#Omg first time posting a fic!

[toon-tales]

Hiya, guys!

Ok so I've been searching, and where are the Cornelius and Wilbur bonding fanfictions?!

So, i decided to write my own!

Based off a few things:

Wilbur is 8 in this and he's easily fascinated by science so he 'wants to be a scientist' when he grows up, y'know

Wilbur is actually quite smart

....

That's it

Oh and the fact that Wilbur knows every prototype for the time machine

Care day

"Alright," Cornelius surrendered "I'll take care of him." 

"Thanks, Neil," Franny smiled as she joined her brothers for a siblings day out

"Are you sure about this?" Art asked his sister 

"Of course I am," she replied "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"You know how caught up Cornelius gets when he's in the lab," Gaston said 

"And Wilbur is a bit reckless too," Art chimed in, but Franny wasn't going back 

"They'll be fine," she insisted "Probably." 

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

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

Cornelius and Wilbur entered the lab. Peculiar gadgets filled the place along with colorful chemicals, and strange contraptions. Wilbur's eyes widened with excitement, eager to explore the wonders of his father's world.

"Alright, my little apprentice, what would you like to do first?" Cornelius asked, kneeling down to meet Wilbur's gaze.

Wilbur pointed at a peculiar machine in the corner. "What's that, Dad?"

Cornelius followed his son's finger and smiled. "Ah, that's supposed to be a time traveler. It's still a work in progress, but one day, it'll take us on incredible adventures through time!"

Wilbur's eyes gleamed with delight. "Can we try it now? Can we go back to the time of dinosaurs?"

Cornelius chuckled and ruffled his son's hair. "Not just yet, Wilbur. It still needs some adjustments. But how about we do a fun science experiment instead?"

Wilbur clapped his hands in excitement. "Yes!" he shouted excitedly and went to the closest table, which, of course, contained colored tubes of different sizes and shapes, but something specific caught his attention. 

"Wilbur! This is too much! " Cornelius yelled worriedly as he saw his son about to put a big piece of sodium in the water.

"Yeah, Dad! Look at it! It's going to create a giant explosion!"

Cornelius quickly reached out to stop Wilbur from placing the piece of sodium into the water. 

"That's too dangerous!" Cornelius exclaimed, grabbing hold of the curious 8-year-old's hand. "Yes, sodium can indeed react explosively with water, but it's essential to handle it with extreme caution and proper safety measures."

Wilbur tilted his head, his eyes filled with confusion, but also a tinge of disappointment. "But Dad, I really wanted to see the explosion! It would have been so cool!"

Cornelius smiled warmly at his son's enthusiasm but knew he can't risk anything while his son was here. "I understand your excitement, Wilbur, but science experiments can be dangerous if not done properly. Let's focus on a safer experiment for now, shall we?"

He guided Wilbur towards another table where various scientific equipment and materials were neatly arranged. Cornelius chose a beaker filled with colored liquid.

"Here, let's try this instead," he suggested, pouring the liquid into a smaller beaker. "This is a simple chemical reaction called an acid-base reaction. When we mix this acid solution with a base, it will create a fizzing and bubbling effect."

Wilbur's disappointment slowly turned into intrigue as he watched his father carefully pour the acid solution into the base. The mixture started fizzing and bubbling just as Cornelius had predicted.

"Whoa! Look, Dad! It's bubbling up!" Wilbur exclaimed, his eyes filled with wonder.

Cornelius smiled as he watched his son's excitement. "Yes, Wilbur, it's the acid and base reacting with each other. This reaction releases carbon dioxide gas, which creates those bubbles you see."

As they worked on the experiment (Wilbur clearly not understanding but still enjoying anyway), Cornelius shared stories of his own childhood experiments and inventions. Wilbur listened intently, his eyes wide with admiration for his father's inventive mind. After they finished the experiment, Cornelius and Wilbur cleaned up the lab together. As they put away the beakers and test tubes, Wilbur couldn't help but ask, "Dad, why do you love inventing so much?"

Cornelius smiled at his son and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well, Wilbur, inventing and exploring the unknown has always fascinated me. It's like solving puzzles and discovering new possibilities. It allows me to use my imagination and creativity to make things that can help people and make the world a better place."

Wilbur nodded, absorbing his father's words. "So, when I grow up, can I become an inventor like you?"

Cornelius smiled proudly, placing a hand on Wilbur's shoulder. "Of course, my little apprentice. If you have a passion for it, I'll support you every step of the way. Just remember, being an inventor comes with its challenges, but it's also incredibly rewarding. You'll face failures, but you should keep moving forward."

Wilbur beamed, already imagining the inventions he would create in the future. "I can't wait, Dad! Maybe one day, we can even fix the Time Traveler and go on those amazing adventures!"

Cornelius chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Who knows, Wilbur? Maybe one day, we'll travel through time together and discover wonders beyond our wildest dreams. But for now, let's continue exploring the wonders of science and inventing new things right here in our lab-"

"Why can't we use the time machine now?" Wilbur interrupted his father, his gaze fixed on the still-in-progress time machine. 

Cornelius paused, contemplating his son's question. He knelt down to Wilbur's level and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"Look, Wilbur, the time machine is a complicated invention. It's not quite ready for human testing just yet," he explained. "There are still some important safety precautions that need to be taken before we can use it."

Wilbur's eyes widened with excitement as he looked at the time machine. "But Dad, imagine all the adventures we could have! I want to see what the world was like in the past!"

Cornelius chuckled and tousled Wilbur's hair affectionately. "I understand your enthusiasm. But you have to promise me you wouldn't get near that time machine alone."

"Ok. But I will help you make it."

"That's a deal then." both agreed as they shook hands together, Cornelius knowing darn well that this promise will be broken at some point, but still smiled with pride at his son anyway. 

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

"I'm back! How was your day-oh" Franny' s voice trailed off as she admired the view before her. Cornelius slept peacefully with Wilbur in his lap, who, in return, wrapped a tiny arm around his dad, they sat against a red machine with tools and papers all around them. 

Careful not to disturb them, Franny closed the garage door gently behind her, and turned to her brothers. 

"See? I was right." 

[trevination]

sink to black from blue (a marlie drabble)

(for those sadly uninformed, marlie is micah foster/charlie torres-moore aka trevor & josh’s greaser characters who are basically our ocs <3) (just scroll the #marlie tag on my blog lmao

inspired by this post! canon universe, post-rumble! shout out to @elisadoreyou & @wassupmygays creating these guys with u have been so fun omg

—————

Micah winced at the alcohol sting. The cut on his temple was nasty, probably could use a stitch or two. The thought was almost funny ‘cause he sure as hell didn’t have enough money to afford stitches. It’d leave a tough scar. Good.

“I said I’m fine, okay? This ain’t my first rumble,”

Charlie’s face was pinched tight, lips pressed in a thin line. He was kneeled in front of the toilet, where Micah was leaned over himself. One hand on Micah’s knee with his thumb rubbing back and forth.

He hissed at the next sting. It did nothing for his bitch of a headache.

The rumble did a number on him, he’ll admit it. He could hold his own fine — more than fine. And he did— but those football Socs could throw a hard punch. It made something rough boil in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t care. You shouldn’t go out getting all hurt like this.”

It felt like a stab to his pride. He’s been doing this for seventeen years— yearly eighteen. He can handle himself. He don’t need taking care for.

“I fight, Charlie, that’s what I’ve always fucking done. I don’t need a babysitter,” He bit it out in quick barks. Everything felt red and hot.

“That’s not—”

“I’ve done this a million times alone—” He tried to swat the bottle out of Charlie‘s hand, but Charlie pulled away quick. It just made him madder. “And I don’t need someone to fucking lick my wounds for me.”

“That‘s not what I’m trying to do!” Charlie snapped back. Blood rushed in Micah’s ears. He could feel the anger on face through heat and the strain on his scraps. It burned

“It fucking feels like it,”

“I’m trying to help, okay?”

Micah couldn’t even process the sweep of desperation in Charlie’s tone before the dam burst.

“I don’t need help, damn it!” He was too loud, he was gonna wake the kids up. Fuck. “I’ve been out in Tulsa my whole damn life, and y'know who looked out for me? No one. I sure as hell don’t need someone to act like I’m some baby! You weren’t out there fighting with me so you can fuck off trying to help now!”

He knew he didn’t mean the words as soon as he said ‘em. Charlie didn’t need to fight in that rumble. He didn’t think he wanted him to. That night was ‘bout the bloodiest night that he’d seen in a long time. He gets why. Ponyboy and Johnny Cade’s face are still circling the papers every morning, calling for their arrests. Those Socs aren’t letting ‘em go for nothing.

He didn’t want Charlie caught up in that at all.

The blood in his ears and pounding in his head was so loud, Charlie had to squeeze his knees for Micah to realize he’d been talking.

His jaw was set hard and his eyes were so damn sure. But trying to get through a brick wall with words did nothing. Something inside of Micah ached. Was that all he was now?

“I ain’t a fighter, Micah,”

He swallowed hard. He hadn’t met what he said. “I don’t need you to be one, Char. You just—”

“No, look, I— I don’t get this fighting stuff. I wasn’t raised with it, I’ve never fought a fight like— like that shit in my life, okay? That’s not ever in the cards. I’m useless right now and seeing you all beat and bruised makes me feel sick or somethin’. I gotta…” He swallowed thickly and the frustration on his face broke into something raw. His breath trembled. “I gotta do something to help. I can’t fight and I care about you so—”

They both paused at the confession. Charlie’s brown eyes were wide and Micah was sure his were too.

What’s been going on between ‘em hasn’t necessarily been left unaddressed, but it’s been left unspoken. They both know. It’s obvious as hell to the both of ‘em. It hasn’t been spoken not because of fear, but survival.

“I know,” Micah whispered, almost a croak. Hope sparked to life in Charlie’s eyes. “I do, too, I…”

He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what he could say without crossing some unspoken line.

Micah has only focused on the important things— his family and their survival. That’s the whole point of his fighting, his work, his life. He’s never wanted. Not like this. Not in such a selfish, indulgent way that feels like something stabbing through his heart.

Nothing else could be said from him.

Charlie smiled tentatively. There was something fragile in the air.

“Just let me do this.” He whispered. “For me. Seeing you like this all alone makes my heart feel like it was in that rumble, too.”

Charlie’s eyes practically pleaded with his resolve. He wanted to shut the door in his face and gasp through the pain and slip into bed next to his siblings and pretend like nothing hurt until he couldn’t anymore. He was used to being alone. What was one more night?

But another part, something so deeply pushed down, he barely even knew it was there— longed. For Charlie’s smile, his touch and soft hands on his face, his lips on his head, whispered words only the two of them knew. It was a terrible part of him but Charlie didn’t care.

So. Against all his seventeen years of fighting, Micah let his wall break down and he nodded.

“Thank you,” He croaked. He wasn’t going to cry, but the emotion was there all the same.

Charlie’s smile was gentle, so sure, so caring. He could tell Micah all the world would be fine and he’d believe him. He picked the bottle of alcohol up off the floor and raised a hand to Micah’s cheek.

His palm was soft. It just grazed against his face, but for once, Micah let himself lean into the touch until Charlie’s hand cupped his cheek. Charlie rubbed a thumb over his cheekbone. His dark eyes reflected the bathroom lights.

God, Charlie could break open Micah’s every defense and he doesn’t even know if he could put up a good fight.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered back into Micah’s eyes. His lips parted— and he picked up the wash rag.

[kindahoping4forever]

RyanFleming: One of my favorite raw clips ⚡

@ ashtonirwin // 2019 WWJ Tour // @ 5sos

(Originally posted to 5SOS' IG Story 24 December 2019)

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @bidisasterbuckdiaz 💖

me impatiently waiting for tuesday to share a snippet bc im obsessed with bucktommy rn and after some editing im loving everything i've written in this fic so far and wanna share every word of it asap lmao

here's a bit more, and yes they are talking about the evan thing bc at first it bothered me so much, but it grew on me (with fics and some takes on it i saw and just the more i saw it and thought about it) and now im kinda loving it lol

prev snippet

___

“If you wanted me out of my shirt, you should’ve just said so.” he murmurs.

“I want you out of your shirt.” Buck says without hesitation, and Tommy releases a breathless, surprised laugh.

“Suddenly so forward.” he shakes his head, capturing Buck’s lips again. Well, Buck has been kind of shy and flustered with Tommy, but that’s not always how he is, not how he used to be.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Buck grins, and then, still a little hesitantly, places his palm over Tommy’s thigh where it rests over Buck’s knee. Tommy looks at him curiously, and Buck’s grin widens as he pulls his leg up and over his lap, getting Tommy to properly straddle him now, his shirt falling over his back again, as he releases a surprised gasp. “Now that’s better.” he adds, getting used to the unfamiliar weight, Tommy being bigger and heavier than Buck’s used to with his previous partners, obviously, but it- it feels good, right, almost comforting, Tommy’s steady and firm presence surrounding him now. Plus, it is kinda hot, too.

“Evan.” Tommy just says breathlessly, and Buck’s smile softens, one of his hands moving to the side of Tommy’s neck, just resting there.

“You know you’re one of the very few people who call me that?” he whispers, the mood shifting a bit from hot and impatient to soft and warm, and pleasant, and Buck really feels so comfortable with Tommy.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Tommy replies, settling more comfortably, wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck loosely, but his hands play with Buck’s hair lightly. He sits far enough on Buck’s lap that their crotches don’t touch, and Buck’s not sure if he’s happy about that. “Does it bother you?” he asks with a hint of worry.

“No, no, of course not.” Buck rushes to say. If it did, he’d say something. No, it doesn’t bother him. The opposite, in fact. “I actually-” he can’t help a small awed smile. “I think I like it.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Tommy tilts his head curiously, and he’s so cute, and Buck needs to kiss him. So he does. Because he can. And he can’t stop smiling.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @tizniz @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus

[absoloutenonsense]

Coming October 31st…

When the Trouble Comes by nonsensedarling

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 80k | Explicit

Official fic post is HERE.

The Queens Trafficking case is the biggest one of Louis’ FBI career so far; eleven reported missing girls all disappeared under a similar set of circumstances. Louis has done everything he can to try and solve this case over the last nine months... while also absolutely ruining his marriage. Harry has been co-host of Banter at Breakfast for five years now and finally has the opportunity to create his own radio show with the network. Unfortunately, it comes at a time where Harry's thoughts are consumed with his impending divorce from his (caring, loving, infuriatingly thoughtful) husband of eight years. Harry and Louis have both been willing to lose themselves in their work… but are they willing to lose each other?

Or a story of (almost) exes-to-lovers.

Chapters will post on Tuesdays of each week, starting on October 31st (20 chapters in total).

(If you would like to be notified by email when it starts posting, you can subscribe here.)

Snippet under the cut:

💼🍷

With a copy of the case file in his backpack, Louis sticks his key in the door, unlocks it, and steps inside, trying to be as quiet as he can because he knows at this time of night, Harry will definitely be asleep.

Except when he shuts the door, he sees the living room light bleeding out into the hallway, a shadow moving back and forth. There’s the sound of footsteps – lots of them, very quickly. Louis stares at the light and for a brief moment panics that he’s walked into their apartment to find Harry with someone else.

He hears light murmurs. Louis leans forward, feet frozen but his ears straining, until he recognizes the murmurs as Harry singing. Louis sighs in relief. Harry isn’t with someone else. He’s singing and probably dancing in the living room, maybe with his headphones in, which is why he hasn’t stopped or popped his head out between the doorframe when Louis opened the door.

Louis isn’t going to look in. He’s going to walk right past the doorway and head straight to the guest bedroom and review the file again, and then go to sleep so he can meet Perrie early in the morning.

He isn’t going to look in.

He really doesn’t mean to look in. A motion pulls his attention in his peripheral vision and his head turns without him realizing it, then his whole body stops moving.

Harry is dancing, wireless earbuds in and a glass of deep red wine in his right hand. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, which tells Louis that the one in his hand is at least his third. He’s wearing just his boxer briefs and one of Louis’ hoodies.

Well, it was technically Harry’s hoodie originally. It’s heather grey, worn in to just the perfect amount of softness with a faded Greenbay Packers logo on the front. The first time Louis stayed over at Harry’s, he got cold just before they were going to bed. Harry took the sweatshirt from where it was draped over the top of the closet door and passed it to him.

When Louis pulled it on… he can’t really explain it, but there, in Harry’s dreadfully small room in his four-roommate apartment, wearing a hoodie that smelled exactly like him (like he’d been wearing it all day, soaked in the scent of his shampoo and body lotion and fabric softener)... Louis had the same feeling he got when he first visited New York when he was a kid. Like he was home. Harry had agreed. “Looks better on you then it ever has on me,” he’d said with a smirk. And from then on, it was Louis’ hoodie. Harry never tried to take it back.

So the fact that his husband is wearing it now makes Louis feel all sorts of things. Before he has even a second to figure out what any one of them is, Harry opens his eyes.

“Shit fucking Christ,” he exclaims, opening his hand automatically. It’s like Louis watches in slow motion as the glass falls and breaks, shattering in so many different directions. He pulls his earbuds out quickly. “Hell, Louis, you scared the shit out of me!” he scolds.

Harry rises up onto his tiptoes, and Louis’ hand immediately goes out in front of him in a stop gesture.

“Don’t, don’t move,” Louis says. “Stay there.”

He turns quickly towards the kitchen, throwing his backpack somewhere off to the side as he rushes to grab the dustpan and broom, as well as the roll of paper towels.

“I’m coming, stay still,” Louis shouts as he starts jogging back.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he puts one paper towel down to soak up the wine there, then balls it up so he can sweep away the shards. He does the same as he works his way towards Harry’s feet.

There’s red wine all over his toes, that’s got to be uncomfortable. Louis grabs one of the paper towels and goes to dab his feet to wipe it off.

“Stop,” Harry says. He sounds angry.

Louis glances up and sees that he looks angry. He holds his hands up in a surrendering motion, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well don’t,” Harry spits out.

He stands up slowly. Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Harry this angry with him. Even the time Louis accidentally threw out his favorite pair of boots it wasn’t like this. Louis isn’t prepared for this bitterness coming from his husband, and he didn’t think divorce brought on something like that when it wasn’t there before, at least not before they’d even filed the paperwork.

[alicent-archive]

upon my hearth (a home you shall have).

Moodboard: Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen

(fic masterlist)

[plusultraetc]

Fourteen Days of MHA | 13/14: Future, Growth, Change, Evolution

[Vague manga spoilers in the caption!! The snippet itself is all au :) ]

The aforementioned old WIP!! Not gonna lie, I've been thinking about this fic A Lot in light of recent chapters. It was originally inspired by this theory by class1akids and this post by sassypantsjaxon (which also inspired a web weave; that post hit me like a truck at the time okay? & you know what it still does!!) Anyway, I still have a lot of wildly different feelings about 'Kuroboro,' but if you want a fic rec that handles the concept in a really cool way, check out Crumbled Rooftops by Kyurilin on ao3!

Okay, that's enough links for one post. Snippet :D

[skitskatdacat63]

This is my personal crossover event of the century

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[cervidame]

Chapters: 13/? Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Theo Sharpe Characters: Theo Sharpe, Eloise Bridgerton, Bridgerton Ensemble, Original Characters Additional Tags: Theo Sharpe-centric, Class Issues, Autism Spectrum, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn

Summary: Theo goes to his first ball.

[her-canine-teeth]

Shauna's drunk. When she's drunk, she starts thinking (more than usual, that is).

Also, something's wrong.

Jackie dances in the middle of the floor. With Jeff.

Shauna is watching her from outside the mass of writhing bodies and feels horrible.

It's not that they're dancing now, as if nothing's ever happened, as if Jackie didn't cry just last night in Shauna's bed (only in the dark, silently, when she thought Shauna was sleeping. She wasn't.)

It's not even that Jackie is back together with him, even though he doesn't make her happy and Jackie knows that just as well as Shauna. Even though she keeps saying the opposite.

It's that Shauna cant stop thinking about it; that even if she forces her eyes to wander they still come back to Jackie every time, fixate on her like there's nothing else in the room.

It's that Shauna can't look anywhere but her, and that the music fades ever so slightly when she does (only for her. only ever for her.)

It's that she's dancing so closely with Jeff that they might as well be one, a single body. And it feels... wrong, just deeply, plainly wrong. It shouldn't be him.

It's that Shauna can't be happy for Jackie. It's that she's the worst best friend to ever exist.

She downs the rest of her drink, barely even tasting it.

Jackie, unaware, turns her face towards the ceiling, eyes closed. The light illuminating it turns blue.

It gives Jackie's skin an almost ethereal glow; she doesn't look real anymore, like her soul has left and all that's moving is just her body, a lifeless shell. She stills, for a second or forever - Shauna can't tell. But she's not moving anymore, and her skin turns lighter, white-ish.

Snow starts to fall. It's terribly cold.

Shauna flinches; the red solo cup crumbles beneath her grip. She feels bile rise in her throat.

It's not snow, of course it isnt; it's summer and they're inside. The spotlights are just throwing white flecks everywhere, like the ones behind Shauna's eyes when she closes them and tries to think of nothing (it never works). Jackie's moving again, blue again, with Jeff's hands all over her again.

It hits her, as sudden as a punch to the face: an overwhelming pain, something that can't be described as just 'sadness'. Something that runs so deep that not even death could expel her from feeling it.

It's still cold, impossibly so; goosebumps are covering her entire body and suddenly it's too light and too loud and too cramped and just too much and if she doesn't get out of here right the fuck now she's going to die.

The warm summer air outside and light breeze do make her feel better. There are less people out here, too; or at least Shauna can't see them. Doesn't care for them.

Everything is blurry. She's lost her cup somewhere on the way, but it doesn't matter; it was empty anyways.

Somebody - Nat? there's a shimmer of yellow, but to be honest Shauna would just like to close her eyes and lay on the ground until the earth consumes her, (out of protest against anyone who hinders her she refuses to open her eyes more than absolutely necessary) so she can't be sure - is tapping her shoulder and handing her a piece of bread, saying "for fuck sake, how much did you drink? Did you eat nothing all day or are that much of a lightweight?"

She did eat. Enough, even though she gave Jackie half of it. Well, 'gave' is relative; but she doesn't like to say she forced Jackie to eat. Doesn't think she could do that, force Jackie to do anything. Doesn't think anyone could. Not really.

But she really isn't feeling that great, and food does help more often than not, so she accepts it and watches the shimmer of blonde float away again.

She bites into the bread. It feels hard and cold and tastes salty and not at all like bread.

Shauna turns and throws up.

Somebody gathers her hair and holds it up, holds her up until she's slowly calming down. "Are you alright?" a voice asks.

Shauna looks up. It's Van, Van with her fiery red hair and a scar on her face. She blurs.

"Something's wrong." Shauna says.

"Yeah, obviously. You've had way too much, what the fuck is going on?"

"No, it's..." Shauna doesn't know how to explain. Can't explain, because how do you explain something you don't even know yourself? How do you say something you can't even think, that you don't know is true?

So she doesn't. Instead, she holds her hand out and traces Van's scar, red against white.

Blood on snow.

The skin is smooth.

Her fingertips are crawling. She feels like she did seconds (hours? How long did she lay here?) ago, when she was inside; too light and too loud and cramped. Only this time, it's not because of other people; this time, it's just herself, her own body who she wants (needs) to get rid of. There are feelings inside of her, feelings she can't contain nor express and they're building up (They've always been building up. They've always come close to being more than what she can handle. But today it feels inevitable.); there's an ocean inside of her, and it's gathering up into a wave so big it's impossible to perceive and it's gonna crash, it's gonna crash and crush her and she's gonna go down, go under and drown. She's tearing at the seams.

Van's looking at her, she realises, eyes wide and filled with an badly hidden emotion that Shauna knows intimately, can match to what's inside her, infesting her like a parasite. That sometimes overcomes her, makes her unable to move and makes her always keep Jackie halfway out (because she doesn't know what, but something's wrong with her. And if Jackie ever finds out it's going to be the end of them - the end of the only good thing Shauna has.

And she knows it's futile, knows she'll destroy it either way; by keeping Jackie out and by letting her in, but this way she can at least pretend.

She can pretend until it's too late, and then keep pretending; because deep down she knows Jackie won't ever leave her. She's imprinted in her skin, behind her eyelids, her brain; she's haunting her already, so why should that be different when she's dead?)

What she doesn't know is why Van is feeling that, why Van is even familiar with it, the bone-deep fear that infests everything she knows like a toxic gas - unable to keep out and killing everything around her.

But she's still looking at her, with the same wide eyes as minutes (seconds?) ago, her mouth slightly open.

She doesn't move, doesn't even blink - just like Shauna, who then becomes aware that she has a body too, that she is more than just a thousand thoughts and prayers and emotions, insecurity and rage, mixed up and dumped into a pocket of air. She becomes aware that her throat hurts, that there's a twig digging into her thigh, that her hand is still on Van's face, unmoving.

"Van?" a voice calls. Van flinches, and so does Shauna. She drops her hand (it lands on her lap, limp and unfeeling), and Van blinks rapidly as if to make up for all the time she didn't, and time starts moving again.

Being normal again.

Except that nothing is.

A hand lands on Van's shoulder, and this time only Shauna flinches. "Damn." Tai says. "Is she alright?"

YES, Shauna wants to say. She is alright. She is the alrightest she's ever been, so could everyone please just leave her alone? Thank you.

"I don't think so." Van says.

She's still looking at her, this time tinged with something like an understanding. A connection. Shauna doesn't want it.

"Do we have to get Jackie? I know where she is, I just saw her-"

"No."

Tai sighs. "Van, please, I'm not dealing with this tonight. First... "

She wishes she could throw up again, get out every thought and memory and watch it disappear into the ground. If it won't claim her body then maybe it'll be enough for it to claim everything that makes her her. Maybe she'll be the ground afterwards; after all, swallowing her thoughts is all she ever does. ("Just talk to someone. It'll be good for you.", her mother had said. Shauna had taken up journaling instead.)

Somebody's pulling her up to her feet.

"Shauna? Shauna, hey..."

Shauna sways, held up only by Van's arm around her waist. Her eyes land on an exceptionally blurry Tai, who's watching her with a concerned look (which is her own fault, Shauna thinks. If they just would've let the earth consume her in peace she'd be long gone already and everything would be alright.)

"Something's obviously going on." Van says. "I'm not leaving her alone, not in that state."

Both Tais glare at Van.

Shauna blinks.

Both of them are still there.

One of the Tais, the one with the longer hair, says something.

Her teeth are dark.

Maybe her bread fell into the dirt too, Shauna thinks miserably.

They're still arguing, still about her. She doesn't want them to, doesn't want them to care for her. Caring for her is not going to end well; she's a knife, a violent paper doll, hurting and destroying and incredibly fragile all the while. Waiting to be discarded.

She turns into Van and starts to cry.

"That's it." Tai (Shauna can't see which one) says. "I'm getting Lottie. Her party, her responsibility. "

Van just sighs and rubs Shauna's back.

Some time later (Shauna is confident that this is a correct estimate about how much time has passed) she's sitting on the steps to the balcony; at least, that's what she thinks based on the noises around her and the smell of weed in the air. The party is obstructed by the impossibly huge plants on the balcony, and it's too dark to make anything out except for a stream of light in front of her. She's grateful for it.

She still feels Van's touch on her back, a ghost handprint.

They're talking about her, Shauna knows, and about her. They (Van and Lottie; Tai pretended to leave but Shauna can feel her eyes from somewhere behind her) are standing a bit apart and the only thing she can hear are whispers. It's not hard though, to know what they're talking about; it's always the same thing. As if they’re entwined, as if Shauna doesn't even exist without her.

Don't get Jackie. At least theyre honoring that wish; they might pass her around like she's a particularly fucked up plant that everybody wants to get rid of as soon as possible, but god forbid anyone would want to pry Jackie from her second body.

Let's get Lottie instead.

She didn't want them to, and told them as much (which didn't do anything at all). Almost like she isn’t her own human with her own agenda; somehow, everybody keeps insisting that she can't possibly make her own decisions, that she doesn't know what she wants. Misplaced. A puppy hanging around outside, waiting to be let back in.

There's something to be said (thought) here, something that she can't grasp right now; it feels just out of reach, dancing behind closed glass doors, but it's interrupted by Lottie's shadow appearing right in front of her, cutting into the yellow light.

She isn't wearing a hat or anything, Shauna notes; which is weird considering it sort of looks that way on her shadow - as if there's a very weird tree growing from her head. Briefly, Shauna wonders if she's high - if she's simply inhaled enough smoke on her time on the balcony to make up for actually smoking.

Lottie, who's holding a joint, doesn't make that theory seem too absurd.

The smoke curls up and obstructs part of her face. Together with the dim light Lottie looks like she's hidden behind a veil.

It's cold again.

The smoke lifts, and Shauna can see Lottie's frown. She doesn't want to, doesn't want anything to make Lottie frown. Especially not to be the reason.

" -you alright? Van said you said something's wrong."

Shauna can't talk, can't get any words out. She feels too weak, suddenly, like she could just collapse right here in the steps and sleep forever. She wants to.

"Did you eat enough?" Shauna nods, hastily. She won't eat anything else tonight. Can't.

Lottie grouches. Her shadow convulses, almost following the movements of Lottie's body and forms into something else, something smaller. The branches have grown. They're almost at the border of the lightstream now. It feels like they're reaching for it. Shauna's hand finds hold on her arm, nails biting into skin.

"You know, " Lottie says, gently.

Shauna's eyes are ripped away from the... thing cowering in the light, to Lottie's eyes.

The smoke-veil has lifted completely now. There's a softness in Lottie's eyes Shauna almost never sees; and if, it's never directed at her. Only ever at Laura Lee. Nat, sometimes.

It feels like an ocean. Calm and harmless; but at the bottom, Shauna knows she'll be crushed. And she's sinking, faster than she ever did before. Her heart is a hand-grenade, beating with anger and fear, but there's something else there, too.

"There- Sometimes you don't know what's going on, and that's ok. Sometimes you're feeling things that don't make sense, or that you don't want to feel, or that make you want to rip your heart out every time you do feel them. Because you have to. And because they're so great you can't just feel them alone, because one person's just not enough but you cant talk to anyone about it because they'd kill you. Not literally. But metaphorically.

But I- I guess I just want you to know that you can talk to me about it, alright? About everything. About her. "

Lottie looks away briefly, her eyes releasing Shauna.

The joint dangles between her pointer- and ring finger, burning into her clothes or maybe not. It doesn't catch on fire.

If it would, Shauna asks herself, would her shadow be exterminated too, destroyed by the light? Or would it simply be freed?

"Shauna?" Lottie starts moving towards her.

"No." Shauna says. "Stay in the light. Please."

As long as Lottie stays right there, in the light of the half-open balcony door, the shadow will stay there too. Has to. If she lets it into the dark Shauna can't keep track of it anymore, will lose sight of it, and it's gonna envelop her, burrow itself inside her and never let her go.

"Do you still think you're a killer?" Lottie's shadow asks. "You could be. If you tried."

"I know. " Shauna's shadow says.

Lottie stills and looks at her. There's surprise in her eyes now, along with that overwhelming softness.

Shauna realises that she's sitting behind one of the plants, in the dark; there's no light. So there's no shadow. She lets her head drop to her knees.

Lottie sighs. There's a rush of air and rustling of clothes and Lottie's hand, gentle on her head.

" Oh, honey."

Shauna wishes that she could drown in her honey voice, could let herself fall and sink and go under and never come back up again. Live as her reflection. It'd be alright then; she's nothing more than fragments of a person who might've existed once anyways.

She doesn't dare look up now, now that she knows Lottie's shadow isnt contained anymore.

She doesn't dare feel anything else than her hand.

"Lottie? Uh, I think they need you inside. There's a. Well, I wouldn't call it a fight, but Tai and J-. Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

Lottie breathes out.

"You could never, Laura Lee."

She stands up.

"Could you stay with Shauna till I'm back? She's not feeling well."

"Of course." Laura Lee says.

Shauna can only imagine the look they share, but she's seen them a thousand times so she can imagine it pretty well. It hollows her out, pulls something inside of her out piece by piece until there's nothing left. Until she's but a shell. In some way, she supposes, she's never been more.

Laura Lee sits down beside her. Shauna can feel her eyes; not concerned like Van's or inquiring like Tai's or whatever the hell Lottie was, but simply looking.

Waiting.

She always does this; sitting beside someone and simply being there until they start talking. Even if it takes forever. It always works.

She's the best of all of them. Of the team, of the world; she tries and tries and never gives up. She's never once thought about being a bad person; she's never once thought about anyone being a bad person, because she believes in the irrevocable good in anyone.

Shauna doesn't realise she's crying until she feels Laura Lee in front of her, gently trying to pry her hands from her head. They fail.

"Shauna. Shauna, please look at me."

Shauna shakes Laura Lee off.

"I can't." she says, muffled. "If I do, something bad's gonna happen."

"To me?"

Shauna doesn't know. Van's scars weren't ever there. Of the two Tai's that went to get Lottie only one came back, and none remained. And Jackie's still dancing.

"Something weird is happening, Laura Lee. Something bad, and I don't know what to do against it, how to stop it, what to-"

Laura Lee stops her struggles against Shauna's arms.

"You know. Some things you can't stop. Some things are just bound to happen, and you can't avoid them. They're going to find you anyway. But, once you're through, you're a stronger person."

"I don't think this is supposed to happen." Shauna says. And, then: "Wait, you mean like a test? from God?"

Shauna can't hear it, can't feel it, and yet she knows the expression Laura Lee makes. When she starts talking again, though, her voice is just as gentle as before.

"I don't like calling it a test."

"Why?"

"Because it implies that you can fail."

Shauna sniffles.

"What, you don't think you can fail?"

You don't think I'm set up for failing, for being the worst possible person with every step I take.

"I don't think he'd do that. He didn't create us to fail, he created us to be good."

"Is that in the bible?"

"I'm not bound to the bible, Shauna." She hears the smile in Laura Lee's voice. "Look at me? Please?"

It was stupid to believe she'd get through with this. Laura Lee listens, and talks, and keeps company until it works. And it always works.

Slowly, Shauna looks up.

The night sky is much darker here, with Lottie's house being out of town and less polluted by the street lights.

Shauna knows, though right now it's being largely obscured by Laura Lee's face, painted blue by the moonlight. There's a light breeze, and warmth, and the giggles of random boys who probably went outside with a stolen joint or something.

It doesn't matter, though. All that matters is Laura Lee.

There's so much love, so much certainty in her eyes that Shauna feels herself simultaneously recoil and wanting to come closer; to submerge herself in the belief Laura Lee holds, that spans her world, endless like the sky.

How one person can have so much faith, Shauna doesn't know. Can't imagine. Wishes she could.

If Lottie is the dark, all shadow and hidden half-smiles, then Laura Lee is light incarnate.

"It's going to be alright." she says, and for once, Shauna believes her (because it's said with such conviction, such immense knowledge that Shauna can't not believe her.)

The sky starts to burn. There are snakes of fire, a place of smoke, rising around Laura Lee's head like a halo.

A second later, there's a boom. It shatters the earth and Shauna's heart, vibrating deep in her bones.

"What the fuck?" Lottie shouts from somewhere behind Laura Lee, who's still towering over Shauna, hair still reflecting the light.

"Who the fuck brought fireworks? I swear to God and everything that's holy, I will get your asses, and you will never show your godforsaken face here again."

Fireworks. Of course.

Shauna exhales, shakily.

It rains blue and purple fire around Laura Lee's head.

In the moonlight, it looks like snow.

Is she right back where she started?

"Did you see? Nothing happened." Laura Lee smiles, tentatively. "I'm alright."

[fadeintoyou19]

zinaida alianovna romanova | arachnid. read my fic with this oc @ fadeintoyou19 on ao3

[wttcsms]

full fledged concept coming soon but long story short: hallmark movie-esque concept ft. finance girlie that's going through it & heads back to her childhood hometown she's spent most of her life trying to run from x the boy she used to beef with all throughout high school who is now running a successful business - the onigiri shop that is the only place hiring in the general vicinity.

osamu miya x reader, childhood nemeses to awkward boss/employee to friends to lovers 🤭

general things to tackle in here: what happens when we prioritize what other people's perceptions of success is over what makes you feel happy and fulfilled, getting off on the wrong foot (and then continuing to have that same foot be the one in ur mouth) every time you interact with the person who's literally your soulmate, vanity is so overrated (you grapple with going from six figure salary corporate girlie to literal fast food cashier), realizing that "starting over" can be either the worst or the best thing to happen to you in life, don't be mean to the boy next door - he might grow up to be a super hot business owner... and your future employer

[meatmensch]

Jamie: I'm gonna buy the whole team PS5s. They'll fucking love me. Ted: Yeah, but, you know, some folks might also consider that buying affection. Jamie: Exactly. Yeah, what better thing to spend money on than love?

This exchange from S2E03 is really depressing. This is a learned behavior. His dad is scum of the Earth. We know from S3E06 that, when Jamie was in his teens, his dad was trying to act like a super-dad, and buying him stuff, like trips to Amsterdam, and tickets to matches, and sex. He thinks money equals love dawggg 😭

[pupkashi]

omg happy first birthday to this account :D

I cant believe it’s only been a year since i opened up this account :0 im so thankful for all of you who have supported my work and especially to those who have stuck around :3

hopefully i can keep making things you guys like for another year <333

[anxiousgaypanicking]

3k words written,,, 3k left to edit,,,, a little more left to write. if u guys dont love this next smutshot im actually sobbing crying boohooing