#snippets from darcy's life

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

My sister (@lklvz ) has gone to meet the loves of her life (kirsten vangsness and adam rodriguez) and has left me behind (it's in paris, i'm broke, and i had finals)

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (3 - The Neighbor)

Chapter Summary: Agnes sees the perfect opportunity to stir up some trouble while Wanda deals with her jealousy toward your work assistant, Geraldine. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: I really have nothing to say except that I enjoyed writing Agatha in this chapter // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The team has been at a standstill, figuring out who’s behind this, or how to communicate with anyone trapped inside the town. Every drone they've sent in morphs into something entirely different, thwarting their efforts to gather any useful intel. The people sent underground to scout a safe route through have gone dark, their communication cut off. No one else volunteered to attempt approaching the perimeter after that.

The broadcasts they've been tracking are erratic, cutting out for hours with no warning, making it hard to keep a consistent eye on the town's odd behaviors. But it's during one of these quiet periods when something clicks in Darcy's mind.

“I think I have something,” Darcy blurts out to Jimmy. They’ve been scraping the bottom of the barrel, running out of faces to identify from the snippets of life in Westview they caught on screen. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy gives her a tired look, only half-listening. He can't remember the last time he managed more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Even if he could find the time to rest, the bizarre situation they're in won't let his mind relax. 

Darcy sighs and leads him outside the tent.

“So, you’ve seen that radio on Wanda’s kitchen counter, right?”

Jimmy only nods.

Darcy continues, “The next time she’s washing dishes, or whatever—which by my count—happens about once an episode, barf, we’ll shoot a signal to that little guy.” She leads him to a set of computers set up behind a pickup truck. Jimmy doesn’t understand what’s going on with these systems, but he’s hoping Darcy really is onto something.

“This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast,” she pauses to catch her breath in the cold and to give him time to catch up with her science. “And if my theory is right, it will allow us to speak to her.”

She cuts off any chance for Jimmy to comment and assures him, “This is definitely going to work.”

–

The annual Westview Harvest Festival is in full swing. The town square is packed with booths overflowing with baked goods and fresh fall produce. A small stage is set up for the local band playing tunes from the 70s, while kids dart around in all directions, their faces painted with fanciful designs. Billy and Tommy are with their preschool teachers, who are keeping them and other children their age occupied with arts and crafts that involve tumbleweeds—a material no one seems to think is entirely safe for five-year-olds to play with.

In hindsight, it’s the ideal setting for introductions and mingling. However, everyone here already knows each other—everyone, that is, except for Wanda. She makes an effort to blend in, but apart from a few interactions with the planning committee, which weren’t particularly fruitful, she often remains secluded at home. This makes you, the only one in the household who heads out daily for work, the more socially connected of the two. It’s both amusing and slightly anxiety-inducing to watch you interact with the townsfolk who are essentially strangers to you and to Wanda, if only you knew. You and Wanda never had the opportunity to live a normal life, to settle in a typical city, surrounded by neighbors who could have become integral to the life you might have built together. 

Seeing you interact with these people, she’s realizing it’s harder than she thought to share you with others. Or maybe she’s just as selfish as she’s always been, never really outgrowing it. When you were both part of the Avengers, it was like living in a bubble, surrounded by only a few familiar faces every day. Now, outside that controlled environment, it’s challenging her expectations and stirring up feelings she thought she had under control.

It becomes particularly tough when she sees Geraldine heading towards you, sporting that perpetual, dazzling smile full of perfect white teeth. Wanda's fingers curl into a fist, tiny wisps of red energy leaking from them. You quickly cover her hand with yours, and the effect is immediate—she relaxes slightly, letting you intertwine your fingers with hers, anchoring herself by your side where she feels secure.

“It's so nice to see you outside of the office, just being one of us for a change,” Geraldine says, though she seems to be wearing the same uniform as at work. Not that you're judging, but it does make you wonder why she hasn't changed.

“Definitely beats being stuck behind a desk,” you reply, your attention briefly wandering. Only then do you notice that Wanda has subtly withdrawn her hand from yours, now exploring a booth with homemade apple cider. You hadn't even noticed the exact moment she let go.

“Hello, Wanda!” Geraldine greets her warmly. 

Wanda musters a tight-lipped smile that’s convincing enough, as Geraldine appears quite taken with it. Just then, Geraldine spots Agnes standing a little away from the crowd, lingering behind Wanda with a look that borders on suspicion or disdain. 

Geraldine steps up to her while Wanda continues to busy herself with whatever else is being showcased in the booth. “Hi, I'm Geraldine. Isn’t this a wonderful evening?” She extends her hand to Agnes.

Agnes eyes the offered hand but doesn’t accept it. Instead, she sizes up Geraldine with a quick once-over and nods, foregoing any introductions. Geraldine's smile falters briefly, but she quickly shakes off the slight, tossing a brisk, “See you around, Y/N!” over her shoulder as she heads back to her table.

You wave back and let out a sigh, relieved that you’ve just sidestepped what could have been the most awkward moment of your life. Wanda’s jealousy towards Geraldine seems more serious than you’d realized. You know Wanda can be possessive; it's just been a long time since it's manifested this way. But then, it's also been a while since you've both been in a crowd of strangers like this. Since…

Since when, exactly?

“Y/N, honey?” Wanda’s voice snaps you out of your fog.

You blink. “Hm?”

“I’m thirsty.”

Just like that, you’ve forgotten about your lapse of memory, replaced by a desire to tend to your wife's needs.

“I’ll get us some refreshments. What would you like?” you ask.

“Just some water, please.”

“Water here, too,” Agnes calls out, unsolicited. 

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. It's great that Wanda's making friends in the neighborhood, but did it really have to be Agnes O’Connor? Ever since you and Wanda moved into this quiet suburb, Agnes has made it her personal mission to be involved in every aspect of your lives. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than the apparent nosiness of your neighbor.

As you head over to get the drinks, Agnes sidles up to Wanda, her eyes gleaming with an opportunity to stir some pot. 

“Geraldine seems quite taken with your wife.”

It’s not like Wanda doesn’t know what Agnes’s doing, but she finds herself nodding in agreement anyway. Your new assistant does appear smitten with you, and while Wanda gets the appeal—you are, undeniably, crush-worthy—she can't say she's thrilled about it.

“Y/N is her boss,” Wanda murmurs, more to herself than to Agnes.

“Oh, honey,” Agnes laughs condescendingly. “Do you even go to the movies? That's how the steamiest affairs start, you know.”

Wanda bristles at the sound of that endearment from someone other than you. But she keeps herself together—barely. 

“I trust her,” Wanda forces out.

As you're getting drinks, Geraldine joins you, picking up a soda herself. She lets out a light laugh at a joke from the bartender, and you find yourself chuckling too, oblivious to the piercing look your wife is drilling into your back.

Meanwhile, Agnes sees her opening and swoops in, linking her arm through Wanda's with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Of course, you trust her, dear,” she murmurs right by Wanda's ear. “But do you trust her?” She points subtly with her chin towards Geraldine, her lips pursed. “You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer…”

Wanda's shoulders tense, her entire frame stiffening. As you return with the drinks, Agnes steps away, leaving Wanda visibly shaken, like she’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“Everything okay?” you ask, handing her a drink. You've noticed before how Wanda's demeanor changes around Agnes; she’s clearly a source of stress for her. It’s going to be a difficult conversation, but it might be time to tell Wanda what you really think about the neighbor.

Wanda takes the water you offer, her fingers trembling slightly as she does. For a moment, she appears distant, disengaged, as if her mind is elsewhere. Then, with a sudden shift, she flashes you one of those smiles that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I'm fine,” she declares, a little too brightly. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she asks, “Is Geraldine here with someone?”

You stop short, realizing you really don't know much about Geraldine beyond work. “I didn’t see her with anyone,” you say.

Wanda nods thoughtfully. Her next suggestion catches you by surprise. 

“Maybe you should invite her over to our table.”

Did you hear that correctly? Had Wanda just done a complete 180 regarding your assistant and was now interested in getting to know her? You shoot a suspicious glance at Agnes. Had she said something to Wanda to change her mind?

“Are you sure?” you ask, puzzled by her abrupt change of heart.

“I am,” Wanda affirms. “It might be nice to make a new friend.”

–

Back at the response camp, Darcy and Jimmy are huddled around the small, grainy television, waiting for the moment Wanda’s in her kitchen so they can send a message through her radio device. However, the usual domestic scenes are conspicuously absent, replaced by static and sporadic cuts to the ongoing Harvest Festival.

“Come on, come on,” Darcy mutters under her breath, shoving her glasses back up her nose. They've been slipping a lot lately, probably because she's been hunching over her work more than usual these past few days.

“It's this festival,” Jimmy says, squinting at the screen. “I think the whole town's out there tonight. I don’t think we’re going to get the chance.”

Their attempts to contact anyone inside the Hex are dwindling, and Hayward's interest leans more towards studying the energy barrier encasing the town rather than resolving the anomaly itself. His latest directive to launch another drone into the barrier feels like a brute force attempt to crack the problem. Jimmy thinks it’s a waste of time—and resources.

“Yeah, and you know what’s worse?” Darcy grumbles. “I have a bad feeling about Agnes. Every time she's around, things just seem to... escalate.”

As they watch, the screen cuts to a shot of Agnes at the festival, linking arms with Wanda, whispering something that makes Wanda’s expression tighten. “See, what did I tell you?” Darcy exclaims, pointing at the screen. “Who’s this Agnes again in real life?” she asks.

Jimmy swivels in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the expansive pinboard filled with photos of Westview residents. Agnes’s face is not among them. 

“No idea,” he says flatly. He had already run a search in the database, but it came back empty.

“So, we've identified Y/N, Monica, and Agnes as outsiders in Westview,” Darcy explains, tallying them off on her fingers. 

“That’s correct,” Jimmy confirms.

“And then there’s Wanda’s sons. But again… we haven’t seen any other children in the show besides the twins.”

Jimmy thinks about it for a while. It had never really occurred to him before. “Maybe they’re bound to show up at some point?”

“Smells fishy to me,” Darcy huffs. Her thoughts circle back to Agnes. “How do you think Agnes ended up here?” she asks, their list of unanswered questions growing daily.

Jimmy shrugs. “She could’ve just been visiting.”

Darcy considers it. It's a possibility, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right—too simple, too convenient for someone as vibrant and prickly as the character Agnes portrays.

–

It's as if Wanda's animosity toward Geraldine just magically went away. 

They’ve been chatting for almost an hour. Initially, Wanda made sure to include you in the conversation, but as time passed, she and Geraldine started connecting over topics that didn’t involve you as much. Feeling somewhat left out but also at ease that the problem between your wife and your secretary has apparently resolved itself, you decide to check out the festival booths.

This is where Agnes finds the perfect opportunity to get you alone. She starts her approach—to your surprise and discomfort—by acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“I know you don’t like me very much,” she says with a knowing smile. “Maybe we can change that tonight?”

You eye her with suspicion, easily seeing through her blatant attempts to flirt her way into your good graces.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” you ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

Agnes simply laughs off the cool reception you’ve given her. If anything, she revels in it. 

“By getting to know each other, obviously,” she says.

“Right.”

She takes your elbow, and you swear she can feel you recoil at her closeness, yet she doesn’t seem to care. She urges you forward, dictating the pace. Her grip is unexpectedly firm, as if to say you have no choice but to listen—like leaving isn't an option.

With you literally in her grasp, Agnes sets her plans into motion. “So, how did you and Wanda meet?” she asks.

You deliver the narrative precisely as it plays out in your memory, exactly as Wanda implanted it in your mind. “We grew up next to each other. Best friends since we were kids.” 

“How cute,” she says, in that smooth, supercilious tone that usually makes your skin crawl. But this time, with the memories of Wanda filling your head, you hardly notice.

“Yeah, I remember when I first saw her,” you continue, gazing into the distance as if the scene you speak of is right there before your eyes. “It was almost Halloween, and my mom had baked a pumpkin pie to welcome them to the neighborhood. She sent me to deliver it. Wanda answered the door.”

“Love at first sight?”

“More like the opposite,” you say, throwing Agnes a good-natured smile, something you’ve never done before. “She couldn’t stand me, and I felt the same way.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Agnes drawls before accompanying it with a short chuckle. “Who knows? Maybe there’s hope for us yet. You might end up not hating me so much after all.”

“Maybe…” you say, the smile reaching your eyes this time.

“Good, good,” Agnes says. “I can’t think of anything more romantic than growing up with the person you’ll be with for the rest of your life. Almost like it’s… sketched out, no?”

You nod at her, not sure where she’s going with this, but you appreciate the sentiment. You consider yourself lucky to have known Wanda most of your life. 

“So, you've lived in Westview your whole life?” Agnes asks.

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation.

“And you've only ever been to Westview?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, ready to list off places you've been, but suddenly, you can't name any. The cities and trips that should come easily to your tongue just... don't materialize.

Not a single one.

Agnes watches you struggle with a blank expression. A second later, she begins throwing out suggestions, as if trying to help. 

“Canada?" 

You shake your head. 

“California?” 

Another shake.

“New York?”

No. This time, your eyes sting with the frustration of trying to pull something from the haze, realizing there’s nothing there. 

Have you really never been anywhere but Westview?

“Eastview, maybe?” she offers with a bit of sarcasm as she names the town next door.

“I—”

“How strange,” Agnes muses, driving home the final nail in the coffin of your crumbling peace.

You jerk your arm away from her grip and take a few instinctive steps back. “I need to pick up the twins,” you blurt out, seizing the first excuse that comes to mind. “We should be heading out soon.”

Without waiting for her reply, you start walking away, driven by a sudden, intense need to be with your boys, with Wanda. To hold them close, to find some stability. Because right now, you’re petrified by a fear you cannot name. 

“I heard Australia’s amazing this time of year!” Agnes calls after you.

The idea of not having been anywhere but Westview—it’s possible, right? Some people spend their entire lives in one place. But if this feeling—the one that's been gnawing at you lately—is real, if the world outside of Westview is truly non-existent, then what does that say about your life here?

What does it say about you?

[honnelander]

I CAME AS SOON AS I SAW THE POST

can we get a little snippet of go fish!reader maybe reading Pride and Prejudice aloud to Zoro after he had been struck down by Mihawk, like how Nami did, and Sanji over hearing and just staying by the door to listen to her read or something? i think a little blurb like that would be so cute

AHHH CUUUUTE!! i modified this a bit to have it fit into the overall story's timeline. instead of Zoro being struck down by Mihawk, he's sick and bedridden. thank you for this :))

here's go fish!Sanji listening to you reading:

masterlist

"Ohhh Zoro," you quietly squealed, trying your best to keep your voice down from disturbing a very ill and bedridden Zoro from waking. "Are you ready for this? Oh my god, this is another one of my favorite parts," you gushed, sighing dreamily as you put your very loved and well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice on your lap before hurriedly picking it up again to continue reading aloud to your friend in his room.

"I'm in love with you, most ardently," you read, voice quiet enough and full of wistfulness.

As you continued to read the story, your voice going up and down in excitement as you read the scene aloud, Sanji could hear your quiet gushing from the hallway. He was carrying a small tray of food, two bowls of his special homemade chicken soup sitting right in the middle, one for Zoro and another for you since he knew you'd spent all afternoon reading to the sick swordsman and figured you must be hungry by this point as well.

With careful steps, he silently stood right behind the doorway as he listened to your soothing voice bring the words that were printed on the page of your favorite book to life with a small smile on his face. The blonde cook closed his eyes for a minute, letting the sound of your voice wash over him as he admired you without you ever knowing.

He leaned his shoulder on the doorframe right outside of Zoro's room, gently resting the side of his head against it as well, as his mind wandered for a second, getting lost in the story.

Apparently, it was the part in the story where Mr. Darcy was confessing his love to Elizabeth, but as he listened further, he realized that it wasn't the end of the story where they both confessed their feelings mutually, it was more in the beginning where Mr. Darcy's sentiments were one-sided and Sanji couldn't help but feel a sort of kinship with the fictional man.

While the situation he was in with you wasn't as dramatic as Jane Austen's creation (if there even was a 'situation', he thought dejectedly), the feelings he had for you were certainly real and very complicated.

Was he in love with you? He wasn't entirely sure, but he did like you, much more than a friend should. He had feelings that he only had for you, and no one else. Sure, he's come to love the rest of the crew and Nami too, but none of them could make him feel the things that he only seemed to experience with you.

Suddenly, he wondered how he would confess these sentiments to you one day. Would he pull a Mr. Darcy and just walk into your room one night, spilling out his heart's desires for you in a single breath because if he didn't, he might not have the courage to tell you otherwise? Telling you the thoughts that consistently plagued his mind, trying to sort them out aloud in front of you because they were driving him mad like poor Mr. Darcy? Or would he plan something out and take his time? Wait until he understood what he felt because he 'wanted to get it right'?

Sanji didn't know, it was too soon to tell... but what he did know was that if he stood out there loitering any longer, the soup would get cold and the chef in him would rather die than serve you something like that.

Coincidently, it seemed like the chapter had just ended, you letting out a lighthearted sigh as you softly commented to Zoro, "Ok Zoro, now wasn't that chapter just... extraordinary?"

"It certainly was, Missus," Sanji commented cheekily, suppressing a smile as best he could as he walked into the room.

"Oh! Sanji!" you gasped as your hand quickly covered your racing heart. "Jeez, you scared me." You watched as Sanji placed the tray of soups onto the nightstand. "Sorry. I, uh, didn't realize I was reading so loudly I attracted an audience," you said, your cheeks heating up slightly at the thought that Sanji had been listening to you for who knows how long.

"'Sorry'?" Sanji repeated, a slight frown on his face momentarily as looked down at the tray, glancing at you over his shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for, my love." Once the tray was secured on the nightstand, he fully turned to face you, his hands in his pockets as he put on his most charming smile. "Now," he started smoothly, "I'm starting to think that maybe I should get sick so you can come and read to me in bed all day."

Sanji's smile only grew as he watched your face become even more flushed at his words.

You laughed slightly, eyes darting away from his as you asked, "Don't you mean when you're bedridden?"

There was a long pause, the silence becoming deafening at your question. You could feel the tension in the room become thicker the longer that Sanji stayed quiet. Your hands started to feel slightly clammy as your heart rate picked up.

You swallowed. "You know, instead of 'in bed'... since you'd be sick and everything?" you asked finally, as you mustered up the courage to look back up at Sanji from your chair.

At his expression, your heart skipped a beat. Sanji was still looking at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief (and sincerity?) and another emotion you didn't understand, a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but feel like Sanji knew what he said and that he had said it on purpose.

His crooked smile only deepened. "Sure," he agreed simply. "When I'm sick and ill, and completely bedridden." He blinked, inhaling a small breath as he looked down at his shoes for a moment before looking back up at you, a small questioning look in his eyes as he quietly asked, "And you'd do that? Come and read to me all day?"

"Of course," you answered without hesitation, frowning slightly at Sanji believing that you wouldn't do for even a moment. "I would do anything to help you feel better, Sanji."

Now, between the two of you, it was pretty obvious that Sanji was the smooth-talking flirt, with you never really outrightly flirting with him in the conventional sense, but wow, you might as well be labeled the biggest flirt in his mind because your kind, thoughtful words and gestures never failed to make his heart flutter and knees go weak.

And the way you would look at him, time and time again, whenever you would gently reassure him that yes, you did indeed care about him and that you never truly forgot him... it was enough for him to feel his heart nearly explode.

There it was again, your kind, thoughtful, and beautiful expression on full display for him as you looked up at him through your lashes.

And just like that, Sanji's fears were completely washed away.

He let out a slight laugh, turning his face to the side, his blonde bangs facing you to try and hide the very faint blush on his cheeks. "Aw, you're too kind to me, Missus." He looked back at you, his rosy glow fading slightly, however, his smile was still bright. "Thank you."

At seeing Sanji happy, you were happy. You returned his smile and with a slight teasing tone you said, "But I'll only read to you if you promise to read to me when I'm in bed, sick and completely bedridden."

The blonde chef laughed lightly again, partly because of your now little inside joke, but because the thought that you even had to ask him if he 'would ever do that for you' was completely absurd. Of course he would. He would've been reading to you from the moment you were awake and not feeling well, all the way until you were sleeping, and even then he would continue to recite the pages of the book you loved aloud while you slept, so your dreams and subconscious mind were filled with the sound of his voice well into the night.

Sanji would do anything for you. And you never even needed to ask.

But he didn't tell you all that, not wanting to freak you out with his intense train of thought, so he simply said, with a small smile and twinkle in his eye, "Consider it done."

From Sanji's right, the sound of bedsheets rustling caught both of your attention.

Zoro groaned, gingerly opening his eyes as he pulled his blanket closer to himself. "Ugh... waiter? What are you doing here?"

Sanji looked down at him, a hint of concern on his pretty features as he replied, "Ah, Mosshead, you're awake. I, uh, thought I'd do a little room service and bring some soup for you and y/n."

At hearing your name, Zoro opened his eyes again. "Y/n?" He slowly turned his head towards you. "What are you-" he started to ask but when he saw the book on your lap he groaned and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "Oh don't tell me- you've been reading that garbage to me while I was sleeping this whole time?"

But you weren't offended by his question. Instead, you laughed. "If you mean masterpiece then, yes. You're right. I had just gotten to the good part too!"

Zoro shifted in his bunk, getting comfortable. "Well, by all means, keep going," he deadpanned. In a more sincere tone he said, "I haven't slept this good in a while." But then, with a ghost of a smile, he added, "Your book is so boring it puts me right to sleep."

"Hey, a win is a win," you laughed joyfully. You looked up at Sanji for a second, wanting to share your little moment of happiness of Zoro wanting to continue reading with him.

But Sanji was already looking at you, eyebrows raised in surprise and a disbelieving closed-lipped smile on his face. His smile only grew at seeing the happiness you radiated, his eyes scanning over your face. "Well, in that case," he started as he made his way towards the door. "Let me excuse myself then. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your storytime, Mr. Mosshead."

As Sanji left the room and stepped out into the hall, he could hear you giggle at his 'Mr. Darcy' joke while Zoro grumbled, a sweet sense of satisfaction coming over him.

But before he went back to the kitchen to start on tonight's dinner prep, he loitered outside of Zoro's room again, leaning against the doorframe like he did moments earlier, out of view, so could listen to you read once more for a bit, a small, wistful smile on his face.

taglist: @smolracoon25 @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @abracarabbit @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @mischiefmanaged71 @asianfrustration13 @shuujin @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @browneyedhufflepuff @stevenknightmarc @deserticwren @detectivelucy07 @yarnnerdally @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @miloonmetis @fa1rybubbl3z @feelinmatcha @ivonarfsh @facelessfionna @rosemaplefairy90 @littlefishswimmer @vinskyspuff @truebluesanji @antrenna @raythecomputerart @ohsilk @galaxy-pirates @christinaatyourservice92 @svnwcn @olliesoxenfree @taro-gabi @daydreamer-in-training @uncomfortableshoelace @yuriwk @buggy0827 @laviiv @notasgard @sallydelys @genlovesdcb

[butdaddyiloveh3r]

Taylor is completely fine with fans interpreting songs as queer(how they are intended) and here’s a few examples which are so interesting

The show Dickinson based on Emily Dickinsons life which we know Taylor has taken inspiration from for a few songs! Emily Dickinson was a famously sapphic poet!! In the show they actually used the song Ivy which when a show or film wants to use Taylor’s music it needs to be approved and most likely she approves it too!! So yeah it’s very interesting she allows a super sapphic show to use a sapphic song. I wonder if she’s trying to say something? 🤭

And secondly for heartstopper they use seven which is established as a song with alot of queer themes!! They use this scene in the end of season two when alot if queer couples are hanging out but most importantly the song is used prominently on a sapphic relationship between Darcy and Tara!! Yet again she is allowing her music to be interpreted as queer.

I think this is super obvious and loud that she is saying she actually likes when fans interpret her songs how they are supposed to be!! So it’s clear she actually loves these interpretations otherwise she wouldn’t allow the songs for the shows!!

Another thing to mention is that she would have say in whether a production can use her songs or not!! For example the show the summer I turned pretty season two she let them use a snippet of delicate Taylor’s version which isn’t even out yet so would need her permission!! It’s almost as if she’s being very intentional with the song choices she’s allowed for a very certain type of show!! Very sapphic shows!! 🦄

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Fic update: wake up, boy, you're far from home

Very excited to say the last chapter is now posted! Thanks to everyone who has followed along on this journey, I appreciate you!

Summary:

Eddie gains some resolve as Buck gains some perspective.

Snippet:

Bobby just listens. There’s not a shred of judgement or disappointment on his face. And Buck doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“I’m sorry,” he blubbers, sitting in the tiny living room of Bobby and Athena’s apartment. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I know you warned me. And I know you expect more of me now, after all these years, and-"

“Whoa,” Bobby lifts a hand to stop him. “No, Buck. Are you kidding? You think I’ve lived the life I’ve lived and this cracks the top ten worst things I’ve heard? No. This is just… This is just human.”

Human. Buck doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“Sometimes I don’t think you see yourself that way,” Bobby says.

---

Tagging:

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[taradactyls]

Elizabeth Overestimates her Ability to Tie a Cravat

Prompt for @janeuary-month 2005 Day 8: Cravat

Over the period of their engagement, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy take many long walks. During an unseasonably warm late October day, Mr Darcy loosens his cravat and removes his jacket. Elizabeth finds this a very educational experience. But when it comes time to put them back on, she cannot for the life of her figure out how to knot the cravat properly after insisting she do the honours.

“My dearest, and loveliest, Elizabeth,” he gently began. “You have no idea how to knot a cravat, do you?”

3,421 Words, Rated G, Elizabeth Bennet / Fitzwilliam Darcy

Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, Love, Sickeningly in Love, Canon Compliant, I cannot express how absolutely besotted with each other these two are, The tension is palpable but it goes no further than g-rated touches banter and a few chaste kissies, Sweet, One shot

Read a snippet below the cut, and the entire work on Ao3

Elizabeth Overestimates her Ability to Tie a Cravat

For all her family’s joy at her engagement to Mr Darcy, escaping them at every opportunity was one of Elizabeth’s highest priorities. Thankfully, there were plenty of lanes about in which she may lose her way accompanied by her dear Mr Darcy. They had managed to flee Longbourn today by proposing another long walk, and though initially possessing the companionship of Jane and Mr Bingley the couples had collectively decided, without a word being spoken, to travel different paths.

The harvest was in, the landscape awash in colour, and the sun unseasonably hot. Elizabeth was delighted, and yet she looked at her intended with concern. After studying him a few moments, she asked “What is that furrowed brow for, Mr Darcy?”

“I feel I ought to be sitting with your father in the library,” said he, “but it has been two days since I have been alone with you for any length of time and so I must be selfish.”

“The correct choice, in my completely unbiased opinion,” Elizabeth smiled, nudging his arm lightly with her own to punctuate her point. He responded by capturing her hand, and raising it to give the back of it a kiss.

He did not release it once it was lowered.

Mr Darcy was too deep in thought to notice her blush. “I do not want to appear lax in my duty towards him, nor fail to prove that I deserve the honour of your hand.”

“Oh, you must not trouble your mind about that! The latter is already accomplished, and for the former – well, as sweet as your sentiment is, I assure you my father shall be very pleased to have a day free from respectful sons-in-law. After spending all yesterday with you and Mr Bingley hunting, followed by dinner with the Lucases, there is nothing he wants more than silence and solitude in his library.”

“So long as you are certain he shall not find my avoidance of his company for a whole day selfish.”

“He shall view it as a kindness to himself – and everyone else for that matter.”

“I fail to see how anyone else factors into it?”

Leaning into him with a smile, Elizabeth archly replied “It saves them all from having to endure my forlorn sighs as I stare longingly at you from across the room.”

Mr Darcy gave a short laugh as he looked at her in surprise, the rare sound and the amusement in his face ample reward for Elizabeth’s efforts. Her smile turned softer as she admired him and his own gaze did not stray from her.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if he might finally kiss her, for he had remained entirely proper so far over the fortnight of their engagement.

“Well then,” he said instead, “I shall take that as his tacit approval to wander about the countryside with you for at least another two hours. Even if it does grow hotter every moment.”

“Poor Mr Darcy! Pity there are no lakes here-abouts for you to jump into to cool down.”

Elizabeth was jesting, but within another half an hour it became clear that perhaps such an action would not be fully unwise. She had foregone a sleeved dress that morning but the gentleman was not so fortunate in his coat. “I know I claimed your presence outdoors for the next few hours, but I am afraid, dearest Elizabeth, that I near my limit for exercise in the present circumstances,” he said, tugging at his cravat to allow some air to slip within.

“You are looking a bit flushed – shall we turn back?”

“Not until after I have recovered somewhat. The lack of trees on our return path for the next mile shall only worsen my state.”

Elizabeth frowned at Mr Darcy in consternation. “You are not feeling dizzy, nor any worse symptoms, I hope?”

“No, just uncomfortably hot,” he reassured her. “A break to sit down in the shade shall quite restore me.” Yet despite professing himself mostly fine, he did not at all fight Elizabeth’s insistence on putting her arm around his waist, and draped his own about her shoulders. It was perhaps unnecessary, as he did not lean any of his weight on her, but the feeling of Elizabeth against him made him almost forget the heat for a moment.

Though there may not have been a lake to jump into (the small pond in a cow paddock featuring said animals wading through it to cool down was far too dirty to even contemplate) there was a copse atop a low hill not far from the road. Elizabeth led Mr Darcy to it, pleased to see it was free from grazing animals and other people, and open enough that sitting there with her betrothed could cause no scandal even if they were a little hidden from the road once they found the most sheltered spot. He took a few steps from her, and in some desperation, untied his cravat and ripped it from his neck, seeking the relief of cooler air.

Continue reading here

[argisthebulwark]

*runs in knocking everything over on my way* Regency Miraak??? (If you would like to share anything about im sat)

yeah, it's been a bit of a slow burn project for me lol. i love writing the version of miraak i made up for it, i kept the mask and made him a reclusive mr darcy type of man. predictably, i've written a lot of fluffy or smutty scenes but not a lot of connective in between stuff, hopefully someday i can form it into something coherent!! i'll put a lil snippet below a cut here - i really like this scene but don't want to eat up anyone's dash :)

“May I remove your mask?” The very question that had burned within her for ages. Her fingers danced carefully over the jeweled shoulders of his coat while anxiously awaiting his answer. Gloved hands tightened at his sides and for one moment she worried that she’d overstepped, that this moment of vulnerability would come to an end. 

“You may.” He breathed the words, supple leather cool on her skin as he guided her hands to his mask. “Only you may.” 

Cold metal poked at her palms as she clutched its edges, his hold leaving hers to reach for its clasp. Excitement left her heart racing as she recalled all the terrible rumors that had circulated about him - that he’d been horrifically scarred in the war, birthmarks he shamefully hid away, false eyes or a broken smile. She prepared for anything. Grasping the mask she carefully lifted it away from Miraak’s face. 

Deep green eyes framed with gloriously thick lashes met hers, gauging every flicker of emotion on her face. She knew he weighed every minute reaction, fearing rejection so deeply it almost seemed that he sought it out. She schooled her features knowing that one wrong move would slam shut the cracks into his life she'd so painstakingly opened. 

One dark brow was split, an old gash cutting through it. The scar ran over the crooked bridge of his nose and spiderwebbed across his cheek, one corner of his mouth twisted upward with scar tissue. Her heart rammed in her chest as she took him in, utterly amazed by the face he’d hidden from the world. With quivering hands she carefully cupped his face, shocked when he did not rebuke her. Miraak’s eyes fluttered closed as she cradled his cool skin, voicing the only words she could fathom at the sight of him. 

“You are beautiful.” She whispered, eyes misty. Miraak’s mouth quirked up in a sarcastic grin and she felt the blood rushing into his cheeks, face warming in her grasp.

“You are the only one mad enough to say such a thing.” It was the voice she knew so well but there was something magical about witnessing his mouth form the words. “The gods know I am anything but beautiful.”

“You are to me.” He glanced up at her and she saw the desperation in his eyes, how deeply he wanted to believe her. She wished to make him see it all - his stunning eyes, the breathtaking smile, the sheer sense of him.

“You are beautiful to me.”

“Are you lying to spare my feelings?” The humor in his tone was false, a faulty cover for the vulnerability of his position. She could not bring herself to participate in his banter - this moment was far too important. 

“You know I could never lie to you.”

“Lying is among your many talents.” 

“Never to you, Miraak.” He allowed her to inch closer, eyes flicking down to her lips. Her body was aflame at the ever decreasing space between them, yearning to fall into his touch. 

“We could be caught like this.” Miraak murmured and she marveled once more at the sight of his lips moving. “We would be compromised, we could lose all standing in proper society.”

“Best keep quiet then, my lord.” 

[bigdumbbambieyes]

hello lovelies!! surprise! here's another snippet of my Regency AU for the @bigbangharringrove event 🤍

and as an extra special treat, here is a sketch of the boys that @hellfirefucker drew - he is so talented, he really brought the boys to life for us!!

'moonflower, mine' snippet below the cut!

A month ago, Billy had believed that the hardest part of this endeavor would be getting Max to refine herself further, but that was before he realized that he still had to convince his father of letting her go to London with him.

“Absolutely not,” Neil frowns over dinner in late December, “Maxine has no business in London, especially not now.”

He can feel Max’s gaze on the side of his face where they sit at the table across from their parents. He’s thought of reasons as to why Max would need to go, but they are all feeble. Still, he has to try.

“She may not have any business in London,” Billy agrees, “However, her cousin has been writing to her often in hopes of her visiting.”

“Which cousin is this?” Susan asks, her brows a little furrowed as she looks between the two.

“Cousin Darcy,” Max pipes up, looking at her mom and doing her best to keep her face neutral because Billy knows that her cousin Darcy has not written to her in years – not since he moved to Scotland with his wife, “He will be in London during the Season, to visit family.”

Neil doesn’t look convinced, and neither does Susan, but she has this understanding look in her eye, like she knows they’re lying but is trying to figure out why.

“That sounds lovely,” Susan hums as she looks at her husband, “Doesn’t it, dear?”

Neil grunts as he scoops some boiled potatoes onto his plate, but says nothing else. 

This is good.

“I have not seen London since we moved to Fairhollow, mother – I would very much like to see how it’s changed.” Max says, looking at Billy again, “And I would be safe, with Billy.”

“Yes, I agree. And not to mention, it would look good for Max to be somewhat well travelled, would it not?” Billy adds, looking to Susan and trying to silently beg for her help.

And Susan is not an idiot, she’s definitely caught on to them, but she’s also willing to give that help that Billy is so desperately asking for because she agrees with a light, “Yes, I believe it would. Mr. Beaumont has spoken on such things before, has he not, Mr. Hargrove?” 

The three of them look to Neil, who glances at each one of them in silence, because he knows he’s lost. 

So, with a long-suffering sigh, he nods in agreement and mutters, “Yes, he has.”

“Then it is settled?” Billy asks, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

Neil stares at him, almost through him, and points his knife at Billy, “You are to keep her safe at all times. She is to represent me and our home and she will not embarrass me – if I hear that anything has happened, or that she has done anything to ruin our name, then you will pay for it, William. Understood?”

Swallowing back the bitter taste on his tongue, Billy nods, “Yes, sir.”

[bbhuntress]

The Hunted

Somebody either needs to stop me or fuel my fire. I read one fic for this pairing that spurred my interest to go watch the movie and now I’m spiraling down a rabbit hole of my own making. So, here’s a quick snippet for what I imagine will be a much longer idea.

The premise?

Darcy Lewis is past her unpaid intern days, now a leading doctor in the field she fell into, networking with shady government agencies, and navigating a world post-snap, sans most of the original six Avengers, a few years after the death of the best friend she ever had, and is adulting like a boss, if you asked her.

What no one prepared her for was a sentient, malicious AI that has survived in said shady government agencies, being the new owner to a dubious piece of Stark tech that might have the fate of the world somewhere on its hard drive, and running into the adult version of the bad boy heartthrob her private-school, teenaged-self thought would be the love of her life.

And since when did Sergei Kravinoff get superpowers?!?

Snippet below:

Sergei hastened after the frustrated woman, “We were friends too once!”

“Fat lot of good that does me!”

He paused in his stride of following after her, “Darcy, I am going to help you.”

“Until you need to leave again.”

“Darcy!” He reached for her arm but she yanked it away from him. “I wasn’t trying to get away from you.”

“But you still did.”

He took a moment to try and read her features, befuddled by her hostility, “…why did it hurt you so much?”

Her eyes widening, she just inhaled sharply before turning back on her heel and started hurrying away. The clacking of her heels echoed in his ears as the picture began taking shape in his mind, something teasing and unfamiliar pulling at the air in his lungs, “…did you like me?” His tone was a mix of bafflement and confusion. 

“Yes, okay!” Exasperatedly she turned to face him. To Sergei it felt like the years melted off them both and he was staring down at her in the starchily pressed school uniforms. “You broke my little teenaged heart. You left and didn’t come back. But-“

Here the illusion broke and he was staring at the same woman, lined with a decades worth of handling alien invasions and otherworldly crises, “-if you haven’t noticed, I’m not a teenager anymore. So if we can just move past this-“

“I missed you too.” His words interrupted her, but it was his solemn, genuinely remorseful tone that had her jaw clacking shut. 

—-

Never posted before and I don’t know if this will get ANY feedback, but I figure getting someone else’s eyes on it besides me and my poor harassed bestie might be useful. Thanks for constructive feedback! I don’t think I’ll post chapters here, but I might post a link on archive if I get around to fleshing it out more!

[sunpaintedsea]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { DIHAAN 'DORIAN' VAKIL } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { HE } is ? they kind of look like { DEV PATEL } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { THIRTY } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { TWO YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { MR. DARCY } from { PRIDE AND PREJUDICE }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working as an { AUTHOR }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { TORTURED ARTIST } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { SKITTISH } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { COMPASSIONATE } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 1 BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { OCEAN'S EDGE }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

tw: mental illness, abuse

Basic Information

Full Name: dihaan vakil

Nickname(s): dorian, doe, dee

Age: thirty

Date of Birth: october 8

Hometown: sankod, india

Current Location: palmview grove, florida

Gender: cismale

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: biromantic, bisexual (closeted)

Relationship Status: single

Occupation: author

Favourites

Weather: snow

Colour:  baby blue

Sport:  football (british)

Beverage: red wine

Food: shrimp scampi

Animal:  horse

Family

Sibling(s): none

Pet(s): none

Biography

{tw: mental illness, abuse} to say that things haven't been very easy for dihaan would be an understatement. his father struggled with severe schizophrenic and bipolar behaviours, believing that dihaan was the reincarnation of the devil. as such, he kept the young boy locked away in the attic. occasionally, his mother would slip him books or newspapers to read, things he could easily hide if his father came looking for him. at first, he was only allowed to leave the home to attend temple, but soon, the townspeople started to get suspicious of this young boy, who didn't attend public schooling, and began asking questions. spooked, his father's delusions deepened, and leaving the house became an impossible task. he became the primary victim of his father's mood swings, enduring treatment he would never dare speak of again.

while his father had intended to keep him locked up forever, dihaan's mother knew that she needed to get him out as soon as possible. on dihaan's eighteenth birthday, his mother packed him a small suitcase of whatever they could spare and put him on a bus to the nearest big city. there, he got a job washing dishes and used the cash he made to rent a room. the dishwashing job turned into a line cook job which earned him enough money to get his affairs in order and disappear to america. new york, specifically, where his favourite novel had taken place. a land of new beginnings.

{tw: abuse} new york was where he met maria. maria was a vibrant woman, who consumed his life almost immediately. she helped him reinvent himself. at first, she supported his dreams of becoming a writer and publishing his first novel. he'd gotten another restaurant job in the big apple, but she encouraged him to quit it and work on his writing. she would support him. that turned out to be the biggest mistake he ever made in life. the ensuing emotional, physical, and financial abuse crushed the already-weakened dorian, who really only dreamed of somewhere to belong.

however, dorian had made a friend (future WC). this friend helped him escape, giving him a place to live while he got his feet back under him. even introduced him to a publisher, who after reading a snippet of his writing, offered dorian a deal. he would act as a ghost writer, writing everything from celebrity biographies to finishing the work of authors who'd passed on. it was unfulfilling, but it paid the bills. and then, he got a promotion. to romance novels. under a pseudonym, dorian wrote sappy, steamy, romantic harlequin novels. they weren't best sellers, and none of them would ever win literary awards, but he realized he had found his niche. these novels gave him an escape from the real world, where he was unloveable and broken. when his friend moved back to their hometown of palmview, dorian decided to come with, figuring this was as nice a town as any to settle down in.

[thekatebridgerton]

Like I'm trying not to think about how hard it was for Anthony to be the parentified older sibling while at the same time fearing he was going to die at the same age as his dad did.

Because that snippet in TSPWL of his father-brother feelings towards Eloise doesn't cover the tenth of what he must have gone through with Colin, Daphne and Francesca too. Let alone Hyacinth and Gregory. How he had to be their dad when all he wanted was to be their brother. I'm pretty sure Anthony didn't want to be imposing discipline and calculating dowries and metting out scoldings when one of his siblings got into trouble. That was supposed to be their father's job, and Anthony would have loved to have with them the camaraderie he had with Benedict, but the fact remains that he was the Viscount and he was left in charge of them, even if he didn't want to be.

In the show they added that scene where Anthony is asked to make a decision for Violet's pregnancy, that rightfully so, only Edmund should have been asked to make. Just for it to hit home, how incredibly young Anthony was when he became head of the household. He had to be a father when he just lost his and everyone just expected him to keep it together.

I mean in the show His siblings certainly don't thank him for it, or seem to appreciate how well he's made things for them despite the huge ammount of responsibility he has. In the books at least they do cut Anthony some slack and you see the older Bridgerton siblings trying to break out from relying on him so much, but the fact remains that they still know they can count on him whenever they're in trouble. Even if he will scold them about it.

And despite all this, Anthony never falters in his dedication to his family. I wish the show would portray a little bit more, how hard it is on both sides, for Anthony who truly wants to be a brother instead of a dad, and for Daphne, Colin, Eloise and Francesca, who wants to have a normal sibling bond with him but still treat him as the second main parental figure in their life. Because he's all they had to rely on after Edmund's death.

This is without taking Gregory and Hyacinth into account. Who literally don't remember Edmund and only had Anthony as an example of what a father should be. And perhaps this is the only character trait that I think Anthony shares with Fitzwilliam Darcy. Because we also don't aknowledge how much being Georgiana's parental figure from a young age, affected Darcy's approach to living his life.

Nope I'm not crying. No sir

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Scrolling through instagram stories today and see someone post a picture of rossi saying, essentially, what we've all been thinking: let this man retire he's too old

but the thing is, none of my CM mutuals would be posting that bc the pictures is from 16.1 and all the accounts about CM i follow are talking about either season 17 or the upcoming season 18

and then i check who posted and it's ONE OF MY FRIENDS FROM SCHOOL? and to my knowledge they hadn't watched the show bc they used to let me gab about it (garvez) even though they hadn't seen it

so i message them about how surprised i am that they posted that

TURNS OUT THEY BINGED THE ENTIRE ORIGNIAL RUN IN A MATTER OF WEEKS???? AND ARE NOW ON CME???

we're gonna hang out after exams and talk about it bc FINALLY i have an irl to be insane about this with

also we're talking about getting matching Mildreds and I'll be Penelope and they'll be Reid

[bby-bel-art]

wip wednesday (thursday 😔)

thank u to @vividiana for the tag!!! here’s a lil sample for chapter 4 of my fic Death and Romance <3

The music begins to play, causing Kell to gasp softly.

Can’t you see it’s all flown out of my hands?

And our clothes are too often ripped

And our teeth are too often gnashed

And it lasts as long as it possibly can

The droning guitar in the background compliments the melancholic wailing of the singer perfectly, sounding like a mantra. Kell’s mind is completely blown. How can something like this exist? He must have some control of the Weave contributing to this, right? Or do they have sorcerer blood like me?

“It’s called technology,” Darcy cuts off their thought process. “In the world I come from, magic doesn’t exist. This is the closest thing we have to it.” They take the earbud back from Kell, who is having a hard time forming coherent thoughts.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, concerned. They start to panic, hoping he didn’t break their brain. Maybe people from Faerun aren’t supposed to listen to music from earbuds…

here’s the song in this snippet:

i’ve been tagging so many people in things recently so if u see this feel free to post ur WIP!!!! <33

[ladytauria]

JAYCEST UNTITLED 👀👀👀👀

i started writing this one after talking to @this-was-a-terrible-idea <3 who also sent me a perfect prompt for it xD

fem!jason is stuck in canon!universe and spends like,,, a week with jason before she's like: is anyone going to fix this? no? okay

and by fix this she means fuck him <3 to teach him about self-care, obviously

i've shared some snippets of this before--it used to have a title but then certain plans changed and i've decided to keep that title in my back pocket

past snippets: the very beginning | random snippet 1 | random snippet 2

have a longer version of that first snippet!

“You know, I’m pretty sure I told you to rest,” Jacie says as she clambers out of the window. One day she’ll figure out how Richelle manages to look graceful doing it, because she sure as hell doesn’t. Jason spares her only a brief glance before he takes another drag from his cigarette. “I didn’t ask you to mother me,” he growls. He’s leaning against the railing of the fire escape, dressed in a sweatshirt that’s seen better days and sweatpants tucked into his Docs. Jay rolls her eyes. “Stop needing mothering, then,” she says, matching his rough drawl. She plucks the cigarette from between his fingers and raises it to her own lips, ignoring the way he splutters. Her male counterpart reminds her of Fitz, her pit bull rescue. Sweetest little lamb now, but when she first brought him home? All snarls, biting the hand that fed him before it could hit him first. Jason is the same way. Loud and brash, bristling at any perceived insult. His uniform design only makes the image stronger; a face mask like a muzzle over his mouth, the red lenses of his domino glinting in the dark like some feral creature’s eyes… It’s an angry kind of pain that makes her fingers itch with the desire to stroke his hair the way she’d stroked Fitz’s fur, and tell him everything would be alright. She’s here now. She’ll keep him safe. …fuck. She really is mothering him, isn’t she? Jay takes a drag off of her bummed cigarette, feeling the smoke fill her lungs before she exhales, letting the cloud join Gotham’s ever-present smog. “I don’t need mothering,” Jason grumbles, crossing his arms. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t. Jay’s been in his shoes before. She remembers what it was like, to be a revenant instead of a person. Fitz had been what changed that; the reason she started to carve herself a new life, one slow step at a time. Now she has a dog, and a window garden, and an almost-girlfriend. A place to come back to, when the violence was done. Jason doesn’t have that. He hasn’t found his reason yet. According to Constantine and his counterpart in her universe, it’ll be at least another two weeks before they have a workable way to send her home. Until then, Jason and she have to stay close. Constantine fixed it so that they would work as each other’s ‘anchor,’ keeping them—and their dimensions—stabilized. For now. That means she has plenty of time to, perhaps, nudge him in the right direction. She takes a second drag off of the cigarette, and then offers it back to him. He’s still scowling at her when he plucks it from her fingers, raising it to his mouth to take a drag of his own.

there was a line that got caught about how jay was positive that the two constantines were fucking & i still stand by that

also fun facts: fitz is named after fitzwilliam darcy bc i love the name darcy but also i thought jacie might want a slightly subtler reference... and then i was like: a pit bull mix named fitz? adorable

so. xD here we are

[ wip ask game ]

[philodendrontrait]

|˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞHello there, and welcome to my simblr!

I'm nani (she/her) and I'm posting stuff on my rotational legacy gameplay (currently gen. 8 & 9), peppered with the occasional build and cas. I'm wcif friendly!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ* sim stories Just some stories / gameplays that deserved their own little category.

A San Myshuno based band of three working towards achieving their big breakthrough but they get sidetracked by life, love, and friendship. My first try at more story-based gameplay, so it's a little rough! 🌻 Teo Fowler Cruz⁹ • Erin Cox⁹ • Sora Fowler⁹ 🌻 chronological | latest

Some scrap-book style life updates from Hana because I love her. 🌸 Hana Shibutani⁹ • Ezekiel Hayes⁹ • Malakai Hayes¹⁰ 🌸 chronological | latest

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ* neighbourhood stories Random gameplay snippets and updates outside of the households above.

🌵 August Fowler⁸ • Masuyo Shibutani⁸ • Matilda Fowler Cruz⁹ • Milo Fowler⁹

🌼 Felix Akiyama-Lee⁸ • Vivienne Everett⁸ • Eliot Akiyama-Lee⁹ • Juniper Akiyama-Lee⁹ • Maisie Akiyama-Lee⁹ • Willow Akiyama-Lee⁹ 🌼 Wren Shibutani⁸ • Makoto Kaneko⁸ 🌼 Monet Fowler⁸ • Darcy Moreau⁸ 🌼 Kai Shibutani⁹

🍁 Eunice Shibutani⁹ 🍁 Ryota Shibutani⁸ • Kayleigh Shibutani⁸

🍃 Nathan Shibutani⁸ • Raj Rasoya⁸ 🍃 Ada Valentine Birdwell⁸ 🍃 Margot Anand⁸ • Vihaan Anand⁸ • Imogen Birdwell⁹ • Rahul Anand⁹

legacy overview • builds • cas • resources • inspiring simblrs • cc finds • all my posts

nani (she/her) • late 90s baby • from europe • traits: perfectionist; creative; unflirty • playing ts4 since 2018 • simblr since 05.2024

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

New Fic: Firelight

IT'S HERE! Chapter One :) Should update daily.

Summary:

When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck

Snippet:

Sometimes, Eddie dreams his back is hollow. He dreams that he catches sight of it, twisting around in the mirror, and it’s a dark, empty void. Someone could reach their hand into it, and disappear. 

In all that he’s experienced, in all the nightmares he’s suffered over the course of his life, there is no recurring dream that leaves Eddie more unsettled. No bullet wounds, crashing helicopters, or cold, flooded wells. None of it makes Eddie feel so wrong and twisted as those dreams. There’s something about them that always makes him feel like he’s concealing something, when he wakes up in a cool sweat, presses his fingers to his spine, and finds it there. Like he’s a fraud. And one day, when he reaches back, he’ll find that the nightmare has become a reality. 

---

Tagging:

@epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @goldenbcnes

@diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck

@lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto @buckleybabyblues

@buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @mage8 @theautumnbard @lightningmcqueer8

@kultiras @inell @mrs-f-darcy @spencers1nonlygf @nibblyssacrifice

@thetommoway-oioii @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @buddiekinard