#crack fic snippet

[tgmsunmontue]

Crack-ish snippet because it just hit me... Cyclone: It has come to my attention that some of you have entered... relationships with one another. Cyclone: Now due to this potentially impinging on your ability to be impartial in the air I just need to know who is and who isn't. Not who with. Cyclone: Everyone that is... involved with someone in this room please take a step forward. *As one the entire Dagger Squadron step forward with the exception of Maverick*

*Admiral Kazansky walks into the room* *Maverick steps forward* Maverick: Looks like my ride is here. *salutes them and leaves*

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Truth spell, insults are lies if you don’t believe them - cursed Merlin, Arthur isn’t actually a dollophead

So it’s only a one shot with few thousand words, but basically Merlin gets cursed with a truth spell by a witch who was frustrated that Emrys hadn’t even told the once and future king that magic isn’t good or bad, it just is. He’s not compelled to say anything, his secrets are his own, but if he tries to lie the truth comes out.

They realise what the curse is when Arthur asks Merlin if he’s okay in his own way of insulting him and Merlin can only compliment him in return,

This is sort of the general vibe of it summed up in a bit of dialogue:

Arthur: Merlin, why the hell would you jump in front of a curse!

Merlin: I wasn't going to let you get hurt.

Arthur: You idiot! You’re not a knight!

Merlin, increasingly more passionately complimenting him as he tries and fails to insult him: Well you're a reckless good man and I care about you too much! I- I mean- you're a great king! You're smart and pretty!

(Arthur’s stood there looking shocked, unable to react, getting slightly flustered at being called pretty. Merlin realises there’s one insult that still works because it’s become a term of endearment for him)

Merlin: Prat! Haha! It works!

Merlin: You're a prat and I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt!

Merlin: Damnit! Why isn’t this working?!

Arthur, realising what’s happening, teasing: Why isn’t what working, Merlin?

Merlin: Calling you a kind hearted, too good, smart and talented golden kingly prat! I give up! *storms off into the woods*

Then there’s a confession, cute Merthur moments, and Arthur gets to learn about magic because Merlin needs to tell him the trr about it before the spell can be broken.

If anyone has any ideas for what I can name this, it’d be greatly appreciated. The titles are always the worst part of fics

[ghost-bxrd]

Stony silence rings from the other end of the line, but Jason knows Bruce is listening. Listening and running through several possibilities of how someone could have gotten this number while simultaneously tracking the call signal.

This is gonna be fucking gold.

Time to sell it.

“Dad,” he sobs, pitching his voice until it breaks, teeth chattering exaggeratedly, “Dad, please, I’m scared, I-“ Jason cuts himself off with a scream and another series of sobs, “Please, I can’t— it’s locked! Please, no, Dad, it’s locked—“

A sharp intake of breath, the dull thump of something heavy colliding unexpectedly.

“Dad!” Jason cries, calling upon every single drama class he’s ever had, “Please… please- it’s almost to zero- please, I’m sorry, please, please, it hurts so much-“

Bruce breaks.

“Jason, Jason, hold on Jaylad, hold on, I will find-“

Jason smashes the phone against the marble dress of the creepy angel standing guard over his grave. The pieces vanish into the wet grass, like an occult offering eaten by Gotham’s soil.

Then Jason turns and walks away with a gleeful little smile.

But not without flipping the stupid angel off one last time.

— Grave Pretender sneak peek

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry is at a Quidditch game, and he’s having a dreadful time. There should be some universal rule that negates this possibility. It’s Quidditch, he’s Harry – it’s the perfect pairing. He should be watching the Wimbourne Wasps crush the Ballycastle Bats and munching on some delightful treacle Sugar Sweeps while enjoying his first date in months.

Except they only have the licorice-flavoured Sugar Sweeps.

Except his team is losing horrendously.

Except his date – Jeanine, or Jeannie; something with a J – is more interested in flirting with anyone other than him. She’d tried to catch the eye of the unfairly attractive man sitting on Harry’s other side for a good twenty minutes. When she made no progress, her attention shifted to orchestrating a threesome with her friend and Draco. Rude.

(And no matter how far they’ve come from the bitter rivalry of their youth, Harry still hates to lose to Mal– Draco. He’d feel worse about that if the other man didn’t feel the exact same way – and if the prat looked less bloody smug.)

This is the last time he lets the blond convince him to go on a blind double-date. Merlin, what was he thinking when he agreed to this?

The Wasps call a timeout to discuss strategy (not that it’s likely to help at this point) and that’s when the worst of it happens. Some genius decided Quidditch needed a kiss cam for the slower moments of a match. If Harry ever finds out who, he’s going to hex their toes off.

That’s the thought that runs through his mind as he sees himself and Jacqueline on each of the floating screens bobbing around the Quidditch stadium.

His eyes slide helplessly to the side, where Jasmine is already inching away from him. This is so bloody embarrassing. He can feel his cheeks redden in mortification and is sure his deer-in-the-headlights expression will be immortalised in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.

He sure wishes he had a time turner – he’d go back to this morning and stay in bed the whole day.

He can hear laughter breaking out from the other spectators the longer the camera lingers on him. Why haven’t they moved on to another pair? Or at the very least shifted three feet to the right; Harry’s certain Jolene and her friend or Draco (or hell, all three, why not) would be happy to give the viewers a show.

And then he feels a tap on his left shoulder. 

It’s not that he’d forgotten about the extremely hot man sitting to his left. But the reminder of the human perfection to his side while this debacle unfolds kind of makes him want to stand up and leave. Or blow something up.

He turns to Mr. Sex-on-Legs and smiles weakly. The man returns his smile, and while it’s a little sharp, it’s not mocking. Hurray for small mercies.

“May I?” Unreasonably Handsome Stranger asks.

“Uh,” Harry replies eloquently. May he what? Harry swiftly decides he doesn’t need more details. This man could be asking for his kidney and as long as it makes this whole situation less painful, Harry’s on board. “Sure…?”

Unreasonably Handsome Stranger tilts Harry’s face up and swoops in. Harry can’t stop the confused squeak from leaving him – so much for less shameful – and then he’s being kissed within an inch of his life. Holy shite.

This is awesome.

Harry kind of forgets why this man is kissing him and what’s going on around him, because it doesn’t matter. The most gorgeous person he’s ever seen in real life is pressing his lips against Harry’s with intent, with skill – is that his tongue? All higher brain functions have ceased in order to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

When they finally pull back for air, Harry finds his hands are gripping the man’s collar and holding him close. He figures that’s fine, considering the man has one hand wound through Harry’s hair and the other is still cupping his jaw.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, brain still taking a break from thinking. The other man smirks knowingly at him, and Harry would probably take offence to that if the man’s perfectly formed cheekbones weren’t flushed pink, showing he’s not as unaffected as he might pretend to be.

“Er. I’m Harry.”

“Tom.”

“Nice to meet you, Tom.”

This makes Smokin' Hot Tom chuckle, which in turn makes his eyes crinkle up adorably. Oh bother – Harry might be in trouble.

He’s aware, peripherally, that someone behind him is aggressively clearing their throat. He only bothers to care about it when Tom shoots an unimpressed look at the source of the noise.

When Harry turns to follow Tom’s gaze, he comes face to face with an irate Julienne, her glaring friend, and Draco, who can’t seem to decide whether he’s impressed or pissed off.

He shrugs, grinning dopily. “It just isn’t going to work out, Josephine.”

She gives him a baleful look. “My name is Petra.”

Whoops. Not even close. “Sorry – Petra. Have fun with Draco and …your friend.”

He sends a teasing salute to Draco and starts dragging Tom towards the exit. Speaking of having fun – he’s sure they can find an alcove somewhere around here to continue what Tom started.

—

Harry’s picture is indeed in the Prophet the next day. But he supposes that’s only to be expected when he’s caught publicly snogging the visiting ambassador from the French Ministry of Magic.

[the-broken-pen]

I adore your writing style! If you want could you do something about a hero with wings?

The villain rounded the corner into the alley just in time to watch the hero nudge the boot of the body in front of them with their foot, face considering.

“For a hero, you kill an awful lot of people,” the villain pointed out, and the hero turned to stare at them, blood splattered across their pure white wings.

“What, that?” The hero kicked the boot of the body strewn across the concrete below them. “This is community service.”

The villain tipped their head at the body. “Does he know that?”

“I think he’s figuring it out,” the hero grinned, and the villain could do nothing more than stare at them, slightly dumb, for a second.

“How the fuck are they still calling you archangel when you keep murdering people in broad daylight.”

The hero shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t even know why they started calling me that in the first place, to be honest.”

The villain made a mocking face at them, and the hero made one back. “Oh, with the pure white wings and dazzling face, I wonder.”

The hero clasped a still bloody hand to their chest. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you belong in a jar of formaldehyde.”

The hero dropped their hand, sighing. “Funny, because everyone else keeps writing fanfiction in my honor. And trust me, they have very strong opinions on my appearance.”

The hero’s grin couldn’t be described as anything other than catlike, pleased and sharp. Their wings cocked behind them.

“I’m sorry, you read fanfiction about yourself?”

“Don’t be jealous, there’s plenty about you, too.”

The villain spluttered. “I’m not jealous–”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t bring that douche canoe into this,” the hero said, looking up. “His ego is the size of the titanic and I am doing my very best to sink that fucker.”

The villain gaped at them. “That is not very ‘innocent angel baby of the media’ of you.”

The hero kicked the boot of the body once more, and the villain winced. “Will you stop that–”

“Oh, sorry,” the hero looked down at the body. “Do you mind?” They turned back to the villain , gesturing with their thumb over their shoulder. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“Archangel,” the villain repeated. “Fallen angel, saint of the city–”

“Listen, people will excuse anything if it comes from a pretty package.”

“What, so you use your pretty face to get away with murder?”

“No, I commit murder, and I happen to be pretty, and for some reason everyone is plenty fine with excusing the murder because of that fact. I’d be doing it regardless,” the hero confided. “My murderous tendencies continue whether or not I am forgiven for them.”

“What, so you just murder anyone you feel like?”

The hero gasped. “I’m not a monster,” they said, the corner of their mouth twisting into a wry grin. “My mother raised me right.”

The villain got the sense they were on the wrong side of an inside joke.

“That was decidedly not an answer to my question.”

The hero groaned. “You’re absolutely no fun right now. No, I only kill bad people. I’m a good samaritan.”

“I think we need to redefine your idea of what that term means.”

“Okay, if I was going around killing anyone who annoyed me, I would have a way longer rap sheet. Like people who cut in line. Not to mention how fucking annoying it is when someone decides to DIY a summoning circle in their basement and I have to handle that mess. Do you know how annoying it is to get magically butt dialed by a white woman on a random ass Tuesday?”

The villain blinked. “Uh. Can’t say I do, no.”

The hero ran a hand down their face in annoyance, smearing blood behind as they went. The villain cringed, but it didn’t seem to bother the hero in the slightest. 

“It’s really fucking annoying.”

“You also swear a lot,” the villain noted. “Not very heroic.”

“I think we can both agree I remain very firmly planted in the vigilante section of the spectrum,” the hero gestured with their hands to some imaginary chart. The villain squinted at them. “Also, what are you, the language police?”

“Uh,” the villain said, and the hero smiled innocently at them. There really wasn’t anything to say to that. “No?”

“Tell me, you pick up lots of girls with that suave demeanor of yours?”

The villain bristled at that. “You–I–ugh,” the villain groaned. “Did it hurt?”

The hero’s head tipped slightly to the side, endlessly amused. “Hmm?”

“When you fell from heaven,” the villain continued, and it was quite possibly the dumbest thing to have ever come out of their mouth, but this entire conversation bordered on a level of unhinged they hadn’t thought possible. 

The hero blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter, doubling over. Their wings ruffled in a way the villain had long since learned meant amusement.

The villain flushed. 

“You really think I fell from heaven?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said defensively. “It’s just a dumb pick up line–”

“You said it with an awful lot of certainty, though,” the hero countered, and the villain wished they had something to throw at them. 

“What was I supposed to think, with a name like Archangel and blinding white wings?”

The hero shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you ever actually met an angel before?” the hero asked, then amended, “other than me?”

“No,” the villain admitted.

“They don’t go around killing people, that’s for sure. Bunch of stuffy–”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and the ground rumbled slightly.

The hero groaned, wings tucking in. Blood flaked onto the ground. “What, you’re both pissed at me?”

A gust of wind whipped past them, hurtling down the alley, there one second and gone the next, and the hero let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

They did not sound sorry.

“Both?”

The hero looked back at them, and this time when they grinned, it was slightly sheepish.

“Yeah,” they said. “God, and, you know. My mom. Raised me right, remember?”

The villain was an idiot.

“You didn’t fall,” the villain confirmed, and the hero nodded their head. “Though I’m sure you absolutely would have earned that by now, if you were going to.”

The hero reared back, like they were about to spit something rude, but the villain continued before they could.

“Please, please tell me your father isn’t Lucifer,” the villain said, and the hero rubbed a hand across the back of their neck.

They laughed slightly. “Uh. About that.”

“Oh my god,” the villain said, and the hero didn’t even look upset about the reference. “You’re from hell.”

“You could call me an avid climber,” the hero offered, and the villain just looked at them.

“You’re an angel from hell,” the villain said.

“Technically, I’m an archangel from hell. So like, the media wasn’t exactly wrong with that one.”

The villain could write a killer memoir about this.

“This makes so much sense.”

The hero frowned. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You literally kill people.”

“Bad people,” the hero corrected. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I feel like that violates some sort of cosmic rule. There has to be some rule that breaks.”

“What?”

The villain gestured vaguely. “You’re self supplying your hometown.”

The hero laughed at that. 

“This really is not that big of a deal.”

“You’re a nepo baby.”

“And you’re awfully comfortable saying that to a literal child of satan.”

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

The hero weighed their head from side to side. Their wings moved behind them, as if they, too, were considering. “True.”

The villain found themself rubbing a hand over their brow. “You kill people, and you get away with it because you’re pretty, and people think you’re a child of god. When actually, you’re a child of Satan, and you crawled your way out of hell to wreak havoc on my life.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did it,” the hero said dryly. “To fuck with you.”

“I would not put it past you,” the villain countered. 

“You were not my reason,” the hero said. They slid a step closer, hand curling into the villain’s collar, and the villain's mouth went dry. “But you are awfully pretty.”

“You’re literally an angel–”

“Which means it’s high praise,” the hero murmured, wings curving over the tops of their shoulders, and up close they looked even softer than the villain had thought they would. Their eyes stayed firmly planted on the villain’s lips, and the villain had no idea how they had gotten here but they were confused about it and also not quite mad–

“If you’re trying to woo me to distract me from the fact that you’re a dark angel, it’s not working.”

“Isn’t it?”

The villain swallowed. 

“You know, all that fan media includes you,” the hero said casually, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You really thought I read it just for me?” the hero grinned, stepping back, hand falling away from the villain. “Oh, please.”

The villain opened their mouth to say anything, then closed it, then opened it again.

The hero’s eyes were laughing at them.

“Maybe the bloodshed is partially because I want your attention,” the hero mused. “Or maybe not. You’ll never know, will you, human.”

They said it like an endearment.

“You–”

The hero nodded. “Yeah. I tend to do that to people.”

“I don’t–”

“If it means anything,” the hero said as they went to move past the villain. They tucked themselves against the villain, lips brushing the shell of their ear. Their feathers skated down the villain’s bare arm, and they shivered. “My mother approves.”

The villain’s face was hot. They shuddered out a breath. The hero released them, continuing their path down the alleyway, and the villain spun to watch them go.

The hero paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh,” they snapped their fingers like they had remembered something, but their grin said this had been planned. “Her name is Lilith, by the way.”

The villain’s brain short circuited.

Lilith. The mother of all monsters. Lilith, the wife of Lucifer. Lilith, someone who apparently approved of the villain.

‘I’m not a monster. My mother raised me right.’

Oh, this little shit.

The hero laughed, vanishing around the corner, blowing a kiss as they went. The villain could have sworn they had a halo, wings still splattered with blood, and in the arch of the sunlight they were every bit the fallen angel the media thought they were.

“Oh, you beautiful, monstrous, wretched thing,” the villain murmured, but it was fond. “Only you could make damnation look like divinity.”

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

tagged by @tizniz @bidisasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess 💖💖

still on my bucktommy bs, I'll be back to buddie but i'm too obsessed with tommy/lou to think about anything else rn lol

so here's a bit of something short I'm wiriting for 7x05 from tommy's pov, idk what this is, what it's gonna be, but I wanna finish it tonight or maybe by the end of the weekend so posting it here to motivate myself and also tell me what y'all think bc the more i reread all of it the more i doubt myself lol

___

It took him some time, plus a lot of self-reflection and just taking it one step at a time, letting himself look at other men, this time consciously and sometimes deliberately, noticing how hot they are, how they make him feel. He let himself feel how they make him feel. It took a minute to stop feeling guilty and ashamed, and to rework all those internalized prejudices that had been ingrained in him his whole life.

He gave himself time, a lot of time, started with just chatting with guys on dating apps, later got the courage for some casual dates, and when he met the man who would be his first actual boyfriend, his first gay relationship, that he genuinely liked, he felt ready to pursue that. It didn’t work out then, that’s just life, but it was a good relationship, because he was ready for it. Now he feels settled and comfortable with himself, feels confident, and knows what he wants. And he wants- he wants love. He doesn’t want to put any pressure on any relationship he might start, but ultimately, that’s the goal. Love. 

He really doesn’t mind being this first to Evan. He likes Evan. He has those bright blue eyes that seem to shine their own light, and that wide, excited smile that makes it impossible not to smile back, with that adorable dimple accompanying it, that makes Tommy melt a little every time he sees it. Plus, those perfect, kissable lips he can’t wait to taste again, and the distinctive birthmark just adding to the charm. And he’s big and strong and so hot, too. And he’s just so nice, and so adorable and endearing, and he’s so easy to talk to. Tommy just wants to keep getting to know him, spend time with him, develop this relationship and see where it can go. And with any luck, maybe this one could last, could be something real.

The thing is, Tommy is ready for serious. He can take it slow, give Evan time to figure everything out, but he’d also like to know where he stands. He would never want to pressure him to come out before he’s ready, but he also knows he doesn’t want to be anyone’s dirty little secret. Been there, done that.

Still, he would be fine with keeping it just to him and Evan for now, for as long as Evan needs. But then…

___

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 @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus @daffi-990

[star4daisy]

writing snippet

thx for tagging me @214lilacsky here's a lil unedited snippet from the rosekiller sexuality crisis fic that I might post today heheh

Kissing had never felt like this before. Barty wasn’t sure if it was because it was a man or because it was Evan, but he knew he needed more. He needed to stand closer, pressing their bodies together until he could feel all of Evan against him, kissing him with so much passion he had to take a step back, Barty walked with him, trying to brand himself against his skin. He craved Evan's touch. Nothing he did felt like enough. Barty could have stripped them of their shirts in the middle of the party so he could feel Evan’s chest against his and still, they wouldn’t have been close enough to satisfy him. He feared nothing would. “Damn, they’re really going at it, aren't they?” Potter sounded surprised.

np tags: @fromagony @sanguineerose @jamespottersmixtape @curly-chip @sommerregenjuniluft @jaylienpotter @starchaser-lily @orchideous-nox

[greenleaf4stuff]

Crack idea, but I wonder what would happen if S1!Adar and S2!Adar met each other.

Apart from having different actors portray them and different goals due to the creation of Mordor in S1, both Adars do come across as slightly different from each other due to each actor adding their own spin to him. It’s got me curious, would they

immediately become suspicious of one another, thinking the other might be Sauron or perhaps another type of impostor ready to try and take the uruk from them, divide them or otherwise harm their cause?

team up and share leadership of the uruk, using the fact they have an unknown ‚twin‘ to their advantage strategically and to confuse their opponents (esp Sauron)?

allow one of them to work as a spy or even to defect from their cause to have a life they both secretly wished for, away from the battles and the responsibility? (Would the other even be able to do that, or would their sense of duty stop him?)

would S1 have gone differently if S2!Adar was involved (or replaced S1!Adar)?

would S2 have gone differently if S1!Adar was involved? Would he have let Halbrand go with even the slightest possibility of him being Sauron? Would he have let S2!Adar attack Eregion, so soon after finding a home for the uruk and with the chance that they are playing into Sauron’s hands?

etc.

Just some very interesting ideas to think about. What do you guys think?

Also, if anyone is interested, I wrote a little snippet about that concept:

[gothsuguru]

i’m sorry but this is so onesided enemies to lovers!suguru texting gojo about how he came to the Heartwrenching realization that he has a crush on reader and gojo won’t take him seriously bc he’s out shopping w reader text

[adiduck]

Okay so! It's kind of been a bad day, and I was looking for something fun I could do, and it occurred to me I had this snippet from a fic that... I mean, this is what a friend referred to as a very tumblr idea 🤣And I didn't post a WIP Wednesday! So. Here it is, an icemav snippet from a fic I may or may not continue if I ever figure out, like, what it's about other than this gimmick:

[softlysuga]

satan's sweetheart [snip]

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you

pairing: jungkook x demon!reader

genre: fluff, crack

rating: pg-13

note: prompt is by @writing-prompt-s! i thought it was hilarious and got my creative juices flowing for the first time in a while~

There’s a tugging sensation at your stomach, and your lips curl into a smile. 

A summoning. Finally. 

Relaxing, you let the sorcery of the summoning whisk you away from your dwelling and hear the familiar pop in your ears as you enter the human realm. Dust setting, you open your eyes, hoping to feast your eyes on your next meal. 

Except…

“I’m so sorry, I tried calling for a babysitter but no one was free,” a frazzled-looking woman starts, “and I know, you’re probably like, well, can’t you ask family—”

The woman scrambles to find her keys and belongings, slowly lugging her suitcase to a door. You stand a few feet away in the middle of a summoning star adorned with a few candles and eerie-looking symbols. There’s an offering of fruits and leftover Halloween candy, along with an edition of the Grand Grimoire. 

“—and I did! I asked Jungkook to come over, that brat, always shirking from his responsibilities, but he said he’s in the middle of a basketball game? Can you believe him? I had asked him to a month ago, and he still managed to forget! Anyway, it’s not like I can ask my parents because they’re dead—” 

“I mean, Old Reaper spares no one,” you chuckle. “He’s kind of a nasty fellow, that one. Always so grumpy.”  

The woman freezes, one hand in the midst of putting on a shoe. She turns around, stunned. “You spoke.” 

You frown. “Did you expect me to bark? Demons aren’t the same as dogs, you know.” You look down at yourself, confirming that you’re in the correct form. “And I don’t even look like one— at least, not now, anyway.”

_____

The actual fic is linked here! (Chapter One is, anyway) I made a few changes but overall it should be the same :)

[sinvulkt]

The Hundred Day Curse by SolaceInSpace ( @manufactured-pleasantry )

Gotham was literally cursed but no one believed Bruce. He took it upon himself to fix it and that solution came to him in the form of a little blue vial. Bruce was to take the curse within himself to temper it into something manageable. He didn't know for certain what the vial would do to him but that was inconsequential.

He brought the vial to his lips.

If anyone knew what he was doing, they would call him stupid and stop him but fortunately for Bruce, his family hasn't spoken to him for forever. There was no one here to stop him.

He downed the liquid and woke up as his nine-year-old self.

The hundred days dragged on like a hundred years. He was not even a third of the way complete and Bruce was already fraying at the seams. Why was this solitude so unbearable when he should be used to it? The world seemed so big and empty now that he was nine again and Bruce couldn't bear it. Ongoing, 90k words.

*** ** * ** ***

chap 3:

“…I’m aware that it’s due to my own shortcomings but sometimes, it feels like even the worst monsters have people that love them and yet I have no one.”

chap 11:

Bruce stood on the roof of Wayne Manor and fluttered his wings behind him. The strong wind ruffled his hair and caressed his cheeks. Most importantly, it got caught in his wings and made them flutter even more. Heart racing in his chest, Bruce took one step closer to the edge of the roof. He grinned savagely to himself and closed his eyes. The breeze was picking up, becoming stronger. Bruce waited. And waited. And waited. “STEP THE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE!” Bruce opened his eyes in shock. “Selina?!” Bruce lost balance and fell forward. “Red, catch him!” The wind roared and bellowed below him. “Holy shit!” Bruce flapped his wings and flew. The Gotham Sirens watched with jaws dropped to the ground. They were stationary aside from Pamela’s vines that still stretched towards Bruce even as he flew higher into the air. “Oh, you think that just because I’ve been gone for half a year, you can ignore me now? GET THE FUCK DOWN, BRUCE!” Bruce gulped. Oh no. Selina was angry. Real angry. Not the playful kind of angry she got into sometimes. No. This angry meant that Bruce fucked up. Real bad. (He vaguely registered that this was the first time someone had said his name in a long while. The fact that it was screamed in anger was… typical.)

[dixkens]

WIP Wed

Not sure if this will ever become more than a snippet... but here's more Muppets X James Bond crossover for those inclined to indulge.

-

“Are you… plush?” asked Bond.

The pig narrowed her eyes. “Is that British for fat?” she asked.

“What? No!” said Bond. “It’s… you’re real.”

“As real as you are handsome.” She held out her hand.

For a kiss, not a handshake. Bond liked her already.

“Miss Piggy,” she said, “enchanté.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Piggy.” He took her hand like the gentleman he was (or at least pretended to be) and kissed it with a smile and a flourish. “Bond. James Bond.”

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

If someone were to ask Harry what he thinks about his body, the honest reply is that he doesn’t. He spent most of his childhood ignoring the needs of his body, which he couldn’t meet thanks to the deprivations enacted by the Dursleys. It was easier to just shut down and go numb, disregarding the gnawing hunger, the absence of affection, the tight, enclosed spaces into which he was expected to disappear.

Being suddenly confronted with mirrors that spoke forced him to confront his reflection after a decade of not looking – because what good could come of looking? He could feel the black eyes his cousin gave him; he didn’t need to see them, too. 

Gazing into the mirror on one of his first days at Hogwarts, he noted his overly sharp cheekbones, his visible ribs, his collection of scars from cooking, cleaning, gardening, and Harry-hunting since he could reach the counter while standing on a stepstool. He wasn’t sure if other people couldn’t see him as he did, or if they were so caught up in look-just-like-your-father-except-your-mother’s-eyes that the reality of his appearance ceased to be important. In any case, he decided he’d been right not to look and continued on as he had done before.

Well, he thinks faintly. He’s looking now.

Proper nutrition for ten months out of twelve, quidditch, and regularly fighting for his life have allowed his body to fill out a bit and develop some solid muscle. He’ll never be bulky, but he’s no longer the emaciated waif he was at eleven. 

The garment skims along his body from shoulder to thigh in the front, with the neckline plunging to rest just above the line of his hips. The lace clings to his form in such a way as to give the illusion of slight curves which he definitely doesn’t have. It softens the angles of his lean musculature just enough to keep him from feeling ridiculous. He adjusts the line of his cock so it’s not quite tucked between his legs, but it’s also not jutting obscenely to the front or out the side.

Well.

He turns to look at his backside in the mirror, noticing that the panty line cuts across the cheek, making his arse look more ample than it really is. He tugs futilely at the edge in a bid for more coverage, but he only succeeds in snapping the elastic against his skin, his face warming from the sensation.

The look of his bare back leading down to the lace covering his arse is titillating, and his face flushes further, mouth suddenly dry.

His reflection in the mirror gives a long whistle. “Lookin' good, sweet cheeks.”

He sputters and turns back to glare at the piece of furniture, though he finds himself sidetracked by his appearance once again. He glides his hands down the front of the bodysuit, following the motion in the mirror.

And Harry is suddenly aware he’s not alone in his head.

Voldemort gives himself away with a momentary but notable mess of garbled emotions and thoughts echoing through the bond into Harry’s mind before a conspicuous silence takes over.

Harry spins away from the mirror to cut off the view of his lace-wrapped body, mortified. His panicked mind must put up some defence, or Voldemort is appalled to see his mortal enemy in lingerie, because his mind is once again empty and his own a moment later.

Fucking hell.

(Feel so damn, um, pretty)

[lablass-2882]

Fanfic snippet

A small snippet from the clone wars crack fic that I am working on.  This part just made me laugh way too much. 

Tech: ........is this normal?

Rex: Yes

Cody No.

Fox: Yes

Wolffe: Yes

Cody: NO.

Tech: I’m getting mixed messages.

: Cody removed Fox from chat:

: Cody removed Wolffe from chat:

Cody: Rex you can stay but you are on thin ice.

Rex: Oh, joy.

Tech: ......

Tech: ......... okay.

: Fox has been added to the chat:

Fox: I’m back bitches.

Cody: Who gave you that power?

Fox: I have my sources.

Rex: ......

Rex: ......... was it Senator Chuchi?

Fox: Riyo is.... one of my sources.... but she wasn’t the one who showed me how to do that.

Fox: Thorn did.

Cody: Focus on the situation at hand at hand please.

Rex: What situation?

Rex: This shit happens to me all the kirffing time and you don’t see me freaking out over it.

Fox: To be fair Rex-ie......

Fox: Your men are bat shit insane.

Fox: So no one is surprised.

Cody: Focus!

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday🍾

tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @rainbow-nerdss @disasterbuckdiaz @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @tizniz 💖💖💖

so I started a new wip🙈 (the cheating fic is still a priority tho!) this idea was inspired by the oth episode with Brooke's bachelorette party and a convo with @hoodie-buck about it 🙈🤣 it's gonna be ridiculous and a different first meeting, and I hope I'll write it the way it's in my head rn haha (also, there's gonna be switching povs lol)

___

(...) she takes a look at herself in the mirror, smudged make-up, wrinkled clothes, bags under her eyes, the white ‘bride-to-be’ sash dirty and stained, and a bit too bright to look at in the bathroom light right now. She splashes water on her face a few more times, as she tries to wake herself enough to figure out what she remembers last. 

Buck rented the room, they all had a few drinks here, and then went downstairs to the bar. It was supposed to be just a lowkey, small party. Everyone prepared a place to visit and something to do, but Maddie can only remember as far as leaving the hotel to visit some club Josh had planned. The rest is a blur.

And then it hits her. She’s seen almost everyone who was at her bachelorette party somewhere in the suite. Everyone except her man-of-honor. Instantly more alert, she walks around the room again, thinking maybe somehow she didn’t notice him before. But no, he’s nowhere to be found. Shit. She reaches into her pocket, intending to call him, and realizes her phone is missing, too. That’s a mystery for later, though. Now what the hell happened last night, and where is her brother?

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @underwater-ninja-13 @fortheloveofbuddie @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @buddieswhvre