#sal writes

[salty-an-disco]

This is the story of a man named– wait… you’re not Stanley! And this isn’t–

Hmmm. Well, this is awkward. Wouldn’t you know about a man named Stanley? Works in an office, likes to push buttons– No?

Oh, well, while this isn’t my usual script, it does seem that there is a story to be found here. Isn’t that nice? Oh, and would you look at that– It seems like you’re the hero of it! How fun!

OK, let’s see–

You’re on a path in the woods. And at the ending of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess.

You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it’ll be the end of the world.

Oooohh, concise, but immediately intriguing. With a nice twist of expected roles. I like it!

[discountscoobyart]

All he sees is Reki. Reki’s hair, the way it’s all messy after dancing around, and drinking, and pushing it out of his face.

“Langa…”

Reki’s eyes and how they look up at him; questioning.“It’s okay.”

Reki’s nose, how it’s sprinkled with freckles.

“We don’t have to prove anything.”

Reki’s lips–

[luckyreds]

I said I was gonna post modern web before Christmas- 😔 it keeps expanding on itself. You can have the first piece of chapter 1. Alright byeee🚪🚶‍♀️

Heavy Eurobeat thumped relentlessly against the basement walls, each pulse vibrating through David's entire body, making the room feel as if it might collapse under the pressure. From his lonely perch by the pillar, the dance floor below him resembled a writhing, pulsing organism, alive in ways David could barely comprehend. Strobe lights splintered the darkness into jagged fragments, catching brief snapshots of glistening, sweat-soaked bodies tangled together in chaotic unison. A thick mix of artificial fog and acrid cigarette smoke curled in the air like a restless spirit. The club’s heavy metal doors wheezed open and shut like lungs, exhaling smoke and heat into the chilly November night.

David blinked, disoriented. This wasn’t dancing, not really. This was chaos set to a beat, He wasn't a stranger to a good night out; after all, Manhattan was chock full of them, and he had his fair share of nights out on the town, but between this and Manny’s car wash it was like going from the opera to a garage band.

He pulled at his collar in discomfort, when Denise had enthusiastically proclaimed that they were heading to the best club in town. He had dressed accordingly, or so he thought: a simple, crisp button-up shirt, neatly tucked-in jeans, and his usual dress shoes. However, the raised eyebrows he had gotten from his colleagues should have been his first warning sign. The glimmering, sequined tops and oversized baggy trousers they were wearing should have been the second signal that he had fundamentally misjudged this whole night out. Nevertheless, he had shrugged it off as they piled into the backseat of Thomas’s Volvo 240, arriving at the place just after 10.

The intersection was bustling with life, dotted with several vibrant restaurants and bars, each more lively than the last, but they had ignored it, marching straight past a crowded bar brimming with laughter and music into a dark, narrow alleyway. Where trees obscured most light from above, creating an almost eerie ambience as they joined the line leading to an unremarkable set of metal doors tucked away down some stairs behind the bar. The only thing that indicated there even was a club there was the posters plastered on the grimy brick wall, one simply a Eagle coming down with Club Eazy written underneath in a looping scrawl. Another from a week ago: you are invited to our 2nd anniversary Halloween weekend special! Fri-Sat-Sun from 9-5. It was right there, in between the clusters of alternative styles, the already faint thumping erratic music, the scent of weed and the heavy musk of sweat, David truly should’ve acknowledged that this club wasn’t his style.

Sighing, he checked his watch for the fourth time. 00:31. Thomas had gone to get drinks twenty minutes ago, maybe longer, and hadn’t come back yet. Mel and Alice had wandered off to the toilets and similarly vanished in the throng of people, and Denise managed to charm a cute girl into a corner and slipped out of the club moments later with her hand in said girl’s back pocket. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces, but it was hopeless. The strobe lights turned everything into disjointed flashes, and it seemed his colleagues had melted into the chaos.

this was Mauvaise Fois, David thought dimly, twirling his glass of beer in his hand, watching the lukewarm liquid swish around like a sad excuse for a drink. That was why he had ended up here, in this dingy club. He should’ve listened to his mother and used his gap year on a trip through Europe. But no, he had to be stubborn, follow the example of Lewis Nixon, who had quit Yale and the family business and to Philadelphia with a mysterious redhead from rural pennsylvania. making a name for himself here. It had been quite the scandal, and David had been enthralled. Of course, he should’ve realised that such things didn’t work for him. because here he was, three months in, churning out mediocre horoscopes for a B-tier magazine, surrounded only by colleagues who, despite their familiarity, felt like distant acquaintances at most.

Really, Returning to Manhattan sounded increasingly appealing each day more he spent in Philadelphia; then he could finish his degree at Harvard and take the job at The New York Times his father had been hinting at, instead of getting lost in this hazy world of nightlife and regret.

The music shifted, morphing into an even faster rhythm that sent his head spinning. The two Mai-Tai’s he had weren’t doing him any favours right now. “Do you think you’re better off alone?” was repeated into his slightly swimming consciousness. It felt like the universe was mocking him, like a cruel twist of fate he couldn’t escape. fucking great.

Suddenly, a jolt knocked him from his thoughts as someone collided with him, sending his beer flying from his hand and spilling the tepid liquid down his arm and onto his already-ruined shoes.

“Hey! Watch it!” David snapped, shaking his arm in disgust.

“Watch it?!” the stranger retorted quickly, turning back to face him. He was wiry, with sharp features and deep brown eyes that seemed to catch the faint glow of the strobe lights. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, his lips curling into a scowl as he leaned in to be heard over the relentless thump of the bass. “Maybe don’t hold your booze out like a trophy, Jeezus!”

It was then, the guy noticed David, really noticed him, eyes flicking over him, from his drenched shoes to his perfectly tucked-in button-up. “Huh,” he muttered, angry façade disappearing like snow in the sun. “what’s a yuppie like you doing in a place like this?”

David blinked, thrown off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Baby blue here doesn’t exactly scream ‘underground chic.’ You got lost on your way to the country club or something?” the guy smirked, leaning even closer now, almost nose to nose with him.

David bristled with indignation, glancing down at his outfit and then back up at the audacious stranger “There’s nothing wrong with how I’m dressed.” He huffed, leaning back “And I’m not a yuppie!”

“Yeah, sure.” The stranger rolled his eyes dramatically and leaned against the beat-up iron railing beside him, flicking his lighter. A tiny flame flared briefly before igniting the cigarette, the cherry glowing red as he took a long drag. “Keep telling yourself that,” he said, smoke curling out with his words.

“I’m really not—” David opened his mouth to argue, but got a face full of smoke as the guy blew a puff of smoke directly at him watching with a lazy smirk as he coughed and sputtered. “It’s what I fucking see,” he retorted, a smirk playing on his lips “But seriously- what are you even doing here?”

David shot him a glare through watery eyes. “For your information,” he bit out “I’m here with friends.” The word stung in his mouth. Denise was the closest thing he had to a friend, with their shared cubicle and all. Thomas? He felt embarrassed to even label him a co-worker, and Mel and Alice? They had only exchanged brief pleasantries over the coffee machine. But no way was he admitting that to this guy.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Friends, huh? And where are they?” His tone dripped with scepticism, smirk morphing into something sharper, almost predatory. David swallowed, heat rising to his cheeks and flushing his ears.

“They went to the bathroom,” David shot back defensively, his arms crossing tightly over his chest.

“All of them, together? I’d like to see that,” the guy laughed, the sound almost cruel. “Sounds to me like they ditched you.

“They didn’t ditch me,” David insisted, though the words sounded hollow even to him.

“Uh-huh.” The guy took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily upward. “Whatever you say, baby blue.”

David opened his mouth to retort but stopped. What was the point? His colleagues had ditched him, as accidental as it was. He felt a pang of frustration, not just at them, but at himself, for letting the whole situation get under his skin in the first place.

The guy observed him for a moment, and to David’s surprise, his grin softened, transforming from something mocking to almost playful, his dark eyes sparking with mischief. “You know,” he drawled, straightening up, “I was gonna leave you here to wallow, but watching you stand there like a sad puppy is just depressing. Come on.” He motioned toward the bar. “Let me get you a new beer at least.”

David blinked, unsure if he’d just been insulted or pitied. Either way, the night couldn’t get much worse. “make it something stronger and you have a deal.”

Joe’s grin widened. “Knew you we’re a fun one” he said and a slim but firm hand gripped his wrist as David was dragged from his place by the pillar through the bustling crowd of onlookers spilling out of the pit area for a moment of fresh air. The bar was conveniently situated near the restrooms and directly across from the doorways. A fluorescent oasis in the swamp of noise and grime, where the bartenders worked with mechanical precision, sliding glasses of glowing, sugary drinks across the sticky counter in rapid succession.

David scanned the area quickly, searching for Thomas but finding him nowhere in sight. ‘I’d better not see him now,’ he thought darkly, frustration creeping in once more as he thought of him. The annoying prick.

His new acquaintance quickly wormed his way to the far left side of the bar, where they seized a spot at the very end. He leaned over the sticky counter, his voice cutting through the pulsating bass as he called out to the bartender. Almost instantly, a young bartender approached, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Heya, Joe! The usual?”

‘Joe,’ David thought absently. So that was his name, and it suited him; all cocky charm and bravado

Joe flashed a smile " Yeah! Two of them! And a Sobel for him," he ordered. The bartender smirked knowingly at the last request, nodding before grabbing the well-worn beer tap.

David raised an eyebrow, his curiosity sparking past his frustration. “What’s a Sobel?”

Joe barked out a laugh, slapping him on the arm. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

In the back, David noticed the bartender retrieving bottles of vodka and hot sauce from underneath the bar. His stomach churned at the sight, a pit of unease settling in. Joe turned toward David, a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“Ya got some cash on you? I’m tapped out.” jabbing his thumb to a cracked neon sign flickering weakly behind the bar, spelling out "DRINKS $5 CASH ONLY" in an uneven pink glow.

David nodded, half distracted by the strange ingredients retrieved for whatever concoction Joe ordered him, feeling in his trousers for his wallet. Fumbling a bit, he opened it and pulled out the first bill he encountered, slapping a crumpled fifty onto the bar.

“This enough for the night?”

Joe peeled it off the counter and let out a low whistle.

“Well, look at you, Rockefeller.” He grinned and flashed it to the bartender.

“You hear that, Malark?” he called out cheerfully. ‘Malark,’ the bartender, turned around and placed three glasses in front of them. “Is this enough?” Joe laughed, leaning over the bar to stuff the fifty into Malark’s shirt pocket with exaggerated flair. “Keep it!”

“Hey!” David protested, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown “That’s my money!”

“And you gave it to me, genius. Rule number one—never hand over your cash unless you’re cool with losing it.” He clapped David on the shoulder, chuckling. “Man, showing up in a place like this looking like you just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue? You’re lucky someone hasn’t lifted your money yet.”

“You did.” David replied. Joe just shot him a look. “Think of it as a lesson.”

With that he swiped the drinks off the counter, thrusting a cloudy reddish beer into David’s hands with a smirk. “Come on, drink it. It’s a newcomer’s welcome,”

He swallowed hard, resolve wavering. He really shouldn’t drink it; the concoction looked utterly disgusting, and he was sure it wouldn’t taste any better. Yet, something within him refused to back down from Joe’s dare. With a deep breath, he tossed it back. The vodka and hot sauce seared through his tongue and throat like fire, the fizz of the beer only making it worse. He slammed the empty glass back onto the sticky counter, doubling over and sputtering. Above him, Joe cackled, enjoying the show.

“that’s it!” Joe crowed, slapping David on the back “Knew you had some balls on ya.” He handed David the next drink, something that resembled coke but it undoubtedly held some form of alcohol. David took a sip, almost retching again. It wasn’t just coke with booze; it was a godforsaken Jägerbomb. He closed his eyes, the realization sinking in like a weight. ‘What the hell,’ David thought. ‘If I’m going to get wasted tonight, let it be with something good at least.’

He tossed the Jägerbomb back, feeling the burn as it slid down his throat, and turned around, slamming the glass on the back. he looked at the much-too-pleased face of the bartender. “Get me a Mai Tai!” he called out, his hand already darting back into his pocket to produce another bill, a twenty this time, which he slapped down with renewed determination. “make it a double.” He added, glancing at Joe with a conspiracy look, two could play that game. “And a Four Horsemen for him.” Joe laughed once more, bumping their arms together. “Now we’re talking.” He cheered and David felt a real smile appear on his lips for the first time in a long while.  

[sallertiafabrica]

Baked Treats Are Good for Morale

Ladybug is pretty sure she’d recognize Chat Noir right away, even without the glamour. And she bets on it.

In school, Marinette bumps into a kid with a prosthetic leg much like Chat Noir. What a coincidence! The coincidences continue as they both seem to get an interest in baking around the same time…

(Ao3 link)

This fic is my secret santa gift for @kronehaze!! Happy (belated) Holidays friend! <3

[salsdemonposting]

Echoes Chapter 2: Lost and Found

Ray gives this Emma some context for her previous life before meeting with Gilda and Phil.

(Ao3 link)

[salstray]

A Hand To Hold

An OC Blurb - 601 words

----

Note: Hey, so, as the token straight in my friend group, I offered to write my friends anything they wanted me to and one of my friends asked me to write our two OC witches holding hands because they are gay and in their OG world, they are married with two adopted children and two cats. This is a sort of medieval/royalty au with little to no context and some pining, hope you enjoy.

Cinder is Mine. Blythe belongs to @kindleofhope

---

Happy Pride!

---

     “And what is the Queen doing out here, all alone at her own masquerade?”

      Blythe recognized the voice in an instant. When she turned, she was faced with a black-clad figure, slightly shorter than herself. Even more so with the heels she’d donned for this occasion. The only spot of color on their person was the bright, fiery mask that adorned their face, covering everything but their flickering eyes. 

      “Cinder,” she said quietly. “I should have known you’d find a way to slip past the guards. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

      Cinder smiled under her mask and slid forward, choosing to stop on Blythe’s right side. She gazed up at the Queen for a moment, saying nothing, simply admiring the way her hair was pinned and the dark smudges that ringed her vibrant eyes, just barely visible behind the black feathered mask that sat atop her visage. 

      “Is it so hard to believe that I’d choose to come see you on your birthday?”

      Blythe scoffed. “The last time you were in this castle you were trying to kill me.” 

      “Oh please,” Cinder snarked, resting her hands on the railing beside Blythe’s. She had gloves on, but they were fingerless, showing off the black polish coating her nails. “Is there anyone in this Gods-forsaken country that thinks their Immortal Witch Queen could be brought so low by a common mercenary?”

      “Still. Your intentions were very clear,” Blythe muttered. Her smile was clear in her voice. Neither of them commented on it. 

      “Maybe so. Are they so clear this time?” 

      “...no, I can’t say they are.” 

      They fell into silence. The air around them was filled with the quiet sound of music and idle chatter and tipsy giggles of the young court girls as they drank their night away. 

      Cinder glanced to the side, her eyes shifting up and down Blythe’s form. The Queen was dressed similarly to herself. Mostly black with hints of purple and silver. Rings, a long flowing trail to her dress, jewels lining her mask. It covered her entire face, just like Cinder’s own mask, but it had feathers lining her eyes, fanning out over her temples. The silver stones lined the underside of the eyeholes and the lips were painted with the same color. Besides that, it was a simple matte black. 

      It fit her nicely.

      Cinder’s eyes slipped down to Blythe’s hands. Her nails were a touch longer than her own and sharpened, painted the same color as her eyes. Most of her rings were simple silver bands. No set gems or jewels.

      After a moment of hesitation, Cinder shifted her hand across the stone banister that separated them from the ocean below the balcony. Blythe’s head turned to follow the motion, but she made no move to stop the mercenary beside her. 

      Eventually, Cinder’s hand lifted and she rested her fingers atop Blythe’s, gently twisting their fingers together. 

      They were both still for a moment. 

      Blythe’s head turned further and Cinder’s did the same. Their eyes met, Cinder’s glowing bright and nearly golden with the emotions burning within them. The intensity of it nearly burned, even from this distance, so Blythe turned away to save herself the scars.

      “Happy birthday, Blythe.”

      “...thank you, Cinder.” 

      “I supposed we should return to the party, hm? Before your yes-men and court girls get suspicious.”

      “They can wait a moment more, I’m sure.” 

      Cinder didn’t say anything about the way Blythe’s hand squeezed hers, but she squeezed back and smiled wide under her mask, taking a deep breath of the sea breeze as it washed over them both.

[art-missy]

“How the fuck do you breathe with that ?”

Sal watched you trying his prosthetic with a fond eye as you were comfortably settled onto his lap. His hands stayed on your waist as your eyes analyzed the face in yours.

“Maybe I'm just used to it,” he shrugged.

“Are you never hot under that ?”

He just casually shook his head.

You looked down at the prostethic in your hands then back at the young man in front of you. A slow grin started to grow on your lips. Sal immediately recognized the mischief in your eyes.

Still looking into his eyes, you slowly started to press kisses in the inside of the prostethic, lingering where the lips were. You felt Sal shifting beneath you and you had the satisfaction to watch the wild blush spreading from his beautiful face to his ears and the back of his neck. You also felt the grip he had on your waist tightening.

His gaze was incapable of leaving you when he nervously cleared his throat.

“W-What are you doing ?”

You bit your lower lip with fondness at his slight stutter. You found him so adorable.

“I'm giving you a reason to be hot under that prostethic later.”

You gently discarded the prosthetic on his bedtable and gently pushed his shoulders so he could lie down beneath you. You smiled gently at him as you caressed his scarred face. You felt his breathing hitching at your casual boldness as you settled on his hips. You watched his adam apple bobbing with a loving fascination. Sal was there, at your mercy. And he seemed to like it. You leaned down, teasingly blowing hot air in his ear.

“Could I pretty please give you a reason for feeling hot right now ?”

[seraphicloves]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: he isn't yours so why do you get so jealous?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: jealously, you're possessive but sal likes it, he doesn't believe anyone would love him :( cringy confession; reader is a dork i fear (she is me)

⊱✿⊰ notes: i heard this song and had this daydream and was like dang this would be a fire fanfic so here we are. ALSO WHERE ARE ALL THE SALLY FACE FANS LIKE I WRITE FOR IT GUYS NOTICE ME ahem anyway

⊱✿⊰ taglist: @fashionablysouly @kozumesphone

You had a secret: you were excruciatingly and agonizingly in love with your best friend, Sal Fisher. Okay so maybe it wasn't a secret to anyone except for Sal himself but it was still something you would rather die before Sal found out. He definitely didn't see you that way and he would probably reject you immediately if he found out. So it was safer to just not say anything.

He didn't need to know about the nights spent screaming into your pillow or crying in Ashley's arms over how sickeningly giddy his voice made you. He didn't need to know how easily he made your heart beat like you ran a marathon or how easily he made you feel like your head was in the clouds.

However that led to dilemmas such as the one you found yourself in currently. You were probably the most aware of Sal'a attractive but unfortunately, you were not the only one to notice it. So it was common as was happening right then, to find a girl start talking his ear off obviously trying to flirt with him.

"You're so funny, Sallyy," The girl giggled, sitting across from Sal at the cafeteria table. You tried to stop your glare from settling into your face but it was far too late, jealousy was disease that affected you quickly and viciously.

She was beautiful with tanned skin and soft lips, she was perfect and far more in the league of someone as incredible of Sal. But no, she doesn't deserve Sal. She doesn't know him like you do, she doesn't ache in her bones at the thought of being near him. She can't have him.

"You might as well leave." Larry commented to her, seeming far to amused as he glanced at you. You felt self conscious and tried to relax your face from the deadly look you had been casting on that girl. He continued, "[Name] is far too jealous to let you stay for much longer."

Murder should be legal, you quickly decided as you shot a look at Larry that made him well aware he would not be living for much longer. Why the hell would he say that? In front of Sal too?

Did he want you to die of heartbreak? Surely Larry fucking Johnson was praying on your downfall because there is no other logical reason for him to have done that. Unless he has a death wish.

"[Name] isn't dating Sal. Isn't that right, honey?" The girl replied, placing her hand over top Sal'`. That was when you snapped; how dare she touch Sal?

Before you could fully process thinking you grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from Sal. You looked at her, trying to cool the inferno of anger in your gaze as you said, "That boy is mine. Touch him again and I break all of your bones."

The girl let out a whimper and quickly rushed away, leaving a majority of the lunch room's eyes on you. You sunk into your seat, far too afraid to glance at the blue haired boy beside you. You were beyond embarrassed by your possessiveness, who were you to say he was yours?

Larry and Ashley were absolutely cackling, way too amused to see this side of you publicly outed to the boy you loved with your entire soul. Sal turned to look at you, his prosthetic hiding any hint of emotion you could have gotten.

"I'm yours?" He asked, his voice making your tummy rumble and roll. Even his voice was attractive, it physically wasn't fair to exist beside him and not have him to kiss and hold.

"Have you really not noticed, Sally?" Ashley asked, nudging you on the shoulder. You bit the inside of your cheek, preferring none of this to happen. Why did your feelings have to come out this way?

Sal made a confused noise but you grabbed his arm, and said, "Can I talk to you alone?" He nodded and let you lead him away from the lingering stares, into the hallway which was far more empty.

"What's up with you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt his gaze on your face, making it warm even more. Although that didn't seem quite possible with how feverish every inch of your skin felt. You looked down at your shoes, trying to stall the confession.

"I don't want you dating anyone." You said finally, jealously arising yet again as you remember that girl flirting with Sal. He let out a huff of confusion, his eyes still directly on you. Crap, you had to explain more.

"Seeing those girls flirt with you or hearing them make those vile comments about the things they want to do to you. It makes me so angry, it isn't fair. I don't want you dating anyone except for me. I want you to be my boyfriend." You ranted, feeling your blood boil as you remember all the times you had gotten jealous.

When Sal froze, you realized what you said. Oh no no no, he is going to reject you and never talk to you again. If only there was a self destruct button on your body you could press in this moment.

He kept staring at you, making you wish you could see beneath his mask to have a guess at how he was feeling. How disgusted he might be at your ridiculous feelings for him.

"why do you like....me?" He finally asked, sounding shocked that you could have feelings for him. Your gaze shot back up to meet his, and you saw the surprise (and dare you say, happiness?) in his eye.

"Why wouldn't I like you, Sal? You're so amazing and god I love you so much I think I've gone insane." You replied, feeling almost breathless with this string of honesty. His body finally relaxed and you could almost sense the smile beneath his mask.

"I love you too, [Name.]" Sal replies quietly, "Can I be your boyfriend?"

You felt your lips part with surprise, not believing your ears. Sal must have noticed your shock because he laughed and leaned closer, interlacing your hand with his deliciously cold fingers.

"Yes, you can be my boyfriend." You said, rambling slightly. You must've been injected with a dose of caffeine because you kissed his mask right where his lips lay under. Then you ran away, giggling like a lunatic. You stopped in a hallway, feeling flushed and faint and giddy and ridiculous.

Finally that boy truly was yours.

[peppermintquartz]

read this first

---

Bobby knocks on the door frame.

From his chair right next to the bed, Sal Deluca turns around and his eyes narrow. "Nash."

"Deluca." He nods at the other man. "Still nothing?"

"Still fighting," says Sal. He returns to stare at the unconscious and battered form on the bed. The machines hum and whirr and hiss and beep, taking readings of different functions.

With their masks on, Bobby can't read Sal's expression as well as he wants to, but the fact that Sal has been here every day during the short visiting hours for Tommy says a whole lot. Bobby takes a few steps into the ward.

"Is it okay if I talk to him for a while?" he asks.

Sal grunts assent and stands up. "I could do with a visit to the gents and maybe grab a coffee." As he passes Bobby, he asks, "How's the kid?"

"He'll make it," Bobby answers.

Once he's alone with Tommy, Bobby takes the seat Sal vacated. Almost buried under the wires and tubes and bandages, Tommy looks terrible, like he'd gone too many rounds with a prizefighter and lost all of them. His eyes and nose are bruised and there are lacerations across his face that are scabbing over. His skin is a mottled purple and yellow. His cheeks are hollow and his stubble thick; his head is wrapped in bandages after the most recent operation to drain fluids accumulating in his skull.

That's not even looking at the rest of him. By the grace of God, at least his right leg, spine and pelvis are intact; his left shin and both his arms are broken as well, and his ribs and clavicle fractured. Bobby's not willing to think just how damaged Tommy's insides are.

Turns out being swiped by a semi driven by an obsessed woman and then tumbling down a slope in a truck is bad for your health.

"You probably saved his life, Tommy," Bobby says aloud. "You pushing him out of your truck before it rolled down the hill meant he didn't have as severe injuries as you do."

Hsssst. Bip. Hssst. Bip.

"He's... he's woken up a few times now. Four times. It seems like he's lost some of his memories, but every time he wakes up, he asks, 'where's Tommy?' We haven't told him." Bobby clears his throat. "Tommy. You're a good man. You were good for him when you started dating and I know you didn't break up with him because you stopped caring for him. And knowing Buck, he was good for you too." A stray tear creeps down his cheek and Bobby swipes it aside.

Hssst. Bip. Hssst. Bip.

"Buck, he cares so much for you. So much. If you're in there, fighting to come back, fight harder. I'm not one for laying guilt trips on others, because Lord knows just how much wrong I've done. But you have to come back, okay? You must." Bobby takes a deep breath and reaches out to hold Tommy's cold, limp hand. "I don't think Buck will survive losing you. He won't. So I need you to come back to him."

Hssst. Bip. Hssst. Bip.

Standing up, Bobby prepares to leave. Sal is standing by the door, inscrutable behind his mask.

"Tell the kid that Tommy's here in ICU," Sal says.

Bobby hesitates. "Why?"

"My boy Tommy needs something to fight for. You want him to fight for Buckley? Let Buckley tell him so himself." Sal returns to his chair and settles in, ignoring Bobby and taking out his phone like he has nothing better to do than wait.

[screamlet]

118 daily drabble (day 15; defend)

@118dailydrabble

notes: bucktommy; bobby pov; catching up with the old 118

---

It's been about 15 years; Bobby's glad Tommy can finally laugh about it. 

Tommy has one arm firmly around Buck and one finger pointing at Sal. "I'm from LA. When the hell would I have seen a live chicken?" 

"You think that's helping your case," Sal replies. 

"Evan, I was defenseless. It was just me and this chicken, and Maurice had a knife."

"This was your dance." Sal wiggles in the booth. 

Buck leans into Tommy, whispering something that has him turn fire engine red.

"Bobby, don't listen." Buck doesn't miss a beat: "Was that the last time he ran from a cock?"

"I love him," Sal says, as Tommy laughs and gets apologetic kisses on the cheek. 

[andreaheartscats]

Sal Fisher as your boyfriend

🩵

-> showers you with love and compliments whenever he gets a chance.

-> doesn't like to admit it but gets really jealous when you get paired up with a random guy for a school project.

-> nap dates RAAAH!

-> loves when you wear his hoodie, it makes him feel somehow proud of himself and also you look pretty adorable in his clothes

-> he is a SO SO gentle with you and acts like you are made out of glass.

-> tried to act overprotective and tough but ti be fair he just looks cute

[salty-an-disco]

Thinking about the mirror

How much it scares the voice. How the Narrator can’t see it

Thinking about self-reflection

How scary it can be, to pick yourself apart and look at all your pieces individually. How necessary it is, if you want to know yourself

How to reflect, you need to be able to percieve. An Echo can’t perceive

How once you touch it, it’s just You and Her, on top of the cabin. Reflecting your own pieces at each other. Getting to know each other

It’s calm. It’s peaceful. Both your minds are quieter. You can rest, you can reflect

Just You and Her. Two being that only came into existence. Two beings that barely know themselves or each other. Two beings that recognized themselves on each other

The current route ended. You saw yourself; you’ve grown, you decayed, you unraveled, you became nothing at all

Time to reflect

[discountscoobyart]

my fake dating office au is now finished and up on ao3!!

[marycorcaroli]

sally will kiss your whole face when you feel depressed, his gentle palms go around your cheeks and with his thumb stroking one of them he looks at you with a look full of love and support. sal takes off his mask only next to you to show you how much he trusts you and is not afraid to be himself, he doesn't care about others but you are his universe and he wants you to know how beautiful you are in his eyes and how much he wants to be with you. he gently brings his lips to yours and gives you a gentle kiss where he gives you all his love and then hugs you tightly, you are his sun and moon, he intends to show you how bright you shine and how much you light the way for others.

[sallertiafabrica]

[click for better quality]

Trickster|Teen and Up Audiences|54 Chapters|+130k words

As Marinette, she already lost. As Ladybug, she couldn’t afford to lose. So when a Trickster offered a hand in exchange for the foxtail pendant he already took, she couldn’t afford to lose it.

OR:

Ladybug loses the Fox Miraculous. Félix Culpa finds it. Trickeries ensue.

I wanted to do a cover for this fic for forever, and since its 2nd birthday is coming soon, it felt as good time as any to get around to it.

A Felinette slow burn that also focuses on developing other friendships. Some mild salt (more on the writing itself than any characters in specific, it was my goal to treat each character as fairly as I could and give them the proper development; not forgetting or exaggerating their flaws, but treating them as– well. flaws). The canon lore and timeline is mine to do however I wish (AKA, don’t expect me to abide to any of canon’s rules, by the ending of this fic, everything has been recontextualized).

Oh, and note: Tricky is a version of PV Félix with OC parents and his own, original, backstory. His similarities to GDV start and end with the fact they’re both Adrien’s cousins.

[salsdemonposting]

Been doing a lot of TPN stuff recently, so might as well do a sideblog dedicated to it–

Sup! I’m Sal (they/he), a writer and drawer. My main artblog is @sallertiafabrica (mostly post Ladybug PV there), but I’ll be posting my TPN-related stuff here to keep things organized.

The plotbunny that pushed me over the edge of hyperfixation is a slightly different take on the Wish (it still involves erasing Emma’s memories, I just went about it in a different way) and a rework on how the human world works to make it more like our own world, since I think that offers more interesting narrative opportunities for the kinda challenges the kids went through.

Fics on this AU (the underlined words are links):

Missing Connection - My version of Emma’s first few days in the human world + how I recontextualized the Wish

The hippocampus is where events in your life are stored. All the previous experiences that shape you. When you need something recalled, it is set into action, and the memory travels to your frontal cortex.

But what happens when that connection is severed?

Dear Old Me - Emma’s two years with Alex, told through diary entries addressed to different versions of herself (either her “Future Me” that might lost her memories again, or her “Old Me” as she wonders who that was)

A girl without memories writes to her other selves about her life.

And of course, the multi-chapter I’ve been wanting to write since this idea first popped into my head:

Echoes - Kind of a fix-it post-canon fic (since I Didn’t Like how it was executed at all lol). I’m just taking the basic concept of “Emma lost her memories and it took two years for the others to find her”, injecting in lots of identity issues, trauma, and grief, and running with it. Also, this’ll go rayemma cuz I’m very biased, but I also plan on focusing on others’ relationships and how everyone’ll cope with the situation.

After two years of tireless searching, Emma is found in the middle of a marketplace of a nowhere town. Except, she isn’t quite the same Emma anymore.

This’ all for my pinned post, I guess. So– ye