#this is a snippet of a snippet that I'm working on and anyway I haven't written in like... a year and a half or something like that

[leashybebes]

May I have my usual 🌈 and a snippet of 🌸please?

of course! 😘

🌈 - picking up where we left off.

He sits in the locker room with his phone in his hand after the others leave, his thumb hovering over Tommy's contact details. He can't bring himself to call, doesn't want to hear Tommy tell him what a dumbass he is. He already knows.

And anyway, like Tommy said, the LAFD is a gossip mill, he's sure everyone will know sooner rather than later about the dumbass probie who lost his mind and then his job because he was so desperate to impress a girl and feel wanted for five seconds that he stole municipal property.

🌸 - this will either make no sense, or be the ah-ha moment for wtf i'm doing with this fic lol, depends entirely on if you're familiar with the source material. picks up from here

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Buck asks, his voice hoarse. "You work with Jamie."

The old man rolls his eyes, his face settling into a frown with such ease that Buck imagines it's an expression he pulls a lot. He magics up a crumpled cigarette from somewhere and a book of matches from somewhere else. He lights it and takes an annoyed puff.

"You can call me Sweeper. And Jai'mae," he says, emphasizing the pronunciation, "is getting busted back down to novitiate as we speak. Do you have any idea the damage you and that young idiot have done? Four spinners had to be completely reset, and you don't want to know the kind of paperwork that generates. The Abbot was not happy."

"I don't - " know what that means, Buck starts to say, but the old man just steamrollers right over him.

"Haven't seen the likes of it for - well, that's tricky. Haven't seen the likes of it since the glass clock, at any rate."

[mx-myth]

Fanghua got me in the biggest chokehold I'm writing yet ANOTHER fic for them. Hopefully it'll actually end up being a 5+1 and not a [however many times I can squeeze out]+1...

Also the post-canon fanghua fic where llh learns to love that supposed to have cozy vibes? Yeah I pounded it out yesterday and those vibes are NOT cozy. Unless you think breakdowns are cozy. It's a little short and I'll probably go back to edit it but We Can't Have Nice Things Apparently.

[cold-neon-ocean]

I know there are those "send a [insert emoji] and I'll share a snippet from a fic I'm working on" asks but I can't find one right now so maybe just send an ask if you'd like to see a little something?? I wanna get braver about sharing my writing lol but also know that any snippets will be LoK/Baavira related maybe Bolin somewhere in there too lolol I've never posted fanfic work of mine literally anywhere in my whole life idk why it wracks my nerves so much but I wanna be able to share something when I don't always have art to offer XD

[quillvice]

“You introduced me as your boyfriend.”

Not a question – a statement, and with that statement the smile falters on Evan’s face. It’s brief, almost undetectable, but not to Tommy. Being with Evan means hearing what he’s saying, but also seeing what he’s not saying, because whatever Evan has gone through in the past makes him guarded, and that’s what Tommy sees now.

Evan is smiling but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his fingers have knotted together, and his shoulders are hunched – bracing for the rejection he thought he knew was coming. "I did. Was that not okay?"

“It was more than okay,” he is quick to say, voice soft as if he might spook him, and he closes the distance between them in a couple large strides. “It was great. Just… unexpected but in a good way.” He takes Evan’s hands in his, unknotting his fingers from each other to slot their fingers together instead, and he senses the tension melt from Evan’s shoulders with his words and actions.

“I’m glad,” Evan whispers, breath fanning across Tommy’s face, and this time his smile reaches his eyes.

[unpretty]

Im interested by what you said about using Obsidian for writing. I downloaded it and was messing around with it a bit and it seems really interesting and very much like what I'm looking for but certainly like it could be... a lot too lol

Do you have any recommendations for someone wanting to start using it for writing?

step one is to get the longform plugin, that's what lets you use obsidian a little more like scrivener, where every project has its own folder full of markdown files that you can sort freely (these days i'm still in the habit of just naming chapters numbers, but if you actually want chapter titles or something that looks nicer than numbers this is crucial). so in my case I have a folder called Writing, a subfolder of that called Fanfic, and a subfolder of that called Sorrowverse. i right-clicked on the Sorrowverse folder and said "create new longform project", named it Wayne Manor, and then it created the folder with an index. then i moved all my existing markdown files into that folder, and when i opened the Wayne Manor project in longform it asked if i wanted to import those files as scenes (i did).

if you want it to be even more like scrivener you can give each chapter its own folder and then every scene in that chapter its own file. i might go back to this someday but for a long time i was using typora so i've got different habits.

i have not yet found a good way to make backlinks useful in my fiction but i'm sure there's a way. like, it would be neat to be able to see all of sorrowverse on a timeline, or see which fics lowkey reference each other, but if there's an unobtrusive way to do that i haven't figured it out yet. i set a daily goal in longform of 400 words and have it set to apply to all projects but it's still a little iffy if it wants to work right, especially when i'm syncing files via third party cloud storage. being able to start a new writing session helps with this one.

the only files i keep visible in longform are the ones i want to be included if/when i eventually compile the whole project, brainstorming or snippets are in the same folder in fileview but they don't appear in longform. this might be a good use of backlinks actually but i haven't needed to bother with that yet, my files are pretty easy to navigate manually still.

anyway. i actually found it more helpful to use for writing after i started also using it for journaling, since having a daily note to think out loud in means i can open the app up without any pressure to do anything but word vomit, and then as long as i'm in there i can putter around in my other files and things. i also installed the Tasks plugin and created a todo list, a special note that does nothing but tell me everything i want to get done that date, and a template for my daily note that includes all the tasks i completed that day so i can go back and see everything i did.

to start with you can always just write in it the same way you'd write in word, if you're not used to markdown i think there's plugins to give it more of a wysiwyg feel but personally i prefer my little asterisks and whatnots.

[infamous-if]

March ✮ 2 ✮ 2024 – update

Another non-update, but I just wanted to get it out there! Happy March! I'm glad everyone liked the flashback. I quite like long content like that because it gives me more freedom. Plus, it's fun.

✮ — March will be for

Choosing the beta testers. I got A LOT of submissions, which I'm really grateful for! But I only have plans to a handful as of right now. That will change as the story gets bigger and bigger and I'll have to add more. I'll make a post when I have chosen and DM'd the beta testers.

Finishing the rewrite. Am I wild to think I can finish chapter 1 and chapter 2 this month? Yeah. Will I try anyway? YES.

Chapter 3 development. Outline done. Beginning done (I started working on it on my off-time. Oops) Hopefully I can get somewhere substantial. With beta testers now, I won't have to worry over errors and coding. That's 40% of why it takes me as long as it does. We'll see!

Patreon content as usual.

I haven't finished the spicy snippets because I haven't been able to think of good scenarios for the remaining ROs. Once I do, I'll be sure to write them!

That valentines special...Yes. I haven't forgotten it! lol

That's all for now! Hope everyone has a good day! <3

[amoremagnificentbastard]

WIP Whenever

I just want to say thank you to @bardic-inspo, @honeybee-bard, @yennefer-of-vengerbergs, and @nyx-knox for tagging me for snippet games over the past week -- and to others for tagging me in Picrew games and music games. I know I've been really quiet lately, both on here and on Discord, and I promise it isn't because I'm mad or don't want to interact. Work's been knocking the wind out of me lately and I just haven't had energy afterwards. It's sucked a lot.

Anyway, whatever energy I have had has been going to my latest fic. Here's the snippet y'all asked me for:

Anyway. No-pressure tagging @gilded-glitter, @obsessedwhyyes, @anacdoce, and @davenswitcher if y'all have snippets you'd like to share!

[lsunstreakerl]

for those of you who have been awaiting more on the kidnapping- I bring you 800 words from Pierre's POV. things are happening here...

A/N: I've totally switched around what order the extra drivers went in. yes I'm using Pierre, but this is not canon to the actual chronological timeline of 2nd RB drivers. suspend your imagination please and thank you <3

darkbull! the next couple ficlets are going to be the kidnapping, so if you haven't read the previous snippet I'd recommend doing that. just so you know what you're getting into.

Sweat drips down the back of Pierre's neck. He feels clammy with it, half convinced there's a glaring neon sign above him saying SUSPICIOUS. He certainly feels that way.

He wipes his palms off on the inside of his pants. It's fine. He's a Redbull driver, the same as any of the others.

Except for the fact that he isn't really a driver. Sure, he gets in the car, drives it passably well- but he hasn't clicked with Max.

He's learning that cohesion with Max might be the most critical trait in the garage, valued above anything else.

He doesn't have it.

It's not his fault- Pierre quite likes Max, but he's not allowed to get close to him. Not even really allowed to touch him- Charles has a thing about wandering hands.

Pierre has been subject to one too many rants about Redbull and their fondness for contact, but the bender Charles had gone on after the jewelry... Legendary, even by the normal Charles standards.

He takes a quick breath out. It's fine. It'll be fine.

Charles has done the work already- been slowly pulling Max further and further from the safety of the garage each weekend, has the cameras for this area on the fritz- all Pierre needs to do is get him down a few hallways.

He beeps his keycard into Max's hotel room. There had been an "unexpected" podium change after the race, propelling Daniel from fourth place to third, so he's out doing media. Carlos is still in his debrief. The Redbull team has been trickling down to the bar, and it's the work of several subtle miscommunications that has team members under the impression that someone else is coming to get Max.

He'd be worried about the higher members of the team noticing, but they're occupied at the moment, ending Pierre's career. That's what he assumes anyways, based on the fact that he'd seen Mark Webber follow Christian into the meeting room.

This is the only chance he's going to get.

Max's head pops up from where he's digging through his suitcase on the hotel bed. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, showcasing the gold necklace he's always wearing, interlinked rings resting against the hollow of his throat.

"Pierre! Hello!"

Pierre almost feels bad. He's gotten fond of Max, despite his best intentions. Max really has tried to get along with him, loop him into team activities and make him feel included, and here Pierre is- about to deliver him, gift wrapped, to the rest of his life.

Charles doesn't let go of his things- not without leaving claw marks behind. The chances of Max getting out are slim. The chances of him getting out unscathed are zero.

It's not Pierre's problem. Pierre's focus is on himself and Esteban, and Charles dangles both of their lives and their careers from his fingers, makes them dance like little marionettes.

Pierre has the protection of Ferrari, if he can get out of Redbull's clutches. He's not stupid enough to believe Charles will ever let him go, but maybe if he brings him Max- maybe he and Esteban can have a bit more freedom.

"Max, hello. Christian and GP are still in their meeting, and Daniel's down for media, so I'm taking you to the bar."

Max nods as he runs a hand through his hair, slipping his shoes on before standing. He's closer to Pierre than he's ever been before, enough for Pierre to smell his cologne, soft spiced notes and nutmeg.

His eyes are a stunning shade of blue.

"You will have to lead the way mate, I haven't been to the bar they picked before."

Right. Showtime.

Pierre flashes him a grin he hopes doesn't look as strained as he feels, before he's leading Max out of his hotel room.

Max is perfectly content to follow him, and Pierre is struck by it for a moment- it's really no wonder Redbull has him surrounded so often. He's too trusting. Hasn't even considered for a second that Pierre might be lying to him.

Because Pierre is Redbull.

Well- at this point, probably not. The contract has most likely already been signed, booting him out of his seat.

Pierre guides him through twisting hallways, and when they leave the hotel he deliberately takes them the wrong way. A few curved streets later, and they're in front of a bar, boisterous and noisy.

It's not a Redbull bar.

It's a Ferrari bar.

Pierre is putting his faith in Charles now, because Redbull will want him dead for this.

"Right inside, Max."

Sweet, trusting Max. Charles is going to crack him open and bleed him dry, leave him begging on the floor. He'll remold him exactly how he wants, removed of anything he deems unworthy.

He plays rough with his things. Pierre watches the glint of the gold around Max's neck and wrist as he walks in behind him.

Spoiled, naive Max.

He won't trust so easily again- not after this.

[theotherbuckley]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 😘

Here's some more of my bucktommy 10 + 1 pet names fic. It's currently exam season so I haven't had much time to write (also if you sent in ask prompts for writing and drawing for my 1K celebration I swear I'm getting to it, just after exams probably). Anyway here's a snippet of the boys attempting Muay Thai and getting a lil side tracked.

Tagged by @perfectlysunny02 <3 (also thanks for everyones tags through out the week)

They start out with light hits, mostly just teasing each other, barely putting any force into it. It’s back and forth for a bit, hit retreat, hit retreat, neither doing any damage. Tommy goes in for a harder knock, bringing his arm to Buck’s face, but he’s quick to dodge. “That all you got, cupcake?” Buck smirks, cocky. Tommy tilts his head at him, a dark glint forming in his eye. He smiles. That's all the warning Buck gets. Tommy raises his leg to Buck’s waist as he moves forward. The kick causes Buck to stumble, but he recovers, returning with a kick of his own to Tommy’s thigh, grateful for his long legs. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed, barely moving an inch from where he stands. Fucking tank. Buck pouts, his boyfriend is too big for his own good. In any other scenario, it is the best thing ever, but here, Buck can’t get over how built he is — it’s not fair.  “Come on, sweetheart. I taught you better than this,” Tommy says, trying to evoke a reaction. It works. Buck rushes forward, raising his hand to Tommy’s face, but Tommy’s faster, blocking the action and hitting right back. Buck doesn’t give up, he keeps moving into Tommy, hitting him, his elbow catching on Tommy’s shoulder hard enough to make him falter. Tommy just smiles at him, grinning wide. “That was good,” he admits, nodding in approval. Buck wipes the sweat from his forehead, moving back into position, jumping on his feet. “Come on, give it to me, hot stuff.” “That name’s not actually bad,” Tommy says. “Yeah?” Buck asks, guard dropping momentarily. It’s all Tommy needs. He seizes the moment raising his arm and pushing at Buck’s shoulder, causing him to stumble. Buck doesn’t have a chance to right himself before Tommy’s lifting his leg, hooking it under Buck’s. Buck lets out a little “oomf” as his back hits the ground, wind momentarily knocked out of him.  Tommy just smirks from him above, leaning over so that his hand rests next to Buck’s face. “Ready to tap out?” Tommy says, eyes flicking to Buck’s lips and back to his eyes. Buck blushes at their closeness, but ever stubborn he doesn’t give in. “Never,” he whispers, wrapping his leg around Tommy’s torso and flipping them so that Tommy’s now on his back. Tommy’s pupils widen, and he lets out a breathless “Fuck.”

Tags:

@bidisasterevankinard @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @bucks-daddy-issues @tizniz @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @babybibuck @exhuastedpigeon @perfectlysunny02 @buddieswhvre @loserdiaz @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals @smallandalmosthonest @spotsandsocks @evanbi-ckley @inell (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from this tag list I know bucktommy isn’t everyone’s thing)

[astarionfreak]

#13 Astarion being a needy sub x f!reader pls 😅

Status: I haven't forgotten about anyone's asks, I'm just working very slow! 🦥

Anyway, here's a #13! Enjoy!

13. "Please, please let me come."

Snippet for the smut ask game. | Previous answers here.

You grip the top of the headstone to steady yourself as you desperately rut against Astarion's face. His tongue moves in ways that makes you think even now, without the tadpole connection, that he can still read your mind.

You understand the truth though. There's no mind reading. He just knows you, he knows your body -- maybe even better than you do. He is able to anticipate your every move, bringing you to climax with precision.

Even over this grave -- which, to be clear -- is not his grave. You're actually not sure who's grave you're fucking on top of. You don't care. You were here. Astarion had been teasing you all day. You're both naked now.

You stifle a moan that threatens to wake the very dead you're disrespecting. Pleasure pulses in your core, a heat in your low belly continues to build. You're so fucking close.

And Astarion knows it. His fingers knead into the meat of your ass. He squeezes and spreads your cheeks as his tongue flicks expertly at that little bundle of nerves between your legs.

You grip the headstone with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. When he's like this, focused only on your pleasure, he doesn't notice that you're messing up his curls. He doesn't care.

You roll your hips, grinding down against his face. "You're just so fucking perfect, aren't you?"

He moans in agreement, still completely focused on you. Only you. Gods. You love the bastard.

You raise your hips, lifting off his face and he whines softly. His pupils are blown wide with lust as he stares up at you, almost pleading with you to sit back down.

"You were close. Why stop? Was it something I did?" he asks, breathless.

"No, your mouth is wonderful. But I want more." You glance over your shoulder at his cock. Hard and already leaking pre-cum.

"Gods, yes, please," Astarion whimpers.

You consider turning around, licking a long strip up his length and then taking him into your mouth -- but you don't. Instead, you move slowly, carefully, and scoot down. You press your cunt against his length, spreading your slick all over him.

"I want you to come inside me," you whisper, slowly dragging your cunt along his length. "I do have one rule though."

Astarion bucks his hips up and whines. His hands find your hips and his fingers dig into your flesh. "Anything."

"You have to beg me," you say.

He grips your hips a little tighter. "Please let me fuck you."

"You can do better than that," you whisper.

Astarion pouts, head falling back against the dirt with a moan as you grind along his length. "Please, please, ride me. Gods. I want you. I need you. Please."

"Good boy," you tease. "I think you've earned a reward."

He licks his lips and nods.

You move carefully, shifting to position his cock at your entrance and then you oh, so, slowly sink down onto him. A delicious stretch. Familiar.

How did you get so lucky?

You swallow back a moan, fingernails dragging lightly across his firm chest as you ride him. His hips rise to meet yours, matching your rhythm thrust for thrust. And you're close again -- right at the edge. But you still need to hear him beg.

So you bend down and press your breasts against his bare chest. He meets your eyes with nothing but pure need.

"Beg," you whisper, still moving your hips.

"Gods, love -- fuck," he whimpers.

He's close. When you ride him like this, it ruins him. He's all yours. And he knows it. "Tell me how good I feel. Beg me to let you come."

"Darling, fuck." His eyes flutter shut and he moans softly. He won't last long now.

You grab his chin and keep the pace with your hips. "Beg."

He meets your eyes. Lips softly parted as he gasps for air. Finally, he manages to say, "You feel amazing. Please, please let me come."

"Good boy. Come for me. Fill me, Astarion," you say.

He comes with a moan, spilling himself deep inside you. You're not far behind. Your own orgasm leaves you breathless, lying limp on his chest.

You stay there for a while, just enjoying each other's company. Eventually you'll move, you'll clean up, get dressed, and go home. Then you'll do it all over again.

[etherealily]

do you have any headcanons for your birds of a feather part 2? like just a snippet or smth bc u said u were wrking on it for the other anon

Yes, I do! I can safely say that it's as canon-compliant as possible in terms of the Quarter Quell. Finnick survives, District 13, etc, etc.

However, happy ending incoming. I've done this guy way too dirty recently.

Snippet about my characterization of Finnick? Sure. I need some reviews anyway. If it's trash, please tell me.

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

----

You pick up the phone and he swears the universe paused. "Hey." Discomfort. Not because of him, thank god, but discomfort was present in your voice nevertheless. "How are you?" It's Reaping Day, you absolute fuckass, she's losing her mind. "Okay. I mean, it's Reaping Day, so I guess as good as can be." He smiles. He can work with that. "You receive any more blobcakes?" He's pretty sure he'd added them in, special request, to your monthly Victor-loot since he'd met you. He'd made it a priority. "No. Why, you wanted some?" What the fuck? You hadn't? Oh, a couple ex-District 1 Avoxes were going to get a talking-to. He shrugs. "Yeah." Whoo, there he was, Finnick Odair, king of nonchalance. He's glad Finnick, normal old District 4 Finnick isn't showing up. He's the kind that would have an aneurysm if he'd known a pretty girl like you had picked up voluntarily. Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling, his suaver persona, was active when the two of you were in the Capitol, and he's pretty sure that's the only reason you tolerated him. "Well, y'know. Surviving Reaping Day was kinda higher on my bucket list." "Right, right. Well, relax, you'll be fine. The odds are, like, astronomical." "Weren't they astronomical for you, too?" Fuck. "Yeah, but I'm me." "Meaning? I can't win?" WHOA. Whoa, Finnick Odair, king of nonchalance needed to be a bit more 'chalant'. "No, I mean, like, bad luck kinda follows me around. So." "Oh. But, um, on- on the off chance that I..." "Whoa, no. You won't get picked." You can't. Finnick would genuinely pass out.

"Okay, but if I do, you- uh, honestly, as a mentor. Do I have a chance?" Finnick was at a loss here and so was Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling. He genuinely had no clue. "I haven't seen you figh—" "No, like, I mean, do I have the ability to be a favourite?" Oh. "Yeah. You do. You have a good personality, you look good, so I don't think you'll have trouble with sponsors so long as your physical prowess is alright." "I hate the Capitol.", he hears you say. "Shh. These lines are tapped." "Right, like Snow doesn't know that we hate the Capitol." Valid point. "You're fine. Can I just... I just feel like you..." "I'm overreacting? Is that what you're going to say, Finnick?" He was about to say 'I feel like you're the only reason I'm not hanging from the fucking ceiling right about now', but that might have just been a tad too dramatic.

XOXO, Vega!

[stemcellee]

november 25 2024

i haven't really put a lot of words out there recently but i think i finally have something to get off my chest after thinking about it for a while...and to avoid spam it's under the cut D:

happy holidays to everyone though can't believe the season is already here!!!

med school is so hard!! i admit when i first got in, i was like "im not gonna let it get to me. i have amazing stress management skills and i'll handle everything so well!!" and then i fought a lot with dissapointment in myself when i was struggling with things i never imagined.

stuff i feel like i wasn't prepared for:

the constant worry about not doing enough. you see snippets of other people's lives when they are productive and it makes you feel like everyone is so much more productive than you

how hard it can be to compartmentalized. both ways!! when i'm relaxing ("relaxing") i'm planning how to somehow be productive while relaxing. when i'm working, im wishing so bad i had spent my relaxing time ACtually relaxing

attachment. this feels like such a personal problem but when i'm doing practice questions the clinical vignette is consistently similar to people in my life who have been affected by the pathologies i'm about to be tested on. a 70 year old woman with hypertension and diabetes...succumbs to decompensated heart failure. a 50 year old woman has bouts of angina...and suffers a massive MI. a 60 year old male is rushed to the hospital for chest pain...and dies of ventricular arrythmia an hour later. it's so scary thinking about how your parents and loved ones could be those patients!! it motivates me to make sure i learn these things for my future patients but it's sad carrying this around. i guess this is part of why i went to med school anyways...

how easy it is to forget about yourself. i will have days of highly productive focused studying/work but suddenly will get slapped with an unexpected migraine. i am getting a lot better about this but i have to remember that working out, eating well, etc are not wastes of time. i need to preserve myself most importantly becasue without me, i can't even do any of this!!

last thing. projection. i find myself making up problems sometimes that i think is a coping mechanism for projecting my own frustrations into something to blame. like studying is tough and i get frustrated that it doesn't come as easily to me sometimes, so i feel upset that things aren't how i expected them to be, like if i had more support id be happier/better at studying etc. while that's true, i recognize it's also a coping mechanism to place the blame externally...

anyways yeah there are a lot of things i've been thinking about in the thick of it all. med school is not what i expected it to be, and i really cannot blame others for not knowing what to expect either because truly you cannot anticipate how you will feel. thanks for reading it's been a min

[andforyouevan]

Snippet Saturday

Heyhey! I've been tagged in various writing games this week, but haven't had anything to share until today. This is a fic I'm working on for @herrmannhalsteadproduction, and the 'Shenanigans fic' I've already posted some snippets of. I have yet to think of a title, which, I'm convinced is the worst part of writing anything lol.

Anyway, here we go!

“Hellooooo?” A trilling voice rings out, coming around the side of the house. “Anyone home?”

He takes one of his headphones out as a short woman with curling blonde hair comes into view, holding what appears to be a clipboard. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel to the deck frame and he’s confused when she looks...critical? Angry? It’s hard to tell.

But when she sees him, her eyes brighten and he’s wondering if he imagined it.

“Oh, hello,” she says, holding out a hand. “Who might you be?”

Tommy holds his grimy one up. “Sorry, I’m a little dirty, Miss…?”

She drops her hand. “Oh! I’m Shirley. Mrs. Shirley Barnes.”

“Tommy Buckley-Kinard,” Tommy answers. “How can I help you?”

“Ah well, I’ve just been elected to the head of the neighborhood Home Owner's Association,” she explains. “And I’m going around to introduce myself properly. I’ve seen you around, of course, you’ve lived here a long time.”

“I have,” Tommy says, feeling suddenly weary. The neighborhood has always had an HOA for as long as he’s lived here, but they’ve always taken a hands off approach so he’s not dealt much with them. “For almost twenty years.”

“That’s just lovely,” she says. “And you’ve had a roommate for a few years, have you not?”

“You could say that,” Tommy says wryly, the vibes he’s getting from her are starting to wear on him already. “He’s my husband.”

“Oh, well,” she says again. “That’s also very...very...lovely.” She says this in a way that makes it clear that it’s very, very not, but before Tommy can do anything about it, she’s pushing on. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve noticed some things around the neighborhood that the previous administration let slide and I’m making it my mission to bring it back into tip-top shape!”

He’d been afraid of that. “Which means…?”

Her eyes drift to the deck frame again. “May I ask, Mr. Kinard…”

“Buckley-Kinard,” Tommy corrects, maybe a little harsher than he’d meant to but she doesn’t even seem to notice as she glances at her clipboard. Tommy is fond of clipboards in a way he can be when he’s married to someone who keeps stashes of them all over the place, but he can already sense that Shirley Barnes probably uses hers as a metaphorical weapon.

np tagging: @desert--moonchild, @comfortingevanbuckley, @sad-girl-hours23, @cjlouwho, @hyperfocusthusly

[orbitariums]

christopher moltisanti x black! reader (snippet) as promised literally LAST YEAR... i know my people are still waiting on it i'm so sorry for leaving yall hanging, gays can u ever forgive me?

this is a SNIPPET of the shit i literally started last week... there's room for improvement and hopefully this will force me to finish this. also if any of y'all are also into challengers, i've got some patrick zweig and art donaldson (x black reader) fic posted and more incoming ehehehe.

anyway. set in like s3/s4, when christopher was working in an office (completely blanking on when that actually was but you'll have to forgive me i literally started this last summer (and still haven't finished the sopranos because i am notoriously slow at finishing tv shows))

cappuccino w/ extra cream | christopher moltisanti x black!reader

contains: smut, mentions of racial tension, christopher is NOT an abusive racist in this sopranosverse <3

You and Christopher Moltisanti were not a predictable match. It was only by chance that you met, while he was ordering lunch at the bodega you worked at after he had scored a hit in your neighborhood. He knew better than to come back, especially just for you, but he did. Over and over he came in, ordering a turkey and cheese on a roll with extra relish, shoving an inappropriately large tip in the tip jar just for you— just enough times until you caved in and let him take you out to dinner.

Of course, your family had a fit, and you didn’t even want to think about what Christopher went through with his crew when it came time to finally tell them about his forbidden love life. But all of the ruckus had died down, and now between the two of your crews was this unspoken, stifled agreement that they would let this union exist in peace. It was the 90s for god’s sake, and Christopher was a stubborn mule. 

Once he knew what he wanted, there was no backing down, even if it made him look like an idiot to those whom he served. And by god, did he want you. He was obsessed with you. Always wining and dining you, showing you off without shame. Of course, you two had been through your ups and downs, but Christopher treated you right. You were probably the first woman he’d treated right, the first he cared for unconditionally. No pains in sight except those he took to spoil you and cherish you beyond the diamonds and Versace pumps he gifted you. Even Paulie could respect it, along with the rest. It’s partially why they left it alone, and even smiled and shook your hand when you showed up on his arm. He thought about you every waking moment, he was positively lovestruck. 

It was a slow day at the office. Already Christopher had to reprimand Thing One and Thing Two for trying to intimidate the new guy. He was secluded now in his office, scrolling aimlessly on his chunky desktop computer when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, baby!” came your voice, tinkling like bells in his ear and positively soaring through the room from the other side of the door. 

Christopher stood up, standing straight as if he’d just downed a shot of espresso, and he had to physically resist flinging himself at the door for the sake of the guys outside who were watching him. He opened it, first looking past you and glaring at the guys who had frozen on their phones and computers, gaping at the sight of you being let into Christopher’s office. Like they’d never seen anybody before. 

“What are you jerkoffs looking at?” Christopher barked. “Get back to work!”

Immediately resumed the punching sounds of typing and the drawls of the sleazy salesmen on the phone with their poor customers. As if it were nothing, Christopher retreated back, facing you with a broad, charming smile.

“YN, baby… what are you doin’ here?” he asked, that dopey lover boy tinkle sneaking into his voice, which always did anytime he talked to you. He sounded like a completely different person— like the Chris he might have been if he weren’t born into the family he was born into. He took your arms into his hands, caressing them gently, softly smiling. “Here, come in.”

He opened the door wide enough for you to come in, glared at everyone once again when you walked past, and then closed it, clicking the door locked. Not that anyone would try to come in unannounced anyway.   

“Wanted to see you, that’s all,” you smiled, plush lips pressed against one another. “Got off work early, got you a capp and chocolate biscotti. Extra creamy, just how you like it.”

You sat down at the chair opposite his desk, setting down two coffee cups and a crinkly paper bag. Christopher felt like he was dreaming. His discontent seemed to fade away now that you were here— bright colors replaced the dull dram palette of his lonely office and he only had eyes for you. The smell of creamy espresso wafted towards him, mingling with the praline swirls of perfume that glided off of your pressure points. He was in Heaven— he was sure of it. All of his senses were overwhelmed by beauty when he was around you. 

“My girl. Always so sweet,” Christopher picked up a cup and sat down in his desk chair across from you. He pried open the lid and took a deep sniff, all the while maintaining the most tantalizing eye contact with you, both of you staring at each other with smirking smiles painted on your lips. 

“Go on, drink it,” you prompted him, unable to hide the smile from your voice. 

“What, I can’t look at you instead?” Christopher crooned back. “C’mere. Come, sit on my lap. Sitting across from me, what are you, a client?”

You shook your head, laughing at Christopher’s incessant demands to always be close to you, always be looking at you. He was always touchy-feely and lovey-dovey. His affinity for physical touch lurked not so far beyond the cold mobster exterior. You got up anyway, slinked over to him, and sat. One leg crossed over the other, the skin of one thigh sinking into the other. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his chin into your shoulder, gazing up at you. 

“Your hair looks nice,” Christopher commented, gently grabbing a handful of your fresh auburn-colored braids and stroking his hand through the gaps.

“Oh, thank you,” you snaked a hand through your hair, tilting your head so you could see Christopher better. 

“You go to that salon? Put it on my card?”

“Of course, baby. Thank you,” you smiled coyly, kissing his cheek with a loud smack.

“You just tell me anytime you need to get your hair done. With you, it’s every two weeks, but I can’t complain.”

You snickered,

“Yeah, until I make you sit there and wait for me for six hours to get some braids.”

“I dunno how you do it. You’ve got patience like nobody else,” Christopher replied, pushing some of your braids to the other side.

“We have patience like no other.”

Christopher looked down at your skirt— a tight pencil skirt that matched the brown hues of your skin and hugged your curves nicely. You matched it with a blazer and a white blouse. You looked so sexy and professional, and elegant.

“And this skirt,” Christopher continued, layering on the compliments with a renewed curiosity, the kind of curiosity that wanted to know what was under the skirt. His hands, rough and large, found their way onto your lap and your thigh. His hands, marred and toughened from his profession, felt nothing like your buttery smooth skin, but still, you found yourself melting into his touch. Your wispy lashes brushed against your cheek as your eyes fluttered slightly closed. 

“Burberry. You like it?” you bit down on your lip, giving him doe eyes as you craned your neck to coo at him. 

A deep smirk set on Christopher’s lips and his thick brows rose slightly. His hands left your body for only a moment to raise up in the air as if considering the question, then they were right back where they belonged, 

“Do I like it? I wanna fuck you with it on.”

Your mouth dropped.

“Christopher!” you enunciated each syllable, glaring back at him with twinkling, faux scandalized wide eyes. 

“What? I can’t be honest anymore?” Christopher asked, his words beginning to sound muffled as he pressed his lips against your neck ever-so-gently, but enough so that you could feel it. “I’m Catholic. Lying is a sin.”

“What’re you doing, Chris?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes amusedly. You wouldn’t keep up this facade for long, but he would play along and break down your walls. 

“You smell so fucking good,” Christopher practically inhaled your scent, his big nose pressed against the nape of your neck. “You got more of this stuff?”

You frowned slightly, remembering that you were savoring the last of it,

“I’m almost out.”

“I’ll get you more,” Christopher replied immediately. “Make that your signature scent.”

You chuckled at Christopher’s insistence, his matter-of-fact way of speaking about certain things. Not controlling, but honest about what he wanted. 

“Okay, I will,” you grinned. 

Christopher pushed away your braids so that one side of your neck was completely bare for him to continue peppering kisses upon. It was clear to you that he wanted more than just this, as sweet as it was. And you wanted it too, but not without teasing him first. 

“I want you right now,” Christopher said, a certain desperation tinged in his voice that only you could provoke. He knew he’d have you, and could have you… but still, every time, he seemed to rescind into this character of the enthralled lover boy who didn’t quite have the girl. Like he was still ordering sandwiches from the other side of the counter and telling you to keep the change. 

“Christopher! You’re at work. What if someone hears?”

Christopher snorted through his nose, 

“I don’t give a fuck. ‘Sides, only thing those jerkoffs can hear is the sound of their own 

mouth-breathing.”

You giggled, but half-heartedly, trying to catch your breath. Christopher wasn’t the only one who was defenseless in this relationship. You wouldn’t be able to guess it right away, but he had you wrapped around his finger too, right along with his Cuban ring. Everything he did positively enraptured you, even if it made him dangerous. But when you were with him, everything was swathed in the softest fabrics, and the air smelled of fresh linen and fields of flowers. None of the blood and tears that his work consisted of. 

You crumpled under his touch, easily. He knew you, mind, soul, and more presently, body. The room was silent, bar for the slightest sounds of lips against your neck and fabric swishing against itself as he eased his hand further up your thigh, pushing underneath your skirt. By now his kisses against your neck had you tilting your head back in pleasure, your lips slightly parted. You could feel the outline of his cock against your ass and wanted nothing more than to get closer. Each time you saw each other it was like you hadn’t seen each other in years, would never see each other again. The passion never dissipated. 

His hand crept further and further until it reached the side of your panties, lifting the elastic band and then letting it slap against your skin. His kisses against your neck grew deeper and traveled up to your chin, his other hand wrapped around your waist tightly. You gasped slightly at Chris’ suggestive touch.

“Christopher…” you whispered, your voice reduced to a weak shiver, lids becoming heavy. 

“What?” he responded, his breath heavy. 

“Please, I need you to touch me.”

“Where?” Christopher asked, fighting the smile that was pulling at his lips. 

“Here!” you exclaimed with desperation, grabbing his hand and pressing it against the center of your panties where there was a wet mark. 

“Oh, there,” Christopher replied, fingers pressing into you over the delicate fabric. 

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, your whole body beginning to tense up as if preparing for sweet impact. 

You were relieved when you felt him push your panties to the side and you could finally feel his fingers against your flesh, prodding at your folds as if collecting your wetness along his fingertips. 

“You’re always so wet,” he shuddered, wasting no time and pushing a thick finger into your hole, making you nearly jump out of your seat on his lap. Instead, though, you simply arched your hips up against his finger, letting out a deep exhale. “And so warm.”

“Oh!” you yelped out in pleasant shock when Christopher added another finger, fully stretching you out now and sending a buzzing vibration up your spine. 

“Thought you didn’t want anybody to hear us?” Christopher taunted you, lips hot against your ear. 

“Ugh,” you moaned, rolling your eyes. “Just—please.”

“Please what?” Christopher asked, all while quickening the pace of his fingers inside you, switching from slow, scissoring motions to a fast slam that caused you to collapse against his chest, your legs pried open. Christopher moaned to himself at the feeling of your wet slick against his fingers, the way he could feel you getting wetter as he pushed his fingers in and out of your hot entrance. 

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your voice taking on an entirely new high pitch as you jolted into the pleasure and the change of pace. 

“‘M gonna fuck you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Christopher kept pushing his learned fingers into you, hitting your g-spot with ease. “Gonna make you take my cock.”

“M-mhm,” you gasped out. Chris wanted to see this through, but the way he was straining against his pants was killing him. It was painful not to be able to be inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m taking this off,” he announced, and you both fumbled together to unzip your skirt and toss it onto the floor. His pants and boxers came next, along with your panties. All thrown carelessly around the room. Then he lifted you and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling him on his desk chair. You were already desperately grinding against the base of his cock, your arousal trailing up his shaft. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Christopher’s voice seemed to grind into a growl as he watched you roll your hips desperately against his cock. 

“Please,” you pouted, his words passing through you like a gust of wind— you hardly registered them. You were too busy grabbing at his cock and trying to 

“Why’d you really come here, huh? To get fucked?”

You hated and loved how easy it was for him to turn you into putty. 

more soon i promithhh <3 keep me on my toes yall

[dream-with-a-fever]

but i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm (snippet)

by dream-with-a-fever (me) / societysgot (ao3)

harry/ginny, oneshot, canon compliant, missing moments during OotP

“So, I take it that cave in the mountains outside Hogsmeade wouldn’t work as a meeting place with Sirius?” She said, bringing them back to their conversation in the library.

Harry shook his head. “Definitely not — how did you know about that?”

“I’m really into mountain hiking,” She replied, without missing a beat.

Harry gave her a quizzical look before her face broke out into a smile, and she laughed.

“I’m joking - I've never done it,” She said, with a snort, “Hermione mentioned doing it with her family once — no, Sirius told me about it over the summer, back at Grimmauld place.”

“You and Sirius talked?”

For some reason he hadn’t even considered the fact that the Weasleys had been staying there for several weeks before Harry’s arrival. Jealousy bubbled in him momentarily, at the thought of them all spending their summer together, while he was stuck in privet drive. They had probably shared meals, swapped stories, made jokes. He vaguely remembered the youngest Weasley holding court up one end of the table on a particular evening, chatting animatedly with Remus, Tonks and Sirius. She had almost seemed like one of the crew. He just hadn't given it much thought until now.

She gave him a quizzical look, and he realised he must’ve been silent for a beat too long.

“Yeah, is that… alright with you?”

He forced out a laugh. “Yeah- erm, of course. I just didn’t think — I don’t know.”

“Well, he’s cool. Got a great muggle music collection. You’d probably know some of ‘em? There’s one band — super good called The Beatle and—”

“The Beatles.”

“What?”

Harry suppressed a smile. “Never mind.”

“They're really good. But, he mainly talks about you, you know,” She said, after a beat, “Raves about you actually.”

Harry sighed, like this was a real inconvenience.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Harry, fighting back a grin.

"I told him, I said Sirius, I haven't got all day - but the man's relentless. Wanted to know everything."

“That must’ve been terribly boring.”

“Very," She hummed, noncommittally. "You know, Harry Potter — famously boring.”

“Glad you agree.”

“Well, we can’t have everyone inflating your ego now, can we?”

Harry spluttered for a moment, before she continued.

“Not that a bit more arrogance on your part would be bad. You could be a lot worse. Look at Percy.”

“Thanks, Ginny.”

“Very welcome,” She said, breezily before clapping her hands together, “Anyway — if the cave isn’t an option, and all the fires are being guarded…”

“Well…not all of them,” Harry said, a look of realisation crossing his face.

When he looked up she was grinning widely at him, eyebrows raised. It was then that he looked around, and realised they were outside the Gryffindor common room — the trek from the library was like muscle memory to him now, and still their arrival had come as a shock to him.

The fat lady was chatting animatedly with her friend Violet from another portrait when they approached; both shrieking with laughter like a couple of hyenas, passing a bottle back and forth of some kind of mead that most certainly was not from the fat lady’s portrait. They were completely obvious to the two students stood outside.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your study session,” Ginny suddenly said, scrunching up her nose, looking rather guilty, “I know you need all the time you can get, you know, with the OWLs coming up so soon.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Have a lot of faith in my academic ability then, do you?”

She choked out a laugh, whipping her auburn hair out of her eyes. “Not what I meant and you know it. Though if you hanging around Ron every minute of every day is any indication of your intelligence…”

“Pretty sure you spend more time with him than me,” Harry replied, looking aghast.

“Yeah — because he’s my brother - I'm stuck with him, aren't I? But you voluntarily spend every waking moment with him. I mean, think of all the brain cells you must have lost already…”

“See, that’s—”

“But there’s still time to save yourself from ruin, I reckon. Just gotta get back to the books.”

“Well, that’ll be hard, seeing as you got me banned from going back into the library ever again…”

She elbowed him hard in the side, and Harry looked up, surprised at the contact. But Ginny seemed unfazed - like this was nothing out of the ordinary.

“I think I’ll take that chocolate egg back then,” She demanded, flicking a curtain of red hair behind her.

Harry scoffed. “Pretty sure you already ate most of it—”

And that earned him his second jab in the ribs. He glanced down at his feet, suppressing a grin.

Their slight cofuffle had caught the attention of the fat lady who now, having finally noticed their presence, began to complain at their frankly insulting dawdling (‘I don’t have all day, you two!’)

They parted ways in the common room; Crookshanks trotting over to the youngest Weasley the second she had stepped through the door; Harry making his way up to the boys’ dormitories.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

(Unbeknownst to Harry, it was the best sleep he had had in weeks.)

[ecstarry]

author interview!

thank you @orchideous-nox , @emlovessid , @pretentiouswreckingball , @star4daisy , @angel-daydreams for the tag <3

total works: twenty-four! (mostly one shots oops) total wc: 76,784

your top 5 stories by kudos/likes?

mine

parallelos

home

tripping over air

invisible string

do you respond to comments? it might take me a little bit but yes!! i try to reply to all of them

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

one of these three:

'the one with the breakup'

'essential'

'maybe someday'

(they were all about a diff breakups lol i dont think i'll reread to remember which one is angstier oops)

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

absolutely any other fic outside of those three i swear, it's absolute fluff

do you write crossovers? not yet but it's not something i'm closed off to

have you ever received hate on a fic? i don't think so? some weird comments maybe

do you write smut? oh yes, it's very yummy

have you ever had a fic stolen? not to my knowledge

have you ever had a fic translated? nop

have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! very recently, with @star4daisy and it was for @v7lgar birthday it was so so fun. very yummy fic if i say so myself: apartment 26

what's your all time favourite ship? reg and james

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

god i really wish to finish past lives but i fear it will hurt too much

what are your writing strengths?

i think i have a lot of ideas, especially scenes like just snippets of their time together. i think i'm good with small moments

what are your writing weaknesses? can't stick with a story to save my life lol

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i don't think i've added yet but i would talk to someone who actually speaks the language. i think if you're using google translate better to not use it at all (at least with latino james pls free my man)

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

i must write more wisestar !! and i'm working on my itafushi fic so that's fun

what's your favourite fic you've written?

i'm doing top three because no one is even reading to this point and if you are then damn i appreciate you, i will write you something, go text me u read up to here and claim ur prize lol i truly think not even my besties are actually reading up to here, like goddamn i forgot how long this was or am i just tired? idk anyway here's the list:

dearly departed

dare to stay

same boat

open tag! + @moon-seas @v7lgar @lavenderhaze @ultravioletbrit

@sixlane @velanavis @del-stars @futurequibblerjournalist

@staringathesun1 @pressedink