#i can continue with snippets like this or something anyone else is interested in

[revelry-in-severity]

For the world link au, I had the idea to make Byakkomachi a guard and Sakurako an assistant for Nene (the dream team) so they could be with her when the world glitches and they find Rui

The first train was just built in Nene's world and she's being given the chance to go first, but the program for the train wasn't completely tested and it goes off the rails for a second and lands in Rui's world. He's just different and was able to seal himself closer to the surface when his world was closed. Nene can sense the power coming from him and wants to help because he isn't waking up. Sakurako is very against this and Byakkomachi ends up being the one to carry him

And thus begins the complete and utter collapse of all worlds as Nene gets a step closer to meeting her Queen

[herejusttosufferalong]

RE:

A great watch. I had not seen this interview before especially what they say about SM and just you know remember to be nice!

I love this interview so much. I'd only seen snippets previously, so it was nice to be able to watch the full thing. They are so soft and gentle with each other, their gazes and physical closeness. So sweet. I find it REALLY interesting how N speaks and L reacts around 2:10 mark of the second video. I got a bit fixated and broke down some of their body language.

N says "I'm very grateful and lucky that L was my partner in this (the intimacy scenes)". He's looking in her direction and gives a little smile and says "yeah me too" and then looks down with a bigger smile, probably feeling a bit bashful in the moment. He keeps his eyes downcast and she says "there's a lot of love between us" to which he reacts by nodding his head gently in agreement, then she continues "as friends" and he closes his eyes (longer blink) and tilts his head back slightly to the side, interrupting his own nodding. Although a fleeting moment, these expressions can mean that he's doubtful about something and showing disagreement and/or distress at what's being said.

It's interesting too, how N changed her response in these types of conversations as the tour went on, saying instead "we have a real love for each other, I don't have a relationship like anyone else as I do with L". I really do believe that she was the hold up and maybe something clicked on tour. She was probably waiting to be pursued as she's mentioned in interviews, and something shifted to make her feel confident in their connection. Cough Italy cough Brazil. I'm no expert though, so it would be interesting to see what the body language relationship guy thinks or any other people who enjoy reading body language.

no notes

[h-c-u]

No longer a secret pt 1

Summary: You're a reporter in a secret relationship with Toto, and he gives you some great advice.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: 3.3k

Rating: PG, age gap

TWs: none

A/N: This is written for that one specific friend that doesn't have Tumblr, but I guess if anyone finds it by the tags, you can read it too ;) 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

- It's good to see you again Lewis! - you started your maybe 30th interview of the day. Even though you loved your job, you hated days like those with a passion. Not because they were intense, but because you preferred doing longer, more in-depth interviews, where you had the opportunity to get to know the other person better and dive deeper than "How do you feel about your placement?" or "What are your plans for the race?" because you knew that a diplomatic response for those type of questions was rehearsed and repeated dozens of times. But your network wanted you to tape those little snippets because your other interviews were so popular. Sure, more than once they had to be heavily edited per the request from the person interviewed, but you honestly didn't mind, because it was still good material, that you were proud of.

- It's good to see you too, Y/n, good to see you too. - he gave you a huge smile. Lewis was very easy to interview, especially after the longer interview you had with him last year, after which you occasionally talked and exchanged small birthday gifts... He was always trying to steer from obvious questions, because he was just so tired of them, and you happily obliged.

- Congratulations on placing so well in the qualis, but I have something else to ask you. Before the race, we were talking about your dogs, Roscoe and Coco. - he smiled again.

- We did, those little rascals... - he laughed quietly, suspecting where your next question might head.

- If they were to race against the others drivers’ pets, where do you think they'd land? - the question was definitely unusual, but you could just tell that he loved it, especially when he started listing all the dogs, cats, and even a few birds, considering all their advantages and disadvantages, with you making a comment from time to time. Technically those segments you did were supposed to be around 2 minutes per driver, but you didn't want to stop the conversation that flew so naturally, especially when you were building on his arguments or completely disagreeing with them. You suspected that this one will go to the network's YouTube channel as a special, and based on how much Lewis enjoyed his rant and theories, you suspected that it might do even better than the main interviews from today. And it was obviously the first time he was asked that, so people, especially the younger generation, might be interested and start to comment with their own predictions, which meant engagement.

At first, you didn't even notice that the wind picked up and gave you goosebumps, because you were so deeply invested in the conversation. Only when suddenly a wall of rain hit both of you, you swore in your head, regretting your choice of dress for today. Fortunately, it didn't become see-through, but it did nothing to keep you warm in the rain, and Lewis didn't even realize that something was wrong. He was still in his driver's suit... And honestly, you didn't want to interrupt the interview just because of a tiny bit of water. Ok, a bit more than a "tiny" amount, but still, it's not like you were going to melt, so you continued the conversation with a pleasant smile on your face, but you couldn't help the shiver that came over you after two minutes of being completely soaked.

In the corner of your eye, you saw someone getting close to both of you, but you didn't look straight at them, because you were in the middle of asking a question. Only when the person stepped in front of the camera, you turned your head and froze for a second, when you saw Toto Wolff with a spare jacket and an umbrella. You continued asking the question while he gently put the Mercedes-branded jacket over your shoulders, and gave a giant umbrella to Lewis to hold over the two of you since your hand was already busy holding the microphone. Without saying anything he left the frame and walked away, leaving you to continue the interview.

You couldn't help but smile for the rest of the conversation, which could, fortunately, be understood as you genuinely enjoying Hamilton's company, when in fact you were grinning from ear to ear, because that cheeky bastard gave you his jacket, and now you were completely surrounded by his scent, which tuned out the smell of burned rubber and hot metal, even though it was much more subtle.

You spent around 10 more minutes conducting the interview until there was a natural end to your conversation. You congratulated him again on doing so well and wished him good luck for the main race.

- Where do you pull those questions from, Y/n...? - Lewis laughed after the camera stopped rolling. - I always feel like we've been talking for less than a minute, and then I look at the clock... - you joined him in laughter, finally able to put your arms through the sleeves of a jacket that was way too big for you. At the same time, you turned the mic off and took a quick look at the camera screen.

- Yeah, we have over 20 minutes of footage, you're super easy to talk to, and I wish everyone was as open as you. - you gave him a smile. - But at least you made the last interview of the day actually enjoyable, so thank you for that. - he laughed, still holding the umbrella over you, while you were quickly packing your part of the gear. Your camerawoman was doing her job as quickly as you, and only after about 3 minutes you were both packed, with all gear protected from the rain. - I have a ride back, see you tomorrow. - you lied smoothly, but she didn't question you, so you both just waved each other goodbye, and she left the track.

- Thank you for that... - you pointed at the umbrella Hamilton was holding. - But I think I should return it to the rightful owner. Do you know where I might find him this late? - the question slipped easily from your tongue, even though you knew very well where Toto was because he was always there after any type of race. Although it wasn't something a regular reporter would know, so you felt obligated to ask, not to rouse any suspicion.

- Sure, he's still in the pit going through all the raw data from today... - you nodded, acknowledging what he said.

- Even after everyone left...? - you faked your disbelief.

- Yeah, he's like that during the season, nothing else matters. I mean, he's always like that, laser-focused... But he should really get a life. - Lewis chuckled as if he was in on a joke you didn’t know of, but you just smiled politely.

- That sounds... admirable. The dedication. - you clarified.

- True, true... I can walk with you if you want.

- Oh, that's not necessary. I'm sure Roscoe and Coco miss you. - you both laughed, and he passed you the umbrella.

- Yeah... Well... Can't wait for our next interview.

- Lewis Hamilton, are you offering me an exclusive? - you joked, and he laughed again.

- Maybe, maybe... Have your people contact my people and we might set something up. - this time you laughed, while he was walking away. - Take care, Y/n! - he waved you goodbye and started walking in the direction of the exit, while you headed toward the pit, from where most of the people were heading away. Few of them recognized you and gave you a small nod or a polite greeting, but when you finally got to the Mercedes station, you could count people in sight on one hand. You saw Toto from quite far away, but he was completely focused on the two monitors in front of him.

Since there was nowhere to knock, you just crossed the threshold and folded the umbrella. You got closer to him, and he finally realized you were there. You noticed him glancing behind you, making sure there was no one in sight, and when you were near him, he pulled you closer by the sides of his own jacket and gave you a short but sweet kiss; even sitting down, he was a bit taller than you. Admittingly, you wore flats today, and the chair was high, but still...

- Mein Schatzi decided to visit me, how lovely... - you couldn't help but smile, and even though you wanted nothing more than to get closer to him, you took a step back, and leaned on the side of his desk, so from far away it looked like you were just talking.

- I was actually hoping to catch a ride with you... - he raised his eyebrow

- Did you change your mind, love...? - he asked, and you sighed heavily.

- It's... complicated. - you finally replied, and he lowered his hand and put it on the inside of your knee so the small point of contact between you was hidden by the desk, but it still gave you comfort.

- Oh...? - he looked at you from behind his glasses, wanting to hear more.

- I'm seriously thinking about quitting my job, and I think today was the final push I needed.

- That sounds serious... - his thumb started gently stroking your naked skin.

- It does, doesn't it... - it was more a statement than a question. - I mean... I enjoy being a reporter, meeting all those amazing people, but I feel like being this type of a reporter... - you gestured around you. - ...isn't for me. It's too quick and too repetitive. It's shallow... - you sighed again and rubbed your forehead with your fingers. - And I know neither the sport nor the drivers are shallow. They’re deep, complicated, and nuanced, and I feel like the media flattens them down and cuts it all into digestible bites. It's not something I enjoy being a part of. And even though I have over 15 people interested in an actual interview with me, the network has scheduled only two. In a month. And it's just... - you groaned instead of finishing the sentence.

- Frustrating...? - he asked, and you nodded.

- Extremely frustrating. Because even if I resigned today, I'd still have to work for them for a month, and gods know what they'll want me to do... And after that - it's not like any network is searching for a full-time interviewer or looking for someone to fill a spot in the schedule. - you sighed again, slumping your shoulders. - Sorry for dumping it all on you, especially right now. - you added a bit quieter. You didn't even plan on talking about it with him when you were walking over, but it just... spilled.

- Don't apologize, Schatzi. - he gave you a small smile. - It's your life and I'm honored that you have decided to share it with me. - he pulled you a bit closer by your thigh, and you went. - Do you just want to vent, or are you seeking advice? - he asked, finally taking off his headphones, roughing up his hair with his hand, and giving you his undivided attention. Now even from the outside, this didn't look like a regular conversation, but no one was around... You appreciated that he asked because most guys would have started spewing possible solutions without taking what you truly wanted under consideration. But in this case, you could really use some counsel...

- Advice... - you said, your tone heavy.

- I think you should quit and go independent. - he stopped for a moment, letting the words sink in. - You are the best in long format, deep interviews, you don't shy from rough topics, and you can easily steer a conversation in such a way, that the other person just feels comfortable, even with complicated questions. And you enjoy making this type of content the most, no? - he made sure, and you nodded. - So objectively, I see two paths for you. Path number one - you go to any streaming network with a proposition of your show, and if they'll be interested - you could start taping interviews, but they will most likely have to be at a certain length and there might be some censorship required. Path number two requires much more work, especially in the beginning - you go completely independent and put your interviews online. - he went quiet, allowing you to process what he said. You never thought about putting your interviews online... You would have to hire a crew, editors, and someone to take care of HR, and PR... And at first, there wouldn't be a lot of money in it, only from minor sponsors and ad revenues, since you weren't exactly fond of putting the content behind a paywall. So, did you have enough savings to actually invest in something like that? Because it would have to be at least 10 interviews to get it going, so 3-4 months of paychecks for 10-12 people. A quick calculation told you that... somehow you could. It would be rough, but with sponsors... Yeah, you might be able to pull it off.

- I see those gears turning. Did I say something right...? - he smiled, and you immediately did the same.

- You did. You said something very right... In fact... - you took your phone out of your bag - I'm quitting right now... - you wanted to unlock it, but his hand covered the screen and stopped you from doing that. You looked at him confused.

- I know you wouldn't take money from me, but is there a chance I can offer you my lawyer? - he asked, but that didn't clear things up. - You've mentioned that your network booked you only two interviews in a month, and that... doesn't seem right. I'm just saying, let him look over your contract and if there is something that would allow you to quit on the spot, he'll find it. But sending your resignation right now might complicate things... - you carefully considered his offer... You knew he was right, but you were still hesitant to accept any actual help from him because your hyper-independence convinced you that if you did, nothing else you would do in your carrier or life would be of any value, because you didn't get it on your own.

- I will meet with him... - you said eventually. - Thank you. - you added, and the smile that bloomed on his face melted something in you. You just couldn't be in a bad mood with him nearby.

- It's nothing. - you wanted to budge in, but he beat you to it. - For me. For me, it's nothing, Schatzi. Can I kiss you now...? - he asked and when you nodded, he pulled you into his lap, finally kissing you properly.

- What the...? - you heard the familiar voice behind you, and you looked in that direction horrified. You managed to keep your relationship secret without slip-ups for so long, that you honestly thought all the things you did to avoid getting caught became second nature, but evidently, you became too comfortable.

- Fuck… - the swear left your mouth before you even realized it was forming. It's not like Lewis would blab about what he saw to everyone, but your first reaction was still fear.

- So, is that like a thing with a capital T, or did it just happen because he didn't let you get soaked today...? - he asked, and you wanted nothing more than for the ground under you to open and swallow you whole. Preferably with the last five minutes of this timeline. You cautiously looked up, but Toto was giving you free hand in handling it. Personally, you knew that he wanted your relationship to go public because he wanted to show you off to the world, but he never insisted; he knew you weren't ready yet, and when it mattered - he was a very patient man.

- It's a thing with a capital T... - you finally answered on the exhale, and you could see Lewis getting nervous.

- Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, coooooool... - you honestly wanted to laugh. - It's a good thing then, that I didn't ask you on a date today. - he blurted out and as soon as the words left his mouth he was horrified. You saw that he wanted to start apologizing, but you beat him to it.

- Yeah, polyamory isn't for me, sorry... I'm more of an "all in" kinda gal. - you laughed, and the atmosphere relaxed a little.

- So how long has this been going on? - Lewis asked and you couldn't help but smile.

- Officially... Just over a year. But it took me more to actually wear her down. That sounds bad. - you couldn't blame him for sometimes not getting the message across exactly as he wanted, since he spoke fluently in six languages.

- I didn't want to start a relationship with someone this important as soon as I started doing interviews around the tracks, because I didn't want to be treated differently. And I wanted to avoid all the nasty rumors that I've slept my way to the best interviews. - you quickly jumped in to explain your situation in more detail.

- Well, anyone who would think that is an idiot and clearly has never seen any of your interviews. - he complimented your skills, and even though it technically was true, you still felt weird receiving compliments.

- Thank you, Lewis. - you gave him a soft smile.

- And honestly, it's impressive that you managed to keep it under wraps for so long. - he added. - Anyway, I came back because I realized I forgot my phone, I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds alone. - he laughed, zeroing in on his cell.

- Lewis...? Could please not tell anyone? - you asked, even though you suspected you didn't need to. - I mean, beside Roscoe and Coco... - he chuckled and gave both of you a huge smile.

- Your secret is safe with us. Take care guys! - and with that, he was gone, and Toto couldn't help but laugh.

- That went... well. - you playfully slapped his chest, pretending to scold him. - Oh come on Schatzi, from everyone who could possibly walk in on us, he's the best option. - he defended his reaction, and you knew he was right. - But... - he started, and you almost immediately knew what he was going to say next. - Since you won't be around the track that much anymore... - he continued, and you chuckled.

- I know, I know... But please let's wait until my separation from the network will be officially announced, ok...? After that, you can tell the whole world what a lucky man you are. - you gently cupped his cheek and run your thumb over it.

- Then I'll better call my lawyer and set up a meeting for tomorrow morning... - he brought your hand to his lips and placed soft kisses on your palm and every fingertip.

- Does that mean, we can go...? - you asked. You knew that if you didn't, he would have most likely stayed here for at least another hour or two, but he just couldn't say no to you. You also understood that he still needed to work. - How about you'll take your laptop and do your thing while I'll cook dinner, hmmm? - you proposed a compromise. Usually, you were against working from home, but during race season this rule was suspended, because otherwise, you would only be able to see him for a couple of minutes a day, and that was definitely not enough. Plus, you knew what you signed up for - he needed someone who understood that the team was his life and that it wouldn't change for a while.

- Sounds perfect... - you finally got down from his lap, and started to take the jacket off, since it stopped raining outside. - Keep it, you need it more than I do. - he gave you a soft smile and started turning everything off. It didn't take long before you were leaving the pit, and you reached for his hand to place it on your waist. He looked down at you, but didn't say anything, just smiled... And you knew everything will be all right. 

Part 2

A/N 2: Please don't feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be much more appreciated :) Love, G.

[ladydisharmony]

fluttercord fanfic snippet :)

some context:

so, i’ve started re-writing bride of discord. arguably the most popular fluttercord fanfiction to date, written by DisneyFanatic2364. i grew up anticipating each episode of the audio drama; i loved it. however, rewatching it (as i’ve done multiple times to torture myself) has made me realize it has not aged well at all. discord’s characterization, the lack of actual chemistry between him and fluttershy and the constant weight of their circumstances, applespike, among other things range from uncomfortable to problematic. because of this, i’ve wanted to take the plot and mold it into something that fixes those issues as well as divulge more into the characters and their feelings.

i haven’t actually read the fanfic (before i continue this i want to read through it one time, to be fair), i’ve only consumed the audio drama, but considering how poorly the characters (most notably discord) are written in the audio drama i can’t image there is much more i’m missing. no hate necessarily, DF just isn’t, or wasn’t, the most skilled writer in my opinion. as a warning, i’m no author either, but i find joy in writing from time to time and i do think i have something of substance.

in my re-write, i have fluttershy taking interest in discord in his hiding period. i think it makes it more interesting that her fear subsides and is replaced by a want to learn about him and where he came from. it gives her a personal incentive to accept his deal without her feeling like she has to because she has no other choice. she doesn’t really want to marry him, but she isn’t being tormented by him after his disappearance nor is she completely miserable in her stay at his estate.

speaking of the deal, when asking for a bride, discord doesn’t really intend to take the marriage seriously. i’m still considering if i want him to ask for this out of hopes one of the elements will come forward, or if he just narrow its down, saying that one of the elements has to “give themselves up”. either way he hopes to ensure or IS ensuring the keeping of their word when they say they won’t use the elements against him. there isn’t a wedding or anything of that nature, that’s too boring. the proposal is them being married and then fluttershy is just someone living in his house that he has to feed sometimes. i want her to still have contact with her friends in some way. discord doesn’t want any conspiring, so either letters or a ‘one person at a time�� visitor rule.

just two of the changes i’m making still working it out but that’s some of my base ideas . if yall have any suggestions i’d love to hear them as im open to critiques or any other ideas, tho there is no guarantee ill adapt to them.

without further ado, here is the snippet. if yall like it enough i’ll continue and publish the chapter :)

➽───────────────❥

The Chaos dimension had made a great home for Discord the last year. It had everything he could possibly need, save anyone to torment. That wouldn’t be an issue soon, however. The Lord of Chaos had been lying low in his little window outside of reality, waiting for the right time to reintroduce himself. he was growing bored of waiting. Discord admired himself in his living room mirror. It was upside down and attached to the wall at an angle, leaving it crooked and ineffective as a floor-length mirror. He was looking at his upside down reflection when it started betraying his movements.

“Can you *please* find something else to do when you’re thinking,” his reflection crossed it’s arms over it’s chest and outstretches its neck, pushing it through the glass threshold effortlessly, “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me.”

Discord rolled his eyes as his reflection-Who he deemed ‘Secondcord’- pulled itself from the mirror completely. “Well you know me, I have an affinity for the chaotic and strange,” he teased his doppelgänger with an un-serious smirk on his face, stepping out of it’s way as it glided to the floor. “Speaking of chaos, I believe my time to shine is closely approaching.” Discord stepped closer to himself, bringing his eagle claw to tap Secondcord’s nose.

“The Gala?” It swatted his hand away, “how clever to pop up on them while their energy is focused elsewhere. That is, until you consider they still bare their elements and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh please, I evaded them before-”

“Narrowly. You evaded them narrowly.”

“So I know what to look for! Flashing lights, a big rainbow. That’s not hard to miss. Besides, the plan I’ve been concocting should save me from having to worry about the elements at all!” He falls back and motions his paw, a lawn chair appearing to break his fall. With a snap, a wine glass rests in his palm. Secondcord watched unamused as he took a sip.

“Oh, a plan to deactivate the elements? Do tell! Seeing as your magic is *completely* ineffective in removing them from their bearers I’d love to know how you plan to do so. I sure do hope that whatever that hamster brain of yours is thinking is more permanent than reversing their personalities.” It picked at it’s talon claws, pretending to find them interesting, “Perhaps you’ll encase *them* in stone? Or maybe turn them into wooden puppets, unable to make their own decisions. Oh, I know! You’ll turn the six lapdogs into beautiful paintings and hang them above your mantel. How cruel, to make them watch you have all the fun from above your ‘waterplace’.” He looked to the aforementioned ‘waterplace’, wiggling his fingers. Red water spouted from wooden logs like a backwards waterfall, up into a never-ending chimney.

“Well if you’d stop listening to the sound of your own voice, I’ll tell you.” Discord’s eyes are closed as he takes another sip, then hums. “Although, I do like the sound of that last idea. Maybe I’ll store it away for Lady Loyalty.” He sat like he was a woman suntanning at the beach trying to seduce the person of her affections, “Or maybe for you? it would certainly save me from your sarcastic remarks.” As he takes a third sip of his wine, it’s apparent that the amount of liquid in the glass is unchanged.

“The plan,” Secondcord barked, sick of Discord’s tendency to dance around every single thing he was trying to say.

“Oh you buzzkill, I can never poke fun with you. *Fine*. I’ll strike a deal or two with them.” Secondcord furrowed his brow and lifted his head at his counterparts words, egging him to go on. “I can’t touch their elements, no, but i *can* make it to where they can’t use them. I’ve taken Twilight’s horn before and I can take it again, this time I’ll only give it back if they promise to not use the elements in return.” He lifted himself from the lawn chair, both it and his drink disappearing in a puff of smoke. He began to pace, miscellaneous sounds coming with each of his footsteps. “I have a few other cards up my sleeve, but that’s to be played out.”

Secondcord tilted his head and feigned disinterest, but his amused smile was apparent. “Well, I suppose it’s a step up from you last attempt, I’ll give you that.”

➽───────────────❥

[escespace]

Merlin and Arthur BUT...

An undercover reconnaissance mission has gone wrong. Not just one, but three knights from Camelot's elite group are wounded, and after a night in the woods, they're out of medical supplies so Merlin has started looking for herbs that serve specific functions such as antiseptic or analgesic, if possible he also looks for muds that Gaius taught him and other useful elements to mix improvised poultices. He has made improvised bandages and immobilization splints, and even more impressive, improvised thread and carved a wooden needle in case stitches open.

But no one seems too worried, even though they are facing a return trip of almost three days. Arthur is on the edge of his nerves (although he doesn't show it because kings don't do that) and he's not the one with the multiple lacerations of Gwaine, or a nearly fractured ankle as Elyan, or that bleeding head bruise that made Percival vomit even what he ate as a child. Instead, whenever they are not resting or too far gone in their pain, the knights joke and chatter as if it were just another hunting trip.

Arthur doesn't understand it, but he's not one to look down on his men keeping their morale high even in bad times So he makes a comment about how everything will be okay and that they shouldn't worry, which is responded to with:

«Of course, there is no one else who would take better care of us» Placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder to playfully shake him

And they may say it in a light-hearted way, but It is evident that they mean it and sue him! But Arthur is surprised.

Somehow that comment paved the way for the anecdotes to start flowing. Like the time Gwaine ended up splitting his head open trying to escape from an engaged lady's room jumping from roof to roof and as Gaius was treating a family outside It was up to Merlin to sew it, and there was no scar left after that !

Leon also contributed his own story of a time when a rabbit It didn't sit well in his stomach during a mission through the woods and if it hadn't been for Merlin it might have ended up compromising the success.

Stories came and went and Arthur couldn't stop thinking. Because his problem wasn't that he couldn't reconcile the fact that all his most trusted men were praising Arthur's ability to cure them, no. His problem is why the hell he can't reconcile that idea. The boy has been studying with the best physician in Camelot for almost a decade It would be hard to believe if he didn't learn anything, right? RIGHT????... Damn! But he's not even a boy anymore. When did that happen? What's even happening? Merlin does not change, Merlin is Merlin, he is his only constant, he is a force that ground him.

Anyway, this idea is in my head as a kind of 3+1 that I'm not sure I can develop. If anyone is interested in writing it, feel free to do so BUT TAG ME PLEASEEEEEE. i want to read something around this lines...

The other scenes I could think of have to do with taking care of some children while Arthur thinks Merlin is in the tavern and he is looking for him then late arthur embarrassed himself through a series of comments In front of someone (possibly Gwen or a courtier) who does know where Merlin is thinks Arthur is making reference to sick children... And a snippet of Arthur being a baby for just a minor cold and Merlin being the only one he allows to take care of him even though he continues to underestimate his medical knowledge until suddenly damn! Merlin knows what he's talking about BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, he is the only one he would let see him in such a state and that is why he only allows him to help him and it's not only out of convenience as he first thought ... It would end with Arthur defending Merlin in front of some older people (perhaps) who doubt his ability because they see him too young.

[lonelychicago]

tagged for fuck it friday by the lovelies @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela @disasterbuckdiaz @malewifediaz @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @thewolvesof1998

here's a lil something from the marriage of convenience fic <333 since it's@monsterrae1's bday and this fic is for her, i thought it would be fitting to share a snippet from it. 🥰

(also this kinda sucks so pls be nice)

"What about Chris?" Buck rasps out, even if he knows he'll end up saying yes anyway. "What does he think about all of this? Is he even—?"

"He's on board." Eddie cuts him off, his cheeks tinting a darker shade of pink. "He might have been a bit confused at first and he wasn't excited out of his mind exactly… but he's on board. He said he always wanted to be a big brother and if that means you'll be living with us full time then he doesn't see the downside." Eddie smiles, soft and gentle.

"He won't help change diapers, though, and I have to buy him some new headphones so he won't listen to the baby cry all the time." He adds, amused.

Buck can't help but to huff out a weak chuckle at that.

"You've really put a lot of thought into this, huh?"

"I have." Eddie raises his chin almost defiantly. "How would this even work? If we get married? What will happen if you wanna date or if you wanna bring someone home, or if—?"

"I haven't dated anyone in almost a year, Buck. And honestly? I don't have any interest in doing so." Eddie clears his throat and looks down, a small crease forming between his brows as he crosses his arms against his chest defensively. "I'm done trying to force these relationships with women I don't really care for. It's not fair to them and I'm really tired, so… Yeah. You don't have to worry about me."

"You say that now…" "And I mean it." Eddie's gaze locks with his and there's a fire in his eyes, his jaw stubbornly set. "I'm done dating. I wanna marry you, I—" He clears his throat and hesitates a bit at this but then continues like that flicker of doubt never happened. "It's purely platonic. I just wanna help you get Luna, be able to take care of her like I know you want to. I can do this, Buck. Let me do this for you."

"Okay." Buck whispers finally, after a few seconds of silence. His heart is beating hard in his chest and he staggers forward, stepping closer to Eddie as he feels his legs wobble and his knees go weak with how much he wants this, how much he aches for Eddie right in this moment. "Okay." He repeats, a little bit louder, but his voice shakes and trembles embarrassingly so.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Buck lets out an almost hysterical laugh, full of disbelief and awe. "Yeah, I'll marry you."

tagging (no pressure): @rainbow-nerdss @bigfootsmom @buddierights @watchyourbuck @eowon @devirnis @tails89 @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @rogerzsteven @prettyboybuckley @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @maygrantgf @housewifebuck @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @exhuastedpigeon @jeeyuns and anyone else who wants to share something <333

[geesevillain]

not me deleting the first draft cause it's been a year (almost two) and i don't know how to navigate tumblr anymore. :)

cw: mdni, gender neutral, yandere themes, stalking, suggestive language, he's a pervert, snippet of him masturbating

yandere neighbour with whom you have never met, nor know that he even exists. he's not complaining, though. if he doesn't exist, then he can freely watch you without you noticing him. he's like a phantom; a fleeting shadow that steers clear of your sights.

yandere neighbour who owns the apartments on either side of your flat. he couldn't have the previous owners, or anyone, for that matter, listening to you go about your day. what kind of lover would he be if he let someone else hear something so intimate? he'd be damned if he let them, so he killed them for you.

yandere neighbour who doesn't even try to hide what he does on the other side of your shared wall. in fact, he tries to make even more noise just so you know he's there. he wants you to know just how much you affect him, even if you two haven't exactly seen each other in person.

ㅤhis hips continue to thrust into the fleshlight, his thighs shaking and his headboard banging against your shared wall. he wants you to hear what you do to him. please just ignore the fact that the banging doesn't last long. the mere thought of you has him spilling his load all over himself. he can't help it. you're just too beautiful.

yandere neighbour who dedicates one of his apartments to the people who simply gazed in your direction. the barista who smiled at you at the cafe you frequent? gagged and chained to the kitchen floor. he doesn't even stop them when they start to bang on the wall. he wants you to hear them, to know just how far he's willing to go for you.

yandere neighbour who drilled holes in the wall while you went on a short trip. he just wanted to see you more, to have a glimpse into the life you led inside your flat. he doesn't regret it either. he's driven mad for you, so much so that the floor under the peepholes are covered in stained tissues. he just loves you so much that he can't help but touch himself, even if you're just doing the most mundane things.

yandere neighbour who knows your schedule by heart. he's up way before your alarm even chimes, his face shoved against the wall and his eye peeping through the drilled hole. the sight of your sleeping figure has his breathing growing a little heavier. he wants to pet your hair, to lick the drool off the side of your mouth, to have you wake up to him instead. you will, don't worry. it's inevitable, darling. you're his, so you'll wake to him instead of that annoying alarm soon.

yandere neighbour who only met you on accident. you had deviated from your usual schedule and had literally bumped into each other. he couldn't help but stare at you the entire encounter. you were just so fucking beautiful. you even smelled beautiful too. he didn't care if he was making you uncomfortable, for he was much too interested in taking in what you looked like up close.

yandere neighbour who couldn't get you out of his head after your short encounter. you looked so lovely, so fucking lovely that you were practically etched into his mind. and your scent, fuck, it made him feel dizzy. he wanted to smell you again, to see you again. no, no. he needed to smell you again. he wanted to bury his face in the crook of your neck and just breathe in your natural scent.

yandere neighbour who couldn't help but be around you all the time. he suddenly existed, no longer the shadow that silently watched you live. it was your fault for deviating from your schedule. he wouldn't have gotten so fucking obsessed if you were good and stayed away from him. why would you eat away at what little sanity he had left? why would you do that to the poor guy who was so content in watching you through his blinds?

ㅤ"we really should stop meeting like this," he teases breathily. he helps pick up your scattered laundry with shaky hands. he bites his lip to hold back a moan when he catches a glimpse of your dirty underwear. he already had a couple pairs under his bed. he made an effort to not take a pair every time you two collided. it'd be obvious if he did, and he certainly didn't want you to think he was a creep.

yandere neighbour who finally gets the courage to break into your apartment. it's when he rounds the corner to your front door that his blood freezes in his veins. there's a fucking camera in your window? darling, he hadn't even entered your place yet. was someone bothering you? or were the noises coming from his second apartment scaring you? he'd kill the fuckers instead of torturing them. just be good put the camera away, doll. he means you no harm. he just wants to love you. <3

[ennawrite]

wrote a *small* snippet for my future Elain x Emerie fic :)

(includes a sapphic relationship, obviously)

tags: @illbdamned 🤎

Premise for A Court of Cinnamon and Violets:

Elain and Emerie quickly find themselves to be good friends when they both have a difficult time falling asleep at the House of Wind. They confide in the other about what keeps them awake at night, and Emerie introduces Elain to the beautiful world of romance novels.

A few days later, Elain pays a visit to Emerie in Illyria to return her book, and finds the lack of color (and flowers) in the camp to be appalling. Emerie and Elain strike up a deal, and Elain finds herself in charge of decorating Emerie’s store.

As the weeks go by, Elain realizes that flowers aren’t the only thing blossoming in the shop and that maybe, there’s a bit more to her friendship with the Valkyrie. Elain finds herself grappling with her (still unaccepted) mating bond, her feelings for Emerie and the heaviness that comes with choosing in a world designed to pick for you.

🪶Continue reading to read the snippet!🪶

“Do you…” Elain’s voice trailed off, and she diverted her gaze from the female’s eyes, shaking her head quickly. “It’s stupid, never mind.” 

“Do I what, Elain?” She asked earnestly, placing a warm hand on Elain’s bare forearm. Goosebumps trailed across Elain’s entire body at the simple, friendly touch. 

Elain shakily brought the cup of tea to her lips and took a small sip of the warm, spiced tea before placing it back on the table. She cleared her throat, staring at the swirls of cinnamon and milk in the dark brown liquid. The color so similar to the eyes she could not bear looking into as she continued, “Do you think these romance stories only work with me—males,” She quickly corrected herself. Men no longer existed in this world, only males. Always a damn male. “As the love interest? Or could there be…something else?” 

“Elain…,” Emerie said softly. Elain could practically hear the pity in her voice and she sunk deeper into her chair when Emerie removed her hand. Emerie stood and walked away. Elain silently cursed herself for being so openly stupid with her thoughts. 

She listened as Emerie rummaged around with something. Elain did not have the courage to look up and see what she was doing. Instead, she stared at her tightly gripped hands in her lap. Perhaps a better female would have bolted out of the door by now, or laugh her question off as some joke. But Elain stayed frozen, as she often did when it felt like the world was crashing down on her. Her heart was beating rapidly, her vision turning blurry. Oh, gods, she could not cry now. That would be—

“The beautiful thing about romance,” Emerie spoke into the heavy silence, interrupting Elain’s thoughts. Elain sucked in a breath as the female set a stack of books on the table. “Is that anyone can be the love interest. Male or no.” 

Elain drew her eyes up to the Valkyrie’s face, mouth agape. She knew she probably looked stupid, with the confusion so plainly written across her face. But Emerie just grinned widely at her, her dark brown eyes twinkling in the dying sunlight. Elain’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

“I do not often share these books with other people, not even Gwyn and Nesta. There are…things that not everyone will understand. Especially not in Illyria,” Emerie said, smiling sadly. “But I trust you, Elain. And I think you will find what you’re searching for in these books.” 

[thescrapwitch]

Many Lines Monday

Thank you @eilinelsghost for tagging me to share a snippet of a WIP. My brain has been very sluggish these past few days, but here's a bit for the next chapter in Those That Remain:

“Excuse me?”

Daeron looked up, startled. He couldn’t remember the last time a mortal had been able to approach him so quietly. Maglor seemed just as surprised. “Can we help you?” asked Daeron. 

“I hope so,” said the man. Dark haired and gray eyed, with a thin face and glasses. An American - New England? - accent decorated his words. Daeron leaned back in his chair, ready to tell the man to leave them alone and then - 

And then his thoughts blurred together. Became muddled. Disorganized. What had he been about to say? 

Something had been wrong, hadn’t it? He couldn't remember what. Daeron stared at the man, his eyes drawn to a strange piece of jewelry he wore around his neck. A pendant made of black iron, an abstract shape of circles and curls. Almost like three eyes, staring back at Daeron. Watching him. 

“It's wonderful to meet you both,” said the man. “I’ve read so much about you. May I sit here?”

“Of course,” said Maglor. He sounded as dazed as Daeron felt. A problem. That was a problem, wasn’t it? 

We should be telling him to go away, thought Daeron. But he looked so friendly. So easygoing. So harmless. The pendant on the man’s neck continued to hold Daeron’s attention. No, let him sit. We should let him sit, because…because… His brain struggled to think of an answer. His brain struggled to think anything at all, only that the man was nice and shouldn’t be scared away.

“Thank you.” The man sat between them, taking Lindir’s chair. “Maglor and Daeron, correct?”

“Yes,” said Maglor. “You…know our names?”

“Of course I do,” said the man, smiling.

“Of course you do,” said Daeron. His eldritch eye had gone numb, the vision in it becoming so cloudy he could barely see. Shouldn’t I be worried about that? No, worried about what? I’m not…this is…everything is fine. Of course my eye doesn’t work. Of course he knows our names. There’s nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. 

“You took me longer than I thought to track down,” continued the man. “But I am so glad I was successful. So glad! I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for years, you know. Both of you have been very inspirational to my work. It's an honor to meet you in person, and I look forward to using - ”  

“Excuse me.” Lindir, three drinks precariously balanced in his hands, chose that moment to join them. He glared down at the man. “You’re not bothering my friends, are you?”

“Not at all,” said the man. He gave Lindir the same warm, harmless smile he’d given Daeron and Maglor. “You are…?”

“Lindir.” The smile and soft words did not work. Lindir’s suspicion remained strong. He didn’t even glance at the strange pendant. “I’m Lindir and they’re my friends and you’re sitting in my chair, so if you could please move that would be greatly appreciated. Who are you, anyway?” 

“My apologies,” said the man. He stood up, letting Lindir reclaim the chair. “How stupid of me to forget something so vital. My name is Robert Harrison Blake.” He waited a moment, sighed when none of them showed any signs of recognition. “You all must not do much reading. I am an author of speculative science. A very well-known author, and a pioneer in my field. The Hunter of the Dark, The Stars Beneath the Crypt, The Devouring Fear; all of them are my work.”

“Never heard of them before,” said Lindir. “Did you come here to sell us books? Because this village already has a bookstore, and unless you’ve written something about music we’re not interested.” 

“No, no. Not that. My true intentions are far more noble.” Robert smiled, turning his attention back to Maglor and Daeron. “I have a business proposition for the two of you.”

Tagging: @chthonion @dreamingthroughthenoise @lordgrimwing @arofili @aroace-moron @tilion-writes and @awwyeah107 and anyone else who wants to join in. No pressure, of course!

[maximoff-pan]

why do fools… | steve harrington (preview)

steve harrington x fem!reader | preview of part one of ??? | 3k words (so far)

summary: you never thought being Jonathan Byers’ best friend would get you into so much trouble, you also never thought it would lead you to him: Steve Harrington…

warning(s): bullying, retelling of season 1, asshole steve and his asshole friends

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a number of months and I haven’t had the time to work on it, but I was wondering if this series was something anyone would want before I continue it… it’s essentially a rewrite of stranger things (hopefully all the seasons but for now starting with seasons 1 and 2) with bestfriend!jonathan and a future steve x reader…

So, if you’d like, take a little read of this snippet and see what you think! Let me know if you’d be interested in this in the future :) comments and feedback are greatly appreciated

• ж • ж •

“Mom’s convinced it was him.”

Jonathan’s elbows rest on his knees as his head drops in defeat. His ankles reach the edge of your bed creating a right angle with the remaining length of his body.

The urge to fall back and just lay there forever passes through his mind. He wants nothing more than to forget this nightmare he’s living.

“Him?” Your stomach turns. Inferring on what you think he’s trying to say seems like the easiest option, albeit risky, but you’re not quite sure you want to assume anything just yet. Maybe he’s talking about his dad, or Hopper, or God knows anyone else. Him doesn’t have to mean him.

But as he turns his head to face yours, you can tell by the look in his eyes that your original assumption would have been correct. So, you tread carefully posing, “What exactly do you mean by that?”

The expression that crosses his face is heart breaking, the moonlight casting an eery darkness across his cheek. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him since...well since this entire shit storm began.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize bashfully. You don’t know if he can see it, but you’re struggling with this almost as much as he is.

Jonathan exhales shakily from beside you, waving off your apology gently. If anything, he’s glad he has someone to go to at all. “Last night on the phone.” He clarifies, voice muffled from the sound of his face pressing up against his palms. He’s worried you’re going to think his mom’s crazy, or better yet, that he’s crazy for even thinking of believing her.

And maybe they both are, even if just a little. Regardless, he knows how weird this is going to sound.

“What?” Your brows furrow in confusion.

Caving in to his subconscious, Jonathan allows his body to fall, until his back hits the plush of your mattress.

“Someone called late last night,” he admits with a sigh. “Mom picked up and they just started breathing into the receiver—” He cuts himself off with another deep breath. “Then the power surged and took the whole thing out. Mom swears she heard Will breathing. But she said it was like he was somewhere else, like she could feel him in the walls or something.”

Eyes dropping suddenly, your heart lurches. “In the walls…” You repeat the words breathlessly. But your voice doesn’t go up at the end of your sentence; you’re not asking a question, merely echoing him, as if you’re trying to convince yourself that what he said is exactly what you heard. 

You trail off slowly until the only thing you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears. Falling back beside him, an exasperated puff of air leaves you as your body makes contact with the mattress. 

“God. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.” Jonathan groans, dragging out the first word like some kind of prayer, even though you and he both know he’s never believed in God a day in his life. “I sound so—” he struggles, before you provide an answer for him.

“…fucking crazy?”

And he actually laughs for the first time in over two days. Because that’s exactly how he feels. Fucking crazy.

“Pretty much.” The breathless whisper falls from his lips without so much as a second thought.

And you chuckle lightly to yourself as a blanket of silence engulfs you, leaving you momentarily to your thoughts.

It’s not an entirely difficult concept for you to wrap your brain around. The implication that there’s some inter-dimensional phenomenon at play in Hawkins is nothing new to you. If you’re being honest, hanging around Dustin Henderson as often as you have has opened your mind to some pretty out there scenarios.

The kid’s got so many bogged up, bat shit crazy ideas of what’s roaming in the shadows that almost nothing can surprise you now.

Let’s see… Aliens? Not really. The shock factor on that one died out a long time ago, what with the release of all those extraterrestrial movies that Dustin keeps dragging you to. How about, monsters that go bump in the night? Not even close. Or, god forbid, mutant children with super human powers? Now that one’s a little harder to digest, but Dustin Henderson has his own hypothesis (with albeit somewhat convincing evidence) on why all of the above exist. Because of course he does.

And most of the time, you’re just playing along with him to keep him busy, but now? Now you’re not entirely sure he’s so far off from reality.

But then again, you’ve always entertained some of Dustin’s (and hell, even Joyce’s) more adventurous theories, while others have been less than keen to, writing them off as the town’s conspiracy nuts. Let alone the likes of Murray Bauman… He’s been driving Hopper mad for a few years, but you’re starting to think that maybe there’s some truth to his wild conspiracies. A glimmer of hope to his madness, if you could even call it that. 

“I know how it sounds.” Jonathan’s voice is soft, but mellow, breaking the silence delicately, (you almost laugh, as if Jonathan Byers knows how to do anything harshly). It cracks at the end, like a choked up sob. He’s not quite crying, yet it sounds like he’s on the verge, barely holding it together as it is. 

It’s so hard to see him this way. But it might be harder to feel it too. Because despite having known Jonathan for what feels like forever, you’ve known Will for just as long, loved him just as long. In a strange way, he’s your little brother too, blood be damned.

Exhaling softly, you wring your hands together. It only takes you a couple of moments to collect yourself to respond, trying to banish the sadness from your tone. With everything that’s in you, you don’t want him to hear your pain, even though you’re sure he knows it’s there. 

And it really shouldn’t surprise Jonathan, but he can’t help himself, because when you do finally speak, you’re more than composed. Not at all like he’s just dropped some whack job theory on you, that he’s not even sure he believes himself.

“I believe you.” You say with so much surety that Jonathan almost doesn’t know what to do. Your blind faith is both reassuring, and paradoxically, a tad unsettling. But before he can say anything, you’ve beat him to it. 

“The more important question is, do you think it was Will?” The cadence of your voice rises and falls calmly.

Head turning to the right, he locks his gaze with yours, soft brown orbs meeting your (e/c) ones. He blinks a couple times, trying to ground himself. And when he finally does, he sighs.

“I don’t know.”

• ж • ж •

Jonathan Byers is an interesting character to say the least. An enigma, wrapped up in a riddle, draped in an-impossible-to-solve-puzzle. And yet, you understand him better than just about anyone else. 

What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure, nor do you really care.

He’s your best friend, your confidant, and pretty much your everything melded into one; as well as being the most constant person in your life for the better part of the past decade. You’ve known him since you were six, when you both were all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to tackle everything the first grade had to throw at you. And it sure had a lot to throw at you.

Your understanding on the workings of the Hawkins inner-social-circle got off to a slow start. Begrudgingly, you didn’t fit in. Not that you thought you had much of a chance to begin with. As a kid from the other side of town, you were doomed from the moment you stepped foot in Hawkins Elementary, destined to always be an outsider. Though, you weren’t the only one.

It wasn’t hard to see that you didn’t make friends easily, but that was okay, because neither did Jonathan. So when you saw him sitting all alone while the other kids played together, with more confidence than he thought anyone capable of having, you strolled up to him, arm outstretched and announced that you and he were going to be very good friends.

And he’s never doubted you since.

“You took these?” Joyce’s voice snaps you back to reality. 

Jonathan nods silently, glancing at his mom for a moment before quickly turning his attention back to the photos in front of him.

“These are great.” She muses melodically, picking one up with a sad smile. Seeing Will’s sweet grin causes her heart to yearn. He should be here. 

“They really are Jon.” You echo, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything in response, but you can see how much he’s hurting.

“I know I haven’t really been there for you,” Joyce’s voice is filled with guilt. Emotionally, she’s reaching for her son, trying to get him to engage with her. “I’ve been working so hard, and I just feel so bad.” She pauses for a moment. “I barely know what’s going on with you.”

A choked back sob is all you hear. 

“It’s okay.” You urge with a coo. Jonathan has never been good at expressing his feelings, especially when they’re negative.

“What is it?” Joyce questions.

Jonathan shakes his head. He refuses to be a burden. “No.” His breathing is shallow, laced with regret. It’s that self sacrificing tone that you have to fight him on all the time.

“You can tell us baby,” she wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Please, honey, it’s okay.”

And finally, he breaks, gaze meeting yours as his eyes fill with tears.

“I should have been there for him.” You’ve never seen him look so broken. “If I had just been home, then he--”

Joyce murmurs, “Oh Jonathan.”

You feel your own eyes begin to water. “You can’t do that to yourself.” You reach over to place your hand in his. “It’s not your fault.”

A flicker of belief crosses his features, the corners of his lips lifting ever so slightly.

“He’s close.” Joyce says reassuringly. “I can feel it in my heart. You just have to trust me on this, okay?”

The two of you nod together, solemnly. You don’t know why, and you certainly don’t know how, but for some reason that is far beyond you, you not only believe her, but you share her feeling. You can feel Will.

“Oh.” Joyce’s soft laughter rings through. “How about this one?” She’s holding that picture of Will again, his smile brighter than the sun.

“It’s perfect.” You muse.

“Yeah.” Jonathan agrees. “It is.”

• ж • ж •

The next day feels like a bit of a blur, the hours melding together like they never even happened in the first place. It’s been an absolute shit show to say the least, the kids at school not making it any easier for Jonathan to simply exist. Where he once roamed in the shadows of Hawkins High as a bit of an unknown, now, a shiny red target has been painted on his back.

You almost lost it when a group of Juniors chanted ‘freak’ at him in the halls on your way to AP Bio. Among them was Tommy Hagan, who in your humble opinion, is the biggest obligatory psychotic jackass to walk this godforsaken earth. Every school has one, you guess. 

If Jonathan hadn’t have held you back from physically attacking them, you would have surely found yourself in a lot more trouble. That didn’t stop you from sending a few verbal expletives their way, after Jonathan had left for his class.

It’s not like you expected it to get any better; Will’s still missing, and your heart aches for him and his family.

You’re just, enormously frustrated, you suppose. Because while you’re more than aware that the vast majority of this town is made up of severe assholes, you thought maybe this time would be different.

Maybe, given the circumstances, people at school (and elsewhere really), would treat Jonathan better. Honestly, you blame yourself for having any faith in them at all.

Stapling another poster to the bulletin board in front of you, you grumble to yourself lightly. You can hear the laughs echoing through the hallway, the whispers that just won’t seem to stop. You’re not sure how Jonathan is doing it. He’s a better person than you, you suppose.

“Oh god.” You hear from behind you. Turning around, you glance in the direction the voice came from. Carol. 

“That’s depressing.” Steve Harrington muses. You’ve never been a big fan of his. Quite frankly, you’re just lucky Jonathan is out of earshot, because that’s the only thing that’s keeping you from jumping them right about now.

At least Nancy looks sympathetic, her eyes soft as she asks, “Should we say something?” And it’s genuine, not at all mocking.

“I don’t think he speaks.” Carol laughs. She nudges Tommy, eliciting a laugh from him as well. One word from his mouth and it’s over. 

A moment passes, two, three, then: “How much you want to bet he killed him?”

And honestly, that’s all it takes for your blood to boil over, watching as Nancy calmly makes her way towards Jonathan as he tapes another poster up. You appreciate her gesture; she’s checking up on him, making sure he doesn’t hear the vile things they have to say about him.

You on the other hand? You’re far from calm. Livid would probably be the better word.

But before you step any closer to the trio of obnoxious teens, you glance back to make sure Jonathan is occupied. And when you’re sure that he is, watching as he shares a moment of kindness with Nancy, you make your way over, red hot, and absolutely fuming.

“What a freak.” Tommy spits, eyes pouring with disgust. 

“You wanna say that again?” Your arms are crossed across your chest, stance wide. It takes you barely a second to reach them. 

“Oh look.” Carol sneers. “Trailer trash incoming.”

Hilarious, you think to yourself. It’s not like you haven’t heard that one before. Does she ever have an original thought?

You almost wish you had said that out loud.

Truly, it’s not the comment that gets to you, not really. It’s the reaction it gets from the people around her. Tommy’s laugh is unmissable. He takes a sip from the styrofoam coffee cup that rests in his hand; he’s enjoying this.

“You think this is funny huh?” Your eyes burn straight through his. 

“Enormously.” You really should have expected that response, but it still grates at your patience. 

“Well,” you leer. “If everything is this much of a joke to you, you wouldn’t mind if I just--” you grab the white cup right from his hand, unleashing the (what you’re hoping is scalding hot) liquid onto his navy sweater.

Tommy lets out a yelp of surprise. “You psychotic bitch!”

“I thought you liked a good joke,” you muse sarcastically. “Funny, huh freckles.” You say, handing the cup back to him. 

“You’re going to pay for this, you whore!”

Ah yes, Tommy’s always had this way with words. A true poet laureate.

“Oh, I’m sure I am.” Your laugh couldn’t be any more mocking. “You better remember that the next time you even think of breathing his air.” 

Tommy’s eyes follow your gaze to where Nancy and Jonathan are still standing, except now, they’re both staring at you. You should have expected your outburst to bring some attention, you just hoped it wouldn’t have been Jonathan’s.

But seeing as he’s so obviously seen and heard you by now, you may as well throw caution to the wind. What’s that cliche say? Go big or go home?

“Hey Harrington?” You chant to the boy who up until now had been entirely silent. “Because I’m sure your sidekick,” you gesture to Tommy with as much poison as you can muster, “won’t listen to my warning, I suggest you put it through his thick skull, that if he, or any of your douche lord friends try anything like that again, I’ll fucking end you.”

He doesn’t say anything, brown eyes simply pouring into yours. He never perpetuates the hate and vitriol that students like Jonathan experience, no. But he also never does a goddamn thing to stop it. That’s almost worse, you think.

He’s a bystander to the pain his friends cause, with the power to end it all. And yet, despite it all, his eyes tell you another story. You feel like maybe he understands. You feel like he’s actually listened. Even though he is a coward. 

Regardless, it’s safe to say that if King Steve (or the rest of the student body of Hawkins High) didn’t know you before, they sure as hell do now….

So much for going under the radar.

• ж • ж •

[love-hatred-stuff]

》 alright so here is another short snippet of the story I asked your opinions about, I'm currently working on it but I don't have too much freetime right now so there will probably be more short parts to this

》 also, if you have any suggestions on what I should call this series (a title) let me know;)

》 enjoy, love you♡

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It was another casual day at your college. But you were so glad it was now weekend and your classes were over for now. You still planned on going to the library for an hour or so, so you could study before you'd go on a house party with Steve's team (which unfortunately included Bucky aswell) and your girlfriends. You didn’t particularly liked frat partys but your friends were there and it wasn't like you had anything better to do.

So after taking a shower you made your way to the college's library. At this hour it was always rather empty so there were only a few people between the aisles that you could make out from afar. You didn't make an effort to squint your eyes and look who you might know though. That was your mistake because if you would've had a bit more time to prepare for bucky who just so seemed to approach you as soon as you've found a place to sit down.

When you saw him mere feet away from you, you fought the urge to roll your eyes immediately. He always bothered you when you two met alone outside of the group. Not that that happened often but you just weren't interested in anything he might have to say.

You knew that you were probably overreacting and should be nicer to him when he tried to keep a conversation going because he was clearly eager to have you as one of his friends, just like all the other girls. But you just didn't feel like he'd earned that yet.

The moment he stopped right infront of you he was holding a book and you recognised it, but still didn't feel like talking to him.

"Hey, nice to see you here." He seemed nervous, like he always did when he tried to engage with you. You didn't pay it much mind though, you thought it was part of his charm to try and make the impression like he was just shy athlete or something, rather than the selfish immature little boy that he actually was.

"Well." You replied unimpressed and continued to do your work. You didn't even bat an eye. Again, why would you?

"I'm sorry, I don't wanna disturb you any further. Are you coming to the party tonight?" Bucky asked sheepishly.

If anyone that knew him in even the slightest, they would question if that reallh was him talking to you right now or if it was just someone else, who looked like him. Because he was mf Bucky Barnes and that man didn't talk to women like that. Not even the considered pretty ones would make him all flustered and act like a clueless little puppy in front of them, unless...

Unless it was you, apparently. It was the way that he knew, you weren't just playing hard to get, you actually did not want to have anything to do with him. To his luck, you had a lot to do with him through your friendgroups colliding one day. Nevertheless you still avoided him every chance you got. He knows, since he's tried to interact with you countless times. Unsuccessful, you should say.

"Yes. Yes I am. Can I continue studying now or..?" The first moment you actually looked up at him since he stood there and Bucky was so taken aback by the sudden eye contact. You usually never granted him that, so he almost stumbled back and fell over. He somehow managed to catch himself in time.

"Yeah, yeah... see you later then, I guess." He attempted a smile that wouldn't show how hard he was blushing right now.

You could see, he failed. And because you felt like showing a tiny bit of mercy, you gave him a small and short smile in return, before looking back at your papers. You heard how he slowly walked out of the library, acting like it would be totally normal and routine for you two to have a conversation like that every now and then.

•••

Since a few people wanted to be tagged and were curious about what would happen next I made a taglist^^:

@vicmc624 @nefri-black @chemtrails-club @magnificentsvn @lesleurs

Thank you for your kind feedbacks everyone!!

Love,

love-hatred-stuff

[a-strange-inkling]

I love the idea of Maggie being a rebel like her father as a teen and I love how Eddie knows all her tricks. How does Chrissy deal with her daughter’s schenanigans?

She worries about her all the time, she tries to be patient and give her the benefit of the doubt, but Maggie’s pretty wild and rebellious so it can be difficult sometimes. She always gives Eddie a tired sigh eye after a melodramatic tantrum.

“Why am I getting that look?”

“You had to be difficult for Wayne.”

“Hey! You knew the risks!!”

Snippet:

“Mom, I’m begging you please, please,” Maggie cries half prostrate over the counter, hands folded tight as she pleads. “Everyone else is going to be there and it’s one weekend!”

Chrissy sighs softly as she continues to scrub the dishes in more earnest, her legendary patience all but drained out. “Maggie, I’ve provided my reasons multiple times, the answer is no.”

“But whhhhyyyyy!?” she asks. “You would have let Liv go!”

“To a cabin five hours away when she was only fifteen-years-old? With several boys over eighteen and no adult chaperones for four whole days?” she asks in astonishment. “I most certainly would not have.”

Livvy would never have even had any interest in something like that in the first place.

“I’m almost sixteen, Mom! It’s not fair! The whole band is going and I’m going to get left behind!” Maggie exclaims, blinking back angry tears.

“Baby, I know this is important to you and I’m sorry I have to say no, but you’re just not old enough to go that far away by yourself for that long.”

“You never let me do anything!” she whines, slumping face down on the table, sobbing loudly and dramatically.

Chrissy takes a slow inhale through the nose.

Yoga breathing. Yoga breathing. Yoga breathing.

She empathizes. She really does.

If anyone understands what it’s like to be a teenage girl who’s not allowed to do anything, it’s her. But, they don’t know Derek or his family well enough to let their impulsive daughter spend three nights somewhere up in Alexandria Bay.

“That’s a tad of an exaggeration,” she replies wearily. “Don’t you think?”

She doesn’t respond, just pouts heavily with an angry little sniff, propping her chin on her flattened hands.

God, that face she’s making.

She’s so Eddie that it’s ridiculous sometimes.

Speak of the devil, he comes in from the garage after changing the oil to her Explorer, cleaning his hands off with a damp rag, whistling to himself before noticing the tension in the air.

“…Hey,” he greets cautiously, glancing between them, walking over to kiss Chrissy on the side of her head.

“Hi,” she exhales.

“Hi, Daddy.” Maggie mutters.

He eyes their youngest daughter’s petulant moping, looking back up at Chrissy questioningly. They’ve picked up something akin to a psychic connection over the years and he’s quick to catch on that they’re still on the ‘Maggie wanting to go away for the weekend upstate’ topic when she levels his gaze.

He nods in understanding, rubbing her shoulders from behind and Chrissy shrugs silently in response, not knowing what else to do at this point.

Help me out here, I’m going to snap!

“Okay, what’s wrong, Mags?” he asks all cool and casual, ruffling her loose curls as he walks past her toward the fridge to grab something to drink.

“Nothing, I’m just going to be stuck here while all my friends get to go away for the weekend because Mom doesn’t trust me.” She informs him miserably, rubbing vigorously at her face when a few fat tears that slip free.

“…Margaret, that’s not true.” Chrissy sighs, trying not to roll her eyes.

Mom doesn’t trust her?

Mom!?

Well what about her father who nearly blew a fuse when he heard that Derek kid offered for her to go in the first place? Mom had to spend nearly forty minutes talking Daddy down from breaking a seventeen-year-old boy’s nose.

Why is she the bad guy?

“I just don’t understand why Stacey and Megan’s parents are letting them go, but you won’t let me! They’re my age!”

“Why don’t you ask your father what he thinks?” Chrissy suggests, stifling her irritation. “I think I’ve gone over it enough.”

“What’s the point?” Maggie mumbles under her breath. “He’ll just think whatever you tell him to think.”

The silence that follows is earth shattering. The cup she’s holding slips from her hand, plopping back into the sudsy water clanking loudly against the bottom of the sink.

[mrssakurahatake]

I Licked it so it’s Mine😛— snippet, snippet, snippet!

This was an event or twitter thread thing i started, that just fizzled out, but just picking a snip has my mind spinning again.

Ino’s gaze narrowed and Sakura knew she’d said too much. “Forehead,” she accused, pointing her finger for good measure. “Why does Kakashi pop up in every story?”  Sakura was sure Ino could see the panic on her face. That was exactly the conversation she wanted to avoid, and instead she’d walked right into it.  The lack of response seemed to speak volumes to Ino, who looked as if her birthday had come early. “Is he popping up anywhere else you aren’t telling me about?” The eyebrow wiggle was completely unnecessary. It left Hinata blushing and Sakura enraged, which was entirely Ino’s point.  “There is nothing happening with Kakashi!”  Ino wasn’t buying it, her icy blue eyes narrowed in thought as she leaned across the table to get closer to Sakura’s face. Not one to back down, Sakura met her in the middle, definitely. Ino’s hand slapped the table, making the mostly empty tea cups rattle and Hinata jump. “That’s exactly the problem. You’re spending all your free time with the man and nothing is happening.” She sat back, a triumphant grin plastered across her face. “Ino,” Hinata admonished, all the while watching Sakura for a reply. “You can’t say something like that about the Hokage.”  Undeterred, Ino continued, “If he isn’t interested he needs to back off so someone else can stake a claim.” “You did not just say that. I don’t belong to Kakashi, or anyone else for that matter.” Sakura protested, her temper dangerously close to boiling over. 

[kavvueh]

Painting Flowers

by @kavvueh Chapter 18

Read it here! (A snippet from the chapter is below the cut after the images!)

“I have a job for you,” Varka announced.

Alice’s husband was a handsome man, though in the rugged sort of way outdoorsy types often were; broad in body and uncommonly tall, he left an imposing impression wherever he went. He was well-regarded by his colleagues as a natural-born leader with a sound head on his shoulders, and it was clear in his work as Mondstadt City’s Fire Chief that he was both capable in his career and savvy in politics. He always appeared bold and noble in the public eye.

Albedo, though, was one of the lucky few privy to the softer side of his personality. Varka had an equal passion for his work as he did for gentle sentimentalities. He was patient when Albedo was young and suspicious of everyone and everything. When he’d come around to accepting him, Varka had wasted no time taking Albedo under his wing and helping to instill important family values in him. He made constant efforts to bond with him: he taught him how to fish at Starfell Lake, and how to make bait from scratch; he attended every school event, no matter how large or small; and he took on projects around the home, enlisting Albedo’s aid to teach him practical skills.

Most of all, though, he shared one of his greatest loves with him: reading.

When Albedo had still been hesitant in the home, it was Varka who encouraged him quietly to take his time by leaving books at the table for him to find. When he was small, they were children’s stories; as he grew older and his preferences in literature became apparent, Varka left him fascinating non-fiction reads and scholarly journals. 

Eventually, Albedo became curious about Varka’s interests, and so he began to read classical literature: The Legend of Vennessa, Records of Jueyun, A Thousand Nights, and many others. He read them all, and continued to do so to this day. In fact, several shelves in the study were filled with works both Varka and Albedo had picked out to read together, two copies of each book placed next to each other to indicate they’d both finished it. They would spend every Saturday evening discussing those shared books, discussing character motivations and worldbuilding and many other manners of things. Sometimes they even spoke about things unrelated to the books, like Albedo’s friends at school or Varka’s exciting but dangerous work during the week.

Albedo, settled in at his desk, paused in his homework, and turned to face his adoptive father. At this point in his life - sophomore year of high school - Varka was Albedo’s role model, and he cared greatly about what he said and thought. So he immediately asked, “What is it?”

Varka grinned, a warm, toothy thing that made anyone else around want to smile back. “When you go off to college,” he said, “I’m going to want something to remember you by.” He made an exaggerated sigh. “Books can only fill the void so much.”

Albedo laughed lightly. “You make it sound as if I’m dying,” he said jokingly. “College isn’t for two more years.”

Varka’s smile dropped, and he regarded him very seriously. “And I need mementos,” he said somberly. Albedo knew his tone was overdone intentionally; this was part of Varka’s humor. He lifted a book he had in his hand. “And I just had an idea about that.”

“Well, do share,” Albedo said, gesturing in front of him for Varka to continue. Varka’s grin returned, and he eagerly shuffled forward to stand at the side of Albedo’s desk. He held the book out.

“Behold,” he said. “My idea!”

Albedo beheld the book. He took it from Varka’s hands. Then he looked up at his adoptive father and blinked.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

Varka threw his arms up, as if he had triumphed at his own idea. “The decorations on the spine! The gold leaf edges!” he cried. “Let’s paint all of our books to have them!”

Albedo laughed in surprise. “Gold leaf edges aren’t painted on,” he pointed out. Varka waved dismissively and pointed to the spine of the book. Albedo’s eyes followed his movements, and he took in the beautiful detailing along its edges.

“You’re the artist in the family,” Varka said. “You can make something much better than this. You’re very talented!”

Albedo shrugged. “I don’t think painting the spines of hardback covers helps their market value.”

“That matters very little to me,” Varke replied. He put his burly hands on Albedo’s shoulders and pat them twice. “I want to do one last project together before you go away.” He stepped back and pulled his best impression of puppy-dog eyes, which contrasted so drastically with the rest of his features that Albedo couldn’t help but snort in amusement. “Come now, my boy, surely you want something like that, too?”

Albedo looked into Varka’s eyes, which shone with mirth and joy, and knew in his heart, without a shadow of a doubt, that he did.

[fangbangerghoul]

Hello, my lovely mutuals and fanfic readers! I am happy to be here again to share some of one of my current fics for Snippet Sunday!

Tagging: @eridanidreams, @silurisanguine, @atonalginger, @staticpallour, @5oh5, @booburry, @bearlytolerant, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, and @therealgchu (I'll leave some off, so the others have people to tag! As usual there is no requirement to participate!)

This is going to be a snippet from Chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures. I know my writing has been taking a bit longer than it did in the beginning but with my classes and winter taking a toll, it's been difficult to stick to a good writing routine.

Feel free to check out my tag #The Coemancer Crew to check out some other lovely Starfield fics and art while you wait for the update! If you are interested in joining a Starfield community I do host a Sam Coe Discord Server. Everyone under my The Coemancer Crew tag is a community member!

Chapter 9: bad decisions snippet

Ghoul exited through the doors and away from the noise to see the mess from the night before still lingering about. There was dried blood all over the place, glass bottles, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a pack of cigarettes left on one of the small crates. She swiped it before anyone else came walking by and immediately used the lighter that was with the pack to light one. Ghoul felt a small rush of relief when the smoke entered her lungs and the nicotine bled into her system. As she blew out the smoke, she saw Jessamine kick a bottle on her way out of doors from The Last Nova. She huffed something and that was when she noticed Ghoul standing there smoking the cigarette. Her dusty pink hair and yellow eyes akin to Ghoul’s always caught her attention in the bar but they never spoke much. Jessamine strode over with confidence and held out her hand, her two fingers stretched out waiting. Ghoul looked her over with a quick glance and then smirked, handing her the cigarette without protest.  “I heard Delgado is finally off your back. You must have really pissed him off.” Jessamine sounded amused at the thought and her accent sounded straight out of a Celtic fairy tale she was forced to read before. Jessamine puffed on her cigarette watching her with keen eyes. Ghoul was unsure what the approach this woman was trying to take with her, but she thought she could play along, as a distraction.  “From what I have seen, that isn’t too hard to do. He can be a real dictator sometimes.” Ghoul said with a smile they both started to walk forward as they spoke, their step-in rhythm.  “You gotta be with all the people who join, considered.” She shrugged and the slight draw on some of the vowels she pronounced were fun to hear her say. They had no destination set but aimlessly walking around The Key. It was a change of pace of what Ghoul usually did and it helped keep her mind off of her empty stomach.   “All hail the king, hmm?” Ghoul rolled her eyes at the thought. Though she knew at this point it wasn’t like she was in a position to say much, not after what she just did for Delgado.  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Jessamine laughed and stopped them in the center of the front end of The Key. The docked spaceships were on the other side of the door ahead and it seemed they were going to come full circle if they continued anymore. “When is the next time you are going on a run? Care to hire someone?”  Ghoul knew she shouldn’t be too surprised. She had heard Jessamine’s pitch a few times while drinking in the bar, but she never thought about it herself. Jessamine was itching to get off The Key which was the exact opposite of Ghoul right now. Ghoul thought perhaps maybe she should be itching to get off this damn space station. She had been locked in here for months, now she was starving again, and for that time was supposedly undercover for a government ran authority she didn’t give a shit about until she blew her own cover. Ghoul took in a deep breath and sighed before answering the eager face standing before her.  “I have a ship and that’s it.” Ghoul said with warning and her arms crossed. Her body was stiff, and she leaned back a bit with one foot pointing at Jessamine and the other out to the ships. “I didn’t ask for the ship, but Delgado relinquished it to me anyway. I don’t have any credits, but I guarantee we'll have some soon.”   Jessamine now was the one sizing her up. Ghoul could see the hesitance in her body language, and she didn’t blame her. Ghoul probably wouldn't take up her own offer.

[sonosvegliato]

Currently rereading "to an athlete dying young" and going absolutely insane over it, it is so well written!

I have yet to find anyone who is even half as good as you are at establishing insanely high tension/stakes while also doing comedic relief the way you do, every single interaction absolutely kills me. Especially Tim's interactions with Jason and Bruce are so incredibly interesting, you really nail those!!!!!

Reading your fic isn't enough, I need to print it out & eat it.

That being said, what does your writing process look like, if you don't mind me asking?

This is a question I only imagined getting once I have my original work published, so thank you for stoking the ever-hotter flames of my ego while I shoot into the stratosphere.

When I am famous with 10 books published and documentaries are made about me, I dream I will have a well-polished answer for to this question. SYKE.

Process:

F around and find out. Not in a threatening way. Just like—playing around with ideas like they're Legos and you are a three year old baby.

A lot of the time I get a snippet of something and I do a "sketch" of it before I forget it. I have a lot of these, and some of them are impossible to interconnect, so I literally take apart the story and rearrange it, and will do this once, twice, or five times to get through a single scene. I read this writing advice once where if you're stuck on a scene than the problem you really have is a chapter back, and I'm not much for universal writing advice, but I do believe that if I'm stuck in a place, then something else has got to be better. Sort of like pulling a car in park over and over again until you sorta get in in between the lines. I am really bad at parking. Literally not figuratively.

To an Athlete Dying Young is probably the closest to plotting I've ever been, since I'm using what actually happened in the comics as a loose guide for the events in the series. But I still write snippets that I jam together and take apart and peel and stick. My document looks like [LINKS NOTES RESEARCH] [STORY STORY STORY STORY] [RANDOM SCENE] [STORY] [SNIPPET SNIPPET SNIPPET SNIPPET] with some hyping myself up in between. Example of my "plotting", pure and unedited:

^ wouldn't you like to know where this is from

And here's a snippet that was possibly going to be in hold the low lintel up. I was going to have Tim move in with Jason. This is everything I wrote for it, so you're not missing any context:

“I’ve had to move out of my house,” Tim continues. 

“That’s…a change. Can I ask what—”

“My uncle isn’t real,” Tim says.

Hood lifts his hands. They pause in the air for twenty seconds before he lowers them, fingers extended towards Tim. “What?”

“My uncle’s fake. I made him up. They’d’ve made me live somewhere else, otherwise,” Tim says. “I…I don’t want to live there.”

He leans against the warehouse wall, feels the dusty wood under the flat of his hands. “So, anyway, I was just wondering…” He glances at his shoes, then back to Hood. Nervousness, with an ounce of confidence. Just a pinch, not too much. Very little trust can take you very far. “If it were maybe possible…”

He trails off just as Hood starts to lean forward. Hook, line—

“Could I stay with you?”

—and sinker.

“I don’t think so,” Hood says.“Why not move in with your brother?”

“He’s working. I couldn’t do that to him.” And he lives too far away. 

“I’m working, too,” Hood says. “And I can guarantee I’m not doing the kind of things your cop brother will like.”

“Alright. Well, if you want to find me, you can find me in the Bowery, where that old church is. I don’t think any rogues have made their hideouts there, but I guess I’ll find out.” 

“Park Row isn’t safest place in the world right now,” Hood says. “You know there’s a reason people call it Crime Alley, right?”

“I’ve been around here longer than you think.”

“Look. Kid. You can’t stay with me. And with all these new murders, I don’t think it’s a good idea you’re even coming here. I get it. You don’t want child services sniffing your ass. I get that more than anybody, but. There are people out there, strangers even, who are willing to help you.”

It’s not a guilt trip. It’s a gentle emotional suggestion. It’s taking Hood by the collar and throwing him over Tim’s shoulder to slam him into a giant guilt pit that only gets deeper the more he struggles. Tim’s English teacher calls it pathos. 

Then the suit for an extra layer of DRAMA.

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Also, Tim and Superboy were supposed to be better friends and have sleepovers.

“You were sleep talking,” Superboy says. “It woke me up.”

“Sorry,” Tim says. 

“You don’t look so good, bro. You going to be sick or something?”

“No.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tim hears the sheets shift as Superboy turns over. 

“I don’t have dreams,” he says. “I hear they can be pretty gnarly though. Was yours gnarly?”

“Yeah.”

“You drink apple juice before bed?”

“No.”

“Good. I hear apple juice fucks you up.” 

They fall silent. Tim doesn’t have his phone to distract him. He stares in the darkness at the blank wall. 

“And cheese,” Superboy says. “Cheese will make you dream some wild shit. Again, can’t say if it’s true. But that’s what the internet told me. I learn a lot of things on the internet.”

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Finally, Black Canary was going to have a role similar to the one she has in Young Justice.

I actually have quite a few snippets of her being sort of Tim's therapist, stereotypical Couch of Mental Breakdowns included, but it never got included into the story, just remained outlier scenes. Also Tim was not very receptive to talking it out.

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Summary: If I'm bored in the story, I throw a firecracker and watch stuff blow up ✌️

Thank you for asking! And it's an absolute honor to have written a story that's both worth a reread and being eaten. Hope this entertains you until I get the next part up!