#snippet thursday

[itsjaywalkers]

thursday snippet!!

thank u very much for the tag my darlings @messrsage & @inevitablestars <3

this is . to no one's surprise . from nothing happens

“Don’t wanna,” James retorts, his hand leaving his hair just so he can grab him by the chin and force him to look into his eyes once again. “I will never hurt you, Reggie. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.” “You promise?” Regulus’ questions, his voice breaking towards the end.  “I promise.” James tilts his head forward, until his foreheads are resting against each other, noses touching. Regulus holds onto him so tightly that James can feel his tiny nails digging into his skin to the point it stings.  He doesn’t say anything, though. Doesn’t even think of complaining. For some reason, he finds comfort in that pain.  “Thank you,” Regulus murmurs, his breath hitting James right on the lips and making him shiver.  “You never have to thank me. I’m always here for you, Reg. Just—let me take care of you. Please.” Regulus hums softly, and then he nods once, briefly and fast, before he leans forward, until their lips are grazing each other’s with every move. He moves his legs too, intertwining them with James’, and his grip becomes so harsh James suspects he’s gonna end up drawing blood.  A part of him hopes he does.

no pressure tags: @carniferous @foursaints @quillkiller @sugarsnappeases @imdamagecontrol @static-radio-ao3 @stagpdf

#giggles.. james don't make promises u can't keep.. #snippet thursday #fic series: nothing happens

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Snippet Thursday

Following up from last week's poll, this week we have Prisoner Exchange AU: Jak gets in trouble (we all knew it had to happen sooner or later)

The second his boots hit the sand, Jak knew he'd screwed up. He could see Damas waiting in the vehicle pit, having what looked to be an extremely intense conversation with Sig. And Jak knew it was his fault. The idea of facing the wrath of the king was far from appealing, but he disliked the idea of Sig taking the blame for his stupidity.

"So do we face the music, or fake our deaths and flee the country?" Daxter asked morosely from behind him.

The question was answered for him when Damas looked over at them. Oh, he looked calm at first glance, but his eyes radiated fury. He pointed at them, and then to the ground beside him, and his meaning was clear:

Get your you-know-what over here. Now.

"Dun-da-dun: we're dead," Daxter announced.

"Extremely dead," Jak agreed.

Nevertheless, he ignored the way his stomach churned and twisted around his ribs, and picked his way across the sand.

Being in trouble was nothing new for Jak. In fact, most of his memories involved getting punished for one escapade or another. But this was the first time in recent memory that he could remember being anxious about getting in trouble. He'd seen Damas angry a few times before, but it had never been directed at him. In spite of everything they'd gone through, and everything they'd worked to build, Jak felt his pulse racing, and the old familiar instinct to fight for his life.

When he'd reached the men, Jak opened his mouth, intending to defend Sig. Damas beat him to it.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded.

Jak had thought that would have been obvious.

"That...I...was gonna clear out the metalpede nest?"

The glare he got in return warned him to try a different tack.

"Look, don't blame Sig. If he hadn't gone with me, I would've gone without him."

Damas did not appear to like that any more than the last statement. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he narrowed his eyes at Jak.

"I told you not to enter the canyons until you had all three amulets."

"I'm sorry, okay? But we lost seven people to that nest!" Jak defended, flinging out an arm to gesture to the walls. "Egil's goons are already pushing past the river and winter's on the way. We can't afford to lose any more scouts!"

"I cannot afford to lose you!" Damas snapped.

Jak flinched away from his harsh tone. A mixture of confusion, nerves, and wounded pride compelled him to retort, "I'm trying to help! I live here now, remember?"

Damas closed his eyes and took a deliberately slow breath. Sig, Jak, and Daxter exchanged nervous glances. They knew full well this didn't herald anything good.

"Sig," Damas said through gritted teeth, "take the boys to their room, then wait for me in the aviary."

Sig nodded, but didn't verbally respond. He seemed to be feeling much more guilt than Jak did. He stepped to the left and put a hand on Jak’s shoulder. Before they could leave, Damas turned and cleared his throat.

"Wait. Give me your gate passes- both of you. You're all confined to the city until I decide what to do with you."

Privately, Jak thought that being deprived of his gate pass was a heavy punishment already. But Damas seemed mad enough that mentioning it might cause him to prove Jak wrong. He kept his mouth shut -- somewhat belatedly, so much for Damas’s attempts at teaching him negotiation -- and let his father take his gate pass away.

Well, this sucks, he thought, but knew better than to voice it.

When they'd walked far enough to be mostly out of earshot, Daxter remarked, "Well, that could've gone worse."

"Might still get worse," Sig sighed. He ran a hand over his head. "...Damas is right. I almost got us killed out there, cherries. He's got every right to be mad."

Jak tugged at his amulet restlessly. "You didn't want me to go along," he argued, "Doesn't that count for something? He's acting like I didn't take on a Swarm King with just Daxter and a gun!"

Sig ducked into the archway leading to the tower entrance and grimaced.

"No, he's acting like a man who lost his only son for years, and then had to deal with him recklessly risking his life on something that takes an entire team to accomplish. He-"

The big warrior stopped and blew out a frustrated breath. "You scared him, cherry. We scared him. And if anything had happened to you today, it would've been on me."

He shook his head and stomped into the lift.

"Two years I spent tearing Haven apart to find you, and then I let you waltz right back into danger. Unbelievable."

Jak settled into the corner of the lift and waited a few seconds until the silence became uncomfortable.

"Sig," he said, "You knew us before he did. In Haven, I mean. You know what we can do! You wouldn't have been able to stop me from joining the mission."

Guilt plucked at his lungs until he added, "I never meant for you to get in trouble, Sig. Usually we're the only ones who get blamed."

Sig's prosthetic eye whirred as its focus narrowed onto Jak’s face.

"Whatever was "usual" in Haven," he warned, "you're better off forgetting it. Things are different in the Wastelands, you know that!"

"I'm trying to help!" Jak argued. Why didn't anyone get that?! If he was capable of helping, he was obligated to help, wasn't he?

The lift locked into place and Sig pushed him out into the empty throne room. "You want to help?" he muttered, more to himself than to Jak or Daxter, "Maybe quit acting like it doesn't matter what happens to you as long as a job gets done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sig shook his head and pointed down the side corridor. "Just...go on back to your room, cherry. Precursors willing, Damas will have calmed down by the time he makes it up here. But I wouldn't be expecting that gate pass back anytime soon."

"You can't be serious," Jak groaned.

He was.

______________________________________

The room had seemed impractically large the first night the boys had been "quarantined" in the tower. Now it felt like the walls were closing in as Jak paced the circumference of the chamber for the fifth time. It had already been an hour, and there had been no sign of Damas. Somehow, that was worse than him being mad. When you knew it was coming, but they made you wait-

That was one of the most terrifying parts of the Baron’s prison.

As Jak started his sixth circuit, tracing his fingers along the wall, he passed Daxter lying on the bed.

"Huh," Daxter said aloud, wrinkling his nose.

"What?" Jak paused mid-step to look down at him.

Daxter sat up suddenly with a furrowed brow. "Say uh...you don't think Spikes was- nah, he doesn't seem that touchy-feely."

Jak thought of Damas holding him, the night he'd finally understood who he was. He thought of fierce embraces and quiet tears and kept them to himself.

"What do you mean, Dax?"

The ottsel fidgeted, and Jak recognized the emotion coloring his eyes as regret.

"It's just..."

Daxter's ears drooped.

"When you go off without me, I know you don't need my help. And I know you can take any monster that comes your way. But I worry anyway -- I can't help it! I lost ya for two years, and sometimes I get scared! Osmo, back in Haven, he called that traumatic stress."

Jak felt a pit in his stomach as he sank back down to sit beside Daxter on the bed.

"Oh," he said quietly.

He'd known, of course. Daxter always wore his heart on his sleeve. But he never talked about it.

"Do- do you think Spike Dad feels like that?" asked Daxter, gnawing on his lip, "cos if he does, I'm gonna feel like a heel."

Jak was silent as he contemplated that. Traumatic stress, huh? What would've set off-

Oh. He'd snuck out. Damas probably found his room empty. Did he have a flashback, like Jak did when doors were locked? Had Jak caused him to panic?

With a groan, Jak put his face in his hands.

"I suck at being a son," he grumbled.

"In our defense, only one of us has been actively parented before this," Daxter suggested, but it was half-hearted.

His ears twitched, first up, then back down again.

"Do...do you think he's gonna yell?"

"If he yells, I'll yell back," Jak answered hesitantly. "But I don't- I don't think he's going to be like Samos. I just...haven't decided if that's a good thing yet."

_________________________________________

Damas entered the chamber well over two hours later to find his son pacing like a caged caracal. By the slightly disturbed furniture, pushed away from walls here and there, it looked as if Jak had been at this for a while now. From all that Sig had told him, he could guess he was in for a fight. Considering what he'd been put through before returning to Spargus, the boy understandably did not take well to any perceived threat to his autonomy. But the moment Jak spotted him, his shoulders slumped.

"So-" Damas began, trying not to read too much into how resigned Jak looked.

"Look-" Jak interrupted, then winced slightly.

"I- We're...sorry," he said haltingly. "I...just wanted- I just wanted to help you."

He looked so earnest. Damas didn’t doubt he and Daxter had managed to talk Sig into letting them turn his scouting mission into a search-and-destroy. It was hard to argue with a face like that. Did the boy even understand what he'd done wrong?

"Oh Jak," Damas sighed.

He lowered himself to the small couch by the window and beckoned him over.

"Come. Sit with me."

Jak hesitated, but complied. The couch was small, but he tried to give Damas as much space as possible. He picked at a scar on his thumb and didn't look up.

"Why you?" Damas asked. When Jak didn't immediately answer, he prodded his shoulder. "Hmm? Why did you, specifically, have to go kill those metalpedes?"

Jak shrugged. "Because I could. Because I'm harder to kill than other people. Why risk them if I don't need to?"

From any other Spargan, those words would've been commendable. Coming from his only child, they burned Damas like brands pressed into his skin. Jak should never have been taught to see himself as expendable. He should never have suffered as he had. And yet Damas had failed to protect him.

"And you gave no thought at all to Sig’s warnings that this was a task too dangerous for one person?"

He watched his son's brows quirk as if something about the question puzzled him.

"Wh- when, um, when we were kids," Jak mumbled, "Nobody actually...cared...if we were doing something dangerous. Not unless it inconvenienced them. They expected us to do these things. To...to earn our keep."

When he looked up at last, Damas was frowning thoughtfully.

"Hmm. I...think I understand."

Damas turned that thought over in his mind. It would do no good to get angry now: Jak would just think it was directed at him. Still, it was for the best that the people of that tiny village were far, far beyond his reach.

"My son," he said, gently but firmly, "You must unlearn what your captors drilled into you. You are home now- you are free now. Those expectations do not apply."

For a moment, Jak said nothing. Then he whispered, "I don't know who I am without them."

Daxter peeked over the arm of the couch with an endearingly miserable look.

"Jak didn't mean to scare ya, and- and Sig just came along to watch our backs! Don't be mad at Sig, er, sir."

An honorific out of Daxter? Hell must have frozen over. It was this, more than anything, that told Damas that the boys truly were sorry.

"Sig didn't do wrong by going with you," he allowed, and dropped a hand over the couch arm to rest over Daxter's head. "But he did not inform me of what was happening, or give me time to form a larger team. That is what he did wrong- and what you did wrong. But we are not here to discuss Sig. We are here to decide what consequences I need to set to ensure that this does not happen again."

Both boys winced, and Damas noticed Daxter curl in on himself as though shielding himself before a blow. Jak schooled his face into an emotionless mask.

Damas regretted his promise to spare Haven for Jak's sake.

"You will be confined to the tower for six days," Damas announced, forcing himself to ignore the boys' reactions. "If you want your gate pass back, you'll have to earn it. Show me that I can trust you to make better decisions."

"And...after the week is up?" asked Daxter tentatively.

The king shifted his weight and ran a hand over his face. Alright, Sig. I'm choosing my battles.

"Before I came in here, I was going to ban you from the Arena trials until midwinter," he admitted.

Jak stiffened beside him, the protest already on his lips.

"But," Damas continued, "as you seem to have a better understanding of the gravity of the situation than I had initially thought, I offer a compromise."

Jak flexed his fingers and glanced over nervously. "O...kay?"

Damas offered a small smile in response. "You will only be barred from the Arena until you can escape me in a sparring match. How long that lasts will be up to you."

Jak sagged with relief -- and Daxter suddenly got a lot more anxious. Sure, Jak could fight metalheads the size of buildings and come out on top. But Damas had something the metalheads didn't: opposable thumbs.

This probably wasn't going to be as easy as Jak was thinking.

"Thanks. For...for not yelling," Jak said unexpectedly. "Daxter doesn't like yelling."

Damas dropped his other hand across the back of Jak's neck and squeezed affectionately, just the barest hint of pressure.

"If you have to shout to make your point, you've already lost control of the situation," he advised.

He caught the incredulous expression passing between the two boys and chose to let it go. They were still learning what it was to have a childhood. Lessons in leadership could come later.

"I know you're still getting to know me," he said hesitantly, "Perhaps the restrictions I place do not make sense to you. But they exist because I care about your safety. I fought to make this city one in which you could choose your own path. So you wouldn't have to fight for your life."

Daxter stretched up on tip-paws. "But that's why Jak fights!" he protested, "Cause he can't stand the idea of anybody goin' through what he did!"

Damas flinched, ever so slightly, and Daxter regretted bringing it up. It was fairly obvious that Damas had the same kind of survivor's guilt that he did.

"I...don't know a whole lot about dads, sure, but he's just doin' what you do, doesn't that count for somethin?"

Damas shook his head, but he didn't appear to be disagreeing. He only whispered, "I should have been there."

Daxter knew what he meant.

After a moment's hesitation, he climbed up onto the arm of the couch and tentatively patted Damas’s shoulder.

"Aw, look. Jak, uh...Jak has always been pretty fearless about runnin' into danger. Even before things went sideways! He used to wade out to the sandbar to save stranded Lurker Hounds, even though he knew they were gonna try and bite him! He uh, he had to learn that from somewhere, right?"

Jak raised his head and blinked. He'd sort of figured he'd learned it from his own elder self in an eternal loop. But...could Daxter be right? Was that wild, fearless, reckless little kid simply acting like a normal Wastelander?

"Maybe you fought so he wouldn't have to," Daxter suggested, merely thinking out loud, "But maybe he decided to be just like you? I mean have you met him? The kid's got a head like a rock!"

"Dude, really?" Jak glared at him.

Damas’s smile was bittersweet at best. "It is...a nice thought, Daxter," he admitted, "Admittedly, Jak...was quite stubborn when he was Mar."

Impulsively, he swung his arms close, dragging both boys into an impromptu embrace.

"However, you are still grounded."

"Darnit!" Daxter fumed.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #Prisoner Exchange AU #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #my aus #jak and daxter sig #jak decided to go clear out metalpedes and he definitely didn't tell his dad he was sneaking out #jak is Grounded #Daxter and Damas have very similar survivor's guilt regarding what happened to Jak #this is what leads to the prologue of the story where Jak is sparring with Damas after they've made up #The boys have a very skewed idea of age appropriate activities #free day Thursday #snippet Thursday

[reniscribbles]

I nearly forgot to post a snippet for tomorrow's Fanfic Friday!! Sorry my friends!

Here it is:

‼️Spoiler Alert‼️

CHAPTER 46 OF "Unlikely Friends":

Diane watched as Rick and Fred put on a playful concert in front of the party. It was similar to one her and Jacob had walked in on together not too long ago. But this time, she actually got to enjoy Rick's private show as he strummed his guitar alongside his friends.

"What are you? A playboy bunny?" A sultry voice said next to Diane. She immediately knew who it was. Tara was dressed all in red, with red fishnets and red horns. She was dressed perfectly as a devil.

"Actually," Diane smiled, excited to see Tara's reaction to her costume. "I'm a lab bunny." She said proudly.

Diane listened to Tara let out a soft chuckle.

"Great costume."

Diane watched Tara's eyes trail down her body before noticing the white fluffy tail that sat on the curvature of her ass. Diane held her breath, feeling her heart beat a bit faster as Tara reached, barely grazing across Diane's ass only to grab and give the plush tail a squeeze.

"Thanks," she was barely able to squeak out. 

#rick and morty #rick and diane #rick and diane fanfic #unlikely friends by reniscribbles #snippet Thursday

[libraryofgage]

CW: there is some Major Character Death here, but it's time loop, so they don't really die

Anyway! Here's a little sneak peek at one of the extras for my Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins AU

This part specifically is from the Upside Down's POV about all the previous loops ^_^

The following are just a few of the loops written about in this extra! There's a lot more than Steve and Eddie predicted in the fic lol

It decided to just pick someone. It stretched the web as far as it could, weaving itself into the other dimension so time in that place could be flexible enough for the Upside Down to peek through. People and places and times rushed over it, billions of lives and billions of experiences.  Many were bad, more were good, and even more just were; they were just simple moments of mundanity that the Upside Down treasured for their unfamiliarity. People didn’t seem to like those moments, though. It watched as they expressed disdain for something boring, dreamt of something exciting. The Upside Down decided to choose someone with a life that overflowed with those simple moments. It wanted someone who yearned for a new experience. It needed someone good (a person who felt a fundamental urge to do good things), someone who could be dropped in the middle of chaos incarnate, look around, and decide to fix it. The Upside Down chose Steve Harrington. --------- The Upside Down decided to give Steve a guide for the third try. It dropped Steve in the woods, right after the tunnel digging had started, and sent a healthy demogorgon to help him.  He didn’t immediately run away, but Steve took off when the demogorgon opened its petals to greet him. He didn’t pay attention to unfamiliar woods, tripped down a slope, and bashed his head against a sharp rock. That was, perhaps, a more embarrassing death. Even the Upside Down felt embarrassed watching it happen.  It generously repaired the web, deciding to not count this attempt. --------- The Upside Down pulled Steve to Hawkins before sending him back in time. It gently guided him to the town through his parents, making them dream of a small town and idyllic nature walks and fresh air. It watched as he followed his parents into a new home, eagerly connected its web to the door so he would travel to a week before Vecna made his move, and held its breath. Steve didn’t die this time, but he only lasted three days. He was confused by the door at first, of course. That was expected. He was easily excited once he realized he’d time traveled, and he reacted as the Upside Down had expected: Steve accepted the fact and decided to explore. He didn’t get involved with Nancy or the kids, though. In fact, he never saw them. He ran into another boy first, someone named Eddie, according to Nancy’s memories. The Upside Down didn’t see a problem at first; if Steve was around Eddie, then he’d be there when that first girl died, and his goodness would take over. Steve was there when the girl died. He saw her float to the ceiling, saw her arms and legs break, heard Eddie’s panicked worries about being blamed for everything. And his goodness did take over. It just took over in the wrong direction. He took Eddie (and Wayne, a man that was part of Eddie’s family web) and brought him home, walked him right through time so he wouldn’t get caught for a murder he couldn’t disprove. The Upside Down had been stumped by that one. It didn’t know how things could go wrong quite like that. Shouldn’t Steve have wanted to fix the root of the issue? Why had he just removed himself and two people from the situation?

The Upside Down spared Steve and Eddie one more glance, and then it repaired the web. ------ A few failed attempts later, Steve met Robin for the first time. It was in the past, before he met Eddie, at the video store. They seemed to recognize something in each other and immediately hit it off, trading jokes and friendly barbs that evolved into getting pizza together later. In that attempt, Steve didn’t get the chance to meet Eddie before taking Robin to the future the moment Vecna started killing people.  It was so unexpected that the Upside Down didn’t repair the web right away. It watched Steve and Robin live their lives, laugh and cry and struggle together, and eventually end up in the same senior center. They never changed; they only grew closer and leaned on each other when that feeling of something missing rose up their throats and made their eyes sting. The Upside Down couldn’t watch them die, though, and so it finally repaired the web to try again.

#steddie #steddie snippet #modern steve in 80s hawkins #throwback thursday steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve and robin

[rd-eternity]

WIP WEDNESDAY on THURSDAY

Tagged by @wolfboy88

From to catch a wolf aka yet another post-canon Thiam in college fic

“You left early.” Theo doesn’t turn around from where he’s fixing breakfast, shuffling around the kitchen in dead silence.  Liam crosses his arms, blocking the doorway of the kitchen so he can’t leave.  He catches the chimera’s eyes when he looks up at him.  Fuck, he looks exhausted.   “Didn’t think you’d notice,” he mutters.  “I was tired and didn’t want to wait for you to be done.” Liam’s jaw clenches.  The entire evening, he caught glimpses of Theo avoiding the party, not talking to anyone or even making eye contact.  And yes he was a tad distracted.  Even so, when he came downstairs and couldn’t pick up the chimera’s scent, he almost panicked.  The only thing stopping him from going on a rampage trying to find him was Corey, mentioning Theo slipped out. “Did you talk to anyone?” Liam says softly. He shrugs.  “No one there I really wanted to have a conversation with.”  He goes to try and move past Liam, to go back to his room and hide away from this, but Liam doesn’t budge.  His jaw clenches.  “Move.” “No.”  Liam braces a hand on the doorframe, not letting Theo drop his gaze.  “You have to fucking talk to me.”  Even with Theo controlling his heartbeat and chemosignals like always, Liam can still see the anxiety, the pain, in his grey eyes.  “You promised me you’d find at least one new friend,” he reminded him.  “If parties aren’t your scene, that’s fine.” “You liked it,” Theo interrupts.  “Not going to ruin your fun.” Liam blinks a few times.  He spent most of the night, dancing around and teasing the guy who never dropped his gaze, pushing him right up to the point he finally made a move.  And he liked it.  A lot.  And Theo… didn’t.  “Does me,” he pauses, jaw clenching.  “Does me being with someone bother you?” Theo rolls his eyes.  “Corey’s gay, Mason’s gay, I’m gay, I don’t give a shit Liam.  Doesn’t mean I have to stick around waiting for you to be done fucking a frat guy and then drive home like nothing happened.” Somehow the only thing Liam’s mind latches onto is I’m gay.  Not that he’s surprised, but… But what?  But nothing.

No pressure tags: @theoceanismyinkwell, @transdunbar, @equallyloyalandlethal, @tabbytabbytabby, @outcastpack, anyone else who wants to jump in

#thiam #fanfiction #archive of our own #theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf #fic snippet #wip wednesday #but on thursday #fic wip

[sugarsnappeases]

thursday snippet!!

ty @inevitablestars and @itsjaywalkers for the tags <333

okay guys bear w me for this one okay?? i was having Thoughts about barty being moody in gof and the way that would affect his grasp on who he is etc etc and then i was like... who do we know and love who's desperately clinging on to reality and her identity by one singular fraying thread?? my darling sybill who just so happens to already be in the castle of course!

so this comes just directly after barty kills his dad and i don't think it's a ship?? i think they're just friends... but... i feel like i could be kinda easily convinced to ship them idk... we'll see i think

It was disappointing and it was cathartic and it hadn’t helped to sharpen anything - he had thought maybe it might help him define himself, this murder, this patricide, and he knew who he was, he did, but the lines were still blurred, like trying to count his individual eyelashes by looking into a fogged-up mirror. Barty found himself heading towards the one thing that seemed to help him, even if only slightly, something like a tether, an anchor, if the anchor also needed to be held down - maybe they were both the anchor, and the ship, and the storm, and they tried to help each other however they could. She was the only thing that was really familiar about the castle now, or the only thing that was familiar and didn’t make him want to pull his heart out of his chest with his own two hands and offer it up in apology, atonement for his crimes - like he did whenever he saw that little blonde third year - her daughter, his niece - even as he could never be sure whether it would really be his heart, his hands, his apology, even as he could never be sure quite what he was atoning for, whose crimes, whose transgressions. Sybill Trelawney used to sit next to him in Divination, two chintz armchairs around a little circular table in the tower he was walking towards now, wooden leg knocking harshly against the hard, stone steps.

np tags for @quillkiller @themuseoftheviolets @orbitfalls @fxreflyes and anyone else who wants to!!

#also i'm aware thursday has literally just ended lmao work with me here #this is like... very rough btw like idk what that eyelash metaphor is i need to think of a better one but... #anyway #tag games #kara’s snippets

[princessofpatras]

Sneak Peek of LYKMC Chapter 14

Auguste didn’t emerge from his room again until Friday evening. Laurent was curled up on an armchair in the library with a book in hand when Auguste clamored down the stairs in his boots. He always made so much noise. Laurent had grown used to a quiet house in his absence. It was still jarring every time Auguste crashed through the house like he wasn’t afraid to be heard.

Laurent caught a glimpse of him through the open doorway as he dashed through the foyer—just a tall blur of denim and worn black leather, and a flash of tousled golden hair. He might have been wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but it was hard to tell. Ever since he’d found it in the attic Auguste wore that motorcycle jacket like a second skin.

He heard the front door burst open—

“Auguste.”

—and close again.

“Uncle,” Auguste said, sounding chastised. “I was just heading out.”

“Where are you going?” Uncle’s tone was smooth and light, but slippery like ice. Laurent sensed the danger in it, even if Auguste did not.

“Just out with Jord,” Auguste answered as Laurent crept up out of his chair and peered around the doorframe.

Auguste’s back was to him, one hand still gripping the handle of the front door. Leaning against the back of the couch in the living room with his ankles crossed was Uncle, regarding Auguste over the rim of a glass of wine he was swirling beneath his nose. He looked comfortable, like he’d been lounging there a while, staring out the entryway to the foyer just waiting to catch Auguste on his way out.

“Jord? Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.” Uncle didn’t seem to see Laurent across the hall. His eyes were on Auguste. “Is everything all right between the two of you?”

“Yeah,” Auguste said brightly, “everything’s fine.”

“Will you be home for dinner? I’ve invited Torveld.”

Auguste hesitated. “I don’t think so, sorry.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Give him my best, though.”

“I will. I know how fond he is of you boys.” Uncle raised his wine glass to his lips. As it caught the light from the window and flashed a red wink, his eyes flicked to Laurent.

Laurent ducked back behind the wall, heart exploding in his chest. Auguste and Uncle were still talking in the foyer, but he could no longer make out their words over the drum of his own heartbeat.

By the time his pulse had slowed enough for his heartbeat to retreat from his ears, he heard the front door close. The following silence that crept in like the tide told him that Auguste was gone.

“Laurent.” Uncle’s voice was calm; he did not shout his name, but Laurent flinched as though he had.

He emerged from the library, reluctant to part from the wall which shielded him, but too afraid to ignore his uncle. There was nothing to be gained from stoking his anger; better to face the punishment he was about to receive for eavesdropping than to add disrespect and disobedience to his list of sins.

When Laurent lifted his gaze and mustered the courage to look his uncle in the eye, he did not see the anger he’d expected there. Instead, his uncle’s eyes were bright with mischief. He tapped Laurent under the chin with his knuckle and offered him a conspiratorial smile. “Your brother always looks so guilty when he lies.”

Laurent blinked back his confusion, like trying to adjust his eyes to a sudden change in the light. “You just let him lie to your face,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“My dear,” Uncle said with a twinkle in his eye, “if I revealed every time I knew he was lying to me, I would only be helping him learn to hide his lies.”

Something shifted uneasily in Laurent’s stomach. Does he know when I’m lying too? Uncle had risen to his feet as he was speaking and was now standing very close to Laurent, his head bent to his level. The thick, sour scent of red wine on his breath was suffocating. Laurent angled his face away, searching for clean air, but Uncle’s wine glass appeared under his nose.

“Have some wine, Laurent. You look pale.”

Laurent took the offered glass and slowly raised it to his lips, trying not to inhale through his nose. He usually liked wine; especially the fancy reds Uncle would let him try when they were alone. He didn’t know why this particular glass was so repulsive to him. He took a small sip, careful not to grimace as it went down.

Uncle did not take the glass back when Laurent tried to hand it to him. He stared at Laurent with a mild expression, quirked an eyebrow ever so slightly, and waited. Laurent looked down into the burgundy depths of the glass in his hand. Before he had a chance to lose his resolve, he tipped the contents into his mouth, draining the glass. He had to fight against his gag reflex to swallow it.

Satisfied, Uncle took the empty glass from his hand, set it down on a side table and smiled at him. A warm flush was creeping up Laurent’s neck and onto his cheeks.

Then the amusement drained from Uncle’s eyes, and he expelled a deep sigh. “I worry about your brother. He’s not well. You saw how he was last night. I just wish I knew who he’s really seeing when he goes out. I hope he’s not putting himself in danger.”

Laurent chewed his lip, momentarily forgetting how much Uncle hated that habit. “There must be something we can do to help him.”

“Torveld is attracted to you.”

The words hit Laurent like a slap, blindsiding him. It was not even a statement he could deny. His uncle had seen them together at his birthday party. He looked down at his hands, where he began picking at a tender hangnail.

Uncle said, “He will try to come on to you this evening at dinner.”

“I won’t do anything to encourage him,” Laurent scrambled to say, “I promise. I’ll tell him I don’t see him that way.”

Uncle clicked his tongue. “That would be rather awkward. I’ve given Torveld my blessing.”

“I … don’t understand.”

Was the room spinning just a little? Laurent wasn’t usually this much of a lightweight. Maybe it was because he’d skipped breakfast again. He tried to take a step backwards and stumbled. Uncle placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders to steady him.

“All you need to do is play along,” Uncle said. “That is, if you’re sincere about wanting to help your brother.”

#the working title for this chapter is ‘lying is the most fun a boy can have without taking his clothes off’ btw #if that tells you anything about what this chapter may hold #i know that 9pm on a thursday is an irregular time for me to post a sneak peek but i just realized i haven’t given you guys any crumbs #in a while #and ive been working on this chapter forever lol #but well anyway here it is #the snippet ive chosen to tease chapter 14 #hope you like it #lykmc updates #lykmc #ch14 sneak peek #my writing #captive prince fanfic

[cilil]

Throwback Thursday

Tagged by @ettelene. Thank you, friend! Let's see what I can find...

Now this fic is not super old or anything, but it has a special place in my heart, so please enjoy some Vairë x Míriel :)

"Very well. Tell me then, my dear, what is it that you crave?"  Míriel pondered her question in silence for a few moments. Many thoughts flitted through her mind, yet with every passing second she felt as though the longing inside her grew, awakened by her lady's presence. She had come back to life years ago, but she hadn't returned to the world of living; at times she almost forgot she had a hröa again, her feelings and sensations dulled by the tranquillity and otherworldliness of Mandos. There were needs she had been ignoring and denying herself for too long, chief among them the warmth and touch of another. Perhaps it was improper of her to ask, but she felt emboldened by the Valië's offer and years of companionship the two of them had shared.  "I want to feel," Míriel said, "and to let go without worry."  As soon as those words left her mouth, she could see that her lady understood what desires she had hidden in her heart. Vairë let out a small hum and pulled on a thread she had been spinning with two fingers, holding it in front of her.  "I can give that to you, if you wish."

("The Weaver's Respite")

No pressure tags: @sauron-kraut @lvsifer @urwendii @niennawept @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @demonscantgothere @elevenelvenswords @camille-lachenille @glorf1ndel @saintstars @crackinthecup @nyarnamaitar @holyplasmaball and everyone else who wants to! Please feel free to join🖤

#throwback thursday #vaire x miriel #miriel #vaire #snippet #my writing

[mikibwrites]

WIP Thursday 🙃🙃🙃🙃 bc I love all y'all and @chaotictarlos replied to my post in two seconds so maybe there's some interest?? lol

They met and fell into bed together nearly every chance they got over the next two years. When it came time that Owen decided he could better serve the community by teaming up with Judd to increase the knowledge base hunters worked with, and when Iris’ sister Michelle came back from England and convinced Iris she wanted in, well. It made sense for Carlos to bid Iris a tearful–not permanent, they promised–goodbye and he and TK packed their combined arsenals into Carlos’ flashy Camaro–

“So fucking impractical, oh my god! It’s tiny, it doesn’t hold nearly enough in the trunk, and it’s distinctive as hell! How in the fuck do you manage to keep a low profile with this thing? The cops are bound to know you!”

“It’s fast,” was Carlos’ smug answer.

–and headed out on their own.

EDIT i can't believe i forgot to actually TAG people omfg: @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @bonheur-cafe @rachelsversion1 @lemonlyman-dotcom @sanjuwrites @chaotictarlos @paperstorm @welcometololaland @herefortarlos and anyone else who hasn't shared yet even tho it was yesterday LOL

#SPN Tarlos #i have no earthly idea what i tagged other snippets of this #911 lone star #tarlos #wip wednesday #but definitely thursday lol

[kindlingkeen]

Thumbnail Thursday! 🎬

Week 3 of posting blurbs from the chapter I’m working on to motivate me to get it over that final editing hump. This week’s snippet comes from Chapter 3 of Harm Reduction, part 4 of Asymmetrical Warfare, my ~UtRH AU.

Chapter 3: Breakneck

Jason tucks his body tightly over the stolen motorcycle and accelerates hard toward the exit off the Midtown freeway. Rain droplets cut sharply against the exposed skin around his eyes. 

The Kingston Bridge looms in the distance, a steel behemoth standing guard over Miller Harbor. The top of the bridge’s suspension system is only partially visible through the thick fog. 

Just a few more miles, and he’ll be in the Narrows.  

Tapping the bike’s brakes hard as he downshifts, Jason torques the front wheels sharply and then steers into the turn. The off-ramp’s slick asphalt glistens like a dark mirror under the hazy glow of the streetlights.

This snippet brought to you by too many hours spent watching YouTube videos on the physics of motorcycles. Full chapter goes up Sunday! It’s still pretty rough but it’s getting there… 🤞

#thumbnail thursdays #my fics #harm reduction #chapter 3 snippet #asymmetrical warfare #utrh au #jason todd #red hood #batfam

[rhysiana]

“this can’t be love”, Nursey/Dex, OMGCP, for @gayowulf

This is a snippet of a speedrun edition of a very long fic that lives in my head and is probably never going to get fully written the way I intended, in which Dex inherits a house from his great-aunt several years after graduation.

I can’t WRITE here, Nursey texted the group chat in extreme frustration. He’d been trying not to complain, because his parents were basically giving him a free sabbatical year to work on his book while they were working overseas (again) and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but it’d been a week since he produced real words and he was starting to go out of his mind.

Chowder: Oh no! You can do it!!!

Bitty: Do you need inspirational baked goods? What kind of theme are you going for? I can pop a box in the mail to you tomorrow!

Jack: *link to an internet-blocking timer app*

He sighed and tossed the phone on the couch before he could find out what kind of spreadsheet solution Ransom & Holster would come up with. At least they all cared.

His phone buzzed again and he picked it up, frowning at lack of obvious new message in the chat until he realized it was a text direct from Dex. An address in Maine, nothing else.

Nurse: ???

Dex: You can’t write because your place is too empty and quiet. I have a guest room. I can guarantee it won’t be too quiet here. Obvious solution.

Nurse: Weren’t you living in Boston tho???

Dex: Long story, tl;dr now I live in Maine again.

Dex: Are you coming or not?

Nurse: Do you mean it?

He regretted that last text as soon as he sent it. After all these years, he knew full well Dex didn’t make offers like this unless he meant them. But he did also remember the last time they’d tried living in the same place. Dex’s response made it clear he knew exactly where Nursey’s thoughts had gone.

Dex: It’s not like we’d be living in the same room, and I’m definitely not putting my life on hold to host you or whatever. You can just come for the weekend and see if it helps.

Nurse: Okay.

Nursey sat on the couch staring at Dex’s final thumbs up emoji for a while, wondering what just happened.

~*~*~

(Further things I know about this fic: Dex quit his soulless corporate IT job when he inherited the house. He ends up with a bunch of random odd jobs around town: handyman on call through his uncles’ repair shop, bartender at the bar now owned by a high school friend, unofficial after-school tutor for half the neighborhood kids in his kitchen/dining room. The room Nursey is using was the guest room and then more permanent bedroom of Dex’s great-aunt’s Boston marriage partner after her health declined, and is full of her garden journals, giving him a lot of feelings about really noticing the passage of time and seasons. Nursey stays a lot longer than a weekend, and the suggested title line comes into play when he looks around and realizes that Dex doing very concrete and practical things for the people in his life is how he shows he cares.)

#prompt fills #scenes from hypothetical fics #nurseydex #omgcp #check please #maybe I'll dig out the snippets I did write of the longer version and throw them up here in a wip amnesty post #you know those fics you end up not writing because you love them too much? #anyway I intended to write and post this on thursday for the throwback nostalgia #but I ended up going to the ballet with my mother that evening #rhys's stuff

[cassieuncaged]

WIP Thursday

thank you @kyber-infinitygems for the tag!

No pressure tags: @emotionalcadaver, @roofgeese, @illiana-mystery, @emilynightshade89, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @voidika, @captastra, @aceghosts, @detectivelokis, @confidentandgood, @neonneurons, @unpetitoiseau, @poisonedtruth, @spacestephh, and anyone who'd like to share!

I'm working on my Grave Bound redux so please enjoy this excerpt from Book 2 because I'm not writing anything chronilogical.

Spoiler: they will end up together. I just really want to focus on the hurt/comfort and angst of reuniting under less than perfect circumstances.

The bitter wind whipped at a stubbled jaw as he leaned onto his cane. Teeth ground into each other. Was it because of the cold or the anger that had begun to settle in bitter bones?

Elias was unsure as they both froze in the frigid winter.

"You're just going to stay with him?" Striking crystalline was glazed with desperation, brows knit as he searched her inviting face for any sign of faltering. Yet a stony expression remained painted over soft features.

"Yes." she admitted curtly. Elias pushed a wave of tawny behind one chapped ear, pursing wide lips before she spoke. "I love him."

"And what about us?" he practically pleaded, needing to feel her in his arms again. To be in the warm light of her love once more. No matter how selfish it was to wish she never moved on, Elias was determined to live in that fantasy if it meant his heart wouldn't crumble to dust.

"What about us?" pink fingers hugged bare arms, pressing into goose pimpled flesh.

"We were in love." he could feel his knee buckle from the cold, hip suddenly aching as he clutched desperately on the wooden cane.

"And the world took you away from me," a glittering tear drop fell down the curve of one cheek, the only tell she allotted him during their entire conversation. "You think I was going to mourn you forever?"

"A selfish part of me did." he admitted mournfully, wishing he'd been more proactive in finding her. But self pity and loathing had seeped to far inside of him to think about recovering lost love. "Does he make you happy?"

"He makes me feel safe." Maggie grinned warmly through the tears, making him wish it was for him.

"You told me I made you feel safe." he could hardly hold back the his own tears, wanting to hold her in his arms again. A car sped down the otherwise abandoned street as snow flakes danced under the orange glow of street lights. The world was as lonely as he was.

Though nothing could prepare him for the words she spoke next.

"You made me feel whole."

#wip wednesday #on a thursday #wips #snippets

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday: Demolition Trio

The winning prompt for this week was "Demolition Trio: Jak's dog chooses violence" as a follow-up to last week's snippet where he got the dog. Don't worry, no animals were harmed in the making of this snippet. Errol got a little traumatized though.

"Here boy! C'mere!"

Jak bent and patted his knees, a wide, silly grin decorating his face.

With a growling, grumbly vocalization, the crocadog bounded out of the transport and leaped into the boy's waiting arms. Rip wriggled and panted happily, perfectly content to be held like a puppy by the unnaturally strong teenager. Jak laughed and stumbled back a step before finding his balance.

"Whoa!" He hefted the pup higher -- if he could outpace the average KG with a twenty pound ottsel on his shoulder, he could handle a hundred pound half-grown crocadog.

A high-pitched squeal caught both sets of ears, and Jak swiveled on one heel expectantly to see Tess standing on the quay with her hands clasped in front of her mouth. She bounced on her toes even as she directed two men with a trolley to carry Krew's newest shipment of alcohol inside the bar.

"Awww!! You didn't tell me you had a puppy!" Tess shouted across the landing platform.

Jak set Rip down and hooked the thin chain lead to his collar. It seemed overly fancy for a place like Haven -- a beautiful, patterned steel that looked like watermarked paper. "Silksteel", Damas called it, an alloy made from metalhead bodies and Precursor metal melted together in a crucible. Jak was pretty sure the dog's leash was legitimately the nicest thing he'd ever owned -- and maybe the only thing that wasn't a hand-me-down besides his gun.

"Hey, Tess!" Jak jogged across the walkway with Rip trotting along beside him. Once they'd stopped in front of Tess, the dog went on alert. Ears pricked, tail stiff, he shouldered between Jak and the girl with a low warning rumble.

"Hey, hey. Easy, Rip. Good boy."

Jak reached out and boldly took Tess’s hand. "Here, let him smell you so he knows you're a friend."

Tess was not wholly unfamiliar with dogs. She tucked her fingers into a loose fist and held them out for the young croc to sniff.

"Hey, bubba," she cooed, "Who's a good boy, huh? Is it you?"

"It is not," Daxter loudly interrupted as he finally caught up to Jak. "Jak, your demon dog befouled the air train! I had to pay extra fare for cleaning!"

Jak snorted. "Oops. My bad, I'll pay you back, Dax."

"Daxter!" Tess threw open her arms to scoop the ottsel into them. "Ooooh-! I missed you!"

If ottsels could have blushed, Daxter would have been the approximate color of a tomango. Seeing Short Master and Shorter Master so relaxed with Nice-Smelling Lady, the dog calmed immediately. He sat back on his haunches and decided after a moment that it wasn't fair that Daxter was getting all the love. Rip whined for attention, sticking his cold nose on Tess’s bare knee. Tess squeaked and jerked away, then burst out laughing.

"Awww aren't you the cutest puppy!"

For some reason, Jak couldn’t help feeling a little pride. He scrubbed his hand across Rip's ears and grinned. "Well, his runt brother is actually the cutest. Rip is pretty great, though."

Tess’s eyes narrowed to a laser focus. She had her suspicions that Jak was referring to the puppy that always followed the tiny Heir around. The Heir that Jak had kidnapped and refused to give up the location of. The Shadow was breathing down her neck to get information out of Jak before they lost their chance to open the Tomb. But she couldn't act on her suspicions here in the open! Even if Krew hadn't been in earshot, Jak would just deny it anyway.

What she needed was for Jak to actually trust her with...whatever it was he was doing. The younger teen seemed to be fighting his own private war solo, only working with the Underground or Krew when he felt like it.

"No dogs allowed!" Krew barked from the doorway of the saloon. "This is a pub, not a kennel, eh?"

"Dog? What dog?" Sig's voice floated past him.

"The brat brought a crocadog from his latest hunting excursion," Krew sniffed. "People don't pay to see normal animals on my wall, you know, even if they are dangerous."

He shook his folding fan at the boys.

"That trophy had better be in mint condition or you can turn right around and stay out until you bring me something better!"

Daxter rolled his eyes from Tess’s arms. "Relax, hoverboy. Mr. MacPooch down there helped us bag a ramhead before he was even house-trained!"

"He is house-trained, though," Jak added hastily.

It couldn't have been more obvious that something had changed about Jak when he widened his eyes and hit Krew with a forlorn, innocent look.

"You don't mind if I put him up in the bar loading bay, right?"

Before Krew could answer, Jak shifted his weight and channeled just the tiniest hint of dark eco into his eyes, enlarging his pupils. He rubbed his arm, mimicking Mar's usual method for getting Damas to agree to something.

"I just don't want him running loose, y'know? The Guard are really bad about hunting civilian pets for kicks, and- and I really didn't want to have to gut a whole squad today."

There was something deeply unsettling about Jak putting on the guise of a vulnerable, worried kid while casually discussing mass carnage. Krew stared at the youngest "employee" on his roster. Well, "intern" was more accurate. He paid the brat in food and gun upgrades -- and the latter was only because Sig insisted and it wasn't wise to overly antagonize one's bodyguard. He'd never been a "dog person", himself.

Before his racing injury, he used to promise his daughter he'd bring her all kinds of pets to make up for his constant absence. Terrakeets, cabbits, dogats- he'd even sent her a jer-boa once. (That had been an unmitigated disaster, leading to his ex-wife calling to scream at him when the fuzzy legged-snake decided to constrict and consume a neighbor's hip-hog.)

Dogs had never once been on the list.

Krew curled his lip. "You're lucky I like you, Jak," he groused. "Get that thing in the back before someone reports us to the health inspector!"

He started to float back to the bar, then turned.

"And don't do that face again! It's upsetting!"

Jak snorted, and in an instant his old demeanor was back. "Sure, sure."

Tess followed Krew in, directing the last of the bottle delivery, and grimaced when she noticed a particular patron waiting at the bar.

Errol.

"Champion Commander Erol Errol", as he always bragged to her.

She suspected his parents had not been especially creative people.

His swaggering bravado and complete failure to understand that someone could willingly cross him made him a decent source of intel, but Tess had hidden in sewers that made her feel less slimy than she did every time she played Cute Barmaid with Errol.

Her personal feelings aside, she knew Errol had done something to Jak. Something bad. The man was allergic to keeping his mouth shut if anyone brought Jak up. He was both sadistic and obsessed - a dangerous combination.

And Jak was about to walk in and see him.

Tess squeezed Daxter in a silent cue to go warn the boy, but it was too late. A low, almost subsonic rumbling began to fill the room, vibrating the floorboards. The dog had clearly picked up on his master's sudden tension. Rip's eyes were fixed on the commander, lips slowly peeling back to reveal dozens of jagged teeth. Beside him, Jak had gone still, eyes cold. He quietly, deliberately, dropped the leash. But this time there was no fear in his reaction.

Daxter patted Tess’s arm. "It's okay, babe," he whispered, "Demon Dog won't let the Tattooed Wonder try anything funny."

Honestly, he was amazed by how much the dog boosted Jak's confidence. Maybe that was why Mar was so terrifyingly fearless?

"Hey Sig, I thought Krew said no dogs allowed!" Jak said loudly.

Tess tensed. Kid, don't-!

"You better let Praxis know his mutt wandered in here."

Outrage wiped the smug look right off of Errol's face. He lurched off the barstool and pasted on a condescending coo.

"Well isn't that sweet. The freak found his long-lost twin."

He took a meaningful step forward, and his fingers brushed against the wicked hunting knife on his belt. "Maybe this one will respond better to obedience tra-"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence before Rip was on him.

Tess leaped to the side with a shriek that didn't even come close to matching the shrill sound coming out of the commander. He sounded like a wounded rabmouse-

Probably because his entire head was currently inside the crocadog's mouth.

"Not on my freshly waxed floors, Cherry!" Sig complained, "C'mon!"

Secretly, he hoped the puppy would just bite down. Hard. But Krew was afraid of Errol's influence and Sig knew it. Best to put on a facade.

Jak watched Errol flail and try to pry Rip's mouth open for a few seconds with the kind of detached curiosity generally reserved for particularly strange looking insects. But when he heard the whine of Krew's hoverchair returning, he finally intervened.

"Rip! Drop it!" he commanded.

Rip did not drop it.

"Come on, pal. I told you not to eat garbage! Spit it out!"

Reluctantly, the croc opened his half-shut jaws and delicately spat the commander's head out. He looked sorely put-out by the loss of his prey, and grumbled reproachfully at Jak. Errol thudded to the floor, dripping with thick drool and finally understanding what it meant to have one's life flash before one's eyes. His hand inched toward his knife as he desperately hoped the croc wouldn't notice his movement.

"Rip, heel."

Jak made a hand signal and the huge dog left his prey to take up a guard stance in front of his human. Jak wrapped the end of the lead around his glove and stroked the dog's back.

"Good boy, Rip! Good boy!"

Mollified, Rip let his tail thump happily against Jak’s legs. Well, if Short Master said he was A Good Boy, maybe it was okay that he didn't get to Crunch the sickly smelling Red Thing this time.

Daxter's ears drooped. "Awww, I wanted to see if KG really do run around for a couple seconds after they lose their heads," he joked.

He and Jak both knew he would have been violently ill if this had actually happened.

"Aw where's the fun in that?" Jak retorted, "Just four witnesses? Nah man, it's gotta be the Stadium. We're gonna pulverize him in front of thousands. That'll be way more memorable."

He casually stepped over Errol's prone body, secure for once in the knowledge that the man couldn't hurt him.

Not if he wanted to keep all his body parts.

He paused and crouched next to the wide-eyed man's head.

"Next time, I won't be there to save you, commander," he murmured, "Tread lightly. And try not to run. Crocs love it when you run."

Jak stood and patted his thigh, and Rip bounced over Errol -- one paw landing in the middle of his stomach as he went. "Alright, Rip, let's get you settled. If you're good, I'll bring you some metalhead scraps. Sound good?"

"WURF."

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that."

Errol stayed on the floor, staring at the ceiling, for a full four minutes after that.

It wasn't hard for Tess to convince Krew that he'd consumed more than his share of liquor, or to convince him to eject the man from the bar until he could "pay" his "tab".

She made a face.

"Remind me to keep some chew toys around here," she whispered to Daxter. "I don't want Rippy getting any ideas about my rifles."

#fic prompts #writing prompts #free day thursday #snippet thursday #jak and daxter #jak and daxter aus #Demolition Trio au #commander errol #erol errol NAUGHTY DOG WHY IS THAT HIS NAME?! #jnd tess #jak 2 renegade #crocadog #Errol is Not having a good time and we're delighted #hey he should be grateful he didn't try to touch Jak or he would've gotten the Captain Hook Experience #he still might. the games definitely establish that he has No Risk Assessment #Jak now has a therapy dog that will eventually be the size of a haflinger pony

[pearlypairings]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

I've been tagged by the lovely @pipergirl17 to share a snippet of one of my many WIPs lol. Thank you for the tag!

I chose a snippet from my latest endeavor, a steve x chrissy oneshot at the country club :)

Chrissy groaned under her breath. Steve always made it seem so easy. She needed to wait a few minutes, space out her own mysterious absence to look less suspicious, less scandalous. She knew the moment her chair budged that her mother’s scrutiny would be a laser beam through her, and she needed to avoid being maimed in order to meet up with her partner in country club crime. “Oh, Peter, you are too much!” Her mother schmoozed, raising her nose up at the lawyer with a dry laugh. Chrissy held back a scoff and stayed true to course. “You must be an absolute riot in court. Really too funny for your own good.” Her father swirled the whiskey neat in his glass (always Macallan and exactly two ounces, yuck!). His face, unreadable as always, drifted toward the tabletop; her mother was the better socialite, that was no secret. Chrissy knew to work through her father to get out quickly. She tapped his hand and fluttered her eyelashes, as her mother listened to Peter the Lawyer yap on and on about some ridiculous joke about jury duty she was sure the punch line wouldn’t live up to the length of the lead-in. Her father took a nice, long sip when he finally acknowledged her. “I’m going to speak to…. Mrs. Litchke about this year’s summer program. Won’t be long, ‘kay?” He swallowed, looked to his wife who was still enthralled by the stupid joke, and nodded with a shrug. “Don’t take too long. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

I'm chugging along on this one and really looking forward to finally post the finished product:) It's a fun one, that's for sure!

#wip wednesday #no wait thursday #tagged :) #snippet #cheerscoops #steve harrington x chrissy cunningham #steve x chrissy #I have the cutest vision board for them #country club shenanigans

[vwritesaus]

alright guys, it's your turn to make some decisions 😝 chapter 3 of dear christopher is done and i've been working a lot on timeless recently (omg!!) so tell me:

also i'm not gonna post ch3 until the weekend, but if the people want a preview, i will provide 😊

#tumblr #tumblr polls #dear christopher #timeless #fanfiction snippet #also i know the poll lasts for a week but consider it closed by thursday AEDT

[muses-of-the-mind]

You asked for asks and I have answered!

Your turn to answer now (but no pressure, dw if you don't want to or can't :))

So, idea by my friendo @eahravinqueen:

Villain doesn’t realize their feelings for Hero and is convinced that Hero’s got some mind powers or some magic spell that makes it hard for people to think ish.

Fluffy and sfw please! Awesome if it's funny too!

Love,

@heroes-villains-side-blog

Ahhhhhhh, the way my heart started thumping when I saw this. It may not be exactly what you asked for (or anywhere near it lol) but I hope you like it!

Bewitched

The pyjama clad criminal stood in front of the carved door, chest heaving from their mile run to the forest. Villain was going to ruin their future plans, they knew that, but they had to ensure that the events that occurred recently would never repeat again.

It had been a normal day, some kidnapping here, some threatening there and then voila it was nighttime already. They were lounging comfortably on their couch, flicking through the tv when a dagger had shown up in a horror show advertisement.

And curse them, their first thought was that Hero would like this.

They didn’t even know why Hero of all people had popped up into their mind but from then their mind had escalated and they couldn’t stop thinking about Hero’s perfect lips and how their hands felt from the brief touches and holy shit, they felt like they were on fire and—

Villain was getting carried away.

The point was that these intrusive thoughts had become too intrusive. They were interfering with their evil plans for god’s sake and Villain couldn’t let themselves get any more distracted.

Especially by Hero’s little smile

They cleared their throat, effectively dismissing the thought and lifted their fist to knock. Apparently the first three times hadn’t been enough.

“Looking for someone?”

Villain whipped around at the whisper near their neck. The fuming words on their tongue died down as soon as they looked over at Hero. They were wearing simple nightclothes but god they looked so beautiful.

No. Stop.

With great difficulty, they pried their eyes off Hero’s body and reached up to meet their face. The crime-stopper’s eyes were glistening with obvious amusement but Villain pretended they didn’t notice.

“You!” They pointed an accusing finger at Hero’s chest.

“Me.” Unfaded delight was evident in their voice.

”You sorcerer! You’ve done something to my brain and I demand you fix it right now.”

Hero seemed unfazed by them, as if having a random outburst was part of Villain’s daily routine. They continued twirling the rose in their hands that they got from god knows where, “I’m afraid I have no clue as to what you’re talking about.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Mmm. No.” The smirk and the fake obliviousness. The smug little bastard knew exactly what Villain was referring to.

They took a deep breath, trying to rein in their anger but one look at Hero’s smirk and the words came spilling out.

“You know, the butterflies and the anxiety and the wanting to see you every minute. How I can think about nothing but you and what your favourite colour is and whether you’ve had dinner or not. I dont know if you plan to give me a heart attack with the racing heartbeat or something but you’ve poisoned my mind with your existence and I beg you,” They paused to take a breath, their next words coming out in a whisper. “Stop with the enchantment.”

As they recovered from their rant, Villain noticed that Hero was immobilised, the eyes that so often appeared in their dreams staring at them in shock.

“You…you said what.”

“You didn’t hear what I said?” Villain’s energy drained with the thought of having to monologue again but then Hero shook their head.

“I heard what you said. Loud and clear, but Villain,” Their grey eyes flicked to them, gleaming with earnestness,” I didn’t put a spell on you.”

And that’s when Villain realised they screwed up.

“You—no. No, you must have. You had to have or else.” They paused before their mind could come up with the horrible alternative.

Hero, apparently, didn’t mind acknowledging the elephant in the room. “Villain, have you ever considered the fact that maybe you have feelings for me that aren’t influenced by my powers?”

“No! Absolutely not, you dingbat. How could I? how could you? There’s no way. Nope, nada. There must be a glitch in the system or someth—“

Hero grabbed their chin, forcing them to stop their rambling. Villain caught note of their grin and barely managed to predict the words before Hero started talking.

“So,” they drawled, finger beginning to trace their jaw, “it seems like someone’s got a secret crush on me.”

They grinned and Villain could feel the burning in their cheeks, “I’ll show you what being under a spell is really like.”

#heroes and villains #hero x villain #villain x hero #my writing #writing snippet #snippet #supers #request filled #i dont know if this can really be described as fluff #depends on the reader’s emotions ig? #anyway i hope i did my first requester justice! #i know i post on monday and thursday but i got way too excited with this #and i picked such a perfect time for me to ask for requests: #right when i have ✨exams✨ #(note the sarcasm)