#snippet time

[littlesheep23]

Hi guys!

It's snipped time for chapter 8 of What's 1800 miles away from home?

The song of the chapter is The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

PS: that's probably the longest chapter I've ever written til now. 'been proof reading for nearly three hours and I'm not even a third of it in (though maybe that's because I'm watching the world cup at the same time 👀)

[twilightbuckley]

in the kitchen rn cooking up an eddie who’s so completely sure he and buck are ending up together 💆‍♀️

Edit: keep reading on ao3 here

[thoughtsaboutshows]

Fire and Ice Snippet!!

It’s from a future chapter and NSFW so it’s below the cut!!

🔥 🧊 🔥 🧊 

I could weep with how much I’ve missed him inside of me, stretching me in a way that makes me feel whole and complete. I really only had his body hovering over mine that one night, a single rise and fall of the moon to watch over the birth of this connection. But that one night had been more than enough to ruin me for absolutely everyone else. To shift something in me that had my heart beating off rhythm, only righted now that he’s once again moaning in my ear.

“Violet.” The raspy sound is music to my ears and I’m certain no other song will ever do it for me. “Fuck.”

Yep. Utterly. Fucking. Ruined.

“Never again.” I whisper back. I don’t need to clarify what I mean, the intense movement of his next thrust confirms his agreement.

Never again will we allow anything to keep us from this. From one another. Not conspiracies or last names or ghosts.

Especially if someday we share a last name.

The thought hits me out of nowhere like a summer squall. It doesn’t scare me despite its insanity. Instead it makes me flutter more tightly around him, earning me a growl against my neck.

[villain-connoisseur]

ladies (@baelor-the-based and @nejires-hado) drop ‘em!

a snippet of the prologue from pale fire (a daeron x oc that is publishing soon!!!)

-x-

No one asked why her gaze remained fixed not on the chamber door, but across the courtyard toward another wing of the Keep where the morning light touched stone in quiet silver.

Where Aerion would be.

She had known him as she had known Daeron. They had all grown together, dragon-blooded children racing through corridors heavy with banners and expectation. She remembered chasing Aerion through sunlit galleries, remembered the reckless tilt of his grin and the way he climbed where others were warned away. He had burned even then-too sharp, too bold, too certain of himself. Even as a boy, he had seemed carved from the very legends whispered about their ancestors.

Fire contained in flesh.

Daeron had been different. Steady. Observant. Thoughtful in a way that rarely demanded notice. Aerion had drawn attention without trying.

Somewhere along the years, Vaenora had mistaken flame for destiny.

Nearly two years ago, she had stood in this same sept and watched Aerion wed Saeryn Martell of Sunspear. Vaenora had smiled when required. She had watched him take another woman’s hands. She had watched Saeryn meet his gaze without fear or hesitation, as though she stood equal before him. The kiss that followed had not been tender, but it had been alive-charged with something undeniable.

Chosen.

The word had echoed in her ever since.

And now, on her own wedding morning, she understood with terrible clarity that she was not walking toward the prince she had once imagined beside her, but toward the one arranged.

-x-

[catzz089]

“Catz?? It’s late Thursday??? Where was the snippet?? Don’t you do them on Wednesdays?”

Max.”

He was snapped out of his thoughts, Charles’ face was hovering in front of his own, etched in more than mild concern.

He still hadn’t let go of Max’s face.

“Hm?”

“Are you alright, chéri? You seem a little distant there. Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine.” He breathed, “ Aren’t the pancakes burning?”

“There aren’t any on right now, are you sure you’re alright? Is there any pain, discomfort?”

“Just the regular, I feel like it should hurt more- Am I on meds?”

Charles brushed a hand through his hair, neatening up what must be an army of fucked up, clumped up strands all stood to attention.

“Yes. We put you on some regular painkillers so you could be a little bit more relaxed. You’ve been healing well but your injuries were quite extreme.”

Max hummed. He still didn’t really know what injuries Charles was on about, but he figured he also didn’t particularly care. As long as they didn’t bother him, he could ignore them.

He could definitely feel a sharp, spiking pain in his torso, though. It made him want to curl up somewhere soft in the vague hope that at least some of the pressure would be relieved.

There was also a constant drumming from his head, actually it only seemed to be increasing and he had no clue why, it really wasn’t helping with the whole ‘very fuzzy brain’ thing.

“Charles?”

“Yes?”

“My head really hurts.”

Charles sighed, exasperated, “You know, thirty seconds ago would have been a really good time to bring this up. You know, when I asked if anything hurt.”

Max pouted.

It hadn’t hurt then, or at least he hadn’t noticed it. But he was doing as Charles wanted and telling him when he was in pain, so there was absolutely no reason for Charles to-

“No no no, I didn’t mean it like that ma foi, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m glad you told me, mon petit.”

Was Max really that obvious? He hadn’t even said anything.

“I think probably the lights are too bright, your head is sensitive, merde, I should have dimmed them, I’m sorry mon beau, I’ll do that now, oui?”

Charles looked concerned, again, and it was making his accent come out more and his words jumble, it was cute.

He dashed off to the lights, dimming them before Max could even give a response.

He was right, it made him feel significantly better and just a little bit more alive.

So alive, that he hopped off the chair and wandered towards where Charles was cooking and humming to himself, after deciding to preserve Max’s energy and not rope him into conversations.

Which was nice of him, very nice.

But now he was bored.

So being up close to watch Charles flip the pancakes was somewhat entertaining, and he’d take that and run with it.

He siddled up next to Charles, instantly leaning on the countertop because his body really wasn’t happy with him taking his full weight.

“Max!”

Neither was Charles, apparently.

Although considering Max had the pleasure of being lifted and gently settled on the countertop, so he could watch the pancakes and Charles, but this time whilst he was closer, he figured he was still the winner in the situation.

When Charles had curated two full plates of pancakes, he balanced the both on one warm, like a true waiter- Max hadn’t even perfected that yet, it was a little unfair that Charles could, even when he would only ever dare dabble into that side of the business if it was pure necessity- and with the other, he pulled Max closer to the edge of the countertop. He looked over confused, because why would he ever-

Holy fucking shit.

Charles came beside him and had wrapped an arm under the top of his thighs, hoisting him up against his body and lifted.

Charles was carrying him.

In one arm.

Max could have orgasmed on the spot.

He didn’t, because that would be embarrassing, but it certainly didn’t stop the redness taking over his cheeks and ears and neck.

Charles was doing it all like it didn’t even mean anything, without a second glance. He just walked over and placed one of the dishes on the table, and somehow managed to perform enough wizardry to shuffle the second one off too, on the seat next to it.

He then wrapped his now free hand around Max and kicked one of the chairs out before slowly lowering Max down onto it. The cats were hovering underneath the, the lights were still dim, Charles was looking at him.

It was all very dometic.

Which Max, absolutely could not, under any circumstances be thinking about, because that was his boss who happened to be nice and way out of his league, so he could not fuck up a perfectly good friendship because it was not going to happen.

Even if his chest felt warm, and he was happy, and everything was just so fucking good.

Even when Charles reached over to cut all of Max’s food into bite-sized pieces, because Max only had one hand to use, so it would be so much easier for him to just be able to spear a bit of food and bring it to his mouth.

Boss. Employer. Way too good for him.

[oopslandiia]

"Couldn't sleep—go back to P."

It sounds harsher than he intends, really. But he doesn't need Max's sympathy at the moment. Not when everything Lando wants to do is to hide his face in Max's neck, inhaling the scent that is home for him—always was.

"Bob..."

[atravellerstale-meg]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Fundy learns he is the heir to the throne of L'Manberg

As expected for a prompt combining my favourite genre (fantasy) with my favourite dsmp blorbo (Fundy), this kinda got away from me and I ended up having way too many ideas that I couldn't finish everything for today. Enjoy the first scene of what will hopefully be a longer fic!

@sixteenth-day-event

The throne room was silent as Prince Tommy knelt before the empty throne, the midday sun shining in from above and casting a glow around him. From behind the throne approached the regent, Eret, with the crown carried in their hands.

The rest of the room was still, save for the servants, who could only pause in their work for a moment to sneak glances at the coronation. Fundy was among them, craning his neck to peer around the guests while his practised hands gathered empty glasses on a tray. While the scene did intrigue Fundy, he was mostly watching so he could share its details with Niki, who was working in the kitchen and would miss the coronation entirely.

And then, right as Eret came to a halt in front of the Prince, the sun went out.

A gasp went around the room as it fell dark - even the sconces along the wall had gone out - and Fundy found himself peering through the gloom to try and figure out if it was a good gasp or a bad one. Some of the guests were muttering amongst themselves, but Prince Tommy hadn't risen and Eret seemed calm, so maybe this was how things were meant to go.

His eyes were drawn to the crown in Eret's hands. It glowed with a soft light, as if the sun still fell upon it, and was the sole bright point remaining in the room. His fingers itched with the desire to touch it.

Shaking his head to dismiss the urge, he focused on the tray he was holding as he prepared to slip through the shadows and head back to the kitchen. The sight of something shimmering made him pause. At first, he thought it was reflected light from the crown, but as the glittering specks grew into tiny stars dancing across his hands, he realised something weird was going on. They kept on growing, brighter and brighter, until it wasn't stars but the sun itself captured beneath his skin.

When he lifted his gaze, he froze at the sight of the whole room staring back at him. The guests, their whispers growing louder, Eret, their face mostly hidden behind tinted glasses, and worst of all, Prince Tommy, whose expression was caught somewhere between shock and incandescent rage.

All Fundy could think was that he wished he'd been stuck in the kitchen too.