#snip goes the snippets

[raikirikiri]

missing-nin kakashi who leaves the village on his own accord. he’s pushed to the edge, and despite all the anbu missions he’s taken to get himself killed, it just doesn’t work. so he leaves and becomes a mercenary and thinks he might have some luck dying that way. he thinks part of him is still loyal to konoha but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. plus the constant needling of his ex-classmates insisting their his friends when he knows he doesn’t deserve friends, he barely deserves comrades.

so he leaves. and he does the jobs he takes well and yes, he’s still hoping he dies but he’s too good at being a shinobi so he keeps living. no matter how accidental.

he has a good fortune by the start of canon time but id like to believe he lives in a cave with a ratty futon and a few shabby changes of clothes. he lives an extremely solitary life but he’s…healed. a little. he’s never forgiven himself, he probably never will, but he’s made some sort of peace with himself and his actions.

meanwhile. the akatsuki is forming. itachi, kisame, sasori, kakazu, pain, konan, zetsu, obito (still in the shadows). almost the whole crew is there, they just need to round out their numbers a little. and who better to approach than missing-nin copy ninja kakashi? pain brings it up first one rainy day in ame. obito, or madara, is meeting with pain, konan, and zetsu and pain brings up kakashi first.

obito chokes out a no, barely hanging onto his madara act. no, he denies vehemently. the mean thought enrages something in him and the thought of having to see kakashi’s beautiful ugly mug more than he already does (because yes, he may be a missing-nin but obito wouldn’t be a stalker if he couldn’t find his prey over and over again) is brain melting and heart stopping in a very very negative way.

of course pain has to ask why, madara has never had such a visceral reaction to suggestion for a recruit.

his pants around his ankles, obito has to scramble for an excuse and it’s a little more elegant than “he’s not evil enough”. obito shuts the conversation down then and there, deciding to come back to it at a later date when he can be prepared for his ex-teammate’s name to be brought up again.

for the next three years, any time they’re low on numbers, kakashi’s name comes up and obito always struggles to react normally and his answer is always some iteration of “he’s not evil enough”. so hidan comes up with the brilliant idea to force him to be evil, similar to how they forced deidara to join the akatsuki.

obito, failing to come up with counter arguments and running out of excuses, concedes. pain, during their monthly meetings where tobi is madara, is pleased. he suggests sending itachi to fetch him, since they were once anbu together and seeing a familiar face may help. obito vetoes this and decides he’ll go get kakashi himself. he’s, of course, seen how being away from the village has affected him. and while he’s entirely competent, he’s almost too competent. and doesn’t do well with surprises.

without further preamble, he kamuis into kakashi’s cave, startling him and causing him to spill his soup everywhere. now, kakashi is very much attack first, talk second at this point in his life. having been away from society for so long has allowed his hatake genes to really take over and he’s become much more uhhh instinct driven.

so once he gets over his initial shock and his initial reaction of ‘kill kill kill’, he freezes. he’s always had a sharp sense of smell but it’s on a different level now and there’s something familiar about this strange ghost man. for someone so ghoulish, he has a scent and it lights a lamp in kakashi’s subconscious.

‘i know you’ kakashi accuses, a snarl rising in his throat. this ghoul man is in his cave, his private space, he wants answers.

‘do you?’ a deep voice asks, sounding surprised and amused.

kakashi weighs his options of arguing with ghost guy or figuring out why the hell ghost guy just…appeared in his cave.

‘i’m here to take you to join the akatsuki’ ghoul man decides for him. kakashi grunts and picks up his overturn bowl.

‘no thanks’ he states, scooping some soup from the pot into his bowl.

‘it’s not an invitation’ the apparition snaps and kakashi pauses. he sniffs towards ghost guy again but he still can’t place the scent to the man.

‘can you please leave? i’m trying to eat my dinner and well…’ kakashi asks (but of course it’s more of demand), pointedly gesturing to his mask.

‘what? no. you’re coming with me,” obito growls, his eye twitching in irritation. after all these years, all his suffering, all he’s learned and how much he’s grown…bakakashi still gets under his fucking skin.

‘i don’t want to’ kakashi pouts, petulance and amusement in his tone.

‘you don’t get a choice’ obito hisses in madara’s voice. it sounds wrong and entirely too much like obito.

‘maa, what do i get out of it?’ hatake drawls, a glint in his eye that tells obito hes enjoying this far too much.

‘nothing. you get nothing except me letting you continue to live your sorry life’ obito snaps back, unable to stop the heat of annoyance racing up his spine.

‘how do you know my life is sorry?’ kakashi taunts loftily, crossing his arms and lifting his nose to the ceiling.

‘for the love of sage’ obito takes kakashi by the arm and warps them into kamui, uncaring if kakashi recognizes the jutsu or not. he just wants him to shut up. he should kill pain for making him do this. he would kill hidan but that fucker can’t fucking die.

‘hey i recognize that foot’ kakashi mutters to himself, eye squinted at the severed foot he warped into the dimension months ago. huh. that’s where the things he disappears go. interesting.

hey wait—

‘i know that look’ obito bites out, letting his facade drop. stupid fucking genius asshole.

kakashi gasps, eyes watering in disbelief. ‘don’t—don’t fucking do that. get it together already. you’re about to meet a bunch of fuckin’ s-ranked missing-nins, you can’t be crying’

obito’s voice is a little awkward this soft, but he’s sincere. he doesn’t know how or why he’s sincere, he hates kakashi. he thinks. he’s not too sure but he hasn’t been…soft…in years. but the sight of kakashi, broken and worn down, has something in him melting just a little.

‘you fucking dickhead’ kakashi croaks, shoving obito’s shoulder. ‘you fucking— fucking asshole! you were dead! you bastard, how could you not come back? how could you not tell me?’

kakashi’s voice is hard and cracking at the edges. it throws obito off entirely. his mouth opens and closes like a limp fish behind tobi’s mask, trying to find the words he should say.

after a few moments of kakashi’s hardened stare, obito finds himself feeling indignant. ‘i never thought you’d care’ he sneers. a lie.

‘you’re not that fucking good at lying still and i’m not dense. you’ve been stalking me. at least since i left the village’ kakashi accuses with a scoff.

‘i run a terrorist organization!’ obito shoots back hotly. ‘excuse me for thinking duty-driven kakashi wouldn’t take his dead sunshine-happy teammate becoming an s-rank criminal well!’ he seethes, finding he isn’t all that angry. this feels familiar.

‘oh please. i’d follow you till the end of the fucking earth’ kakashi spits before his eyes widen in shock, much like obito’s eye does. kakashi drops his full bowl of soup on the floor of kamui and covers his mouth with both hands.

obito makes a noise in the back of his throat, ‘don’t—‘ and then he’s ripping his mask off and pulling kakashi’s hands away from his face and tugging him close. lips to mask, he doesn’t care, he kisses kakashi fervently.

he tastes kakashi through the clothe of his mask, moaning at the way kakashi moans against him, the way kakashi’s fingers find themselves in obito’s hair. when they finally pull away, obito manages a please smile, cheeks bright red and pupil blown, ‘don’t follow me. walk with me.’

kakashi rolls his eyes and pulls him in for another kiss. ‘told you i knew you’ he whispers against obito’s lips, before nuzzling his face into obito’s neck, scenting him, marking him.

———

AHEM ANYWAY:

i think kakashi’s hair would be grown out, similar to how obito’s hair was during cave life with old ass madara. his already long canines would grow, and he’d be super in touch with nature. i think he’d be able to communicate with animals similar to how juugo is. basically, once away from the village and society, he becomes a lot more hatake-ish. just. kakashi growling and snarling snurfing at any akatsuki member that isn’t obito. or itachi. he’ll accept kisame eventually too, but that’s it. everyone else he does not talk to, only growls at.

[butmakeitgayblog]

cruel intentions anon here 🥹 can u share something with us? like a small snippet or a scene you've scraped or idk just some ideas? I've read the fic twice but I fear I'm fr addicted to them 😭

Well I'll admit I don't have too much since I've started focusing on only one project at a time, but I have a bit of a oneshot that goes with this pic

Set a few weeks after the, ahem, conclusion of The Bet. Nothing smutty posted here unfortunately, but it will be. Oh it will be smutty. Clarke does not leave Lexa looking like that for no reason 😌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're whistling.

Honest to God, actually whistling. 

A jaunty little tune devoid of melody and structure. Nothing more than a slow sling of notes that doesn't really have any direction in particular, because the point isn't the song itself. 

It's the mood.

And that mood is… happy.

So, so fucking happy. 

Terrifyingly, unmitigatedly, euphorically fucking happy.

It's weird and you hate it, and it's embarrassing to even think about, but you wouldn't trade this feeling for anything. 

And really, who could blame you. Not when life has never been this good. All rose colored glasses and kiss-filled memories that dance like bubbly champagne around the empty space in your head.

You genuinely don't think anyone has ever been as blissful in the existence of the world as you are right now when the doors of the elevator slide open, and you swagger your exceptional ass into your penthouse's bottom floor. 

You drop your purse on the bench and toss your keys on the countertop, praying it leaves a scratch for your stepmother to have a stroke over. Just for the hell of it. You undo the clip and feel your hair untwist in tousled ringlets draped sensually across your shoulders. 

You whistle a few more notes, and contemplate grabbing something to eat, before deciding there's nothing else in the world that you need.

Because you're in love. 

And it's that love that keeps you smiling as you walk down the hall, adding an extra click in your steps just to hear the crispness reverberate off the walls you don't pay for. It's that same love that makes your heart race as you slam the antique handles down and throw open the parlor doors with a flourish, lightheaded and so goddamn euphoric you would fucking hate the chipperness for them if it were anyone else.

It's that love that makes you so stupid that you don't even bother to look around before your eyes land on her. Beautiful and formidable as she stands behind the bar. Her lips purse at the shotgun bang of the doors, but she doesn't even jump, and her control next to your chaos makes you love her even more.

“Miss me?” you burst in with a deep chested purr.

Because you're in love and you love her and you absolutely want her to know it.

You just… don't know how to fucking say it.

Not yet.

Grey-green eyes widen like a warning shot, darting from you to the corner of the room and right back again, so quickly you would've missed it if you hadn't been staring quite so hard.

“Not particularly, no,” she snips in that contemptuous drawl of hers without missing a beat, and pops the cork back on a bottle of gin that costs more than your semester's tuition. 

You, belatedly, follow her eyes to the corner of the room and see your housemaid diligently running a duster across the frame of your great-grandfather's portrait. 

Fuck.

Your heart drops right down to your asshole, but you send up a silent prayer of thanks because at least you hadn't tacked on the pet name ‘lover’ like you'd been using so much as of late. 

That's been the closest you could get.

But Sherri doesn't seem to have heard you. Or at least she doesn't pay you any mind, not having paused from her work for even a fraction of a second at your grand entrance and social faux pas.

You stand frozen, staring at Lexa still working her magic behind the bar, adding a splash of something red to a drink before taking a sip and grimacing at its taste.

She smacks her lips and shakes her head and sets the drink back down like it's personally offended her. 

You frown at the whole display because you know she's not even a gin girl.

“Sherri,” she calls in that sweet little voice she reserves for the people she actually cares if they like her. 

“Yes, Miss Lexa,” your faithful maid answers, immediately stopping to look over.

Huh.

Apparently her hearing is just fine.

Delicate fingers discreetly land on your stomach as she passes, trailing down to your hips and snagging the bottom hem of your sweater, yanking just so to send you stumbling several feet away from the door and out of the way.

“You should take the evening off,” Lexa says once she's left you off-balance in her wake. “Go enjoy life for a change.”

“Oh, I don't think—” Sherry starts but cuts off at the soft tisk from Lexa's lips. 

“No. No. Now, there is simply nothing to think about, because that was not a suggestion, my chérie.”

You smile at the lilt of her teasing. Always in awe, because for the life of you, you'll never understand how she manages to be such a condescending bitch while still sounding so innocent. So warm and pleasant. 

And to be fair, it really hadn't been a suggestion. 

You stand forgotten in the late afternoon shadows and watch as she closes in on your maid like a huntress. All sculpted calves and four inch heels. Hands tucked daintily behind her back.

“But your mother—”

“Will never know,” Lexa whispers, bringing one long, sexy finger up to press against the pout of her smile. “I can keep a secret if you can…”

Sherri sighs in her defeat and shakes her head with the fondness of an exasperated mother, and you wonder if there's anyone this girl can't charm off their feet.

Lexa preens.

“Good. Now, a little birdy told me it was your birthday this weekend.” She pauses just long enough for your maid to nod in surprise. “And, well… I guess I just couldn't help myself.”

You cross your arms and make yourself comfy by settling a shoulder against the wall. More than thrilled to just sit back and take in the show as this fucking magician pulls out a bracelet from goddamn nowhere. 

She hushes the woman's flustered coughs, ignores hands slipping through greying red hair and automatic dismissals of, “no, Miss Lexa, this is—I couldn't possibly.” She soothes it all with honeyed words of reliability and sacrifice and devotion to our comfort, all while clasping the understated but opulent chain to an overworked wrist, connected to a woman who doesn't seem to quite know what to do with herself. Nimble fingers twist and turn the apparently well-thought-out gift so it lays perfectly in place, admiring her own exquisite taste in jewelry more than anything, you already know.

You wonder when the hell she got so thoughtful. 

She ushers the woman out with a firm, guiding hand to her back, mouth tipped in a demure smile as she assures her, this is exactly what she wants. 

The parlor doors close much more gently than when you'd entered through them, and she spins gracefully on her heel, looking so fucking pleased with herself.

You hold her eyes. 

Uncross your arms.

And slowly, loudly, begin to clap.

“Well aren't you made of sugar and spice and everything nice, Miss Lexa.”

She pinches the sides of her skirt and fans them out, dipping into a mere suggestion of a curtsey.

You move as though to reach for her because it's been six hours too long since you've had your hands on that body, but her pleasantries drop away as she sends you a scowl and slips just out of reach. 

“Next time, have a touch more decorum when entering a room,” she sighs over the authoritative clack-clack of her heels. “I had just gotten that bracelet. Didn't even have a chance to wear it out yet.”

Ah.

Now that makes more sense.

Fuck, you love how good she is at thinking on her feet.

“No one told you to kiss her ass with jewelry, for fucks sake,” you mutter despite the efficacy of her brilliance because really, she always had to be so damn extra about everything. 

“It was all I had, and thanks to someone,” she says with a pointed edge, “I didn't exactly have time to figure out another distraction. And since I'm fairly certain she at least already knows we're sleeping together, I'd much rather stay in her good graces. I can handle losing a bracelet in exchange for…”

She trails off and vaguely gestures to the air between you. 

The thought alone of someone else knowing makes you want to vomit. 

You cross your arms tighter. 

“Why do you think that she knows?”

That evil fucking brow of her flits up when she looks at you like you're an idiot.

“Because you're not quiet, and she's not stupid, and half of Greenwich knows what you sound like when you come.”

You grit your teeth and wonder if it's worth reminding her who came on your fingers while loudly calling your name last night, but when she struts her perfectly bubble shaped ass back over to the bar, you ultimately decide that, no, it is in fact not worth it.

Apparently done with the minor complication of your eagerness and the conversion as a whole, she picks up the drink you'd all but forgotten and holds it out at arm's length, letting it dangle from the mere tips of her elegant fingers. 

“For you, my darling.”

You still haven't figured out exactly what she's playing at when she calls you that, because you know she is never sweet for nothing. You know there has to be a barb in there somewhere. Some sort of slight on your character or something. She shouldn't just call you ‘darling’ for no reason… But for the life of you, when she looks at you like this - like you're the only thing that matters in her broad and expansive world - you can't figure what it could possibly be.

“Gin and… cherries?” you ask when you take the glass and give a tiny sniff of the drink. 

She smiles indulgently and twists away to retake her place behind the bar, and suddenly her grimace from her sip before makes sense.

She hates sweet drinks.

Well.

Unless she's kissing the taste of them from your lips. 

“So is this what we're doing now?” You examine your drink closer. It doesn't look poisoned anyway. “It's this what we've become?”

She hums in question as she picks up a second shaker and stirs the contents. You watch her grab a martini glass and begin to pour her own crystal clear drink and, yes, that's much more her style.

You truly are fucking a master mixologist. Which you suppose is bound to happen considering she's been making drinks for one person or another since the tender age of thirteen…

“My kingdom for some context, darling,” she murmurs when you're too enamored to answer, popping an olive into her glass and taking a healthy sized pull, moaning at the taste.

You down half your bramble in one go and traipse yourself around the back of the bar.

Setting the drink down at her side, you put your empty hands to much better use. Drift your fingers across the soft dip of her back and trace her hips, holding her steady as you press in and drape yourself along the length of her.

“Acting like a vintage married couple,” you clarify in a whisper. You reach up and pull her hair aside to expose the delicious expanse of her neck, and you wonder in what lifetime you actually managed to do something good enough to deserve the way she tips her head to the side to give you more access. 

You mouth slow, wet kisses along the sensitive spot just behind her ear as she sighs, “Is that what this is?”

“You tell me, pretty girl.” You smile against her skin when she shudders at the name. “Waiting for me to come home to you. Having a drink ready. Did you make me a special little dinner to eat as well?”

And you're still getting used to this.

This thing with her you've been playing at for the last couple of weeks. This truce or whatever it is that leaves you so off balance you never know which end is up.

Because you've never had something like this. 

Because where you expect a scoff and a rebuff of your entire charade, she only presses harder into you with a sensual groan. Where you expect her to fling your hands away and shove you off of her entirely as she would have before, she merely sets down her glass, and kisses your lips, and covers your hands with her own.

"Not in your wildest dreams, my love," she whispers with an adoring grin, and kisses you deeper again.

[cressidagrey]

Sooooo I have a boring morning job and read White Horse before I went to work and my brain got away from me and ended up writing this snip it piece lol don't ask me why and you might take this as an insult but please don't I love that White horse and use it to cope with nursing school pressure!!!!! Any way I attached it below for you feel free to ignore it....or use it.......hate it love it up to!!! Can't wait to see how this goes

The latest news coming from the Principality of Monaco. CCTV footage showing a drunk driving incident near there iconic tunnel.....please be aware this is very graphic

Proceeds to show the Collison

If you watch you can see that a person is rushing to the green Volo that stuck the pole. It has been confirmed that this is 7 time f1 world champion Lewis Hamilton  who stayed with the victim who in an iconic twist is the superstars new Ferrari teammates sister Isabella LeClar.

Hamilton it was reported stayed with Ms LeClair until paramedics arrived.

At this time we have no comments from either party but wish Ms Lecar a speed recovery. Viewers will be familiar with the bomb drop earlier this year that Hamilton will be leaving his F1 team Mercedes and moving to the Ferrari team for the 2025 season

.........

Post testing conference

Lewis......Max ......Lando.......Charles 

I imagine and can't write......Max does that thing where he turns from the media and just plays with something so his head is down but can see his clenched jaw and Lewis has to at one point tap his hand to get him to relax cause Chsrles said something stupid

Lando is sitting there just looking panicked in the middle

OH. MY. GOD. You literally just handed me a scene with so much tension and subtle emotional chaos that I had to pause and whisper, “oh this is delicious,” out loud like I was judging a cooking show 😭

First of all: absolutely not an insult. I am honored that White Horse helps you cope with nursing school pressure (and sending you so much admiration because nursing school is no joke). You writing a snippet based on it? That’s LOVE. That’s ENGAGEMENT. That’s fandom magic, okay?

[albatris]

Snippet Sunday!

it's sunday it's time for snips!!

have some Quinn being absolutely awful

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t. Quinn, please.”

Quinn shrugged and headed for the kitchen, taking their knife with them. They fetched a roll of duct tape from the cupboard and cut off a strip, before throwing their knife in the sink.

Emery continued to whine from the other room, though she was trying to keep her voice low. “There must be something I can do!”

“Sure.” Quinn wandered back in to her. “You can struggle and fight while you’re being drained. Make it fun, won’t you? Give him a thrill.”

They laid the duct tape over her mouth and smoothed it down gently, even as she twisted against them.

“Just in case you decide to take your chances yelling to the neighbours for help,” Quinn explained. “I doubt they’d reach you in time, but still. More bodies, more stress.”

Their own phone buzzed, and they pulled it out. Chase was calling. They stepped away from Emery to answer.

“Chase, darling,” they said. “How goes the stakeout?”

Emery made a series of adorable muffled noises from beyond the duct tape.

“I’ve found Alistair Thiele,” Chase said, oblivious. “He arrived back to his apartment just a couple of minutes ago. What would you like me to do?”

“Wonderful,” Quinn said. “But, as it turns out—I’ve actually found a much better victim for the feeding session. I’ll keep him in mind for later, though.”

“Oh, okay,” Chase said. “Is that all?”

“That’s all!” Quinn said. “I’ll see you later.”

They hung up the phone.

Emery was crying now; Quinn strode back over to her and wiped the tears from her cheek with their thumb.

“Aw, come on. Chin up, dear,” they said. “At least you’ll finally be doing something worthwhile with your life!”

“Mmff,” she said, which Quinn could assume roughly translated to, Now that I think about it, you’re absolutely right, Quinn. This IS a huge honour!

“I didn’t drug you, by the way,” they added as an afterthought. “You’re just terrified.”

[myfavouritelunatic]

Sunday Snippet!

I was tagged by the lovely @coraleethroughthelookingglass to share something from a WIP! Thank you! ❤️😘

Here's a snip from the next chapter of More Painful Sacrifices - spoiler warning for the season two finale of The Rings of Power:

“Galadriel.” She gasped and her body stiffened. Sauron. He was here. Fully. Truly. Himself.  He wandered slowly over to where Adar lay dying, Galadriel taking in his appearance, dismayed by how decidedly un-Halbrand like it was. Dark robes and armour. Long blonde hair with pointed ears peaking through. But it wasn’t until he turned around once Adar was dead, that she truly saw him. His face. Halbrand’s face. There but hidden, shrouded by the guise of Sauron. Her heart was filled with so many emotions, so many things she wished to say to him, wished to beg of him, but most of all, she wanted to understand him. “All this… was your design from the beginning?” “Please… you think too much of me.” Galadriel… here at last… so close… A voice in her mind. The intent unclear. “The road goes ever winding. Not even I can see all its paths.”  The only path I saw was you coming to me, elf… It was Halbrand’s voice. Be at my side, my love.

Tagging: @pursuitseternal @gil-galadhwen @teddyniffler @scriberated @thrillofhope @theriverwild @klynnvakarian @90shaladriel and anyone else that wants to share! 🖤

[oflights]

wip snip 8.1

thank you for the tag, @buhloodweeeave! your snip looks like so much fun!

my current wip is a fic called Travelling Together (based on that w.s. merwin poem, yes, i am who i am). the premise is this:

After the tadpoles are gone and everyone goes their separate ways, Astarion and Gale realize they can still hear each other’s thoughts. Probably because they’re soulmates.

and here's a snippet!

“Astarion?” Gale gasps out loud. “When did you learn Sending? I thought you lost the sending stone I gave you! Did you find—wait. I’m not Sending, but you’ve been responding to me; how is that possible? Did you discover a new kind of stone? A more advanced working of the spell? You must tell me all about it—” Gale! Astarion shouts in his head. Somehow just the sound of his name in Astarion’s distinct voice, angry as it is, sets Gale’s heart fluttering slightly, which is quite pathetic and embarrassing, actually. Ugh, stop—you’re thinking far too fast and too much, I can’t make heads or tails of it. Slow down, will you? Just—think. Quietly, slowly. “That’s not exactly my strong suit,” Gale says, and Astarion immediately counters you don’t have to talk. Just think. As if you’re Sending. “But I’m not Sending,” Gale says, and then he flinches because he feels like someone has just smacked an open palm over his face. He stares down at his hands, which haven’t moved, and looks around his kitchen again. It’s still empty, if warm and cozy, the morning sun dappled on his honey-colored floorboards and baskets of fruits and grains hanging from various hooks, humming with spells to stay fresh. There’s the wall of shelved preserves and drawers of ingredients, everything in its right place. A fire crackles in the hearth, ready to cook his breakfast, and a few birds land periodically on his windowsill, twittering merrily as if they know that Tara’s not about. But for those birds, it’s just Gale here, alone in his kitchen.      Did you feel that? Astarion asks in his head. Gale narrows his eyes at—at nothing. His still empty kitchen. He’s beginning to wonder if he might still be rather drunk. What about this? Invisible fingers pinch at Gale’s left nipple, sharp and sudden, with a familiar twist—“Ouch!” Gale yelps, clutching his hand over his chest. “That was—how did you—that was entirely inappropriate given the current state of our relationship—or lack thereof—” Gale Astarion cuts in mentally, even managing a long, mental sigh. Stop talking. You’re giving me a bloody headache. I woke up with a headache Gale thinks forcefully, lips pressed together in consternation. Did you give that to me? From your waking musings, I believe the headache is from the alcohol last night, you lightweight Astarion tells him. Gale feels his face go hot. So you heard—I mean, you can hear— I can hear your thoughts, darling; at least the ones that make sense. Some of them are too fast for me, especially when you’re talking—and gods, that makes so much sense. As his knees suddenly go a bit wobbly, Gale sits down hard in the nearest kitchen chair and stares despairingly, still at nothing. I don’t understand he thinks pointedly, beyond caring about the admission. He doesn’t even mind Astarion’s answering jab. Well, that must be a first.

tagging @ashamedbliss @junietuesday @hausofthestars @shallanigans and @koalamatcha to share snippets (with zero pressure!!)

[firenati0n]

several sentence sunday <3 :)

hello friends :) thank you to @ships-to-sail @indestructibleheart @suseagull04 @zwiazdziarka @blueeyedgrlwrites

@miss-minnelli @kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes @welcometololaland for the tags <3

I FINALLY POSTED CHAPTER ONE of the full spectrum of human emotion aka the proposal au that I've been posting snippets of for an eternity and a half. it's my first multichapter so i am Nervous but...onward and upward! YEEHAW!

here's a snip from proposal au (all snips here). yeah yeah it's nine sentences okay HERE YOU GO <3 :

Alex enters the car, fighting to hold onto the pole. There's no way he has time to stand in line at the busy artisanal tea shop Henry makes him go to—his delicate tastebuds can't stand the subpar garbage the rest of the plebeians consume. He makes a game-time decision he hopes won’t bite him in the ass in about thirty minutes, using his free hand to tap the Starbucks app and quickly place a mobile order at the one next to the office before he loses his internet connection, and is forced to instead brave the storm of harried New Yorkers wanting their fuel for the morning. He hopes it doesn’t come to that. He can't afford another mishap after last week. Once he's out of the subway station, Alex sprints first to the tea shop, dipping inside only to ask his regular barista for two of their to-go cups and lids, throwing a “Thank you!” over his shoulder at her confused face. He goes next door to Starbucks, picks up his three drinks and snacks, and quickly empties the Starbucks Earl Grey into the Fancy Schmancy Tea Shop to-go cups, fastening the lid with a snap. Alex prays for the second time that morning. Please, please, please, let the Tea Gods be merciful today in helping trick Henry's elitist taste buds.

xoxo roop

+ tags below the cut and open tag as always <3

@ninzied @priincebutt @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead

@getmehighonmagic @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @orchidscript

@myheartalivewrites @dumbpeachjuice @anchoredarchangel @sparklepocalypse @anincompletelist

@wordsofhoneydew @nocoastposts @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy

@heysweetheart-writes @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @littlemisskittentoes @14carrotghoul @cultofsappho @alasse9

@nontoxic-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @mikibwrites @porcelainmortal

@captainjunglegym @itsmaybitheway @tailsbeth-writes @adreamareads

@duchessdepolignaca03 @onthewaytosomewhere

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday

Hi, I'm back with a (large) snippet of Frostpunk AU, this one set before the last one because I cannot write chronologically it seems. Also I've had beans for the smut at the end of this so who knows, the next snip might be some seggs!

The coals lying in the firepit in the middle of the cabin are still warm, indicating another scouting team had been here not too long ago. Tommy starts up the fire as Eli gives Edmundo a once over, and then helps Buck to release Christopher from his burrow in Buck’s clothes. Both Edmundo and Christopher’s temperatures are up a couple of degrees, giving Buck hope that they might make it back in time. Edmundo’s heart is still racing, and his breathing is still shallow. Buck watches as Eli’s face goes tight when he reads the amount of oxygen in Edmundo’s blood, and he pulls Bobby aside for a hushed conversation. “10 bucks says the kid makes it, but the dad doesn’t,” Sal says as he settles himself between Buck and Tommy on the floor. Immediately, Buck’s blood boils. That’s someone’s life Sal’s talking about, betting on an outcome that would make Christopher an orphan (Buck assumes, he has no idea what happened to the boy’s mother) and would turn the kid’s life upside down. Sal’s usually a decent enough guy but sometimes, he can be a total prick. “Twenty says they make it back to the city and both survive,” Buck replies fiercely. “They’re going to make it. They’ve got to.” “Buck, man, don’t get too attached,” Tommy says placatingly, resting his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “We can’t save everyone.” Buck shrugs it off, annoyed. “I’m not getting attached,” he insists, though as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re not entirely true. He’s spent four hours holding this kid close to him, sharing his warmth and energy so the boy might survive. It’s hard not to feel some kind of responsibility towards him. Not helped by the fact that as he walked behind Tommy, Eli, and the stretcher, he couldn’t help but catalogue Edmundo’s features, too. The way his eyelashes stood out against his cheeks, long and brown against the olive of his skin. The way his lips were slightly parted as he breathed, full and pink and just a little bit chapped from the wind. The way the wind would rustle through his hair, making it fluffy and pillow-like, with the occasional wavy strand falling over his forehead. Buck’s not blind, he can appreciate beauty when he sees it, but there’s something more to Edmundo. Something in the way he waited to know his son was safe before he let himself succumb to the exhaustion, as though he valued his son’s life more than his own. Or perhaps the way he’d sought out Buck’s hand, clinging to him the way a small child clings to their father in the face of fear. Edmundo may seem like a tough, no-nonsense man on paper, with his credentials from the military, but Buck can tell that deep down, he’s a lost boy, trying to find his way home. It makes Buck want to protect him and Christopher all the more.

tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @puppyboybuckley @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @pirrusstuff @housewifebuck @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @tizniz @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rainbow-nerdss @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @babytrapperdiaz @ci5mates @hermscat @thekristen999 @epicbuddieficrecs

[steviewashere]

I just saw a snip from 🪼 which piqued my interest, so could you write some more for that for the WIP game? I know the weekend is almost over, but if you have time, 🤒 & ⚔️ sounded interesting too!

Okay, I didn't do this over the weekend, rather this morning instead, but I did manage to get a snippet for all three!

🪼———🪼

Steve shakes his head. His eyes trained now on the salmon behind the glass, attentively watching them swim from one end to the other. “They’re born in streams, like rivers, but eventually they migrate to the ocean. When they’re ready to have more offspring, though, they’ll return to a stream. What I read, growing up, is that they typically return to the stream they were born in. They’re, uh—oh, what’s the term—they’re…anadromous. So, you’ll see salmon in both fresh water and saltwater.” Eddie smiles to himself, standing behind Steve. It goes unnoticed, but he doesn’t mind. His hand brushes the small of Steve’s back, when he moves to stand at his side and peer at the fish himself. “Look at you,” he says with a curl to his words, “all the big facts.” A light flush colors Steve’s cheeks. “I just read about fish a lot.” “Yeah, but I didn’t know that. Pretty cool.”

🤒———🤒

Sobbing, “I’m bad. Bad, bad, bad alpha. Stupid and bad and—I can’t—You’re leaving me and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m bad.” “I’m coming over,” Eddie says, but it’s muffled to Steve. Quiet under the crying. “I think you’re dropping or you’re feeling rejected, so I’m coming ov”— “Stay away from me, you need to stay away.” “Steve”— “Stay away.” And then he promptly hangs up the phone.

⚔️———⚔️

“I just want you,” Edward murmurs. “I want you safe, Steven. Not dead. But you keep putting yourself in these predicaments where I question the mindfulness, the sanity of your actions. You have grown to be a friend to me, my dear, and I can’t fathom the thought of you leaving me in a mess. Granted, Steven, it’s a mess of my own creation. I still don’t know why—What gods are at play here, before us, to bring us close? You know what lays ahead of me. It is nothing. It would be best if we went alone to our fates—yours in the peace of the trees, and mine from the rot I’ve crawled.”

Thank you for the ask!!

[fangbangerghoul]

WIP Folder Ask Game

I was tagged by @roguishcat

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

This game is a little wild ngl. Especially for writers who have a lot of WIPS lol

I''m going to start off by admitting that I am not as organized as to have ONE folder solely for WIPs lol

Normally I have my wips separated by fandom and whatever wip goes under that fandom I will throw in there.

Starfield WIPS

Godless Realm

Free at last

Cup Runneth Over

one offs

Baldur's Gate 3 WIPS

great fireballs of faerun

bog witch trials

My Time at Sandrock WIPS

Over Exposure

Stalker Pen

Dragon's Dogma 2 WIPS

dd2 snip

Voracious Oblivion

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Elgara Vallas: This City is a Graveyard

Elgara Vallas: Out of Time

Cyberpunk 2077

Fuck you, Pay me/I didn't steal your fucking bike

These were all the ones I could find on my computer. There are a ton in my notes app on my phone as well but I am not going through that as well lmfao. 13 is enough.

Tagging with no pressure:

@bearlytolerant @ronqueesha @crystal-overdrive @therealgchu @atonalginger @staticpallour @lisa-and-shadow @ellstersmash @eridanidreams @lyriumrain @lucaanis @awardenandacrow @blightedcrow

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🪩

tagged by the always lovely and talented @dangerpronebuddie 🔪 @loveyouanyway 💔 @diazsdimples 💖 definitely go read their snips!

Thanks to some prodding from James (and inspo from the tune that goes with this scene) Mirrorball fic has made a return (*chants to self* please stay, please stay, please stay) This scene happens way after anything posted so far. Nonetheless, master list of snippets and lore here. Bon appetit or whatever

Chim taps on the screen, opening Buck’s message and lets out a disbelieving huff. He scrubs at his chin, occasionally flicking his gaze up to Buck then back down to his phone. This goes on for what must be a solid minute before Buck’s curiosity and impatience get the best of him.  “What?”  Chim pockets his phone and looks at Buck, really looks at him. A piercing and disarming stare that makes him squirm, and not in a good way. It’s not often that this side of Chim shows up. The part that’s more like an older brother, loving and caring for Buck even when he probably doesn’t want to. Buck knows he should be more grateful, but right now he really hates it. He wishes Chim would go back to teasingly calling him a dumbass about whatever ridiculous thing he did or said.  “I know you’re not asking me that right now. Like, I’ve always known you weren’t the brightest sometimes, but jeez, Buckaroo, I didn’t think you were this stupid.” Buck resolutely stares at his shoes, at the album covers and other kitschy knick knacks decorating Chim’s small office, at the imaginary dirt under his fingernails. Anywhere but at the man in front of him. “Have you tried talking to him, Buck? Like actually talking to him.” “No need,” Buck sniffs, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. “He made it pretty clear how he feels about things. About us.” He crosses his arms defensively and bites the inside of his cheek. He’s done crying over Eddie. (Okay, he’s not, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let himself do it in front of Chim.) “You don’t think that maybe there’s a chance-” “I don’t have anything to say to him!” He curls his hands into fists, digging the nails into his palm. “And there isn’t a damn thing he could say that I wanna hear from him right now. Or ever.” Nothing except I’m sorry, I was wrong. I fucked up and I didn’t mean it. I love you.  “He made his choice and now I have to deal with that. Because I still have shit to do. If this is how I choose to make sense of it all in my head, Chim, then so be it. So.” His breaths are ragged and shallow, his voice trembling. He swipes away the tears beginning to escape before they can roll down his cheek. “Are you going to do this for me or not?” Chim studies him for a moment and Buck thinks he’s about to get an earful. Except he doesn’t.  “Yeah.” Chim sighs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry Buckaroo. I’ll take care of it.”

The Tunes™️

np tagging @actuallyitsellie, @epicbuddieficrecs, @a-noble-dragon, @tizniz, @mountedeverest,

@fortheloveofbuddie, @weewootruck, @saybiwithme, @bidisasterevankinard, @shipperqueen6,

@ramonaflow, @taketheplanspinitsideways, @spotsandsocks, @theotherbuckley, @stereopticons,

@kitteneddiediaz, @mrs-f-darcy, @daffi-990, @drowsy-quill, @your-catfish-friend,

@thekristen999, @filet-o-feelings, @wikiangela, @underwaterninja13, @lizzie-bennetdarcy,

@rainbow-nerdss, @steadfastsaturnsrings, @queenmabcreates, @inell, @jesuisici33,

@shortsighted-owl, @queerbuckleys, @bi-buckrights, @elvensorceress,

@bucksbiawakening, @giddyupbuck, @hoodie-buck, @indestructibleheart, @ladydorian05,

@lemonzestywrites, @monsterrae1, @statueinthestone, @slightlyobsessedwitheverything, @the-likesofus,

@thewolvesof1998, @watchyourbuck, @wildlife4life anyone else who wants to 😘

[olrinarts]

Snippet Roundup

A collection of 'brief' (they are not very brief 😔) snips from each of the fics in my 'incomplete' folder right now, provided w/title and a little bit of context

1. Poor Loser - a lost knucklebones bet goes awry, and there is maybe less than ideal communication immediately following that. 90% lighthearted, 10% 'oh so they're both stupid' fare

‘Yes, that is the point of the weighted odds,’ he said agreeably. ‘What is the worst that happens, you owe me a minor favour?’ ‘Why do I think we have different definitions of minor?’ The smile they didn't trust grew wider. ‘Would you like to find out?’ Sometimes they really hated Narinder. Even when they didn't. 'Fine,' they said, picking up a die. 'But I'm going to make you regret it.' Five minutes later, the Lamb was throwing their hands up in the air as Narinder set down his last five. 'Thirty nine!' they exclaimed. 'Thirty-fucking-nine!' 'Thirty fucking nine sounds unreasonable,' he said thoughtfully. 'Ten to every three? That is just unmanageable.'

2. chimes of bone - that eldritch dieselpunk one i've been going on about, the one where Lamb gets their hand stabbed into a table right before Narinder gets kicked in the chest and into the wall? yeah that, have that and the next bit

‘Cease this,’ he spat. ‘I was here willingly! You have no need –’ He wheezed as a dark shape darted towards him, striking him hard in the diaphragm with powerful hind paws. He staggered back, gasping as the air was knocked out of him, careening into the wall. Red instantly ripped itself free from the Shepherd’s hand, unspooling through the air in its serpent shape and wrapping over his shoulders defensively as he struggled to breathe. The Shepherd rolled off the table, landing on one hoof and pivoting to face him before the second one landed, their bleeding left hand spattering blood on the table as they swung their arm out. The Pale Crown leapt from the table, landing on their arm and pivoting with the same sharp precision, claws digging into its Bearer’s skin. It was some kind of – hare, maybe, some sort of leporid, but one with branching horns and something wrong with it. Too lean. Too predatory. The Shepherd and the Pale Crown both glared at him with one eye each, radiating the same uncanny air of a predator hiding beneath the face of prey. Pale was bearing its teeth, glittering gold incisors in its ink black mouth to match the Shepherd's false golden eye, its own round white eye narrowed in loathing. Red reared up from Narinder’s back in answer, hissing in warning. He’d never seen Red so committed to a form this organic, but he was grateful for it at the moment; until he caught his breath again, he would be less than useless. At least the Shepherd had one stabbed hand and one broken wrist. Likely why the Pale Crown had taken this form.

Two more - the politific i've been talking about, and another one that is kinda best described as apocalypse-lite - below the cut (just so i don't clutter dashboards more than i already have)

3. Untitled Political Fic (Politific) - a complicated emerging political landscape in the Meadows is made significantly more complicated extremely quickly.

The Mystic Seller inclined their head. ‘Then I grant you this boon, a cementing of the new future we establish: a toy for you.’ A light began to glow in front of the Mystic Seller, a disc of white a few feet in the air higher than the Lamb’s height. ‘Benefactor, comrade, malignant foe… redemption or punishment, ‘tis yours to confer as you see fit.’ Then something began to fall, flailing a bit with a startled cry, and the Lamb instinctively darted forward to catch it before it could crash onto the steps. The body was limp, dazed and barely conscious. It took a second for who they held to really register. ‘No,’ they said in horror when it clicked, gaze snapping from the mortal face of the One Who Waits up to the Mystic Seller. ‘No, this isn’t – why have you done this?!’ ‘‘Tis not the reaction I expected,’ the Mystic Seller replied, intrigued and nothing more. ‘You remain unpredictable.’

4. in the kernel - Weird crystal growth things are starting to pop up in the Lands of the Old Faith, and it would've been really nice if it stayed that simple

To their relief, the rune's glow turned from red to white, meaning the call was going through. They waited for Narinder's charm to open the connection, not sure what they'd say after this long. Then the rune turned blue, the Lamb opened their mouth - only to drop the rune onto their bed when the first thing they heard was a blood-curdling scream. 'Lamb?' Narinder's voice said a second later, a strangled whisper. 'Of all the - do not speak, you will give my location away. Give me a moment, I am almost out.' The Lamb was only silent because he'd asked, but they'd snatched up the charm again, clutching it close as fear swam through their gut. There was another scream, then several more. ‘Fuck,’ Narinder said, which was a bad sign. ‘I need to run – do not end the call no matter what you hear, Lamb, please.’ ‘I won't,’ they whispered. ‘I promise.’ What followed were several of the worst minutes of the Lamb's life, which was saying something. They could do nothing but sit on their bed, crushing the rune against their chest, listening to Narinder run through whatever the fuck was going on. Agonised screams, the sounds of shattering glass, an ominous pulsing rumble – their only comfort was the sound of Narinder's creative swearing, because it meant he was still alive to curse the world and everything in it. Finally, after what felt like hours and couldn't have been more than minutes, the screams and other sounds began to fade, leaving only the sound of Narinder's ragged breathing. ‘I am safe for now,’ he panted. ‘I suppose if ever you were to decide to stop ignoring me, now would be the most advantageous time.’

[specialagentartemis]

tagged by @elexuscal <3

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Hah I don't have a WIP folder... I just throw all that in the main documents folder till it's done.

Scrolling through my very disorganized documents folder. I am not gonna include my dissertation chapters or conference paper or anything. Here are my creative/personal/non-academic WIPs, spanning a BROAD range of how exactly "in progress" they are, but I do at least vaguely want to finish all of these some day, they aren't formally abandoned lol:

astrology story

Cassandra and Odysseus

Change of Rules

dismantling the grandmaster's house

Ereshkigal and Nergal

Extraterra Nullius

Ice Age Story

Lambert Week - To Stand Together

Minlace fic question mark

Murderbot - Gurathin whumptober fic

Murderbot - Pin-Lee TranRollinHyfa lawsuit owner notes

Murderbot - Volescu backstory

Murderbot and Thiago anthropology fic

Murderbot AnnBib

Murderbot Arada and co. pod fic

Murderbot fic - Three and Murderbot Talk About Feelings

Murderbot fic found family with TRAUMA

Murderbot fic GrayCris intern

Murderbot Greek Myth AUs

Murderbot in universe news articles

Murderbot Leonide fic

Murderbot mirror universe meetup

Murderbot mirror universe Pin-Lee and Ratthi

Murderbot Nev Ispangi experiment

Murderbot pod AU

Murderbot snip Pin-Lee researches rogue SecUnits

My 50 Years of Asexual Life - translation

Noel Leon selfcest hell yeah

orb story

Picard Goes To An Archaeology Conference

Podcast Girls Week fics

Pottery flash fiction

Sirena Halcyon fic

Splashdown [MGS]

The LAst Days of the Lovelace Administration

So I am not going to tag 35 people lol. However tagging @clonerightsagenda @skajador @grammarpedant @consolecadet @needlesandnilbogs @cobalt-knave if you want to play too!

[tumfullofblue]

OKAY sorry for the delay, I've been busy, but here's the nsft casey hc's

-oral fixation. especially if he's a lil drunk. will overstimulate his partner until they're begging for him to stop before he even touches himself.

-has never really explored kinks or being top/bottom. in his marriage the bedroom was... dead at the end. He has to really trust his partner to be vulnerable like that but he IS willing to try things. he likes it a little rough when he's stressed but will kiss every bruise and bite mark. also: tie him up with his own necktie and you'll have him whimpering! he feels safe exploring his wants and needs with his partner.

-7 inches, slightly curved upward, and uncut. keeps it neat and trimmed but not completely hairless. nice balls too (please suck them please please please).

-loves to finish inside. so much so that if his partner doesnt have birth control he WILL get the snip. doesnt want kids but the fantasy of impreg really, really, really gets his primal brains gears turning. he likes to sit inside his partner until he goes soft before pulling out and watching his cum drip from them.

-PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE kiss his neck and jaw.

-thought he had no sex drive.... turns out he just needed a good partner. he's so horned up so easily, he almost feels like a 20 year old again. as long as there's privacy and his partner is game, it's hard for him to keep his hands to himself....

-speaking of age, he likes to try positions to the best of his ability. He's thrown out his back like, three times. But it's okay because his partner always gives him back rubs and some icy-hot afterwards.

-his partners pleasure is HIS pleasure. very much likes to serve and provide, even in a dominant role.

-alan wrote book!casey to lowkey have a daddy kink (there's a snippet where book!casey is talking about a woman and says he's going to "show her who her new daddy is"), take of that what you will.

thats about all.... for now. i will invade your inbox again soon >:)

~☕️

ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ The Coffee Anon is back yall! Honestly it's getting hard for me to add anything else, you are basically gifting me those wonderfull headcanons! I find myself agreeing with most of them and I'm finally playing FInal Draft so you KNOW more Alex Casey (book included!) stuff is coming (and Sam Lake too, because I know some of yall freaks would enjoy banging the big man himself. And hey, not that he would mind!.. I'm sure.)

Anyway, feast your eyes on those hcs! And dammit if nonnie didn't made me all hot and bothered by saying that Book!Casey has a daddy kink. Whoo lord I need a cold shower. ʕ ◕ᴥ◕ ʔ

[michi-hawkeye]

*chin hands* Tell me about the stickynote

Ooh you’re gonna love this it’s a alternate first meeting and it takes place 2 years pre canon, where Tommy and Buck meet at a book signing of their favorite author. Also the sticky note mentioned in the title is plot relevant I just don’t wanna spoil why

Here’s a snippet (unfortunately I haven’t written Buck and Tommy actually talking to eachother yet 😂) (cause you know why I have too many plot bunnies)

Tommy had been reading Chasing Starlight by Savino C. Zambrano in the bunkroom for a good chunk of his shift after getting his usual tasks done, to make up for the fact he couldn’t go to the signing event for the latest installment that was being held today. Sure he could have asked for the day off weeks ago but he’s pretty sure Captain Gerrad would have laughed in his face and deny the time off if he had, he’s pretty sure the only books his captain had read were the textbooks at his time in academy if the old man’s ability to be obtuse and a asshole were anything to go by.

The novel was the first book in the series and if he had his way he would have had the 4th book today, but for now he’ll be content to reread the book that got him into Sci-Fi in the first place, with the cracked spine and age worn, tea and coffee stained pages that are threatening to fall out. He had finally gotten to his favorite scene where the sweet but jaded bounty hunter turned hermit finally admits to the optimistic hero of the series that he sees him as a friend, when the alarm bell started to blare throughout the firehouse. He tries not to groan but he can’t help it he hates getting interrupted even though its work. He goes to hide his copy underneath the mattress of the bottom bunk that he had unintentionally claimed as his during A shift, so long ago.

Its not like he’s ashamed of his favorite series or his love for reading but he would rather not have to deal with the less than kind ribbing the team tends to do being aimed at him if they find out that he likes reading what could be seen as softer but dramatic character driven books, but its also not like he’s any better than them if him not stepping in to help Hen or Chim when they had been the targets was a sign, he’s gotten used to laying low at best and humoring the team at worst. There’s a reason Eli would rather keep to himself or take Chim under his wing when he had worked at the firehouse.

——-

He tries not to look too interested when he hears Captain Gerrad rattle out the address for Lavender Sprig Bookstore where the signing event was taking place, he would think the universe was trying to mock him or something if it hadn’t been for the fact that Gerrad had stated that the emergency was that a bookshelf had collapsed on top of a group of civilians, hopefully it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

When they arrive they’re greeted by a bookseller who’s hiding her worry surprisingly well for someone’s shop dealing with a pretty sizable event telling by the line at the signing table they passed that he tried not to eye to long, regular flow of customers, on top of possible several medical emergencies. “A Good Samaritan seemed to have the bookshelf handled, he’s been holding it up and when others tired to move the injured from under the shelf he told them not to and to wait until the proper medical professionals have it handled” the bookseller, Mara said as they weaved through bookshelves and people which explained why she was more calm than frantic which isn’t a reaction that’s seen very often on the job.

“Sounds like a dumb kid trying to play firefighter who’s just going to be more of a hindrance” Captain Gerrad grumbled out as they finally got to the collapsed shelves.

“More like he’s just trying to help and he clearly has look around you” he hears hen snip back as she and Chim brush past the crew. Tommy does give a quick courtesy glance at that and notices that despite how close this area of the bookstore is to the signing, the front of the store and registers it’s clearly deserted instead of being filled with the typical nosy bystanders.

He hears captain Gerrad angrily retort “Kinard, De Luca secure the shelves and make sure that kid is out of the way” he gives Gerard a nod in response as he says to Sal “you take the left side I’ll take the right” Sal gives him a thumbs up as he hands Sal the other cord to secure the shelf. As they follow Hen and chim, Tommy taps on the stranger’s shoulder to get his attention since he was clearly crouched in a way that was easier to bare the weight of the bookcase as one person instead of what should be two at minimum which was made harder since the stranger was also being careful to not be in the way of the injured civilians

[sp0o0kylights]

aaaaaand we're back, where did I leave off again? oh yeah! number 14! (I'm a sucker for soulmate aus)

my soulmate AU, Illustrated, haunts my fucking life and has done so all year. I'm not gonna swear it'll be updated by the end of the year given how fucking long Chap 5 is, but it is actively being worked on.

Snippet:

Steve was his soulmate. 

Had been, the whole time he'd been in Hawkins. Just a class below. 

Then the same class and then gone from school entirely but--

Eddie's thoughts started and stopped wildly, as if his brain tried to follow several threads of thought at once. 

"Steve." He says breathless, hands trembling. Begins to reach out, to grasp onto Steves hand, show off the back of his own--

"Steve!" Henderson screams and fuck, Eddie is going to kill that kid! 

"Steve, Max is leaving!" Dustin howls this time and Eddie manages to shake off his annoyance as Steve launches off the couch.

Gets to his own feet as Max has her second show down of the day with Lucas and Dustin. 

"I will be delivering these." The redhead snips, a series of letters clutched in her hands and a challenge in her eyes. “I refuse to just stay here, with all my fingers crossed and my head down, hoping Vecna won’t take me.” 

“Hold on.” Steve calls frantically, eyes tracking the freshmen who are swarming around Steve’s entryway. 

Dustin has thrown himself dramatically across the front door, blocking access as Lucas tries in vain to calm down Max.

He’s trying to look into her eyes, her hands smacking at his as he tries to grab one to hold.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Steve grumbles, vaulting over the couch and striding towards the kids. 

“What the hell, Max? I thought we agreed I’d deliver the letters?” He asks loudly, bulldozing over the argument that's brewing. 

Max glares at him.

“I changed my mind.” She snarls, before taking one finger and purposefully jamming it into Dustin’s armpit.

“Ch-hee--ter!” Dustin shrieks in a forced laugh, folding right in on himself as he crashed to the floor. 

“Max. Seriously!” Steve barks, long arm reaching above her to slam the door closed. “I'm not joking, and I am not driving you anywhere.” 

Eddie doesn’t get to see Max’s face, but he does hear the raw fury in it, the way her back goes ramrod straight as though Steve is an obstacle she fully plans on plowing through. 

“Steve, if you think that I'm going to spend what is likely the last day of my life hiding out in your house like a vampire, then you're out of your mind."

She takes a menacing step foreword.

"So either take me where I need to go, or you're gonna have to tie me down which--” Max ducks right around Steve, to take hold of the doorknob. “is technically kidnapping of a minor and if I live to see another day, Steve, I swear to god, I will prosecute.”

She elbows him, hard enough to successfully get some room at the door. Wasting no time, Max whirls around to open it--and quickly finds herself struggling with the lock.

Eddie knows now is a terrible time to laugh, but just barely manages to hold it back when the redhead fumbles twice with the key before whirling back around to glare at Steve.  

“Open the door.”

"Yeah that's gonna be a no, Mayfield."

"Open. The. Door." Max grit out. "Or. I. Tell. The. Cops. You kidnapped me."

Steve stares at her in blatant disbelief, before running a hand down his face.

"Dammit." He hisses and Max gives him a smile that's more feral than anything else.