#fic: wreak

[loverboy-havocboy]

you guys know you can comment on "old" fics, right? the author will probably still see it. it will still bring them joy. it's rough to pour so much time and love into something and then have fandom give it a shelf life of one week.

[feather-of-argos]

Chat noir: 'What's Felix like in your universe? Is he nice?

Claw noir: 'Whose Felix?'

Chat noir: 'Our cousin'

Claw noir: 'We have a cousin?!'

Commence Claw noir forgetting he supposedly has a doppelganger running around committing identity fraud until him and shadybug finally catch the infamous art thief who has been terrorizing the Louvre only to take off the mask Scooby-Doo style and gasp "Adrien Agreste?!"

[lulublack90]

Prompt 11 - Zonko's Joke Shop

@wolfstarmicrofic November 11, word count 775

Previous part First part

The room was pitch black when Sirius and Remus finally got their breaths back. Sirius shakily got to his feet. All these trials were exhausting him. He wondered how many more they would have to do. He’d thought for a moment that this was his mother’s doing, and she’d put them into an endless hell loop, but then he remembered what Dorcas had said and guessed this was the path to helping Remus.

He walked forward and instantly tripped over a box. He summoned his hellfire and immediately banished it. The room they were in was full of fireworks. One loose flame and they’d go up. He had spied a door a few steps away. Surely it couldn’t be this easy? He reached out and opened it. 

The door led into a shop; they were in the store room. Remus followed him into the dark shop. Sirius looked around; there was a lot of stock on the walls and on shelves. He went over to the nearest and picked up a rubber chicken. He squeezed it, and it let out a strangled honking noise as it refilled with air. There was a door leading outside, illuminated by a yellow streetlight on the street. Sirius went over to it and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. He put his weight behind it and nothing. He even tried breaking the glass, right where it proclaimed ‘Zonko’s Joke Shop’, but he didn’t even scratch it. He tried everything before slumping to the floor, all his energy spent. 

“Any ideas?” He asked Remus, who had been watching him intently. Remus stood, his large paws thudding against the wood floor as he moved forward. Remus sniffed at the lock and then wandered up and down the aisles, nose to the ground. 

Sirius drew his knees up, rested his arms on them and let his head hang down. He was so damn tired he just wanted to go to sleep. His eyes had only just closed when Remus let out a deep, booming bark. Sirius jolted awake and went to see what the problem was. 

Remus was at the far end of one of the rows of shelves and as Sirius approached he began to whine, swinging his paw towards a display of toy clowns. Sirius shuddered, he hated clowns. He looked closer though, as Remus became insistent. One of the dolls was holding the key to the door. He reached out to get it, but the clown jumped. Sirius yelped and the clown disappeared under the nearest set of shelves. “Little shit, bring that back!” Sirius barked, flinging himself on the ground and shoving his hand and arm into the narrow space between the unit and the floor. “Ouch!” He cried as he pulled his hand back. “It bit me,” He complained, but he tried again. “Keep on his Remus, don’t let him get away,” 

The problem was the clown could run up and down the entire aisle and dart across the floor and under another set of shelves before Sirius could get anywhere near him. “We need a better plan than this.” Sirius huffed as he looked around to see what could be of use in the shop. His eyes landed on an elaborate display of glass bottles. ‘Tempest in a Bottle’ they read with the image of a huge wave about to crash down. Sirius grabbed the lot. He also found some extra sticky glue. He went to the front of the store and began painting the windows, the door and the surrounding floor with the glue, the entire time the clown cackled gleefully at them from its hiding place. Sirius ushered Remus back into the store cupboard and set up the bottles. He knocked them all over and slammed the storeroom door shut. 

The sound of the wind and water on top of the darkness made it feel like they were trapped on a ship in the middle of a terrible storm. Sirius clung to Remus and prayed to Lucifer that this would work. Soon the wind died down and the sound of crashing waves dissipated and Sirius braved the shop once more. 

It was utter chaos. They had destroyed the entire shop, though the door and windows were still intact. Sirius scanned the debris for the clown and the key. He found it still clinging to the key, its colourful body stuck fast to the front door. It took more effort than Sirius expected to prise the key from its hand, but he got it in the end and shoved it in the lock, turning it with a satisfying clunk and exiting the trashed joke shop.  

Next part

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

top 5 wips you’re most excited to write? :D

AH …. anon my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 tysm for giving me an excuse to talk about them!!!! i have a whole bunch but here are the ones i’m most excited for/planning to write soon :3 hopefully

TITLES ARE STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION BTW but if you know where any of them are from you get a big gold star ⭐️

it’s your touch that i need

the best friend’s brother!satoru fic that i’m planning on posting next….. i’m . Unsure if i’ll have time to post it this week but :’3 i’ll get it done!!! honestly i just think bfb!toru is insanely attractive so this is mostly an outlet for that but . i have a plot mapped out kind of… the unrequited love trope is just perfect for him but it’s Me so it’ll probably be less angsty and more funny/bittersweet !!

here’s a snippet from it <3

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.” the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this? it’s a specific kind of torture. he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. there are lots of people out there for you. (i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know. but i want you.)

hunter, you were human

my neglected mer!sugu fic…… our beloved fish man….. one day. i’ll write it out. i’m having some trouble deciding the order of events + general formatting of the outline so 😭😭 i’m a bit stuck. i’ll get there though!!! this au has angst potential but it’s Me so trust that this will be fluffy and nothing else. lots of banter and cutesy moments. i have a lotttt of thoughts about this au and character/reader dynamic so….. i’m. really excited to eventually write it all out!!! i love him sm :cc

“i don’t really like freshwater.” … your eyes widen. his voice is silky, smooth, like a silver river running from the forked tip of his tongue; a melodic lilt that makes you think of the lullaby your mother used to sing you to sleep with. a long, slow moment passes you by, like the rocking of a rusty ship. silently, your tongue forms around a bundle of words, your mouth gaping like a fish out of water. staring at the merman in your bathtub. “you can talk?!”

consider the hairpin turn

THE BELOVEDEST OF THEM ALL …… my extremely neglected best friend’s brother!kenjaku fic T_T my magnum opus even . i started writing it out a while ago but had to stop bc i can’t decide how to format it …. i think it’d be best to tell the story through a lot of flashbacks but it’s difficult to decide where to put what flashbacks in a way that doesn’t disturb the flow, yk??? but i do have everything outlined and i’m super excited to finally post it :33 someday… bfb!kenny is the actual loml i have so much lore planned for him. this fic is just a whole bunch of yearning and tension… the tiniest tiniest bit suggestive bc he truly makes me ill.

nervously, your gaze trails towards the stairs. worried, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. kenjaku notices. a large palm cradles your cheek; making sure your eyes stay locked onto his own. ”don't worry about him,” he soothes, a rough thumb smoothing down your skin. ”it’s just us here… just you and me. why don’t you take a deep breath for me, hm?” (you do. without thinking. as if your body was waiting for instructions, waiting to satiate this gnawing desire to impress him, make him proud. be good for him.)  “now,” he exhales, in tandem with you, molecules mingling together. “do you want this?” 

only in the next world

ANOTHER DEARLY BELOVED WIP that’s been rotting in my drafts for a while ….. 👉👈 i think that out of all of these fics this is the first one that i wrote the outline to?? probably even before i made this blog. it’s basically just a canon-aligned au where gojo navigates his maybe-possibly-feelings for you, a new teacher at jujutsu high!! sooo really just my attempt to write what i view as a more canon-aligned gojo and his feelings towards love :3 mostly character-centered fluff and slowburn… some office au vibes…. i’m very fond of this reader!! and i love this version of gojo so bad i really hope i can do him justice…

“they’re a softie, huh?” shoko exhales — smoke drifting past her lungs, mingling with the cold air, a stench of tobacco that makes him crinkle his nose. ”they are,” she hums, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. a dangerously knowing look. “it’s not often someone captures your attention.” gojo smiles. ”is that what it seems like?” he drawls, almost a chuckle. closing his eyes and thinking of you, the fading scent of your perfume. ”well, who knows.” (certainly not him.)

signs of affection

my sickeningly fluffy cult leader geto fic <333 bc i’m spreading the agenda that he is a puppy of a man towards his s/o. this one is just meant to be funny and sweet!! i adoreee the thought of him dating a retired sorcerer with a normal ass job so in this one the reader works at a preschool…. and they’re meant to attend some kind of event for the preschool + is offered to bring a plus one. mild chaos ensues (geto doesn’t want to be anywhere near your non-sorcerer colleagues but he also wants to support you so he’s having a bit of a crisis rn…..) i LOVE this one and i’m so excited to write it out <333333 i think this geto is the most endearing man alive.

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering, gleaming under the shallow light of the lamppost just behind him. illuminating the peach-dyed flush dusting his ears, those wide pupils. and his lips, glossy with something cherry-flavoured, soon to curl up into a smile — fond, fond, fond. melting into your touch, basking in your long-sought attention. if he were a cat, you’re sure he'd be purring. he places one big palm over yours, where it rests on his cheek, and he stares. silently, like you’re the only thing worth seeing; dreamy galaxies inside his eyes, all honey and star clusters, leaking adoration. a milky way of love. ”… another,” he pleads, nosing at your fingertips.

[leiawritesstories]

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

Aelin Galathynius had a hand in just about every illegal dealing in all of Terrasen. Weapons, drugs, organized crime, the black market, blackmail, assassination, coercion, bribery–you name it, she was almost definitely connected to it. The only problem? Nobody could prove it. 

Rowan Whitethorn, fresh out of Terrasen’s elite special forces academy–known only as Doranelle for secrecy–was convinced he could unmask Aelin Galathynius. So convinced, in fact, that he’d managed to obtain special orders from his commander to do just that. The only problem? He had exactly three hundred and sixty-five days. If he couldn’t prove Aelin Galathynius guilty in one year’s time, he’d be booted down to corporal in disgrace. 

Something neither Aelin nor Rowan could have expected, though, was each other. When their paths cross–and oh, their paths will cross–who will come out ahead?

Coming Soon...

TAGS: please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[thirdeyeblue]

No One's Gonna Love You (1/3)

Pairing: David Tennant x Billie Piper

Rating: Eventually Explicit

Tags: First Time, Infidelity, Hurt/Comfort, RST, Smut

Read on Ao3

For one whole weekend, David is left to his own devices in his big, empty house — but what's meant to be a gift leaves him at a loss for how to pass the time.

That is, until he gets a phone call from one of his favorite people on Earth... One who could really use a mate.

We're reeling through an endless fall We are the ever-living ghost of what once was But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do No one's gonna love you more than I do

Friday, November 11th, 2023

It’s a cool November night in Chiswick: the leafy village-within-a-city nestled just west of central London. Rain has just begun to fall, starting with a light pattering on the stone walkway out the door — but in a matter of moments, it picks up to a proper deluge. 

Standing alone in the kitchen, David watches the weather rolling in through the darkness, a mug of mulled wine held beneath his lips. When he breathes in, it smells of cloves and cinnamon; of feelings it seems odd to allow himself to experience in this sort of quiet.

Drinking alone isn’t an activity he’s ever been keen on, but with the bottle being a gift from the in-laws — one they’d brewed up and bottled themselves, having insisted he enjoy it on his next ‘night off’ — it’s a request he doesn’t mind being beholden to just this once.

Furthermore, Georgia had placed the bottle right there on the marble worktop before she’d left, positioning it directly beside that ridiculous mug with his Hamlet headshot. 

The message was well-received: It’s time to take the candle you’ve been burning at both ends and extinguish it once and for all.

Well, fine. Bit of a foreign concept for an admitted workaholic, but he’ll make do.

The window overlooking the garden wears fog like a lacy veil, a frame of condensation forming against the heat of his 19th-century Victorian home. It’s the first properly cold evening they’ve had all season, having been experiencing something of a heat wave over the past couple of months — and it’s happened fast, too. Just this morning, he didn't even need a jacket, and now…

‘Hate to be out in that,’ David thinks as he finally takes his first drink, savoring the rich, spicy flavor as it envelops his taste buds. 

At once, a warm and dangerously pleasant sensation settles in his chest, and he thinks he won’t fault himself for heavy-handing the pour just a bit. No part of him intends to make a habit out of this sort of thing, of course, though it’s easy to see how one could — particularly given the wintery set and setting; the comfort such an indulgence brings.

Sheltered in his home, he feels comfortable and protected; shielded from the elements. Sure, autumn is a lovely season — possibly his favorite of the four, really — but rain this time of year is a ghastly thing, especially once the warmth of the sun has slipped over the horizon. 

It’s soothing being on the other side of the glass, guarded within his cozy fortress, thoroughly enjoying one of the more tangible merits of years of hard work.

Except… 

Well, it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? 

Aside from the mounting downpour, he can’t remember the last time it’s been this quiet inside the house. It’s one thing to enjoy the peace and quiet of a trailer or hotel room, but…

The part of his brain driven by instinct sort of half-expects Birdie to pipe up with an evening fright at any moment — she’s been susceptible to those lately, what with the shorter days — or perhaps for Ty to come wandering through the foyer with his face lit by the blue light of his mobile. 

Alas, no such risks exist tonight, and it’s — well. It’s odd, is all.

Another part of him wonders if he should feel guilty for taking solace in the stillness, but for a man whose familial cup usually more than runneth over, he tries (tries) to cut himself a bit of slack. He loves his family to the ends of the Earth, delighting in every opportunity he’s got to be present with his children — but it’s nice, he thinks: having one night to himself. Such a luxury is one he’s not been afforded in such a long time. 

With the Evening Standard Theatre Awards happening next weekend, then the first special of Doctor Who’s sixtieth anniversary airing the following Saturday (not to mention the utter mountain of press he’s about to be contending with over it), he really ought to take reprieve anywhere he can get it.

Normally, the only times he’s properly alone, he’s still on the clock. He’s in a hotel next door to a studio or bunking alongside a dozen other trailers, running lines to the end of the page and back again until he can’t fight the weight of his eyelids any longer.

That, or he’s rushing to get enough sleep in preparation to greet the press. With the way the years have begun to show in the lines of his face, ‘beauty sleep’ is something he’s had to learn to take just as seriously as his ‘skincare regimen’. David has never fancied himself vain, but in the words of his wife and daughters, ‘Nobody wants to go on the One Show looking like they’ve just been hoisted out from their grave, do they?’ 

But this weekend exists outside of those personal regulations. This is just for him: A gift. 

If anything, the guilt he derives should be from nothing but the fact that he hasn’t reached out to Georgia to thank her again yet. He tells himself that it’s because he’s waiting for her, not wanting to overwhelm her while she’s got her hands full. 

It’s got nothing to do with that little voice playing at the edge of his consciousness in these quiet moments; that corner of his brain that occasionally seeks and prods and yearns to be acknowledged. 

He’ll certainly not be acknowledging it now.

It’s the perfect evening for a fuzzy jumper, for which he's grown fond as of late. Tonight’s selection is white and soft, one he’s worn many times both on camera and off. The sleeves are so long that he’s got to hike them up his forearms a bit, but it’s so bloody cozy that he can’t be bothered to fuss about that. It’s like being enveloped in a hand-woven cloud; the perfect selection for a night to oneself.

There’s one problem with that, though — being the lone occupant in the normally bustling Tennant household… He’s had no idea how to fill the time. 

The morning was spent with Sunshine on Leith caressing his eardrums as he enjoyed a nice workout, and to cool down, he took Myrtle on a little jaunt around the block. Even met a lovely young fan when he was rounding the tree-lined apex of Silver Cres; a girl with long red hair and infinite freckles, and one who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. 

Out of nowhere, she’d come bounding out from one of the endless narrow brick homes wielding a calendar — one he was actually surprised to see had his face on… All these years and he’s still nowhere near being used to that.

The girl — Hannah, she was called — had announced that she couldn’t believe her luck, as she’d heard that ‘her Doctor’ lived in the area but never quite knew where. Furthermore, she’d remarked (with no shortage of dread) about how she thought she might not find him in time to have him autograph her birthday. It’d already come and gone, of course — but she said it was still good enough for her as long as she’d found him by year’s end. 

(Apparently, she wasn’t expecting her 2024 edition until Christmas)

The calendar was already flipped open to the appropriate page when she handed it over, and there he was: right there with the previous month printed right to the left of his wonderfully thick, Entirely Still Youthful hair. Against a backdrop of wood paneling, he stood glancing off in a white Oxford button-down, five o’clock shadow rampant in his 2009 Ellis Parrinder shoot.

David had signed the square for the fifth of October (a Thursday, he’d noted) and graciously accepted a hug, allowing Hannah to pet the older of the two family dogs to her heart’s content before he headed back to the house.

In the hours since, he’s gotten sucked into an Ishiguro novel, checked the mail, booked a roundtrip flight for a wedding next August, gotten pulled back into the same novel, and passed out on the living room sofa for some unbeknown period — long enough for the afternoon to turn to night.

Letting the dog out had been his first priority upon waking, during which time he’d sucked down a full glass of water, scrolled through photos of the kids (and a very happy Bernard; the pup they’d brought along) out on a hayride with their grandfather, belatedly solved the day’s Wordle (‘worry’ to ‘weary’ in two out of six, thank you very much), and begun the process of heating the wine. 

A saucepan filled about halfway with the dark liquid sat over a low flame while he’d raced down the hall to his bedroom, changed into his jumper and lounge pants, and returned to let Myrtle inside.

It’s been about ten minutes since he re-entered the kitchen; about five since he poured the pan’s contents into a tall mug. This one is a deep shade of magenta, bearing no markings — especially of his face. 

The Hamlet mug is good for a laugh with company, but while standing alone in one’s own kitchen?... Bit egomaniacal, really.

As David sips his seasonal beverage, attempting to decide what to do with the remainder of his evening, his mobile begins to buzz where he left it on a little table.

With a nearly silent yawn, he makes his way into the darkness of the adjoining hall, eyes landing on the illuminated screen. He doesn’t have to get very close before he sees his wife’s contact photo smiling up at him, along with the time — 9:37 PM.

He takes another drink and picks up the phone, swallowing as he slides to answer. 

“Two guesses to ‘weary’, is it?” Georgia greets, voice thick with mock indignation. “Should I have nicked the knives and bootlaces before we left?”

After a lighthearted tiff about the merits of Wordle integrity, he enjoys a brief goodnight chat with the family — at least, as many of them as she can pull into the periphery of the speaker phone. 

He’s told of the hayride, then of far-too-early Christmas cookies they’d bribed Sandra into helping them bake. There’s a bit of petty bickering in the background between Olive and Doris — clearly, a row that’d begun during the baking process; old wounds now reopened — and David settles their little squabble as quickly as he can, happy he can still prove useful even from clear across London.

After wishing everyone well, he’s rocked with a deep yawn as he crosses into the foyer: a reminder of the limits of his age. It’s bloody difficult staying up late without the energy of others to feed off of, and he decides right then and there that he’ll just go ahead and call it an early evening — sod it with the wine. 

Not much to do aside from watching a bit of telly anyway. He reckons that sounds rather nice.

As soon as he hits the switch to cast the room into darkness, however, his phone buzzes again.

There’s a smirk on his lips as he reaches into his pocket, retrieving a device that’s still warm from his cheek and palm. Probably Ollie looking to regale him with another victory over her younger siblings, if he were to fancy a wager.

As soon as he glances at the screen, he freezes.

Bills

It’s so unexpected; such a shock that he forcibly blinks to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. His gaze flicks back and forth over the letters a few times before he finally picks his brain off the ground for long enough to answer, bringing the mobile to his ear, a massive grin already lighting up his face.

“If it isn’t Ms. Billie Piper,” he says, his smile shining through his greeting. Propping his shoulder against the wall, he crosses one ankle over the other. “To what do I owe the pleasure on this dreariest of evenings?”

A few seconds pass in silence where he thinks they might’ve gotten disconnected, but right as he’s about to check, a small, shaking voice comes across.

“Dave,” she says, sniffling. “Erm… Hi, I-I...”

And then, as David's still wrapping his head around hearing her voice again, Billie breaks down. 

His heart crumbles as, with a swift kick, his sudden wondrous mood is knocked out from beneath him, toppling to the floor like a glass off a table. There’s nothing but sobbing on the other line, and the helplessness he feels — the powerlessness — is overwhelming.

“Oh, no no no — what’s happened? What’s wrong?” He licks his dried lips, glancing around as though he might find the solution hanging in mid-air; something to comfort his mate through her fits and starts. “Billie. Talk to me — are you hurt?”

“I-I… I’m sorry, I know this is…” She snivels heavily. “Bloody hell, this is so… s-so stupid, I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Shhh, shhh, c’mon, love — you’re alright.” Setting his mug on a table near the front door, he collapses on his father’s worn leather chair beside it, running his hand back through his hair. “Just — deep breaths, I’m right here….”

More sniveling, more sobbing, and David’s face falls further, to the point that he has to prop an elbow on his knee to press his forehead into his hand. “Oh, Bill.”

“I… was just,” Billie tries again after a moment, “I’ve been — at – at a wedding. M-My mate Candyce, sh-she got… married today.”

Each second of her grief makes his heart plummet a bit further. “Did something happen there?” he asks, a little jolt of panic shuddering through him. In today’s world, you never know what sort of loonies you might encounter at large events. “Is everyone alright?”

“No… I-I mean, yes, they’re — nothing’s… Everyone’s sort of, y’know, fine. Just… It’s John. It’s — h-he and I, we… We, erm…” 

She trails off, her breath shuddering against the mouthpiece.

Another tight clenching in his chest, and David squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge between them. He’s not had a chance to meet this particular bloke of hers, but when he and Billie recorded a podcast in 2020, some words were exchanged off-mic and off-the-record — words regarding more than a bit of trouble in paradise. 

That was three years ago, though. He thought they must have worked it out. 

Not that he thinks about it too much, of course. 

Still, he recognizes that tone. He’d heard it one too many times, once upon another life.

“Where are you?” he asks, and without hesitation, she tells him.

That’s how he learns that Billie Piper is not only in West London — she’s at the Pilot: a bar right there in Chiswick. 

She’s a five-minute walk from his house.

“Stay there,” he says, determined; already on his feet as he turns for the coat hooks. “I’m coming to get you.”

[synonymroll2121]

Toph and Nimona would be such menaces together

“I’m a shark!”

“Congrats I can’t see your a shark”

And then they go commit like three felonies in the name of “HEHEHE”

[dystopiandramaqueen]

The other Fred Murder Fic I wrote in 2018

Nick has the Eyes deliver Fred to June in a van deep in the woods. Nick recites scripture and let’s June make the kill.

Six Feet Deep + Ride or Die —> S4 Finale! 🙌🏻

[raz-writes-the-thing]

I hope you all know this is basically how I pick who/what I write at any given time.

And by that I mean- @denaliwrites picks a person and I yoinketh a request to fit that person lmfao

[mythicalmagical-monkeyman]

I need everything on not Mayor & Peng immediately👁️👁️

oooo, lol so basically it's about how Not Mayor and Peng meet after they both ditched the story after their respective season and then meet The hooded dude Thinking it will have some horror in it because Not Mayor is currently planned to be a homicidal maniac in it, so he has that going for him OH Also Peng falls into a dumpster They might also be gay for each other?

[crossbackpoke-check]

[loverboy-havocboy]

@theproblemwithstardust haha it was based mostly on vibes, because i think the only way to get boil to talk about his feelings is by force. although, the first fic i ever wrote on my own was a trapped waxerboil love confession - albeit, with lower stakes.

change of plans on ao3, if you're interested.

and i can't be sure off the top of my head, but this feels like something @cacodaemonia has to have written at some point

[dorminchu]

Wip Wednesday: Insult to Injury - Chapter VII

a/n: Chapter VII is very close to being done, hope to get there by the end of the month!

The broad man kept one hand in his coat pocket, in Safin’s line of sight. “Do you have the time?”

“James Bond,” said Safin. “Universal Exports.” The man wasn’t as amicable as he had been a moment ago. No doubt he was used to leading the conversations on the back of charisma alone. “You still work for the English?”

“For Queen and country. Beats a desk job.” 007 studied him. “Zahov, isn it?”

Safin exhaled in a plume of steam. “Our business was settled.”

“We were never formally introduced,” 007 said. “I thought this would be prudent.”

[stinkythehutt]

where do you think the jedi get their hair cut… can’t tell if it’s funnier for them to have an internal salon at the temple or to go out and get it done someplace. do they get a discount during the war??

[lets-wreak-havoc]

HEEEHEEE~!! i love the comment you left on my post, i didnt want to make it even longer by reblogging so i hope you dont mind me brainrotting in your asks. but yeah no, how i see sessnara i do think that their feelings were mutual and they did grow to care for one another. when it first started as naraku trying to manipulate sesshomaru (who is also his enemy's brother lmao), he didn't expect himself to become so enamored and then eventually care about him. but pure feelings like that are unfamiliar to him, so he grew frightened and betrayed sesshomaru first before HE could be hurt. but also because consuming him would be naraku's twisted way of still "keeping" him. but after that (at least in my interpretation!!!), sesshomaru finds and strengthens his familial bond with inuyasha, and his paternal bond with rin.

Finally getting back to you, the last few days been crazy for me 😂And I don't mind you sending asks. They're open, so anyone is welcome to send one or plenty☺️

I can totally see Naraku consuming Sesshomaru to "keep" him. Low key yandere vibes, but naraku's always scary and evil 😂 Naraku's like idk how to love you, so I'll consume you instead 🤣 have my quick shitty meme~

And yeah my hcs for sesshomaru with inuyasha and rin are pretty much the same as yours. I like to think inuyasha and sesshomaru make their amends (with the help of Kagome and Rin ofc) and become close over the years. I imagine they still have their little brawls but it's just for fun, not because they want to rip each others throats out and kill one another😂 And then Sesshomaru becomes a committed father/older brother to Rin and keeps visiting and providing for her, even into adulthood.

I was spit balling ideas in your og post about sessnara, I'm not sure how it'll turn out rn. I was just like "oh, how about this! and this! That's a good one too! So is this one! and and and..." I just typed everything that popped up in my head. Though my final products rarely stick to the initial ideas/plans I jot down. So it'll be a surprise with what I end up.

I did wrote down maybe it's one side for the angst/twist, but idk if I'll go down that route. Sessnara is so scarce. There's some fan art but not much fic (or maybe i'm just not looking). So I think I should make the feelings mutual between Sesshomaru and Naraku. we need more Sessnara rep!!

I'm actually excited about this fic and I absolutely love your hcs on sessnara. I'll continue squealing at them in the other asks

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

what is this?? gurt attempting to write a fanfic that's lived in her mind for like 3 years?? the night after inventory at her store wrapped up when all she REALLY wants to go is sleep for a whole week????