#and no it still doesn't have a title so I can't really link the snippets together with a common tag yet

[rosalind-hawkins]

(post-canon by several years, this Mokuba is early 20s)

"What do you want, Joey?" Mokuba's voice was cool and calm; he'd fully recovered from his earlier outburst.

"Pegasus didn't leave the property. I saw your men stop him on his way out."

"I can't allow him to leave or communicate with the outside world until Seto's situation has resolved. It would hurt our company too much, and I know he'll do it just to spite us."

Joey hesitated, then set his jaw, bracing himself.

"Holding Pegasus prisoner isn't going to make up for what he did to you. It won't make you feel better, either."

"I never said I was after retribution or revenge." Mokuba maintained the appearance of calm. "It's a pragmatic decision made to preserve KaibaCorp stocks and our way of life. It's also the only way to keep the story from reaching the media."

Joey studied Mokuba's face, looking only the tiniest bit convinced.

"Where is Pegasus now?"

"He's being held in a place that suits him." Mokuba smiled in a way that made Joey shiver. He looked too much like his brother when he was the same age, too much like he had something to prove and was willing to do anything.

[youssefguedira]

Joe and Nile post apocalypse fic?? 👀 And Nicolegolas ofc!!

(wip ask game)

the joe and nile post apocalypse fic, working title the only hope for me is you but subject to change, is my MOST beloved atm. follows joe and nile after mumble mumble catastrophic event, in a fractured society largely now run by a vaguely evil corporation, separated from the others and trying to get back to them. it draws pretty heavily from a very specific albeit slightly unconventional piece of media source material-wise that i'm having fun messing with the existing information surrounding because it's my evil fic and i do what i want. i can't link the post atm because i can't search BUT. the transmission snippets are part of it (there'll be the main story, the flashbacks, and the transmissions). which is one of my favourite parts of the fic tbh but i wont say more than that for suspense reasons

nicolegolas as you almost certainly have guessed is my working document for our beloved tog lotr au. i do have the whole fellowship bit outlined but i havent yet Done Much with it. when i have free time again then you will all see. but here's a snippet ive got:

Yusuf nearly doesn't approach him at all.

Regardless of what Andy had said, when he reaches the small balcony she'd pointed him towards (more of a ledge, really, given its lack of any kind of railing) and sees Nicolò sitting there, his legs hanging over his edge and his back to Yusuf, shoulders slumped like he's carrying the weight of the world on them, it feels like something he shouldn't be witnessing. So he almost turns and goes back the way he came, certain that Andromache, or one of the hobbits, or even Sebastien will do a better job, because Nicolò hates him – but his job is, in part, to make people smile. He is not as much of a fighter as everyone else in this cobbled-together company, but that he can do.

Either way, before he can do anything, Nicolò turns and looks at him over his shoulder. He doesn't say a word. Yusuf is held in place by his gaze.

"Hi," Yusuf says after an uncomfortably long pause. "Andy– I wanted to see if you were okay."

Nicolò's lips quirk up into the tiniest of smiles at that, so slight Yusuf wonders if he'd imagined it. He turns away, his back to Yusuf once more.

"I know I'm not – I know we aren't friends, really, but. If you wanted to talk," Yusuf ventures, trails off mid-sentence when Nicolò shows no response. Maybe Andy was wrong, and he doesn't want company. Certainly not Yusuf's, at the least.

He decides to try one more time, at the least so he can tell Andy he did try, and because it wouldn't be right, he thinks, to leave him like this without one more attempt.

"Can I sit?" he asks.

Nicolò is silent long enough that Yusuf considers leaving, but then he looks over his shoulder once more and nods.

So Yusuf makes his way across the short space from the door to the ledge Nicolò is sitting on. He lowers himself down carefully, conscious of the fact that it's not particularly wide and there's barely an inch of space between them, and then swings his legs over the edge to mimic Nicolò's position. Below them, Lorien, in all its magical, eerie glory, and above them, through a break in the canopy of leaves, the stars. Somewhere, the elves are still singing the lament for Quynh, though it's faint, now.

"I'm sorry," is what Yusuf says, because he can't think of anything else. From this distance, Nicolò's eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks – he looks tired.

"Thank you," Nicolò responds. He doesn't look at Yusuf. Just keeps staring ahead.

"I didn't know her well," Yusuf says, "but. She was kind."

Nicolò is silent for a long time. Then – "She was my sister," Nicolò says, so quiet it's barely audible.

And Yusuf doesn't know what to say to that, because what can he say? So instead, he sits in silence, and waits.

After a while, Nicolò speaks again. "Tell me about something."

Yusuf nods, probably too quickly. "About what?"

"I don't know." Nicolò tilts his head then, finally looks at him properly. "You're a storyteller, no? Tell me a story."

There's something so quietly vulnerable in his voice, so exhausted, that Yusuf couldn't refuse even if he wanted to. "Okay," Yusuf says. "Okay."

So he does.