#anyone want a snippet?

[haztory]

i would like you all to know that i have been working on a diluc x reader for over a YEAR and it’s only finally coming to conclusion

[potionbarrel]

science team-tober day 8: misfire

(you can read the accompanying fic for today's prompt here!)

prompt list | science team-tober sideblog

[dirtbagdefender]

little story snippet under the cut.

"hey," steve greets him with a grin, moving aside to let him in the house like he has dozens of times. within seconds, he clues into the weird tension in the air as billy stays standing on the porch, feet planted. his smile melts away as he looks over billy's face, looking for anything that might give him insight as to why he's so tense. the only one he comes up with is that billy won't look him in the eye, his gaze focused somewhere on steve's cheek. it makes his mouth go dry instantly.

billy's got a fresh cig out and lit, a single thin finger of smoke drifting off of it. steve hates that it makes him look more dangerous. more cool. more addictive.

"what's up?" he asks, his focus narrowing. like nothing else matters, he watches billy tilt to look at the ground, pulling a thick lungful from the cigarette before coming back up to look at him - finally - in the eye.

"max told me something interesting tonight and i just needed to hear it from the horse's mouth." he starts and steve's insides all flop over at the same time, like the world has tilted.

he loses the air in his lungs, staring.

billy's talking and it feels like steve's gonna puke, but he can't look away from him. billy's eyes are dark in the night, almost as dark as his own. they remind him of a shark's, especially when billy finally grins, the tips of his teeth looking sharp as words float out with the smoke.

"so, you date me." he drawls the words out, like they've got all night to talk about this. like billy's belly isn't twisting exactly like steve's right now. "you tell me you love me." a pause and steve has to remind himself to breathe at the lightheadedness that threatens to topple him over. "and then you lie to me about it?" steve doesn't know when his eyes dipped to billy's heart like he could see he heartache for himself, as if it's not printed clear as day on billy's face.

maybe looking at a broken heart would be easier than looking at the heartbreak on his boyfriend's face.

"i didn't lie to you." he doesn't know why he says it quite like that. but it rings true. it wasn't billy he lied to. he finally moves his eyes back up to billy's, hoping he can read the truth that's at the core of him.

he can see the extra eyeliner billy had put on, covering the red that rims his eyes.

billy's an easy crier, and steve watches in horror as his eyes fill with tears, making them glisten. he's got pretty eyes, with naturally long lashes that makes steve's heart twist every time billy looks at him, and the extra wetness only makes them shine prettier, showcasing just how dark they are. he watches as billy's face scrunches up, cheeks flushing up with the tears as his voice cracks, his words barely coming out.

"yes, you—"

steve can't let him continue this line of thinking. he wants to reach for him, but he doesn't know if he could take billy flinching away from him right now, so he opts for standing firm. tall. steady. "you know i didn't." he says, billy's chin wavering in his face. he can't be the reason for billy crying. he would never forgive himself.

steve's told exactly two people that he's been in love with them. one was nancy wheeler when they had been in their sophomore year, and now, billy hargrove.

[screams-in-writing]

oops my hands slipped

what do you mean I’m obsessed over this man? I have no idea what you could possibly mean I think I like him…a normal amount. :)

A lazy day off would have been the same old, same old, had you not met a certain someone several months ago. A certain someone who appeared to have gotten it into mind that these days off were for the two of you to dote upon one another, not run errands.  

That certain someone sure did love having your full undivided attention on him; delighted in every second of it, come to think of it. The novelty of being in the company of someone who wanted to be there. And when his mind wasn’t on his never-ending quest for high-ratings and whatever else he had planned (that he had yet to reveal), he showered that attention back on you with an intensity that bordered on almost alarming.

Mr. Puzzles was quite an intense individual when he was focused.

Which was why you were currently stuck in bed in your pajamas at ten in the morning, the man alongside you clearly requiring attention from the way he’d been curled up around you from behind for hours and hours.

For the time being, he was quite content to use you as a body pillow while he hummed some new song he wanted to implement into some future show. It was a novelty to Mr. Puzzles to be integrated into a team, after being on his own tor so long trying to do everting himself. It was slow going to convince him it’d turn out well; at the very least, he hadn’t dragged anyone into the world he held within his head for…at least a month, if that. He could be very passionate if an idea grasped him in the moment.

The static currently emanating from Mr. Puzzles’ face was a nice, warm and ticklish sensation to you; likely why he’d craned down to press the screen to the nape of your neck after avoiding the hair this past hour.

Muffled laughter sounded over the squirm of surprise from you when his arms gently squeezed tighter around your middle.

There came a light, heavy two to the side of your neck.

Then again, slower this time.

Nuzzling was awkward but somehow, the man with a tv for a head was able to make it work, somehow managing to be even closer to you as he pressed in to firmly rub his screen into neck and occasionally, shoulder, through fabric.

A cheerful morning news show clip briefly played in response to you asking him if he was awake and not just laughing in his sleep with automated laughs.

Tease. 

With a wriggle backward, Mr. Puzzles reluctantly loosened his arms from around you to allow you to turn over in arms. From the expectant expression displayed on the screen tilted down toward you right now, Mr. Puzzles had an idea of what you wanted. 

After receiving silent consent in the form of leaning his body, and in turn, his tv head closer, you reached up to lightly trace fingers along his screen. The light touch made Mr. Puzzles’ face and multi-colored smile switch briefly into static gray and white fuzz before a pleased expression popped up with a great big doofy grin that hid the, as you liked to call it, ‘crazy unhinged madman that trapped people like puppets in his head’.

It was a work in progress, that.

No, you did not want Mr. Puzzles to trap your coworkers in the world inside the tv he held sway over, even if you couldn’t help but laugh at the antics initially as well as the absurdity of it being possible (right along with a man who had a tv for a head). Right before scolding the man and making him reluctantly relinquish the unwilling participants aka a small number of your coworkers.

Currently, Mr. Puzzles face sagged into your touch, hands bracing on either side of your shoulders to loom over you without falling over. A quick, sneaky turn of one of the dials on the left side of his head made him jerk his body to the side and back. But then with a sly look, indulged you by briefly playing some cheesy romcom on the screen before Mr. Puzzles’ made his move when one of your hands went to shoulder. 

Gently, carefully, he leaned his lanky body over so his screen could press to your face, making you close you eyes to enjoy the odd sensation of electrical currents and fuzzy static as a teasing voice spoke from the speaker of the tv.

“I see you, my newest star actor, quite close up. Have you anything to say to your…riveted watcher?”

“Your watcher of one for the morning?” Blindly reaching up, you turned the screen down a tad and planted a big ole kiss on the dumbass’ screen with an overdone ‘mwah’ sound. “How’s that for an answer, Mr. Host of one?”

Static sparked out the top of Mr. Puzzles’ antenna and the sides of his screen. His tv head briefly jerked back, revealed a slightly unhinged, if very intense look fixed directly on you.

“Quite the compliment, I’d say.” Mr. Puzzles purred, tone a little deeper as static overlapped his voice, digital eyes intent on you. “Would you care to do a repeat performance? To see if it was truly a 5-star rating for my show of one?”

You dragged this smug asshole man down by the shoulders to pepper his screen face in kisses while he mock-defended himself with dramatic flair. Then, all at once, Mr. Puzzles rolled the two of you over on the bed so you could sprawl yourself comfortably on top of him, playing with the collar of his dress shirt as he similarly fidgeted with your hair.

“Are you quite certain you don’t want to be my co-host?” Mr. Puzzles prodded with a wide screen across the screen.

“You asked me that already.” You pointed out, a faint shudder rolling through you as Mr. Puzzles leaned up to rest the side of his boxy tv head against your own to whisper smoothly, lowly, conspiringly.

“Until you give me a direct answer, my dear.”

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz 💖

more bucktommy the will talk (they're getting there, the conversation went a bit off track lol) - it might be done this week, and then I can focus on the smut, and the buddie fics, and I have a new bucktommy idea inspired by that video of lou barbecuing with his shirt off that I sooo wanna write🙈

prev snippet

___

“Well, yeah, of course.” Buck answers easily, his heartbeat speeding up. He’s a little anxious about putting too much pressure, too many expectations out there, but he also knows that even if he did, they’d get back on track, they’d be fine. And besides, Tommy’s smiling, he doesn’t seem freaked out at all. And that’s after Buck brought up children. But if they’re moving forward with their relationship, they need to know what they want out of life. It seems reasonable to have this conversation this early on.

“Good.” he responds, grinning widely. “Now I won't have to stress about your answer when I ask.” he adds, and Buck feels himself blush, butterflies in his stomach going wild. Oh. Oh. This is- this is real. They’re talking about it, and maybe someday soon- he might marry this man. He will marry this man. Tommy wants him forever. Tommy wants him. Tommy wants to marry him and have children with him, and just be with him. Sometimes it’s still so shocking to Buck that someone as great and amazing as Tommy wants him, but he does. Buck’s not sure he remembers the last time he felt this wanted.

“How- how do you know I won’t ask first?” Buck asks, moving his head slightly closer to Tommy, just enough to look into his beautiful blue eyes. It feels surreal, talking about this, when they only dated for a few months, but it also feels… right. It feels like they’re on the right track to get there one day.

___

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 @your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @diazsdimples

[yourlocalabomination]

LONG HAIR SPANKOFFSKI SUPREMACY!!!

Some of y’all are not appreciating the fact this man has his hair in a bun in Time Bastard/Working Boys.

[bigfootsmom]

seven sentence sunday

i was tagged by the lovely and talented @smallandalmosthonest, @tizniz, @try-set-me-on-fire <3 <3 <3

i started a new wip 😔 been writing a lot of fluff and smut recently I needed some blood and guts. I'm gonna call this the helicopter crash fic and it's gonna be for my "broken ribs" BTHB square <3

Cold dread seeps into his veins. Evan was with him when he went down— where is— Tommy jerks against his harness, a sharp groan of pain getting caught between his teeth as the straps dig into his ribs and make something click and grind in his chest. He twists in his seat, head feeling too heavy on his neck but still he forces himself to hold it up. He lost his headset at some point during the crash, but he doesn’t care about that, not when his eyes land on the slumped form in the copilot seat.  “E–Evan!” Tommy shouts or tries to shout, but his voice cracks down the middle, metallic smoke cinching his throat tight. He coughs with a wince, wrapping an arm around his side. “Evan!”

tags <3

@usersiren, @honestlydarkprincess, @holdmygum, @swiftietartt, @bibuddie

@maygrantgf, @bisexual-buck, @boykisserbuckley, @icarusbuck, @devirnis

@princessfbi, @homerforsure, @mellaithwen, @shyaudacity, @eddiebabygirldiaz

@monsterrae1, @loserdiaz, @giddyupbuck, @underwaterninja13, @father-salmon

@housewifebuck, @colonoscopys, and YOU if you want to post something!

[thursdaymoonrise11]

POV: after knowing you for almost three years, he asks you to meet him outside at the Yule Ball to 'talk'...

FINALLY a little comic of THAT moment between Sebastian and Phoebe 😱😱

I haven't done a sequence of a scene from my fic before and this was so fun to do. It's not my fav piece of work but glad to have finished it finally🥹🥹🥹

For anyone interested, this is from the most recent chapter of my fic🥰

[skhardwarevers1]

if this post gets like…5000 notes I’ll actually start writing scripts/making storyboards for videos I’ve had ideas about for months

additionally if this gets to 10000 (which I highly doubt it will) I’ll actually work on my abandoned stories, book ideas, and poetry

[onesnoopyaday]

It's Charles M. Schulz's 102nd Birthday Today!

Snoopy #56

26/11/2024

Reference image under the cut :)

(source)

Also here is an interview snippet which I thought was interesting. I've never thought much about what his creative process might have been like. Also, I didn't realise that the panels he drew on were so much larger than what ended up in print. I mean, it makes sense, but I guess I always just assumed he drew up the squares exactly the way they looked in the end.

[illumiiiz]

critical grand theft autumn Patrick moment from last night ❤️‍🩹

[kevin-day-is-bi]

i just saw that halloween ask game you're doing for this month 👀👀

so trick or treat, dealers choice on ship 🥰🍬

- mel 💜

Dick absentmindedly pressed on the cut on his arm as he watched his target. The man was standing in a small office in a warehouse, talking on the phone. He didn't look happy. Dick could relate.

"Nightwing, report. Your tracker is offline."

Ah, that had been an argument and a half. Of course, if Bruce would stop sneaking tracers onto Dick's suit, Dick wouldn't have to keep ruining them. They couldn't be cheap.

"I'm on a case."

"Your tracker should be online. I need to know your location."

In the window, the man hung up the phone. He was smug now. He had never made that expression, before.

"No, you don't," Dick responded, before pulling the comm out of his ear. He glared at the device in his hand before gently tucking it away in a pocket.

The man was gone. Dick straightened. This could be a chance to place a bug in his office. Not really Dick's style, honestly. He preferred the physicality. But with any luck, he wouldn't have to get physically near the man ever again. Without fully meaning to, he pressed on his wound again.

He heard the footsteps a split second before the voice spoke.

"You're getting awfully snoopy, dick."

Dick stood from his crouch slowly, hands out and low. He turned head first, the sight of the white streak of hair still sending a wave of shock through his heart.

"Jason."

Jason had a gun aimed at his head. Not particularly surprising. Dick had been trained out of being startled by guns a long time ago, but that didn't mean he was stupid. It was still a loaded gun.

"You have ten seconds to say what you're doing here."

"I wanted to...to see you." Dick was a little unhappy to be so truthful so early. He wanted to fire a quip off, maybe some clever wordplay.

Jason cocked the gun. He wouldn't shoot Dick. Maybe.

"Why."

God, Jason looked...he looked exactly how he was supposed to. The rage that had been present in his fifteen-year-old self had looked so out of place, but now the hard line of his mouth fit him perfectly.

"I want you to-"

Come home. No. Dick didn't, really. The Manor hadn't been his home in a while, longer than it hadn't been Jason's. And what would that achieve? An argument ending in a fight ending in a trail of bodies. Dick didn't want Bruce to have Jason. He wanted to have Jason.

"I just needed to-to make sure it was..."

Jason tilted his head, looking every inch the villain that the Red Hood's file painted him out to be.

"I'm sure the old man ran a dozen tests to make sure it was me."

No, that wasn't what Dick meant. He couldn't find the words, didn't really want to find the words. Jason had sliced open Dick's arm. Dick had felt him, felt the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his body. Dick...missed that, maybe? Having Jason close again had felt like a drug, and now Dick was pretending he wasn't craving it.

He hadn't touched Jason all that much before his death. Too much teenage angst, not enough clear roads between Blüdhaven and Gotham. There was no precedent for this.

"I missed you," Dick said, aiming for honesty. As close to it as he felt capable of getting.

Jason laughed. It was a creepy sound that died too soon in the cold air.

"Last time you saw me I beat your ass. Time before that you didn't know it was me. Time before that I was fifteen. You either have a death wish or haven't gotten the message yet. Robin doesn't exist anymore." Jason's shoulders stayed low and his voice remained even. He sounded a little bored, actually. It felt like there was a hook behind Dick's ribcage, yanking him forward. He needed to be interesting. He couldn't have Jason leave again.

"The first thing," Dick said before he had really planned to say anything at all.

Jason scoffed. Dick kept going, distantly aware of the fact that he was tripping down sentences without actually knowing where he was going. "Maybe you're just really good at fighting. All my bad guys this week were too easy."

Jason's chin dropped. Dick had been rubbing the bandage on his arm against his hip without realizing it.

The gun wobbled. Jason's chest rose and fell.

"Take off your mask."

Dick blinked. This felt like a test. Slowly, he reached up and peeled the mask off. It hurt like hell, and he was left blinking in the altered light. Jason kept the gun trained on him.

"Say it again. Look at me and tell me again why you're here."

This was Dick's chance. Honesty could win. He still wasn't sure what winning meant, but whatever. He would make it work. He stared at Jason's mask and said,

"I miss you."

"What's your goal here?" Jason sounded amused, which wasn't what Dick had been aiming for at all. Annoyance and frustration mixed in his stomach.

"I don't know, okay? I just-" Dick gestured helplessly. Jason's face, half amused and half blank, was no help. "I want...I want you..."

He had nothing else.

Jason's face was doing something complicated. His mouth couldn't seem to agree with what his forehead wanted to do.

"Will you do anything to have me?" Jason's voice was a little too loud now.

Dick hesitated. He imagined Jason pressing the gun into his hand and shuddered.

"No," he whispered.

"No, you wouldn't...let's say for example, shoot a drug dealer for me."

Dick felt sick. There was something about that for me that made him want it horribly. He wanted to do things for Jason.

"Oh," Jason said, and then he started laughing so hard that the gun wavered. "Oh, if only Bats could see you now. That's pretty damn pathetic."

Dick needed to leave. He had well and truly lost control of the situation, and he needed to get the hell out. But when he started to take a step back, the gun went back to being steadily present.

"Don't. I will shoot you." Dick froze. Jason started moving forward, each step solid and loud. "I think we should play a game. You want me, huh? Then let's see what you're willing to do to get me."

Dick contemplated what would happen if he hurled himself off the roof.

"On your knees."

Dick dropped to his knees. This was a very bad idea.

"Take out your escrima sticks and toss 'em over here."

Dick hesitated for half a second before doing so.

"Unzip your suit. To your stomach." Dick's pause didn't go unnoticed and Jason sighed. "You used to wear that stupid suit where the neckline when halfway down your torso. Don't get shy now."

Dick undid the hidden catches and pulled the zipper down. And then, for good measure, he pulled his arms out so he was topless. He needed some sense of agency.

Of course, now Jason was masked, armed, fully dressed, and standing above Dick. Dick obviously could fight like this, but there was something...

Jason kept moving until he was right in front of Dick, so close that he had to bend his elbow to keep the gun trained on him.

"Tell me again why you're here. The full reason."

It was so cold. Dick's stomach was churning.

"I miss you. I...I want you."

Jason's breath hitched. He was shaking. The shock of it made Dick's mouth drop open.

"Please come back to me," he whispered, barely knowing what he was saying.

Half certain Jason was going to blow his brains out for it, Dick reached out and laid a hand on Jason's knee. The nearness of him was intoxication. Dick wasn't really sure he would tell Jason no to just about anything right now. He wanted to see Jason's eyes.

The gun moved and Dick shut his eyes. Several seconds after a shot would've happened, the knee under his hand moved, and he opened them again. The gun had been sheathed. Jason crouched in front of him, face inches away. Dick could still feel the shaking.

"Are you cold?" he asked. He needed Jason to see that he cared about him, noticed the shivering, wanted to help.

"Always," Jason said, barely an actual word. Dick's heart broke, and then his thigh felt like it was on fire. He yelled, unprepared for the sudden pain, suddenly leaning on Jason as the pain spread. Jason's mouth was parted slightly. Dick looked down to see a knife embedded in his thigh. Jason wrenched it free and Dick made a breathless noise of horror. Jason ripped one of his gloves off and sliced the knife across his fingertips. Dick hadn't processed what was happening yet, his brain still stuck on "Jason stabbed me?", so he just watched as Jason shoved his bloody fingers into the wound. Dick screamed, the pain mounting and spreading in waves. He hadn't been prepared, he was usually better than this.

"You want me?" Jason asked, fingers still pressed into the gash. "Fucking have me."

His other hand came up to pull Dick closer, digging his face into Dick's neck, and then just as suddenly he stood, leaving Dick hunched over and breathing unsteadily. He held up his bloody hand.

"I'll treasure this. Maybe make a painting with it. The Failure of Yet Another Robin. Every time I see it, I'll remember how the original came crawling to me, thinking he could fix me."

Dick didn't understand what was happening. Jason's blood was inside him.

Jason brought his hand up to his face and his tongue flicked out, tasting the blood. Dick's stomach roiled. He was really beginning to think that wasn't disgust.

"Mm." Jason grinned. "Taste's like B's disappointment. I can't even tell our blood apart now."

He turned and walked away. Dick was starting to hyperventilate a little. He heard Jason's steps pause, and then, from a small distance away,

"Next time you come a-stalking, I'll see if you look this pretty with a bullet hole inside you."

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen stares at Arell. He has to bite his teeth together so hard it feels like they are breaking in order to not to continue saying anything more, no matter how much he wants to do so. Let the bastard say what he wants in turn, and then Seventeen can continue and finish this and do whatever he wants afterwards.

Arell stares right back. He is holding back, Seventeen can see it, because he has forced his face to be expressionless, but Seventeen can still see the contempt in his eyes. He stays quiet for one, two, three, five, ten seconds, and Seventeen wants to fucking strangle him already-

"Just cry", Arell says.

Seventeen feels something twist inside his head.

"What?" He snarls.

"Just cry", Arell repeats. "There's no need for you to stand there and throw insults at me. Just cry like a normal person."

Seventeen wants to go over there and strangle him right now.

"In case you have not noticed already, I am not-"

"Shut the hell up with that already." There is emotion now on Arell's face. His mouth is contorted into a disgusted sneer. "I am not a normal person, shut the hell up. You are just a person, just a human being, there is nothing special about you. There are billions of you all over the fucking Galaxy, and you have the nerve to stand in front of me and tell me that you are somehow special, somehow different from all of them? No, you are not. You are a regular human being that the Galaxy has been kicking to the head for your entire life, and what you are supposed to do now is to be a normal person and cry about it!"

Seventeen wants to fucking kill him.

"Shut up", he says. He isn't yelling. He doesn't do yelling.

"What?" Arell scoffs. "You don't like hearing the truth? That you are not some unfeeling killing machine, too good for normal people stuff? Well that's too bad, because that is what you need to hear, and I am telling you that right now. You are not special. You are just a human!"

"Shut up." Seventeen is not yelling. He doesn't do yelling. Yelling doesn't do anything.

Neither does crying.

"Or what?" Arell asks. He stares right at Seventeen, unmoving, challenging, like Seventeen is not a highly trained soldier, bred for war, capable of snapping his neck with his bare hands if he wants to. He is staring at Seventeen like Seventeen is just a regular person, living their regular life and a normal house, doing menial daily tasks like laundry and dishes and cooking and cleaning because that is what his life is.

There's a stab at Seventeen's abdomen. A phantom pain that wants to spread like a fire to the rest of his body.

"Or what?" Arell repeats, like he can see it, like he knows that Seventeen is not a threat to him, because he is a broken product that has been cast aside because he is of no use anymore.

"Shut up!" Seventeen is not yelling. He does not do yelling. Yelling helps nothing. Neither does crying.

"Or what!" Arell takes a step forward. Seventeen stands his ground, no matter how much his body is burning, no matter how much it is telling him to just collapse to the ground and lay there and scream. "Or what, Seventeen? What are you going to do? You can't keep running away from this! You have already lost the first half of your life, do you want to keep wasting the rest of it away too, pretending to be something you are not?"

"Shut up!" There is fire everywhere. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know enough!" Arell is standing in front of him and looking down at him. "I know that you are a human! That's all I need to know! That's all that you need to know! Now cry, damn it!"

Seventeen screams.

He is being stabbed through his abdomen, with a blade that is hotter than all the blaster bolts he has ever shot in his entire life, and his legs stop working and he falls to the ground, both numb and on fire, and he heaves the air in and out, like it is supposed to help, but nothing helps, nothing ever does, he has tried, he has tried and nothing ever does, he doesn't need it, he needs to just keep going-

There is a strange noise coming from somewhere. It's guttural and sorrowful. Angry and frustrated. Pitiful and pleading. Seventeen knows the noise. It's how all the cadets had sounded like when they would fall down, bruised and beaten by everything, tired and angry and scared about everything happening around them and to them. They would wail like that, asking for help, and it never helped anyone.

Seventeen listens to it, wondering what had been the cause this time. If it had been the ten hours of training, if it had been the trainers screaming insults for every missed mark, if it had been the pains of a body that had been growing too fast and kept changing even faster. If it had been the fear of what was to come. If it had been the nightmares of death plaguing them even when they were awake.

It never helped. Nothing would change if you cried. No one would ever help. It was pointless. All you could do had been to just stand up and keep going, no matter what.

Seventeen can't stand up.

He listens to the crying.

There are no cadets there. Not even other clones. None other than him.

Seventeen is on the floor and he cries and he can't stand up.

There are hands on him. They pull him straighter and then drag him forwards, and then there are arms wrapping around him.

Crying had never helped. There had been no arms to hold you if you cried. The only thing you could do had been to stand up and keep going.

It's wrong. It's not how this is supposed to go. There isn't supposed to be anyone there. It's not supposed to help.

Arell sits on the floor in front of him and holds him.

It's wrong. There isn't supposed to be anyone there. It's not supposed to help.

It's not-

"I hate you", Seventeen cries.

"That's okay", Arell says.

It's not supposed to-

"I hate you", Seventeen cries.

"That's okay", Arell says, again.

Seventeen cries.

[mothfables]

“Damn, I look good.” Legend admires his reflection in the full-length mirror, watching the way the dress swishes against his legs. “Kinda makes me wish I could grow a beard, though.”

Wind gags at the mental image and Hyrule blinks, confused. “Why? I thought you hated the idea of growing a beard?”

“To confuse stuffy nobles and their idea of gender, obviously.” The Vet grins.

Time looks contemplative and Twilight begins nodding after a moment of thought.

[enjoythesilentworld]

sunday snippet 🎨

remember this?

The candles lit the space around them but cast Simon’s face partially in shadow. His eyes were dark, locked right on Wilhelm, watching him, as he had been all night. The curve of his back, a silhouette Wilhelm would not soon forget, staggered the heights of the candles placed there, like little warm homesteads dotting the horizon of a hillscape. They rose and fell as Simon drew in steady breaths, carefully, so as not to disturb the precarious balance of the pillars of wax.

Behind him, lights danced across the wall as the seven flames flickered and pulsed in some phantom breeze. There was a painting above Wilhelm’s bed, one he’d done himself years ago and decided to keep. It depicted a lakeside from his home country, a memory of childhood and innocence. Wilhelm itched to take Simon there, to show him the beauty of Sweden, to show him the beauty of the world. To say, Look. Look at all these masterpieces, these unbelievable creations of this planet, and feel it, feel how it overwhelms and steals your breath. To say, Know that you have ruined it for me, because nothing, no painting or sculpture, no mountain or waterfall, will ever again compare to the way I feel when I look at you.

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @tizniz @diazsdimples @bidisasterevankinard 💖

my bucktommy the will talk fic didn't get to the will yet but we're getting there slowly lol somehow they're talking about the sperm donor storyline rn, idk, i'm just letting them talk and writing it down haha

for now have this lil snippet (here's hoping I'll finish it soon and won't get carried away with another >5k lmao)

prev snippet

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“Kind of? I mean, I tried not to think about it a lot before, but then Kameron was pregnant, and by the end I kinda got involved, and then I delivered the baby-” he starts rambling, and he knows it’s all very vague, and maybe one day soon he’ll tell Tommy the full story in detail, but right now it’s not that important.

“Of course you did.” Tommy shakes his head fondly, and then leans in to press a sweet kiss to the top of Buck’s nose. “You’re incredible.”

“I- she gave birth on my couch.” Buck just says, face burning from the affection. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the effect Tommy has on him. “It was cheaper to buy a new one instead of clean it. But it was an awful couch, anyway.” he adds, like it matters to the topic, and Tommy chuckles. “But it- it felt good. To be able to help them, to- to give them this, you know?"

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