wed to the daughter of Lord and Lady Everglot, courtesy of my parents. We had the r-rehearsal today, and I was such a n-nervous wreck I couldn’t recall my lines at all. Pastor Galswells, our officiant, finally lost all patience with me after one too many mistakes, and b-banished me until I’d learned my vows. D-desperate to get them right, I ended up roaming Brightstone at random, repeating them to myself to try and get them straight in my head. I finally said them perfectly in an old forgotten side street overlooking one of the canals…and the moment I finished, a g-glowing blue figure in a w-wedding dress burst from the water, declaring ‘I do.’ I s-screamed and ran, but she managed to c-corner me on a nearby bridge and tried to k-kiss me. I fainted when her lips touched mine, and w-when I woke up, I was…” He waved his spoon in the air, as if trying to capture the enormity of the experience. “On the w-wrong side of the veil.”

I

LB:DQ -- “Indeed – or you could avoid the issue entirely,” Cheshire said, floating his smile over to another ladder on the wall in the darkened bay, just barely visible in the gloom. “I’m sure Rabbit would approve of you taking a shortcut, especially in order to avoid detection by anything that might try to stomp you.”

“I’ve apologized for that!” Hatter put in. “And made him that new watch!”

“It was the least you could do,” Rabbit said, paws on hips.

SATBSO -- “I don’t know – I don’t think so,” Victor said, letting his hands drop. “But you’re right, it is very hard to tell time in the ghost field…I’m sorry too, Emily,” he continued in a quieter voice. “I – I shouldn’t have lied to you about w-wanting to see my parents. I should have tried to explain better what was really wrong. But I – I didn’t have the words, and I was so scared and hungry and cold, and…” He sighed heavily, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “And absolutely nothing today has gone according to plan.”

“I know the feeling.” Emily perked up, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “But – but we can still make this work, right? We can alternate which side of the field we’re on day by day, so you can still eat and drink and not have to worry! We can even find a nice place to set up house together – one that’s in good shape in both my world and yours!”

“I think anyone who sees you two house-shopping is going to call the Spirit Wardens on you,” Alice couldn’t help saying.

T

LB:DQ -- “True,” Alice nodded. “Which reminds me – at some point tonight, I need to drop in on a certain Sean Milton. I don’t know how much honor there really is among thieves, but hopefully he has very little and will be willing to give up Muddy without a fight.”

“We’ll see on that front – and back, come to think of it,” Cheshire remarked, tail swaying as he kept pace. “But one side-quest at a time.”

SATBSO -- The gondolier gave Emily, floating near the prow, a significant look. “They always go up when the dead are involved.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Emily said, tone sulky and sparks crackling along the edge of her veil.

“And don’t start now,” the gondolier warned, frowning. “I may not be a Warden, but every one of us has got a bit of the Whisper about us. I know how to handle you lot.”

E

LB:DQ -- “Even better – they’re real robots! Well, sort of. . .” Victor popped open a bin and picked out a blue butterfly at random, showing her a block with some buttons on the – thorax, she believed it was called. “They each come with a ‘brain block’ like this where you can input simple commands. Obviously I can’t get any of them to fly – though I’ve always hoped – but I can get them to flap their wings if I shine a light on them, or follow a light being held in front of them – even play with a ball.”

“Neat,” Alice said, grinning. “You’ll have to show me later.”

SATBSO -- Emily went still, a frozen figure in tattered blue. Then she rushed forward at a speed no living human could have ever managed, face contorted in pure fury. Barkis yelped and tried to get out of the way, but she managed to clamp one spectral hand around his arm –

And, suddenly, she wasn’t there anymore. A split-second later, Barkis bent double, shrieking. “What – stop! No!”

“Yes!” came Emily’s voice – from Barkis’s own lips. Alice stared as he straightened up, wobbling like he was unused to controlling his own body. “The knife dropped from his fingers with a clatter. “You’re mine now, Eddie!”

S

LB:DQ -- She got to the bottom of the slope and looked around. While the layout was roughly the same, the entrance to level two was noticeably darker, thanks to a busted light fixture in the nearest “compact” bay. It also had different guards – two fellows who looked to be Chinese, dressed in matching burgundy jackets and wielding machine guns. One jerked his head around as she snuck closer, causing her to freeze out of habit. “It’s too quiet,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “I-I don’t like this – this place. At night it seems so – haunted.”

SATBSO -- Smiler sorted and pointed at their eyes, brilliant yellow in their pale face. “What, do you think I was born with these?”

“...actually, it has genuinely never occurred to me to question why your eyes are bright glowing yellow before now,” Alice confessed, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “They just seemed – completely natural on you.”

“I – I mean, I noticed, but – given everything else that was going on, they – didn’t really register as that weird?” Victor admitted, also going pink. “Alice is right, they do suit you...I sort of thought they might be a side effect of that Joy Serum you showed me before, since you said you make it yourself.”

Tagging: @nebbychan, @thesatiricaldemon, @anonymoose-au, @ace-of-tales -- the word I'm picking is TIMES!

[saintdetroit]

A step into the courageous unknowns PLEASE

from this ask game

so vampire tim has a severed head in a freezer in his basement. which is totally fine because his nest is locked up so tight the rats come with bomb collars set to blow if they detect suspicious movement! no one will ever find out unless tim wants them to.

except that like jason and dick are coming around all the time and tim is distracted. he forgets to be on guard. it gets found. and they say they're okay with how he had to kill the vampire to survive, but there's being okay with a hypothetical killing and then there's the severed head of the vampire in question.

so he runs.

it's jason POV to maximize angst. i'm probably going to have him get shot or blown up or something at the end >:) haven't decided.

Jason comes awake biting back a scream because he does not wake up screaming anymore— 

There is nothing in the corner of the room. There is no one in the room with him at all. He knows this from the way the background hum of the climate controls hit his ears, the shift of cool air on his sweat-wet skin. There's no one standing in the corner of the room. 

Dick is gone. He woke Jason up, slipping out of bed, a messy blur of memory, a hand in Jason's hair and a whisper telling him to go back to sleep. He slipped back under so easily. 

There's something sweet and nasty at the back of his throat, worse even than his usual morning breath. He focuses on that instead of on the pounding of his heartbeat. 

He's fine sleeping alone. He'd been doing it for ages, and he can go back to it just as easily. It's easier to convince his limbic system to stop taking a big panicked dump all over his endocrine system with Tim sitting on his chest or Dick in his ear, but he's fine. 

He gets himself up. He gets himself through a shower, and then he camps out on Tim's stoop to smoke through two cigarettes, one after another. 

The sun is rising over east Gotham. It's a misty day, pale with water off the rivers, filtering the light to a milky tone that chills him as it washes over him. Summer is dying a slow, sullen death, and Jason breathes it in and tries to taste what Tim must. He'd asked about it a few times, fascinated by the parted lips and flash of fang and slow, deep breaths of Tim drinking in the world. Wide-eyed, sharp as an obsidian blade. 

Garbage stink. Wet earth and spilled gasoline. A hint of salt water, smelling like gulls crying. Blood, that's what Tim had told him. What he smelled easiest. Of course he smelled blood best. Try as he might, Jason just can't smell any. He's wearing a shirt he belatedly recognizes as one of Dick's ancient college-days castoffs, probably by way of Tim's laundry, and a pair of sweatpants he must not have bled in yet. All he can smell is laundry detergent when he presses his nose awkwardly to his own shoulder. 

Three months. Three delirious summer months of getting to have them in all the stupid, sentimental ways that kept him coming back to Austen for more. For three months he got to be good to them. Not so bad for a mass-murdering zombie. 

His gut wrenches. 

He's got his phone to his ear before he can think better of it. 

Shockingly, it rings through. Too loud in the Gotham dawn quiet. Jason blinks down at the filter smoldering between his shoes, dumbly amazed Tim still has the phone at all. 

It rings three times and then cuts off. That shocks him too, tilting his head back to look into the cloudy orange-pink of the sunrise, that Tim risked declining the call at all. 

Tim's somewhere out there, awake and staring down at his phone. Seeing Jason's name in his missed calls. That wrench in his gut twists into a dull ache. 

The robotic voicemail lady kindly runs through her litany, and then beeps. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, and then can't say anything at all for a moment. He swallows. The click of it's probably audible. "I, uh. Y'know, just… wondering if you're gonna be home soon." 

Another pause. 

"To the Nest," he adds, probably stupidly. He probably sounds like a fucking idiot, talking to a voicemail Tim definitely will check. Will check and then obsess over like the premium grade-A freak that he is. "I'll… be around." 

If he were Dick Grayson, he knows what he'd say. Same thing Dick ends every phone call with. He isn't Dick Grayson and he was never going to be, and his therapist is really optimistic about getting him to a place where the thought doesn't make him want to run headfirst into a brick wall, no helmet. 

"Bye," he says instead, and hangs up, and once again heroically resists the urge to throw his phone at the wall so hard the shrapnel activates Tim's seismic defenses.

[vsnotresponding]

proud of tag

ancient tag from @tabswrites thanks !

i really like how karma's first pov ends because he spends all of it being anxious and intimidated by the shahin and then on the last line he reveals that that's his father. there's also. so much about him in the thoughts going through his head in this moment. it's not peak use of language but story wise it does so much

chapter one - the creator - karma

“And Oghan,” he stops me again, “you are forbidden to go back into that place again, is that clear? I trust you will stop acting on your own for once, this warning is just a cautionary measure.” I swallow as he looks away towards the raging storm. “I trust in you. Do not disappoint me.” I allow myself one last thought of sitting on rug covered floors surrounded by tall shelves and the ever-present scent of the mountains and of home. Then, unclenching my teeth, I turn back to look at him, his back to me. “Yes, father.”

open tag + @oh-no-another-idea @trixierosewrites and @tragicheirs i wanna see stuff you are proud of !!!!

[shadow-space-writes]

heads up seven up

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! i’m very nearly done (!!) with The Perils of Wanting, so here are seven lines from that ft Ashenivir being Ashenivir and not understanding his own pining, as per usual

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Up the hall, the red marker was still tied on his and Rizeth’s playroom. Moths in his chest again, agitated, a furious swarm, and that awful, hollow feeling that he was missing something important. I’m not missing anything, I have everything I want, it’s just comedown, I should go back to the room and wait for— “Ra’soltha?” His heart twisted. I want him. I’m already his, but I want him.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @cherrybombfangirlwrites @loopyhoopywrites and @talesfromaurea

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)