#\\ i'm so bad at writing them lol

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 3

Gotham Academy High School was the sort of school where almost everyone was elite in some way or another. Some of them were from old money like Damian who held himself up to a very high standard in his academics and was the top of the class. Others from new money like Dash and the rest of his cohorts became very hateful of somebody like Danny who was given a scholarship by Bruce Wayne, in their eyes Danny was taking advantage of Damian not even knowing that Damian approached Danny for companionship two years ago.

This also meant that everyone including the teachers would compare Danny and Damian to each other even though they weren’t brothers. That didn’t matter though as Danny was associated with them so that was all the reason they needed.

Danny groaned as he sunk into the seat next to Damian. The lunchroom was filled with chatting students and Danny was glad he shared the next class with Damian, which happened to be English. Dash never bothered Danny when Damian was around, probably because Damian had threatened the jock. How he was threatened Danny didn’t know, Damian never told him what happened and he was a little scared to ask. 

The guy hadn’t stopped harassing Danny since he and Jazz transferred a couple years ago. The school year had barely begun and Dash had made Danny his primary target like he was making up for lost time over the summer. Danny sighed as he dropped his paper bagged lunch on the table with a little plop. Jazz had packed for him this morning hopefully before his parents arrived and contaminated the entire kitchen.

“Dash again?” his sister asked across the table, she was seated next to Tim.

“I was paired against him in dodgeball again,” Danny lamented, his head resting on his arms that were crossed on the table.

“Danny, could you just talk to Mr. Lancer or something?” Jazz asked before she took a bite from her sandwich.

Danny sighed again and unpacked his lunch, “I have but no one will listen! They all act like I’m lying or something.” The teachers at this school probably wouldn’t listen to a charity case like him. Dash was a football player and had plans to become captain of the team. Everyone at the school loved Dash and it was precisely why everyone except maybe the four students at the table they were seated looked down and sometimes even bullied Danny.

Danny ignored it all eventually, it was better just to let the jock tire himself out. 

Once Danny and Damian finished eating they made their way to English. Luckily it was easy to carry the material for a class that only required a small binder and whatever book they were reading, in this case it was ‘gone with the wind’. Danny didn’t really care about reading old literature like this but he did what he had to maintain the grades he had. He’d endure anything, even Dash’s bullying, to become an astronaut.

Danny could hardly concentrate today through his afternoon classes. For some reason he had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. He tried his best to ignore it, he was probably just tired or something. Soon the school day was out and Danny packed up whatever homework he had for the day and headed outside to wait with Jazz. Damian and Tim were probably wrapping up their classes. Tim had an AP class that ran an extra 30 minutes and Damian’s last class was art, they were doing a painting and it wasn’t unusual for Damian to finish up what he was working on as he found out over the last few years that he enjoyed painting.

“… Do you think it’ll work?” Jazz asked a hint of hesitation in her voice. Danny knew she was talking about the portal, the both of them had talked about it before. Danny glanced over at his sister, he could tell she was having trouble sleeping lately, her face looked tired and her posture was stiff with her arms crossed in front of her. Both of them had anxiety about the possibilities the portal possessed, and they were especially worried that their parents wouldn’t take it well if the portal didn’t work. 

He was equally concerned that it would work. “I hope not…” he said eventually. It was something that brought the siblings closer as the whole of their family fell apart. How their parents managed to pull off getting the funding in the first place seemed to be a miracle. Everyone called their parents crazy and dismissed all of their science as ludicrous garbage.

Danny wondered how they even managed to stay under Batman's radar, he thought that something like this would be cause for the vigilante to look into it but maybe the thought of ghosts was just that outlandish that even the dark knight himself thought it to be crazy too. Danny himself didn’t believe in anything his parents published, some of the papers even seemed to be biased somehow, even though his parents hadn’t ever actually encountered a ghost. That last part was probably the reason no one bothered to actually investigate his parents, there wasn’t really much to investigate.

The siblings waited in silence and eventually Tim and Damian showed up after their classes and the four headed to Alfred waiting by the car. 

If anyone tried to start a conversation with Danny he wasn’t paying attention. If he was being honest, his parents' portal scared him a lot. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous about it, both him and Jazz renounced the thought that ghosts could exist. Something deep down in his guts told him that he should turn and run, that what his parents were attempting was taboo and that his parents were tampering with forces unimaginable. 

No one was going to listen to a fourteen year old though so Danny kept his feelings to himself and ignored them. 

Soon they were pulled in front of their apartment and true to their word, Damian and Tim asked Alfred to park nearby. Danny and Jazz took a hesitant glance at each other as they walked into the house. 

[kakashi-fangirl-ita-blog]

Zosan headcanon (set either after Whole Cake Island or during one of the pre-timeskip arcs)

One night Sanji has a bad dream (about his childhood, his trauma, his fears...) and suddenly wakes up gasping and heavy breathing.

He doesn't want to wake up his crewmates, so he just gets up from the floor where he usually sleeps and leaves the room. But Zoro is on lookout that night and sees Sanji running into the kitchen (his comfort place). He knows that something isn't right by how panicked his breathing sounded and how confused he looked around, so he decides to check on him.

He finds Sanji in the darkness, sitting on the floor, with his back leaning on the counter, covering his head with his arms and sobbing like he never heard him do. (In his own mind, it that moment Sanji is still a child, left alone crying in the darkness by his father).

Sanji sees Zoro on the doorsteps, lit by the moonlight. Because of his pride and his rivalry with the swordsman, he doesn't want Zoro to see him while he is so vulnerable and tells him to go away, but of course Zoro is way too stubborn to do what he tells him to and wants to know why he's crying.

Sanji thinks that he wants to make fun of him, so he just stays silent, suffocating his sobs, waiting for an insult or a joke. But instead Zoro sits next to him and tells him that he envies him, because he's able to let all his emotions out and to cry freely without feeling judged (by his own self) or "less masculine".

Sanji is obviously surprised by that glimpse of Zoro's sincerity, but doesn't want to tell him why he's crying. He doesn't want to burden him with his story. In that moment, he just knows that Zoro's company is comforting. Their shoulders slightly brushing while sitting next to each other in the darkness, Zoro's slow breathing, the warmth of his body... Everything about that makes Sanji cry even more. He isn't alone anymore. He doesn't have to bear all his sufferings by himself in a loop of poisonous thoughts.

Without even realising it, he finds himself leaning his head on Zoro's shoulder, feeling the tears running down his cheeks and soaking Zoro's shirt. He quickly starts sobbing again, covering his face with his hand. Zoro wraps his arm around him and pulls him closer, letting Sanji bury his head on his chest.

Zoro patiently waits, while Sanji cries until he's too tired to even let out a single hiccup and they both fall asleep holding each other.

[azu1as]

Hi, Tin! I love your writing and I have a prompt for you, if you are interested) what if Tang family is too afraid of Tang Bo leaving permanently and eloping with Cheong Myeong? So they initiate marriage negotiations with Mount Hua. It can be angst (CM is socially isolated and insecure about his position) or romantic comedy (awkward situations and protective Cheong Mun), up to you). Thank you in advance!

It was a well-established fact that the Dark Saint of the Tang Family was one of their generation's best.

So it came as no surprise when an influx of marriage proposals flooded their family's estate—because rumors started flying around that the Dark Saint was in search of a partner.

The Dark Saint held a reputation for being cold and ruthless. To cultivators and martial artists, he was someone they feared making into an enemy due to his sheer battle prowess and poisonous abilities. To normal civilians, he was a genius who wielded the Tang Family's techniques with cool precision and intent; to them, he was just another mysterious cultivator that they would only ever know of through gossip and stories.

However, in recent years, something shifted. His reputation among common folk was slowly altered. It started off with a supposed battle between him and the Plum Blossom Sword Saint which turned into a sudden and unexpected friendship.

Whereas in the past the Dark Saint would only go around Sichuan and closeby villages, he was now found going around different major cities and unknown ones.

He was often in the company of Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who worked with him side-by-side to eradicate groups from the Demonic Cult and the occasional bandits and thieves.

For supposed Taoists, the two visited different establishments to drink alcohol and talk cheerily. It was during one of these moments that the first rumor began its spark.

"Ahhhh," The Plum Blossom Sword Saint groans in satisfaction. "That sure hits the spot!"

The Dark Saint chuckles as he tosses back his own drink. "If only I could enjoy everyday like this. Alcohol really is the best."

"What would your future wife think?" The Plum Blossom Sword Saint jokingly and dramatically shakes his head in disappointment. "To have a husband who loves alcohol more than his own wife...!"

The Dark Saint wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Trust me, I would make sure that my wife knows full-well just how much I love them."

The two of them share a silent, private conversation with just their eyes alone, that none of the other restaurant's customers could decipher, before they leave a generous tip and went on their way.

It snowballs from there.

All of a sudden gossip went around about the Dark Saint's interest in finding a wife. And so several people came to the same conclusion.

The reason why the Dark Saint is travelling around more than usual is because he's looking for a prospective wife.

Clearly, the Plum Blossom Sword Saint was there to provide moral support. How truly admirable and strong their brotherhood must be!

On the other hand, the head of the Tang Family was fully aware of their Dark Saint's single-minded interest in Mount Hua's Chung Myung.

Seeing all the stacks of letters that ranged from proposing strategic alliances and general marriage offers brought the current head of the Tang Family to a very different conclusion.

Tang Bo was trying to slowly draw himself away from their family by leaving their estate. He might be on the hunt, jumping from village to village, trying to create a dowry befitting for the hand of the Plum Blossom Sword Saint and scouting out all the best locations to settle down in.

It really wouldn't be too surprising of an idea if one day a letter turns up from the man with an intent of permanently moving to Mount Hua or some backwater village.

The Tang Family head shakes the thought of losing one of their best and genius members to one of the Ten Great Sects. If he wanted to maintain their family's reputation, he'll need to strike the first move.

And so he begins to pen a decisive letter to the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.

%%%

Chung Mun's hands tremble as reads the letter sent to him by the Tang Family.

'Who did they think they were?' He would have bit out if he had any less self-restraint. The paper crumples in his grip and he receives a questioning glance from Chung Myung who was sprawled eating mooncakes on the opposite side of his desk.

"What's got you so worked up?" The subject of the letter askswithout a care.

Chung Mun takes a deep breath. "The Tang Family wishes for you to transfer into their estate."

He refuses to say out loud the marriage proposal that came along with this request. His Chung Myung was too young! The man might be a sixty years old, but that round face, cheeks carelessly bulging with mooncakes with crumbs littered on his chin, screamed too young for marriage!

"Oh." Chung Myung nods in understanding.

Chung Mun is glad that Chung Myung agrees that this was nonsensical. To think, they thought that Chung Myung would even leave Mount Hua for—

"After the war is over, Tang Bo and I were planning to be roommates and travel the world a bit."

—?????

"Roommates?" Chung Mun's voices comes out slightly strangled.

"Yup. It's going to be great."

"No."

"'No'?"

Chung Mun tries to run through his previous conversations with Tang Bo. He knew that the man was capable of being underhanded, but he was also well-aware that Tang Bo respected him enough to not blind-side him with something like this. Especially since it concerned Chung Myung.

...

...Oh no.

"Fuck." Chung Mun says, full of feeling as he recalls Tang Bo off-handedly asking permission to live together with Chung Myung in the future.

"...Sect Leader?"

Chung Mun had thought that was a joke! He thought Tang Bo wasn't being serious! They were talking with alcohol in their systems!

The alarmed look that crosses Chung Myung's face informed Chung Mun that the way he felt his blood drain from his face was a visible, physical reaction.

"He asked for your hand in marriage." Chung Mun says faintly. "I said yes."

Chung Myung blinked at him. "Yeah? He told me?"

Okay. Tang Bo, to his credit, hasn't been leaving Chung Myung in the dark at least.

If Chung Myung knows and isn't reacting violently that means that he isn't completely against this. Even if Chung Mun was, he had to reorganize his priorties.

And his number one would be to make sure Chung Myung was happy.

((And to make sure that the Tang Family doesn't think they can step on Chung Mun and pull his little brother away.))

"I'll have to recheck the sect's budget and my own savings to make sure we have enough for the wedding preparations..." Chung Mun mutters as he begins drafting a response to the Tang Family with what he thought were better marriage agreement conditions.

But then, a flash of dread causes Chung Mun to pause writing and leave a dark ink blot on the paper. He suspected, but he really wishes that he was wrong—!

"Huh?" Chung Myung gives Chung Mun a confused look. "We already got married though?"

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz 💖

I'm jumping between wips and ships so much rn, but trust me, it's even more chaotic in my brain like at all times lol it's so annoying

wasn't gonna post today but I figured I'd share a bit of the cheating fic bc I moved my self-imposed deadline to middle of may and istg I'm not moving it again so I need motivation to finish this lmao

(this scene is fighting me ngl, but I need it, and it's just gonna need a lot of editing but for now this is just a rough draft lol)

prev snippet

___

Not breaking the kiss, Eddie shifts, throwing his leg over Buck’s lap, straddling him, and Buck’s hands immediately wrap around his hips, bringing him closer, as close as possible, just needing Eddie closer. Eddie gasps when their crotches collide, and breaks the kiss, Buck’s lips moving to Eddie’s neck.

“Buck.” Eddie whispers. “Buck, we- we should talk.” Eddie tries, but one of his hands is tangled in Buk’s hair, holding on tight. Buck stills his movements, looks up at Eddie and sees reluctance in his face. He’s not sure if it’s reluctance to stop or continue, and he needs to know for sure, would never want Eddie to feel pressured in any way. They have no alcohol to blame this time, after all.

“If you want to, let’s stop, and we can talk.” Buck says, voice a little shaky as he adds, “But we can always talk tomorrow?”, knowing this is a very bad decision, once again. He’s looking at Eddie’s face and sees something complicated, a conflict, a battle with himself. His eyes roam over Buck’s face, lingering on his eyes, then lips, then back to eyes. In the end, some part of Eddie wins, or loses, and he captures Buck’s lips with his own again.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck

@loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff

@spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus

@giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon

@911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie

@diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

[covenofthearticulate]

hiii idk if you’ve ever discussed this before but i’ve been thinking about louis and marius interacting all day and so i’d LOVE to hear your take on what you think their dynamic would be like! what do you think it would take to get louis to engage with him on a more intimate level?

NO KENZIE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I ADORE MARIUS AND LOUIS!!!!!

literally all my favorite quotes about Louis in canon come from that little bit in QOTD from Marius' POV! Like!!! I will never get over how IMMEDIATELY smitten they are with each other!!!

Like on the one hand we have: "Louis stood quite still looking at [Marius] as he had earlier, as though he were seeing a myth made real."

and then we see that the feeling is absolutely mutual with Marius: "He smiled at Louis. Something in the manner of this one made Marius happy, though he wasn't sure why."

I think their dynamic is just so especially interesting because they have so many connecting threads re: Lestat and Armand, so up until QOTD they really have this mythologized version of one another— to Louis, Marius is this grand figure with all the answers Louis had always been searching for, and someone who both deeply loved and deeply hurt some of Louis' closest companions. For Marius, Louis is this strange fledgling who had the audacity to expose these secrets he's kept hidden at his own expense for literal centuries. By all accounts there should be some tension there, or at the very least some awkwardness!

But just as Armand and Louis are sort of two sides of the same coin in a lot of ways, I think Louis is one of the only vampires who has an innate understanding of Marius' worldview. Louis is not the artist or philosopher or politician that Marius is, but he holds a lot of the same values. I mean— Louis is a textbook Libra for god's sake— he NEEDS order and balance in his life, and lord knows Marius is the only other person who prioritizes that as well!

So anyway this is all to say that I really don't think it would take much for Louis to want to engage with Marius on a more intimate level!

And like, I was talking to a friend about this the other day as well but I'd like to think that in their contemporary era, Louis could really be the pupil that Marius needs. Yes, Daniel's relationship with Marius is bittersweet and interesting and fun to play with, but I've always wanted to see who Marius is outside of being a caretaker, and I think Louis is just like the perfect middle ground where he doesn't need or want anyone doting on him or worrying over him, but he's still coming into his own in the new era, he's still finding himself, he needs a kind hand, someone to talk with about books and music and art and culture.

And on Marius' end, I think it would do him good to spend time with someone who is just so genuine. As much as Marius needs and wants his pupils to challenge him, I think he would really benefit from having someone who is willing to just listen and appreciate his philosophy (that's not to say that he and Louis wouldn't have disagreements— but even then I'm sure they hash it out Socratic Style and end up with enough intellectual stimulation to get them all giddy).

ANYWAY TL;DR: WE NEED MORE MARIUS & LOUIS CONTENT PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

[lunarharp]

into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.

the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.

for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.

the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.

but they were never whole to begin with, were they?

qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.

olly says nothing.

[paperhats-and-evil-schemes]

Me: //brushing up on my old Paperhat fanfics to make sure I'm getting details right for the new one//

Me @ my past readers:

[willowser]

hi willow 👉🏾👈🏾, i have a writing question if you don’t mind me asking. how do you personally write with such detail??? i find it so challenging to make my writing consice and to the point but also interesting without dragging unnecessary descriptions out, and you can only use so many adverbs without them becoming annoying. i know writing is inherently telling, but how can you still show the readers without being too boring or over-descriptive?

hi kennie, friend !! i don't mind you asking at all, though i don't know if i'm the best person to ask alkfhagha also i didn't know how to get all my thoughts together enough to type out (read: eepy....) so have these two voice notes instead LOL

[number1villainstan]

"You look like shit."

"Thank you, Yuna, I really needed to hear that. Why are you here exactly?"

"For Eri."

"You want her back? I thought you were done with her."

"Done with her? She's my kid."

"Yeah, your kid who killed your husband so you didn't want her anymore. I know how this works."

"Well clearly you don't, because what the fuck, Chisaki. You think I'm going to abandon my kid?"

"You already did abandon your kid. And then Pops gave her to me because he couldn't be arsed to take care of her either."

"Do you want me to take her back or not?"

"By all means, take her! I am not equipped to take care of a child! I'm just saying, you are not as innocent here as you want to pretend!"

"I'm not pretending anything! I don't care about how innocent I am! I just want my kid back! Fuck off!"

"Fine! Whatever! I'll go get her, just--"

"Absolutely not, I'm coming with you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm coming with you, idiot. What, are you deaf now? I want to see my kid! And make sure she isn't missing any limbs!"

"Do you think I'd let her arm get chopped off? I'm not that negligent--"

"Maybe you are though! You said yourself that you're not equipped to take care of a kid! How am I supposed to know that she doesn't have a broken leg or something--"

"She's right here, you two. Quit arguing."

[Silence.]

"...hi, Hari."

"Hello, Kurono."

"Mama?"

"Hey, Eri baby. Are you alright? ...is that an alligator plushie?"

"'s a caiman. Nemoto gave it to me."

"I told you she was fine, Yuna."

"Shut up, Kai."

"In any case, if Eri's leaving, we should help her pack up her stuff. Kai, would you help me out?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Just--Yuna, can you tell the oyaji about this?"

"Why can't you?"

"Because he'll think I'm lying and I dumped her out on the street or something. He trusts you. He doesn't trust me."

"He doesn't trust me."

"He trusts you more than he trusts me."

"That's ridiculous. You tell him."

"You tell him."

"No, you tell him."

"You tell him."

"You both tell him."

"But Hari--"

"Both of you tell him. Now, Eri, are you ready to go?"

"Can I say goodbye to Nemoto first?"

"Sure, I'll go find him. And then we'll grab your stuff and hand you over. Kai, Yuna, you two go tell the oyaji, I'll take care of Eri. Seriously, you two are worse than Nemoto and I--"

"Hari--"

"GO."

"Fine."

"...fine."

[superfluouskeys]

i know you're probably not into maleficent/aurora anymore, but since you were like THE malora writer, i'm curious in what do you think would happen to maleficent when aurora dies? either from natural causes like old age or somethiing terrible happened

My friend, this is so kind of you to say!! This is also, unfortunately, MY JAM LOL

So in my personal interpretation, I think once Aurora became more sure of herself and the relationship, she would learn (passively, not even really thinking of it as such) to de-fuse Maleficent a lot of the time. Maleficent is naturally temperamental and always about 3 bad steps away from starting a fight. Once Aurora learns that this is just sort of how she is and she isn't actually mad, and doesn't even usually mean anything by it, Aurora learns to just kind of skillfully sidestep like 99% of Maleficent's bad moods. As a result, because she isn't being fought at every turn, Maleficent (also without realizing it) calms down a LOT, and tends to stop seeing everything as a challenge or threat, even from ppl who are not Aurora. This mostly just freaks ppl out, because you know she always seems super calm until she is suddenly Not LOL, and the average person does not know how to tell Maleficent's "actually calm" from her "quietly seething."

Additionally, while I believe that Maleficent operates on her own code of ethics and doesn't just do whatever, I also think her ethics and what she considers "wrong" differ significantly from where the average human would draw the line. As she grows more comfortable in her relationship with Aurora, I think she would be surprisingly willing to draw lines where Aurora wants her to, at least most of the time, because in her mind, e.g. not harassing someone who mildly annoyed her is important to Aurora, while it's not that important to Maleficent.

However, I think both of these changes, no matter how long Aurora lives, are utterly temporary. Once Aurora is gone, Maleficent will go back to the way she was before, if not ultimately worse, because in a sense kindness will remind her of Aurora, and I don't think she will ever reach a place where that is a good thing for her.

I think Maleficent's first reaction would be a kind of desperate fury, sort of like a wounded wild animal but with very powerful magic. She would be absolutely terrorizing the countryside, especially anyone she perceived to be responsible. It's almost worse if Aurora dies of old age, because then the fault in her mind would lie with...everything, the nature of life itself. This phase could last forever, depending on other factors, and I think it would be a very long time before Maleficent is even slightly functional again.

Even in eg. Prisoner-verse where Maleficent has other friends, I can see her getting into terrible fights with almost all of them. Girl can be next-level vicious when she wants to be, and even if her friends have known grief, most of them don't know exactly what she's going through, and therefore from Maleficent's perspective are not in a position to comment. Also I think "Aurora wouldn't want you to live like this" or similar would be like, the worst possible thing you could say to her, and might send her spiraling into a murderous rage all over again, because how DARE you presume to tell her what Aurora would want?

I am really a sucker for these kinds of villain backstories LOL, you can play me the same tune over and over and I will never get tired of it. I think the only kind of person who could reach Maleficent would be someone who's sort of similar to Aurora, at least in unfailing kindness. I'm imagining someone just trying to save her village or w/e from being razed to the ground showing sympathy to Maleficent for her lost love, and Maleficent showing just the smallest amount of mercy in memory of Aurora, even if ultimately she hasn't changed or healed at all. (oh my godddddd don't look at me I want to write this now lol)

So anyway, it was 5:30 in the morning, a very normal time to be awake, and I was thinking, well, would anyone in Prisoner-verse be able to calm her down at all? I think she and Kinsale would absolutely get into a really bad fight, and Zenovia would try to be chill about it but she would also pretty quickly be like okay well talk to me when you've calmed down lol. And then I realized............

--

“Hey.”

Maleficent doesn’t move.  She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting here.  Odd, that she doesn’t feel a fresh wave of fury at Joy’s presence.  Then again, perhaps she is simply too tired to feel much of anything.

“I’m not going to say anything.”  Joy holds out her hands in a show of defense.

Maleficent inhales, sighs.  Her throat is burning.  She only distantly remembers the sound of screaming, and realizes now that the memory was of her own voice.

“Good,” says Maleficent.  Joy of all people should know that there is nothing to say.

A long silence follows.  Joy joins her on the floor some distance away, and pretends to train her gaze upon the fire.

“I do have one question, actually,” says Maleficent.

“Hm?”

Maleficent closes her eyes.  She tries to imagine Joy the way she looked in pictures, with long, beautiful hair that she wore in intricate curls, and a radiant smile full of youthful mischief.  “How did you…not…”

But words fail her.  She holds out her hand, grasping at nothing.

“What,” says Joy, “burn down the world?”

Maleficent sighs again.  It is as apt a question as any.

“Well, it was perhaps to my benefit that I am not nearly so powerful as you, Mistress Maleficent,” says Joy, although her characteristic attempt at wryness comes out remarkably strained.  “I wouldn’t have gotten very far.”

Maleficent opens her eyes.  The flames of the fire flicker and dance, enticing in their destruction.  “I’m not sure I would have cared.”

Joy chuckles, dry and mirthless.  “Yes, well,” she says.  She does not continue.

Outside, a terrible wind howls, desperate and mournful.  The windows rattle and the fire flickers low, casting them both in dramatic shadow.

Maleficent inhales.  She closes her eyes again.  “Does it ever…?” 

The words catch in her throat.  She already knows the answer.

“No,” says Joy quietly.  A long silence follows.  The embers from the fire crackle meekly, and the mournful wind falls deadly silent.

“But…I don’t know.  You find…other reasons.  To, you know…”  She waves her hand vaguely at the fire, and stokes it back to life.

Maleficent shakes her head.  Reasons?  The word feels foreign, meaningless.  “I don’t know that I ever had a reason for anything, before…”

Before her, she means to say, but she cannot.  There was always a before her, yes, but now there is an after her.  Everything from now on is after her, without her, and the mere idea of it is something akin to drowning, or perhaps slowly suffocating, deep underground, with the weight of the earth sinking down upon her chest.  What did she do before?  How did she live?  However is she to live now, knowing what she has lost?

“Yeah,” says Joy simply.

Maleficent doesn’t know how long they sit together in silence after that.  It hardly matters.

--

ANYWAY THANK YOU ANONYMOUS FRIEND I HAD FUN LOL

[wikiangela]

wintery fics

I posted one of these today already for fif, but I got tagged by @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @hoodie-buck @jesuisici33 to share my christmas/wintery fics so why not lol (there's only three, I can never get around to finishing anything before the christmas mood wears off haha)

For a holiday (and forevermore) (95k, 30 chapters - completed, M)

Eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing Buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. He only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more...

it's not technically just Christmas, but there are 6 Christmas chapters, 2 New year's chapters, and lots of holidays and family gatherings in between haha - fluffy fake dating and lots of family feels

You're my greatest gift (2.6k, G)

Cookie dough, flour fight, and a long-time-coming kiss. Or, the Buckley-Diaz boys make Christmas cookies.

ngl I don't even remember this one but apparently it's from last year? lol idk probably lots of fluff haha

and the last one is sambucky from two years ago and I'm scared to open it and see how bad it is lmao

Merry Christmas (I love you) (2.6k)

Matching pjs, hot chocolate, and a Christmas movie marathon with the Wilsons - what more could Bucky want for Christmas?

no pressure tags: @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @exhuastedpigeon @weewootruck @loserdiaz @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @lover-of-mine @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1

[sysig]

Greetings, human! ♥ (Patreon)

[aethersea]

Hello! I am really enjoying your Thistle the Show analysis posts, there are some really interesting ideas in that show! (and also from a goncharov-ing a story perspective they are so much fun to read)

eyy I'm so glad! I love that show, I love the heavy atmosphere and the overwrought symbolism and the 'power of the land' magic that's never fully explained and the tragedy of it all, god this show is so good at tragedy for something that does technically earn a happy ending. if KILLING OFF YOUR EPONYMOUS PROTAGONIST can count as a happy ending, god, I never recovered, even if he did come back to life afterward that still just MURDERED me.

it's so thematically satisfying is the thing T.T he dies and I'm just sitting there like....the themes......we're breaking the cycles of trauma and vengeance.......

[strangefable]

what d&d class is your oc?

tagged for this uquiz by the lovely @jillvalentinesday, @cassietrn, @inafieldofdaisies, @voidika, @josephseedismyfather, @direwombat, @poisonedtruth, and @theelderhazelnut, thank you all <3

Ranger

You are a Ranger, an explorer of dangerous territories. You are fearless and cunning, traits necessary on your travels, but you tend to be closed off from others and overly pragmatic. Your connection with nature and skill with weaponry will carry you through most battles, and your sneakiness will let you avoid the ones it will not.

There isn't any other class that suits her. She's not got the magic for druid, but her fighting style keeps her out of direct warrior/barbarian types. Archery and nature, exploration and knowing the lay of the land, and using it to advantage? That's Micah. She's at home alone in the woods, but with party members she's off her footing, unsure how to interact or engage. Trusts comes hard for her, but a fearless ability to throw herself into danger? Yeah, she's got that in spades.

Rogue

You are a Rogue, a skilled adventurer who uses guile and expertise to your advantage. You are often seen as stealthy and precise, aiming for your opponent's weakest points, but you can master various other skills to aid you on your journey. While you tend to be underhanded and greedy, you can also be daring, clever, insightful and charismatic.

Sneaky. Underhanded. Guile. Charm. Greed. Loose Morals. What else could Lil ever be but rogue?

Artificer

You are an Artificer, an adventurer who wields science in place of magic. While your foremost trait is intelligence, you're built tougher than most others who place their faith in their brains. You are inventive, curious and occasionally reckless, all traits that get you both into and out of trouble on your adventure.

I admit it, I took the quiz for her a few times until it returned the right result. Intellect and knowledge, melding science and magic, those are Bright's Things. No matter how much the quiz kept trying to make her a traditional magic user, she's just not. She's extremely reckless, but it's not out of malice or a drive for power; it's simple curiosity. And a love of shiny things. She's clever but not wise; she's quick but not strong or nimble.

Paladin

You are a Paladin, a warrior sworn to an Oath, whether it be to a god, a king, an ideology or oneself. As a divine soldier, you are well equipped to strike down evil, but must follow a code of your choosing to retain this power. While you are limited somewhat by these bonds, you are also the most driven and determined member of your group.

tbh i've never considered what would suit Lore, but honestly? yeah, she's very driven for good, for what she sees as moral and right, for the betterment of the people, though i don't know if she could be defined as a soldier or warrior. she's about practicality and function over form or style, but she'd balk at the idea of serving a god or a king. her goal is always to help people, especially those who have no voice and no power. she fights hard, but she prefers diplomacy and compromise whenever possible, to save as many lives as she can. she's one of my purest, most good characters.

i realize i'm kinda late on this one, but i'm passing on tags, anyway. (feel free to ignore me<3) @henbased, @adelaidedrubman, @v0idbuggy, @legally-a-bastard, @damejudyhench, @mars-colony, @strafethesesinners, @thisisrigged4, @mediocre-life-span, @harmonyowl, @marivenah, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @florbelles, @trench-rot, @wrathfulrook, @simplegenius042, @incognito-insomniac, @gayafsatan, @shallow-gravy, @turbo-virgins, @chazz-anova, @confidentandgood, @aceghosts, @jacobseed, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @fourlittleseedlings, @clonesupport, @unholymilf, and anyone else who wants to do this, please say i tagged you <3

[wereh0gz]

It's oc posting time

Rue has vivid revenge fantasies. Extremely violent ones about the many ways they'd kill Nox if they ever got their paws on him. Crushing his exoskeleton under their bare paws, tearing him apart limb for limb, ripping his guts out and eating his heart while he's still alive- you name it, they've probably thought about it

These thoughts *terrify* her. It proves what Nox has always told her right, that she is a hopeless, violent, uncontrollable *monster*. That the reason she became a beast in the first place is because she is truly evil at heart, just like him

(In actuality, it's just a symptom of their PTSD, but going to therapy and actually unpacking all of that isn't an option to them. They'd rather die than actually talk abt their struggles)

So the thoughts fester in her mind for years. She thinks about it daily. It becomes like an obsession. An impulse. A need. And she begins to think that the only way to free herself from that torment is to do it. To kill him. Even if it proves Nox right

Even if it proves *her* right

So they hunt him down, trying to kill him every time they encounter each other. And every time, Nox gets away, and he taunts them. And the thoughts, the want, the *hunger* for vengeance grows stronger

The cycle continues. The thoughts never cease. She never finds peace

(At least, she *thinks* she will never find peace, but she does. Eventually. After Nox dies from his own hubris lol)