#fic excerpt

[tilion-writes]

WIP Snippet

Thank you for tagging, @gardensofthemoon!

Snippet from a fic set later in my Ghosts 'verse, in which Fëanor has broken out of Mandos.

-

“Celebrimbor?”

But as the Elf stepped forward, the light caught upon his braided hair, and it was not deep auburn but inky black. Elrond, narrowing his eyes, said cautiously, “Curufin?”

Celebrimbor had always described his father as reserved, his smiles as rare and cold. When this Elf smiled, every plane of his face moved in some way, animated by feeling, as though his soul was shining through his flesh. His eyes were warm and sharp, like Celebrimbor’s, and behind their silvery-gray gleamed an intensity that bordered on madness. Intensity—yes, 'intense' was the right word for this Elf, a presence bright and focused enough to fill the whole room. His fëa burned straight into the tangible world, like a beacon.

“I suppose 'Curufin' isn’t technically inaccurate,” he said, and his voice was deep, crisply-accented, and amused. 

There was only one Elf in Arda—or outside of it—that this man could possibly be.

“Fëanor,” Elrond breathed.

Fëanor’s smile widened, like the glare of the rising sun. “Hello, grandson."

Tagging uhmmm @melestasflight and @sallysavestheday (apologies if this is a repeat), no pressure!

#tag games #fic excerpt #silmarillion #fëanor #elrond #i'm so normal about fëanor you guys... soooooo normal

[immortalbutterflycos]

“The name, The Infirius… What does that mean, exactly?” James asks, lightheartedly, staying as quiet as he can as he breaks the silence between them. Or at least, whatever silence there ever is when surrounded by the constant crashing of waves all around them.

Regulus huffs a bitter, near-silent laugh followed by such a long silence that James is starting to get the idea that his question won’t be answered at all.

“It comes from an old legend.” Regulus finally murmurs, “An Infirius is essentially a reanimated corpse. They feel no pain. They can’t be cut by a blade, they’re fast, and they have incredible strength.” 

James frowns but doesn’t interrupt.

“Only there’s another part of that legend that everyone else chooses to ignore.” Regulus turns his head to meet his eyes and James sees something sad within them. Sad and sharp with anger.

“Inferi have no free will.” He whispers, “They can’t even think for themselves. They can’t feel, can’t breathe, can’t take their lives back. All they can do is follow the orders of their Master. If he says kill? You kill. If he says die? You die. Not even half of a life. Just a puppet on a string that can’t be cut.”

“Regulus, you are not a corpse,” James murmurs firmly with sincerity in his eyes; in the very line of his brow.

“You are alive. You have air in your lungs and fire in the depths of your eyes–I can see it. Yeah, just there...” He points to a spot in Regulus’ eye, his lips curling up into a small smile. “Your will is as free as you are desperate to take it back from those who stole it from you in the first place. Regulus Black, you are not an Inferius. You are a human being. Your will are your sheers. If you want something cut, pick them up and do it. It is your will. Not theirs.”

#The ship's name is The Infirius #pirate au #jegulus #the marauders #james potter #regulus black #marauders era #starchaser #I have context for this but you're not going to get it for a WHILE #an excerpt from a fic I'm writing #I wasn't sure if I wanted to post this or not #but here it is #i also did a dramatic reading of this on my tik tok because i love it so much lmaoooo #fic excerpt #jegulus microfic #but also not?

[chrollohearttags]

a lil something I have in the works for kinktober..this might not be everybody’s thing so fair warning:

tw// CNC, binding, implied kidnapping

“God, it’s like you never learn…one of these days, something bad is going to happen to you and I won’t be there to stop it..”

words you had heard uttered countless times from the mouth of the one person you dreaded hearing them from. It was almost like a broken record, spinning on repeat. And even so, no matter how many times the needle turned…how many times it screamed at you, it never quite sunk into your thick skull. But if only you had listened..just taken heed to that warning once, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You wouldn’t be sitting in the backseat of this car; tape binding those wrists, legs trembling from the fright of the unknown. A waiting game of sorts to see what would transpire next..what exactly would your fate be? One of heroism or horror? Would you leave this situation unscathed? All questions circulated your head as your eyes darted around the interior and suddenly fell on your captor..a face that seemed so familiar yet foreign. One shrouded in a sinister smile as it examined your body..deep seeded eyes trailing up from those exposed thighs to those plump breasts, courtesy of that cute little ensemble you just had to wear whilst sneaking around. You were a private investigator after all..a sleuth true to your core but you lacked awareness. For your surroundings and many other things. Those same eyes had observed you snooping around the outskirts of some seedy area whilst scouting for evidence. Watching you bend over and pick up various items, catching a glimpse of those thin panties…it drove him crazy! But alas, he could quell those urges. He could finally teach you the lesson you so desperately deserve. His fingers suddenly shifted upward to that same spot where his eyes first locked in..running along the lining of your thin little panties before tugging them back and exposing your dripping little cunt to the cool air..

“I tried to warn you, didn’t I? I told you something bad would happen but you never take me seriously.” That deep voice rattling off in your ear and sending shivers creeping up your spine. It should’ve meant nothing..shouldn’t have made you react this way but you couldn’t help but be captivated by this illustrious captor..

“Let’s see how much of a joke you take me for when I’m done fucking you senseless..”

#fic excerpt #wip excerpt #aot x black reader #aot #eren jaeger #detective!eren #private investigator!reader #black fem reader #eren aot #eren jaeger smut #black reader smut #aot au #aot smut #eren smut #tw cnc mention #cw cnc mention #cnc cw #dark content #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren #aot drabbles #mini drabble #eren drabble #aot imagines #cw smut

[bitkahuna]

I have normal thoughts but also, wouldn’t it just be really neat if while in the throes of dragonsickness, Thorin became obsessed with Bilbo. Like, in a really morally questionable way, but not to the point of crossing any serious lines. But like, also, what if

—

“You wanted to see me?” The hobbit asked, staring up at Thorin on his throne, flanked by both Balín and Dwalin.

“I wanted to ensure your gift was suitable.”

“Oh, yes. I learned all about mithril and I must say, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

Bilbo might have his doubts, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what Thorin was after. Naturally, Kíli spilled the beans on his suspicion that Thorin might be trying to court Bilbo. Rather than be bashful, he immediately believed it.

“Have you tried it on?”

“Of course. It fits wonderfully.”

“Show me.”

Bilbo went red as he looked up at the king whose lust of gold was quickly becoming something else. Those hungry eyes bore into him. He saw the king’s greedy hands clench.

Fuck.

His pants were tighter than they used to be. Well. They used to be pants. Now they were so tattered he’d cut them into shorts.

The most shameful part of it was that Bilbo, for a moment, wasn’t sure he truly wanted to slay this dragon. For the first time, someone was earnestly pursuing him. Someone wanted him in a way that was beyond carnal. Someone who pushed beyond his coy display and gave him what he wanted.

Thorin wasn’t in his right mind.

Bilbo couldn’t want this.

But he certainly liked it.

“I’ll go put it on.” His voice was much quieter than he intended.

“Here.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he looked to Dwalin and Balín, who seemed momentarily dumbfounded.

“Turn around.” The king insisted. But when they hesitated, he nearly barked the command, “Turn around!”

They both shot Bilbo a concerned look before turning away.

The hobbit slowly reached up and pulled his arms into his shirt before looking up at the dwarven king, making sure this was what he wanted.

The king nodded.

Bilbo pulled his shirt off and revealed his form.

——

Excerpt from Yavanna, Guide Me on AO3

#bagginshield #bagginshield fic #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #thorin fic #dragon sickness #fanfiction #ao3 author #fanfic #ao3fic #fic excerpt

[tranakin-skywalker]

The padawans found out about it first, as padawans are wont to do. Getting into trouble without realizing the full extent of it, stumbling right into something so much larger than they could understand. In any other scenario it would have been fodder for their masters to tease their apprentices over and -later- rib one another with. But not with something like this.

Jedi, as a whole, didn’t tend to concern themselves with things such as the holonet. When there was a crisis somewhere out in the galaxy, they were typically brought into the know before even the news outlets were told, their response being what led the rest of the Republic forward.

There were of course those who would tune in to certain channels to watch their favorite soap operas, or catch up on the goings on in the parts of the galaxy outside of the Jedi’s jurisdiction, but it was really the younger generation who had any sort of presence on the ‘net.

So really, it shouldn’t have come as any surprise when a crowd of junior padawans and older initiates had gone running in search of Master Nu during their recreational time in the archives (or the several dozen senior padawans with their own personal access to the holonet who’d screamed across their quarters for their masters to come and see). 

It did not take long for the news to reach the Council members, who immediately called an impromptu session to watch and review. There were many angry holocalls sent out inquiring why the Jedi hadn’t been informed of this development sooner, mostly by Adi Gallia. There were also many headaches developed, also by Adi Gallia who both dealt and received.

Mace Windu also had one such headache, brought on by watching the recording for the fifth time- or was it the sixth now?

The image was grainy, implying poor equipment, but the shot held remarkably steady throughout which spoke to some level of familiarity with filming. The grandiose excess of a Hutt residence decorated the space, covering over hard packed adobe walls and tiled floors covered in a thin layer of sand. It was apparent that this was no Nal Hutta, but the exile planet of Tatooine. This was the domain of Jabba Desilijic Tiure and- to a lesser extent- Gardulla Besadii the Elder. 

Or it used to be.

The holo paned slowly over the large interior of the palace, lingering on the forms of a number of sentients, many of them scantily dressed, some of them no more than children, all of them with heavy collars around their necks. Some looked healthy, deceptively so, but there are others- thin with protruding bones, or open gaping wounds leaking out bodily fluids, and those missing whole limbs. The first few minutes were nothing but the camera moving through the inside of the palace, taking in the misery and the horror, from up in the audience hall all the way down to slave quarters deep below the palace.

There were other figures too- those dressed in dark desert weave and wearing a wide collection of masks over their faces. Some of them had what looked suspiciously like lightsaber hilts hanging from their belts.

They worked to remove the chains from the slaves while a voice spoke over the recording in Huttese. Mace wasn’t much familiar with the language, only understood a handful of words spoken. They were still working on getting the poor audio translated, but from what they were able to gather it was a rallying cry for other enslaved worlds to fight back.

The holo lingered a long moment on an opened metal collar, dried blood and bits of flesh stuck to the inside where it had rubbed skin raw. Then it cut suddenly, the screen black for a fraction of a second before suddenly illuminated with the blinding light of two suns.

The new perspective showed a town center of some sort, huge crowds of people gathered in streets and on the roofs of buildings, the camera panning down to capture the thousands of faces looking up toward the platform.

A slave auction block, they found out later.

The camera turned from the crowd to instead film the group standing atop the platform. There were more figures in black and brown, but unlike when they were within the palace, these had brightly colored cloth thrown over the rest of their attire, ponchos and scarves and wraps. Mace assumed there was some sort of cultural significance to it, but he didn’t know enough about the planet’s people to know for certain.

These, too, wore metal masks.

Beneath the desert suns it was easier to make out that most were fashioned into abstract animal faces, with fangs and horns and sweeping pieces that might have been feathers. All of them carried metal cylinders at their hips.

In the middle of the platform, surrounded by more masked guards with lit sabers in hand- colors a wash of oranges and yellows and greens and even one that looked pink- was Jabba the Hutt. Large gashes and lesions covered the expanse of his body, a heavy chain wrapped several times around his neck. It didn’t seem to be connected to anything- seemingly more of a humiliation rather than something to keep the Hutt confined.

The lightsabers pointed at him likely did well enough a job of that.

Standing between Jabba and the crowd was a lone figure in all black. If they were sweltering in the heat, they gave no indication of it, their long layers and heavy helmet seemingly inconsequential. It was a tall figure, humanoid and seemingly male in stature- though that was hard to tell beneath the dark clothing that seemed almost a parody of Jedi robes. The helmet they wore was dog-like, or at least that of a canine skull, with jaws that looked less like jaws and more like a muzzle. There was something altogether disquieting about the figure.

Tilting its head like a curious predator, the figure turned to look the camera lens dead on. It didn’t feel like someone looking into a camera, but like something looking straight through and into the view beyond.

Each time Mace had watched the recording, that single look managed to make hair prickle up on the back of his neck. An animal response.

The figure in black spoke in Basic, addressing the holo’s audience and not the crowd actually present. The voice that came out was distorted through a vocoder into something that was more hard and mechanical than organic, it was still distinctly male, and distinctly authoritative. The rest of the video would prove that this was likely the leader of the whole affair, but even in the opening minutes, it was easy to tell here stood the catalyst for all that would crumble down after.

“You say that slavery is illegal in your Republic,” the voice growled from behind the melted teeth of the dog’s jaw. “And you say that Tatooine is part of your Republic. Then what is this we stand on? What is it that the Hutt empire has made its fortunes off of? What your own halls hide and Senators pedal behind closed doors. Look at what you have turned your blind eyes away from.”

With a gloved hand, he reached to his belt and unclipped a black and gray hilt. “We will not let you look away.” He then turned to the crowd and raised the saber hilt high over his head, calling out something in a language that sounded nothing like Huttese. The crowd thundered back in unison.

The saber lit with a wash of red as violent as a wildfire.

Lowering his arm slowly, the man turned to finally face Jabba, his blade hungry and crackling at his side. He spoke again- softer this time- but still loud enough for the gathered populace to hear. Huttese again, Mace was pretty certain, something about punishment- or maybe it was justice.

For a split second on Jabba’s face there was a look of pure unfiltered terror- the sudden fear in falling with the knowledge that the ground was coming and coming up fast. 

Then that hungry blade slid easily into thick Hutt skin that couldn’t be cut by any other means, sinking into the hilt, fat bubbling and cooking with the heat of it.

Jabba made a noise that Mace never, ever wanted to hear again.

The man dragged the blade down- slowly- guts spilling out from where the Hutt was being unzipped like a field-dressed carcass, still wriggling. Jabba moved a lot less than someone being methodically disemboweled should, but that might have something to do with the dog-skulled man’s left hand being raised up like an open claw. Like he was pinning the crime lord in place with sheer will or- more concerningly- with the Force.

That obsidian black mask seemed to give a jackal grin as the red blade was pulled from the Hutt’s body and Jabba Desilijic Tiure was unceremoniously dropped to slowly die on the same platform where thousands of people had been bought and sold.

Stepping away from the smoking body, the Sith- for what else could this monster be but a Sith?- flicked his blade to the side as if trying to rid it of gore. A useless endeavor for a plasma blade, but there was something almost poignant about the move.

He stood facing the screaming, cheering crowd, but his head was tilted sideways just slight enough to look back at the camera from the inky black socket of the dog’s eye.

“You’ve spent long enough ignoring us. I suggest you start paying attention now.”

The feed cut to black.

#my writing #fic: groundwater #fic excerpt #ignore any spelling mistakes it's 2:30 am and i have not edited any of this

[eris-eveningstar]

Here's a little something to tide my readers over before the next chapter....

A short little quote from EXTREMELY far off in the fic:

"You are a fool for loving me, Harry Potter."

"If I am a fool, then I'll damn well be your court jester."

#tomarry #harry potter #tom riddle #tomarrymort #harrymort #fanfiction #fandom #lord voldemort #fanfic #as you fall to the depths of desire #tomarry quotes #quotes #fic excerpt

[charmac]

Mac doesn't seem to think Dennis' System for Men is all that effective, but it's perfected, tried and true. In fact, it's so effective that a professional could run it through in under five minutes:

---

“You don’t think The S.I.N.N.E.D. System would work on you?” Dennis asks, ignoring the rest of Mac’s gibberish sentence.  “Clearly not,” Mac replies simply.  “You don’t think I could, very easily,” Dennis steps up to him and grips his bicep. “Huh,” he wonders aloud. “What?” Mac replies, looking down at the fingers wrapped tightly around his muscle.  “Nothing, I just didn’t realize your arms were still so,” he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, “firm. I mean, you’re hiding those muscles behind these long t-shirts now,” he pulls at the fabric of Mac’s shirt, pressing against his arm, and then pushes his hand up underneath it. “You’re still pumping, huh?” He meets Mac’s eyes.  “You—you think they’re firm?” Mac asks, eyes lit up in response.  “Yeah,” Dennis nods, running his hand up and down the bare skin. “Hey, I just remembered,” he squeezes Mac’s bicep again and then lets go, “The headboard on my bed is still messed up from when we moved the furniture back in. One of the beams is stuck at the wrong angle and, well, I haven’t been able to get it back into place myself, embarrassingly,” he says. “Do you think you could use those muscles to help me out? It’s pretty heavy.”  “Dude, why didn’t you ask me earlier? It’s been like, two weeks. Of course I can.” Mac’s already moving for his bedroom, on a mission. And Dennis has completely fucking lied about the headboard, of course, there’s no fucking beams on that thing, it was just the first lie that came to mind, so he has to trot after Mac’s speed-walking to intervene.  Dennis almost bumps into him as he enters his bedroom, just behind Mac, who’s frowning at Dennis’ headboard as he approaches it. Dennis grabs his shoulder and spins him. “Man, I totally forgot Dee came by and fixed it this morning,” he lies.  Mac eyebrows crinkle, “Dee was here this morning?”  “Well,” Dennis chuckles a little, “I’d never say it in front of her, obviously, but I think we can probably both admit she’s a little stronger than you.” His hand presses into Mac’s shoulder firmly, fingers gripping on, preparing for the reaction.  “Not funny, Dennis,” Mac frowns, voice raising. “Take it back.”  Dennis rolls his fingers, drumming into Mac’s shoulder, and hums. “Too bad you can’t prove it. Headboard is fixed.” His left hand finds Mac’s chest and pushes on it, walking him backward until the back of his knees are pressed up against the mattress. Mac’s visibly at a loss for words, his eyes stuck on Dennis’ own. “Unless you wanted to break it?” His hand slides from Mac’s shoulder and meets his other one against Mac’s chest. Mac frowns, his eyes dropping to the two hands. “Why would I—,” Dennis pushes with enough force to catch Mac off guard and send him down to the mattress. “What the hell, Dennis?” By the time he looks up, Dennis is dropping into his lap and gripping his shoulder again. He watches Mac’s pupils dilate fully in a second. “Oh,” he stutters in realization, mouth hanging open. Dennis runs his thumb over his open bottom lip and dips it into Mac’s mouth, hooking the inside of his cheek. Mac’s lips close around the appendage slowly, never breaking eye contact with Dennis. Thumb enclosed in a wet heat, Dennis pushes Mac down until he’s lying back on the bed fully and he’s hanging over the man.

“Suck,” Dennis tells him, and Mac does. He sucks on his thumb gently, tongue slotting right underneath the digit and sliding perfectly. Dennis is mesmerized for a moment, just watching Mac’s cheeks hollow as he obeys, never breaking his fixated gaze on Dennis as his suckling gets heavy and wet. He snaps out of his daze quickly and lets go of his press on Mac’s shoulder, digging into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a travel packet of tissues.  He yanks his thumb from Mac’s mouth and shifts off of him, finding his feet and staring down at the man laid out on his bed. He pulls a tissue free from the packet and hands it out to Mac. “Clean your face,” he tells him. “Your lips are covered in spit.”

Mac takes it blindly, of course he does, and wipes his mouth aggressively. As he does so, Dennis fights everything in his body telling him to just give up and stay rooted, just in case, and makes himself turn around, heading for the door. 

“Dennis!” Mac yells out. “Hey, dude, what the hell was that about?” He’s up on his feet, Dennis can tell. He slows his pace, but doesn’t dare stop completely. “Where are you going?” Mac’s hand falls on his shoulder, and Dennis spins, a stupid grin of triumph plastering his face as he meets confused, doe eyes. Mac frowns at the expression that meets him, then looks down at the tissue in his hand and wildly back up to Dennis, attempting to throw the paper-thin cloth to the ground. Dennis chuckles as it floats to the floor between them. “You tricked me.”

“I proved you wrong,” Dennis replies simply. 

---

I'm working on a fic and I got derailed and wrote this. Not sure it'll be included in the fic, so I wanted to share it instead (or, in the meantime)

#iasip #macdennis #fic excerpt #the sinned system #god i love stupid mac #the best part of writing dennis pov is cymbals clapping in his brain mac #and dennis is not being manipulative here to be clear #just annoyed with mac per the context of the situation #and they’ve already fucked before it’s all good

[xx-vergil-xx]

excerpt from hounds, ch. 48

an old pov returns :) and you will get no more context outta me than that

wanted to offer something, in lieu of posting just yet — progress is not steady but somehow still quite productive? i’ll write three chapters in as many days and then simply Lapse (c’est la vie — i do best bouncing between projects, so it sort of works) anyways, all things being equal, should be on track for my self-imposed january completion :) much love to all of you <3

#hounds #the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling #fic #sandman fic #fic excerpt #lord how do i tag this #who knows #love y’all #thank u for ur sainted patience and enduring support #my heart belongs to u #<3 <3 <3

[nightshiftshenanigans]

Heya!!! Here’s an unedited excerpt from the next chapter of Burning the Candle at Both Ends! Life permitting, the final draft should be written and up by the end of the week! I hope y’all enjoy😁💗

——————————————

“Just take your time, Danny. I promise I’m not going anywhere this time.” Jason had hoped his words would have a soothing affect on Danny, seeing as how he didn’t feel entitled to the idea of comforting him in the form of physical contact quite yet, yet all it did was cause Danny’s tears to form faster in the corners of his eyes.

“But you will. You should. You can’t promise something like that when I know that’s the only way this is going to end. I don’t deserve anything more.” The first of Danny’s tears slipped free from his right eye, trailing down his cheek and hitting his leg where it still sat on Jason’s bed.

“I just- I thought I’d really lost you when I got back to the apartment and everything was gone and you weren’t answering your phone and I just- I j-just-” Danny’s tears quickly devolved into steady rivers of pure agony, his breath receding inward as he verged on the tipping point of full blown hyperventilation.

Not knowing what else to do, Jason closed the final chunk of distance between the two of them and pulled Danny into his arms, taking a seat on the bed right next to him. Danny hid his sobs in Jason’s neck, wetting the edge of his shirt in the process. Jason couldn’t give a single fuck less though, only caring about comforting Danny in that moment right there.

“I can’t lose you.”

#batpham #dpxdc #dead on main #haunting heroes #dpxdc discord server #dpxdc fics #dcxdp #fic recs #fic excerpt #burning the candle at both ends #oops all angst #I regret nothing #there is no fluff in sight oops #jason todd x danny fenton #danny fenton x jason todd

[quotidian-oblivion]

Want to share an excerpt from one of my wips for no reason Pt 3:

"I thought of you as a friend. Trusted you more than I have anyone else in my life!"  His vision blurred with tears and Arthur hurried to rub his eyes to get rid of them.  "It is only those years that are holding me back from killing you right this instant. I'm risking everything, everything my father built, everything my kingdom stands on, all the laws, all the people, just for you."  He swiped at his eyes again.  "So take it. Take the chance and go. Leave. Stay in Ealdor, I won't send anyone after you. Don't come back."  Merlin was shaking now, his eyes shining before they released more tears.  "I can't," he said again. His voice was quiet, but fearful determination was infused in every word. "I can't leave you."

#quotidian writes #the “fearful determination” part is throwing me of mghgmghgmghm does it fit?? #wip #wip extract #wip snippet #wip snippets #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fic snippet #fic snippets #fic extract #fic excerpt #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin magic reveal #bbcm #magic reveal #merlin fanfiction

[blushweddinggowns]

Robin sat right down, sighing, “So what? We all live in the woods and hope the kids find us?”

“They will,” Steve reassured, “Lucas is probably getting help as we speak. Besides, it’s not that cold out. We’ll be fine. And if they don’t find us, we’ll find them.” 

Nancy nodded, despite the fact that she was already shivering. But Steve noticed. He didn’t even hesitate to take his own jacket off. 

She frowned, as he draped it over her shoulders,  “But what about you?”

“I have a sweater and an Eddie blanket,” Steve smiled, “I'll be just fine.”

“Speaking of that…” Eddie trailed in, “How about Steve and I go a little bit away and keep watch?”

Chrissy knew Jason was losing it, but she was 100 percent confident he was busy dealing with his murdered friend. She frowned, “Do you really think they’ll come after watching their friend die-”

“Yeah, you two go do that,” Robin interrupted with a sigh. She turned to Chrissy, “They want to make-out and save us the headache. We’re almost certain to be good for the night.”

“We'll be back soon,” Steve said, a slight flush to his cheeks but he didn’t correct her, “And we won’t go far.”

“Within an hour,” Nancy warned, “And keep quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie said flippantly, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulder, “You won’t even miss us.”

They walked away into the darkness, leaning into each other as they went. Chrissy was pretty sure she saw Steve stick his hand into Eddie’s back pocket before they were out of sight. 

“It’s actually insane that they haven’t gotten caught yet,” Robin said as she watched them go, “I only found out because I saw them shoving tongues in a parking lot. But once you know, you can never unsee it.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t catch on sooner,” Chrissy sighed as she sat to Robin’s left, Nancy taking the right, “Did they really trick all of you?”

“All of us,” Nancy confirmed through a yawn, “They can actually be pretty sneaky when they want to be. They just never want to be.”

Nancy rested her head against Robin’s shoulder, Steve’s jacket wrapped tightly around her, “We should sleep.”

“We will,” Robin said quietly, “But don’t wait for us. Go right ahead.”

Nancy gave her a little smile, “If you say so.”

It barely took a few minutes for her to be completely out. She looked so peaceful, so much younger when she was asleep. Chrissy was well aware that Nancy was a small girl, but she had so much presence. 

“She looks so much bigger when she's awake,” Chrissy mumbled quietly, “Like she can take on the world.”

“She probably could,” Robin laughed, “I think it’s all personality.”

“I know. I wish I could be like that.”

“Why?” Robin asked, furrowing her brow, “You’re literally perfect.”

Chrissy couldn’t help but laugh at that, “How on Earth am I perfect?”

But Robin didn’t look like she was joking, “Dude you are. You’re so sweet and fun. You’re talented, athletic, pretty, but still nice somehow. You’re brave as hell, if this whole scenario stands for anything. And you’re hot when you punch dudes in the face.”

That was almost too sweet for Chrissy to hear. But she couldn’t help but zero in on one thing, “You think I’m hot?”

Robin froze, opening and closing her mouth as she stuttered, “I-No? I mean, yes? I-objectively yes. Not creepily.”

Chrissy smiled, her heart beating a little faster at the implication. But… Jason. She felt so bad for him. After what he’d seen, it made sense to blame them. But it only made sense now. There was no framework to understand what was happening before and to just blame Eddie and Nancy for everything was ridiculous. She’d never seen him like that before, so out of sorts. He was so good at keeping his temper undercheck, she didn’t get what was happening to him.

But… she had been pretty clear hadn’t she? She didn’t leave with him, she never even tried. She told him to go home, that she didn’t need him, she didn’t want him. It… it was close enough to a break-up wasn’t it? Chrissy wasn’t sure. Though she had a feeling even thinking of things the way she was made her a bad person. 

It just didn’t stop her from blurting, “I-I count tonight as breaking up with Jason. Just so you know. We um, we were never that close but my mom- she likes his family a-and… he used to be nice. He is nice but he’s… it doesn’t matter. We aren’t together. Just um, so you know. If you didn’t.”

She wanted to say more but… Chrissy could only be so brave in one day.

“I was um,” Robin swallowed, her face already red, “I was hoping that was the case. Because you deserve to be happy and I don’t…. I don't think he could do that.”

“He couldn’t,” Chrissy said softly, inching her fingers slowly to intertwine with Robin’s. She felt okay, as okay as she could be with the circumstances-

“Mmph!” 

Chrissy nearly jumped at the sudden noise, the only saving grace was that she definitely recognized it as Eddie’s voice. 

“Are they okay?” Chrissy asked nervously, staring out into the darkness. But Robin didn’t seem worried, she just gave Chrissy’s hand a comforting squeeze. 

“I wouldn't check if I were you,” Robin sighed, “If they get loud again I'll throw a rock in their general direction. But they are fine. Trust me.”

from the newest chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #chrissy cunningham #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington #the universe trapped in your skin #steddie childhood friends au #fic excerpt

[angelsfalling16]

I'm finally back and happy to be here. Yesterday was awful, so I spent the night trying to cheer myself up and ended up turning to fic writing, so I finally have something to share for once!

Went through a bunch of @carryonprompts the other day, and this one is one that really stuck in my head, so here's a snippet of what I've got so far:

The video is everywhere. Everywhere. There isn’t a person with some sort of social media account that hasn’t seen it at least 10 times today. And everyone has something to say about it. Their own opinions, theories, ideas, and gushing comments about the events of the video. It’s spread from a quick tiktok video to youtube and instagram, shared over and over again from person to person.

At first glance, it’s just a street singer killing a cover of Noah Kahan’s Dial Drunk, bringing everyone to tears with their voice and emotion to put into those four minutes, but that’s not what the focus is on. No, instead it’s the two boys in the crowd that’s caught the attention of the world.

Everyone wants to know more about them, and pages have been created in dedication to these two boys, trying to track them down and get them back in the same area.

Of course, the two boys in question are completely oblivious to all of it.

Not totally sold on the third person but it could be interesting. And the named song may change; it's just my current obsession.

Tags and long overdue hellos: @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @aristocratic-otter @iamamythologicalcreature @palimpsessed @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @ic3-que3n and all the people I've missed because it's been too long

#my writing #wip wednesday #carry on #snowbaz #rainbow rowell #simon snow #baz pitch #simon snow trilogy #fic excerpt #and i was crashing into queue

[spectre-writes]

Been a hot minute since I've written anything, so have the start of something I want to get back to (basically a 'what if Wolfwood and Meryl found Vash right after s1 end' idea).

Vash was dead. Wolfwood didn’t realise at first, because the body they found was still breathing.

There, crumpled in the center of the crater, bloodied and singed, nothing but the desolate grey of sand soft rubble in all directions, yet his chest rose and fell and when Wolfwood pressed his hand to it he could feel the weak flutter of a heartbeat beneath his shaking palm.

Meryl had cried a lot at the sight of him. He didn’t know if they were tears of relief or sorrow, wasn’t sure if it mattered either way. Wolfwood had kept his shades down to hide his own eyes and let her sob into his shirt, awkwardly patting her back, just the two of them huddled over the unconscious form of a man who had tumbled from the stratosphere like a fallen angel, like a dying star - the image of it burned into his retinas with the vibrance of the fluorescent lights that waited in his restless dreams.

It had been a long time since he’d had to comfort someone.

He’d said things like, “It’s okay.”

Little empty promises, the sort people fed orphans. But at the time, Wolfwood had kind of believed it too. Thought that if they were all still breathing, still here, that the rest would follow, that they could make it, that things would be alright if they just kept moving. They had Vash. As impossible as it seemed, he’d survived. 

Not everyone had been so lucky.

It was a long walk back out of the ruins of July - past the ashen wastes that had once been packed with the thriving, squalling mass of human life - footsteps muffled, the silence a suffocating shadow. Meryl didn’t speak. Wolfwood didn’t either. 

To call it a graveyard would be wrong - a graveyard had bodies, had markers, offerings - here it was simply empty, like God himself had reached down and carved a great welt from the earth. 

The thought that he was carrying the catalyst of that destruction in his arms was one he tried to side-step. It was hard, with the weight of a hundred thousand invisible eyes bearing down on him - the prickle of his skin, the pressure in his ears - but he had been taught well.

Wolfwood walked. One foot in front of the other, focused only on the motion, the necessity. 

Life was easier when you reduced it to simple tasks, and that was what he did. Left the crater behind. Found a car. Drove them as far as he could.

They camped out in the open desert that first night, and Wolfwood kept watch even when Meryl tried to relieve him. He knew he would find no peace in sleep, preferred the ache of exhaustion to whatever phantoms would greet him there. He didn’t think Meryl slept. He didn’t ask.

Vash rested, though it was an uneasy slumber. They’d patched his wounds as best they could - the bullet holes, the fractures, the blistered skin where it met superheated metal. The soles of his boots had melded with the underside of his feet and picking all that melted plastic off was something he chose to postpone. What mattered was that he would live, Wolfwood was sure of that… but his stillness unnerved him. 

Vash had always been a whirlwind of movement from the moment they’d met, all flailing limbs and exaggerated gestures juxtaposed with the snap quick elegance of combat… even when he dozed in the backseat of the jeep he was prone to the odd twitch or mumble. Now he was inert, an eerie stillness he had only seen once, in the aftermath of the sandsteamer, and hated all the while. It screamed wrong, wrong, wrong in the echochamber of his own mind. Reminded him of corpses he had no name for, or the soulless statues men prayed to. Form with no substance. Empty.

He wanted the vivid blue of ageless eyes to pin him in place and peel back the rough layers of his own skin, so he could behold the ugly thing that twisted inside him - call it guilt, or shame, or love, or anger, or anything he could tame. And then what? Repent? Revile?

Maybe he didn’t want that at all. 

Maybe he just wanted a cigarette.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #fic excerpt #wip

[foolondahill17]

"Sam, wake up!"

Sam jolts out of sleep, grogginess clinging to him like spiderwebs. He jostles Eileen beside him, and her eyes startle open. She's more trigger happy than he is, and Sam automatically stills her as she reaches for a knife on the bedside table beside her alarm clock and Kindle.

"Wazzit? What's wrong?" Sam mumbles to Dean's shadow overhead, backlit by the doorway letting in a triangle of light across the floor.

"Sam!" Dean clutches Sam's shoulders, knuckles white, tremors running down his arms and into his fingers like he's charged with electricity. "Something happened. It's about Cas."

The name of the angel blows the rest of Sam's sleep away like a hurricane. Eileen reaches for the lamp. Sam frantically blinks away the sudden brightness.

Dean's crouched over him, face a blotchy mix of flushed and pale under his two-week's worth of rusty whiskers and disheveled hair, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat where it's grown longer than John Winchester’s military-sanctioned length in the last ten months. As usual, there's a faint smell of alcohol on Dean's breath. There's a wide, damp circle around the neck of his t-shirt. He doesn't exactly look okay.

"Cas," Sam says. "Right. You – you found something?"

It's been nearly a year since Cas was taken by the Empty. It's not as if Sam's stopped looking for a way to get him out, it's just that he's stopped searching in the middle of the night. By the amount of whiskey Dean downs before bed, Sam assumed his brother also reserved research to daytime hours.

"No!" Dean says. His eyes are wide and almost fever bright. In fact, everything about Dean gives off the impression of illness: from the gray circles under his eyes to the full-body shakes. "No – you don't get it. I found him. I found Cas."

"Okay." Sam’s spine cracks as he sits up. "Where did you find him? You mean you figured out how to get into the Empty?"

"No – dammit – Sammy!" Dean leans away, runs one shivering hand through his hair so it all stands up straight, a mimicry of how he used to style it every morning before Cas died and Dean stopped caring about anything – getting out of bed or eating or even the Impala. "You're not listening. I thought it was a dream, at first. Or a – a hallucination or something." Dean laughs nervously. "But it was really him. I swear it."

"Cas came to you in a dream?" Sam repeats slowly, trying to understand. Beside him, Eileen watches Dean with the same badly shuttered alarm that Sam's sure must paint his own face.

"Yes. But it wasn't a dream. I mean – it was. Sorta. You remember he used to do that? He would speak to us in dreams."

"He used to speak to you in dreams, yeah," Sam says. "But that was years ago, when he was a fully powered angel."

Dean laughs again. Rubs his hair again. "Yeah," he huffs. "Definitely not all systems go, that's for sure. That's part of the problem, huh, buddy?"

Unease simmers in Sam's belly. "Um, part of what problem?"

"Cas explained," Dean replies "Slipping out of the Empty took nearly all his grace. And then he needed to, you know. Fix me. After that, he needed a safe space to land for a while and, what the hell am I doing with my life, anyway? It wasn't even up for debate. Hung jury, right, Sammy? Or, ah, the opposite of that. One for the money. Two for the show."

Dean speaks a mile a minute. Sam hasn't heard him string so many words together at once in months, and certainly never sober. All manner of possibilities jump to the forefront of Sam's mind, all of them more dire than the first: a mental breakdown, study drugs, cocaine. Dean's never been the poster boy for 'Just Say No.'

"You're not making a lot of sense, man," Sam says.

Eileen interrupts, significantly calmer. "Slow down, Dean. I can’t keep up."

"Right," Dean says. He breathes, choppy and uneven like he sprinted down the hall. "Right. Sorry. Yeah – sorry." He barely slows down, but now his hands flop in front of his chest in nearly illegible sign language, fingers shaking too hard to do Eileen much good. "Cas came to me in a dream. Not a dream. You get the point. And he's alive. Get it? Sam – he's alive, okay? He's back. I talked to him. And he needed someone to – and I thought – Hell, I'm Michael's prom dress, right? All stitched up special for an archangel, so it ain't like a regular flyboy is gonna rip my seams. So of course I said yes. I mean, it's Cas. What do I care if he's inside my head? He’s not gonna go all mech on my ass. He's good like that. He's – he's Cas."

Every word out of Dean's mouth makes Sam's apprehension grow stronger. He exchanges a look with Eileen. Her eyebrows are raised under her sleep-tousled hair.

"Okay," Sam tries. "So you talked to Cas." That's one thing he knows for sure Dean said. "And Cas is out of the Empty."

"Dude, yes. Aren't you listening to me?"

It occurs to Sam what the most unnerving part is: Dean is smiling. Sam can't remember the last time he saw Dean smile. Beneath the frenetic, shivering energy, the nearly unhinged glint in Dean's eye and sickly pall, he looks – not happy. But ecstatic. Almost euphoric.

Sam swallows. "You talked to Cas. He's alive. And now he's – and where is he now?"

"Dude, come on!" Dean rolls his eyes, letting out an explosive sigh like he would when Sam was a little kid and unable to keep up. "I told you – he's possessing me!"

Read on AO3: hold this space

Summary: Evil post-canon fic where Cas possesses Dean, but his grace is too weak to demonstrate to others he's possessing Dean. And the possession somehow occurred without anyone else around, so Sam and Eileen are just convinced Dean's finally cracked and begun to speak to a Cas that no one else can see. Up to you if Dean's actually being possessed by Cas or if Cas is, indeed, just a hallucination brought about by impossible grief.

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #destiel #castiel #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #my writing #fic excerpt #ficlet

[mintedwitcher]

So I'm taking a different approach to my ninesimm fic (originally it was going to be an episode rewrite), and this interaction is quite possibly my favourite so far:

“Aren’t you curious?” The Master purred as the space between them shrunk. “Don’t you want to know what the price is?” “Knowing you, it’s something degrading,” the Doctor replied coolly. The Master winked. “Only if you’re into that, my dear,” he said.

#ninesimm #doctor x master #thoschei #fic excerpt #my fics #writing #doctor who #ninth doctor #simm!master

[roseandgold137]

“Hold up,” Kon said, holding his hands up, either in a placating gesture or to protect himself in case Cassie flipped out on him. “Shouldn’t we maybe, I dunno, know a bit more before we rush in?”

Cissie blinked again, this time at Kon. “Sorry, are we sure this is Kon?”

Bart piped up from behind the couch. “Well, if he isn’t Kon, then he’s a damn good match.”

—

amnt I just hilarious

#cissie king jones #bart allen #kon el #cassie sandsmark #yj98 #fic excerpt #wip #whumptober 2023