snowy writes things

There are only a few things Wally likes more than food. These include; running, Artemis, and his birthday (if only for the cake, which he supposes counts as food, so it really shouldn’t be on the list, except it is and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.)

So when he’s woken by the chilled air against his (quite naked) skin, a chaste kiss flush on the lips, and the scent of pancakes, Wally decides that today might be his favourite birthday, ever. Artemis smiles down at him from her perch at the edge of their rumpled bed, her steely eyes unusually molten and her gold-spun hair pooling in the craters of her collarbone.

“Morning, birthday boy,” she whispers, and he can hardly hear her through the early morning rasp in her throat. He finds it unbelievably sexy when her voice does that, and he tells her so. She laughs, elegant face tipping back, exposing the bruised column of her throat. He feels a twinge of something at seeing those bruises—they’re his bruises, after all. Artemis bites her lip, then, and he’s done for. He leans across the bed and kisses her, morning breath and all, and she kisses back because she loves him and that’s the only birthday gift he’ll ever really want. That and pancakes, of course.

She pulls away after a few too-short minutes, and slings her arms around his neck. “I was thinking breakfast and then ice skating?” she asks, hesitantly, as if unsure whether her birthday plans and his are on the same level.

“That sounds perfect, babe,” he replies, twirling a lock of her hair around his ring finger absently. “Dinner tonight? We could order in,” he waggles his eyebrows, causing her to snort, “Or, if you’re feeling up to it, we could try that Italian place? You could wear that little black dress.”

“Hey, it’s your day. Whatever you want, babe,” she presses another quick kiss to his cheek, then climbs off the bed, stretching one hand out behind her for him. “But first, pancakes. I made a small mountain of them.”

As Wally scrambles to follow his girlfriend to the kitchen—clad in nothing but the Limited Edition Flash boxers she’d got him last year—he can’t help but affirm, in his head and possibly out loud, that this is officially the greatest start to any birthday, ever. Artemis’ lightning-laced laugh echoes down the hallway, confirming his suspicions.

And if he has to take a jog to the nearest Costco to get more syrup when they inevitably run out, he’s not about to complain.

Let’s Talk about Snowy

This ended up really long but I have a lot of feelings about Snowy and the story we know nothing about. This is for @des-zimbits because she prompted the headcanon about Snowy I wrote earlier and encouraged me to write this. The people I’ve met in this fandom are incredible, and I’m so thankful to all of you because you’ve gotten me writing again?? 


So Snowy (his actual god given name is Kyle Brown, thank you very much) started out as a forward on his rink rats league on Vancouver Island, where he grew up with two older sisters and a mom and dad who fought a lot but were fundamentally happy. Mom taught school, dad played casual hockey, oldest sister played college hockey and middle sister curled. Their family was always on the ice and Kyle loved it. Sometime around the age of 9 coach shoved a goalie bucket on his head, strapped leg pads onto him, handed him a blocker and a glove and said “Son, you’re the best skater I have. You’re gonna play goalie.”

And thus, Goalie Snowy was born.

He played seriously through the levels and was drafted in the Bantam by the Vancouver Giants, which was a dream come true for a kid from the Island. He’d always dreamed of being a Canuck, and a Giant was a good place to start. His parents ended up moving from the Island to Vancouver so he could live at home, which he did for the two years he spent as the Giants backup goalie before he was dealt to Spokane, who needed a new number one. 

Kyle Brown was that number one.

He made goalie of the year for the WHL, he played three seasons with the Chiefs and helped them to two division wins and then he was drafted by the Ducks.

They kept him in Spokane for his overage season and then sent him to their farm team. Kyle spent a year and a half backing up the farm team before Panks got called up and Kyle moved into number one… After three years in the AHL the Duck’s number one retired after a bad injury and Kyle was once again called up to the NHL. It was a dream come true!

Except it sucked????????

He hated it. He hated the city, he disliked a lot of the guys on the team (A handful of them weren’t kind to him, while the other half was and the coach doubted him) and when he moved to California his long-time (four years and he had been hoping to propose soon) girlfriend decided that she couldn’t do the distance so they split. (Looking back he’s sure that everything just got heaped onto him at once, and without it he probably would have enjoyed his time with the Ducks just fine.) So when Panks had to be sat out, Snowy played.

But he wasn’t playing smart. He was angry, he was frustrated, and he was racking up penalty minutes for tripping and unsportsmanlike conduct. And those trips and shoves and angry words got him snowed more times than he could count in the next three years he spent in Anaheim. All it took was a sarcastic comment from coach about how Kyle must really miss the snow with all these guys sending it flying at his face for Panks to latch on and start calling his back up Snowy.

So he continues the season with slashes and hooks and trips and more of his guys in the penalty box on his behalf than he truly wanted, and the coach was pissed but with Panks out and Rexy letting in more shots than he saved, keeping Snowy in net was the only option. His anger won him no fans on his team.

He was angry at everything, including himself.

So the next season a few expansion teams were announced, Seattle, Las Vegas, Providence, and Snowy didn’t have his contract renewed by the Ducks and he was oddly okay with that? He met with a few teams but they weren’t looking for his playing style, and then he met with the Falcs GM and new coach who basically sat him down in the hotel bar, shoved a Sprite into his hands and said “Tell us why at your caliber you’ve been playing like a bus could drive into your net and all you’d do is try to slash it’s tires.”

So he told them everything. About how happy he was in the WHL, how much he loved his time in the AHL and how when he got permanently called up to the NHL, Sarah broke up with him and he was just constantly angry and unhappy and no one looked twice at him or believed in him, and even the coaches didn’t seem to care about how he was doing. 

“Basically,” he said, “I spent five years in the Duck’s system going systematically insane and pissing off each and every forward I could. Because I was angry and I took it out on others.”

By now he knows that wasn’t healthy at all, and he’s ashamed and embarrassed, he’s nearing 26 now, he should know better, but the coach and the GM go off and talk and come back over with an offer.

They tell him they need locker room leadership and they’ve already got Snipes, but they need someone a bit younger than 35 to step up. They need an offensive and play-minded goalie, but they need a goalie without the anger. They tell him that they’ll sign him for two years and play him at least half the games both seasons as long as he can prove he deserves it. As long as he talks to their sports therapist and sets up regular meetings, finds a constructive outlet for his anger and stops taking cheap shots on forwards and taking stupid penalties.

Snowy cries when he signs that contract because someone is giving him another chance to make things good and to chase his dreams. A chance to be the goalie he wants to be, not the dick he’s been for the past couple of years.

He packs up his dingy apartment twelve blocks from Disneyland and spends a week in a car with his dad driving to Providence. On his new salary he ends up in a really nice apartment with a guy they signed from the Islanders and a spare room for guests. He and Smithy get along great and slowly the rest of their inaugural team trickles into the city and into their locker room. Jersey designs are finalized and printed and handed out, and the guys spend weeks bonding on and off the ice.

Suddenly, Snowy’s back on a team like the ones he had in the WHL and in the AHL, a group of guys he might not love 100% of the time, but come hell, high water and Sidney Crosby’s ability to score, he’ll have their backs and they will have his. Pre-seasons rolls around and he gets snowed a couple times, and Snipes (Who has the C) tells the locker room during first intermission the story of why Snowy is Snowy. There’s laughs, but there’s also a falc in front of him to ward off opposition who wants to snow him from there on out. It’s a warning that they won’t take anyone messing with Snowy, and that message starts to spread across the league.

He’s thankful.

He’s talking to Carol once a week, he takes up cross-fit for pent up energy and has Smithy teach him how to kick box. He and Smithy find a cat in the parking lot after a game and take her home and name her Robin, and Snowy starts casually dating again. He smiles a lot more, his profanity isn’t used in anger anymore, it’s just how Snowy talks.

He proves he’s worth the number one position, he helps take Canada to a Silver medal at the Olympics and when Tater joins the team fresh from Russia, Snowy takes him under his wing. He likes Tater, likes that Tater chirps him and doesn’t take his crap and gives him a hard time, and he’s just content. His saves are up, his goals against average is down and every time he steps on the ice he’s smiling and making smart decisions.

He makes the All-Star team a few years later and goes up against Crosby in the shoot-out challenge and he’s hysterically laughing in the crease at Crosby’s antics and when he goes back to center ice with tears in his eyes Crosby smacks his pads and grins at him because Crosby isn’t just a good hockey player, he’s a good captain and he knows unhappy hockey players when he sees them. He could see it and he’s pleased as fucking punch that Snowy’s smiling and loving hockey again. (Snowy is touched and they become friends and hang out in the off season and the Penguins don’t snow him anymore, and any team a Penguin is traded to stops snowing him as well.)

When Jack comes along, Snowy doesn’t quite understand what Jack went through in the Q, but he knows all about being let down by a system that isn’t designed to catch people. He’s thankful Tater takes an interest in their new kid, and he tries to keep tabs on him. When Jack tentatively brings up backing mental health in hockey on a plane ride, Snowy takes a deep breath and stands up and tells his team the story he plays close to his chest. He explains how not having that support nearly destroyed his career and that mental support is just as important as nutritional and physical support. 

(Carol casually mentions an increase in monthly visits by the team to him a few sessions later. She says it’s mostly just teaching stress techniques and listening as an impartial 3rd party, but that she thinks that someone must have stepped up and said something to fight the stigma. Once again Snowy is fucking proud to be a Falc.)

(And five seasons later when they win the Stanley Cup with Snowy only letting in one goal against the Ducks, Captain Zimmboni hands Snowy that trophy and he raises it over his head and he thanks every hockey god he knows for this shitty, convoluted path that led him to his dream come true. He passes it to Tater and skates over to the bench where families are converging and takes a little bundle from his wife. How sweet this victory is, he thinks. He has his family, his brothers and he just beat the team that didn’t believe in him to win the Stanley Cup.)

Later, at the after party, Johnson could be overheard loudly stating that Snowy only played in the WHL because the author has a connection to that league, and that his backstory was probably more tragic than it needed to be and that his longtime girlfriend and he only broke up to cause more emotional turmoil for his character, but she likes happy endings so Snowy was basically guaranteed a Stanley Cup, but then the one with the mustache smacked him and met Snowy’s eyes and went “Goalies are fucking weird, bro. Why do I get them drunk?” and Snowy just grinned and fist bumped him because yeah, goalies were fucking weird.

negagalletas  asked:

prompt: when there's downtime, armin mends eren's clothes

“Are you done yet?”

“Not yet,” Armin muttered, running his thumb over the tiny stitches in the worn fabric. “Almost.”

Eren sighed, the sound almost swallowed by the rain on the roof of the barracks, and pushed himself upright to check on the progress himself. They were sitting on their bunk, Eren’s torn shirt tight in Armin’s grasp, tiny silver needle flashing dully in the dim, rainy afternoon light. 

“You can just borrow one of my shirts if I don’t get this done before dinner,” Armin offered, glancing at Eren through his lashes.

“As scrawny as you are, what makes you think one of your shirts would fit me?” Eren muttered, falling gracelessly back against the bed again and scratching his bare chest idly.

Armin blinked at him and returned his attention to the shirt, hoping Eren didn’t notice how his gaze fell or how his shoulders slumped slightly. He paused to examine the half-mended rip, the stitches somewhat haphazard but effective. He hoped.

He felt Eren shift behind him, curling closer to Armin’s back. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“No offense, Eren, but you’re not exactly handy with a needle,” he said, distracted. He jabbed the fabric hard and pulled the needle through on the other side. 

“Hm.”

Eren shifted again, grabbing Armin’s pillow and stuffing it under his head. When Armin paused to look at him again, he found his friend’s eyes half-lidded, his breathing evening out slowly. 

“I don’t mind if you sleep, you know,” Armin said, voice perhaps gentler than he had intended. 

Eren nodded slowly, eyes drifting shut the rest of the way. Unable to resist, Armin reached out to comb his hand through Eren’s hair, pushing his bangs away from his forehead and smoothing them back with a small smile before returning again to his work.

littlestpersimmon  asked:

Kent Parson and Snowy hcs! How did they get together!!!!! Please you've dragged me deep into this hell......

aaaaaah yes!! i love them i could talk about them for ages

ok so.

  • after kent hangs out at that falcs optional skate w/ jack and asks snowy to get a drink with him they do & they go to this hole-in-the-wall garbage pub snowy hangs out at in providence and kent’s like “why do u come here” and snowy’s like “it matches my aesthetic” (kent: ur ridiculous and i cant believe u just said aesthetic out loud in a sentence) (also kent: me too tho)
  • they’re both hella busy so they dont see each other for a little while after the first date (kent: was it a date? i asked him out. kind of. was it casual? does snowy actually like me??? am i being a fool?????) but they text a lot and snowy makes kent laugh all the time- he’d never tell him that tho it’d boost his already huge ego- and he can’t remember the last time he laughed or smiled his much and his teammates start to notice too 
  • and i imagine he’s out to like two or three of them but not the whole team so someone makes a comment (kinda like tater to jack “your girl?”) about how he’s been texting someone a lot and grinning and he should just ask her out and he’s like “hahahahahhahhaha i am straight yes.” but then thinks about it and is like “ok i should tho. like we should be boyfriends that would be cool i would like a boyfriend”
  • so one time he and snowy are talking on the phone late at night and he’s sleepy and happy and is like “you should come to vegas. like to visit or whatever. that’d be nice” and he doesn’t really expect snowy to take him seriously but the next day snowy’s like “im buying my ticket is next weekend cool we have a few days off” and kent’s like “YEAH MAN THATS GREAT” //internally panicking bc snowy’s gonna Be Here and he’s gotta be Cool And Charming
  • but of course when snowy visits all of kent’s cool & chill exterior falls to pieces bc snowy just manages to do that to him, makes it so he’s completely himself and he doesn’t know how but it’s nice, he’s constantly changing himself and how he acts to accommodate people around him and how they want him to be but with snowy he’s just. himself.
  • kent’s trying to be sneaky and romantic so he says they should go out to eat one of the nights and takes snowy to this really nice restaurant and snowy’s a little shit so he’s just acting like “oh yeah, this place is nice, cool, w/e” as kent is Screaming bc he doesn’t know if snowy gets that it’s supposed to be romantic but of course snowy knows he’s not an idiot he just is an asshole and wants kent to actually say the words
  • so eventually kent does because he gets frustrated and is like “OH MY GOD THIS IS A DATE WE’RE ON A DATE I’M TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC DO U WANNA BE MY BOYFRIEND” and snowy’s like “lol yea” (kent: [SCREECHING IN SIMULTANEOUS ANGER AND HAPPINESS])
  • and they have a very happy and lovely weekend and christen every room in kent’s apartment and cuddle and watch reality tv and attempt to make cookies (kent: i dont think the batter’s supposed to be this thin snowy: nah its fine they’ll just be pancakes instead of cookies kent: >:c)
  • kent also tries to get kit used to snowy and he’s worried she’s gonna hate him bc she hates literally everyone he brings home but the opposite happens and she likes snowy more than kent and keeps sleeping on his tummy and purring; snowy thinks this is rly fucking funny and points it out all the time
    • snowy: i cant believe ur cat loves me more than u lol
    • kent: >:(
    • snowy: i should just take her back with me seeing as she hates u now
    • kent: >:((((((((((((((((
  • so they’re boyfriends and they do the thing where they bicker at each other all the time when they’re alone but in public & around friends they’re fucking obnoxious and gross and only have eyes for each other
  • they dont wait a super long time to come out bc snowy’s like “yo. if we came out together as bfs then neither one of us would be the first openly queer nhl player like it’d be both of us at the same time” kent: “ur a genius and i love u”
  • because they’re both assholes they come out by posting a picture of them kissing and flipping off the camera at the exact same time on both their twitters and the press goes wild and both jack and bad bob tell kent they’re proud of him and pr for the aces & the falcs are freaking out and meanwhile kent and snowy are enjoying a quiet night in with take out and call of duty
    • pr makes them do an official statement but of course they dont take it seriously at all
    • reporter: kent, when did you know you were gay? kent: im not reporter: i’m confused kent: thats cuz ur an idiot
    • reporter: why did you decide to both come out now? snowy: so i could go down in history for being the gayest and best goalie this sport has ever seen
    • reporter: are you worried about how this will affect your careers? kent: full offense the aces literally cant afford to lose me good luck winning another cup without me fellas lmao
  • snowy starts bringing kent to the bbqs the falcs vets hold sometimes and everyone Hates This because they’re really fucking annoying like snowy’s annoying by himself but kent and snowy’s combined asshole power is the most irritating thing in the world
    • also, bitty and jack go to these things so while jack and kent are friends again now, bitty is still Bitter and Petty and doesnt like having kent around that much bc he literally cant let go of shit even if it’s been years he still holds a grudge
    • bitty: hey snowy!! how’ve you been? i heard you’re up for the vezina, that’s amazing, congrats!!!! oh hello kent.
  • anyway snowy and kent are very happy together and they’re both busy but they make it work by texting and calling and skyping and snapchatting constantly and kent spends breaks and off seasons in providence and brings kit with him and the falcs get to know kent more as a person and snowy’s bf not just kent parson hockey star 
  • last thing but just imagine them going to providence pride every year after they come out and it’s even better when jack and bitty come out bc the falconers get a float and all the guys come and snowy and kent and jack and bitty are all wearing rainbow stuff and have their faces painted and are laughing and dancing and kent doesn’t think he’s ever felt so happy in his life
Steps

Rating: T for bad wordies

Word count: 2.5k+

Pairing: Spitfire / Wally West and Artemis Crock

Prompt: pre-New Years, on a boat full of rich people.


The bay was calm, gentle waves rocking the boat. The sun had just set, the toast was just made, and the champagne was flowing freely. The annual Luthor Yacht Fundraiser was in full swing, twinkling fairy lights strung around the deck of the Money Honey. The tinkling of glasses and laughter hung in the warm air.

Genevieve Andrea Marcella Lorelei of Endymion III smiled wanly at yet another dignitary trying to charm her into his bed. Quite frankly, she blamed M’gann for all of the attention she was getting—this evening’s little black dress, courtesy of the Martian, fitted her almost too well.

“Wow, he’s a keeper. What was his name again? Franheuind? Frankfurt?” The com in her ear crackled to life, her partner’s laughter audible even through the device.

“It’s Freudhein, dumbass. You know, I wouldn’t have to deal with this is if you’d play your damn role and help me out here. There can’t be that many security threats at the buffet table, Kid Stomach,” Artemis snapped into her com, sending a fake, glittering smile at Frankfurt the dignitary before politely excusing herself. She hurried along the deck, barely flinching in her heels, looking for the speedster who was supposed to be her date for the evening.

“Hey, I’m growing again. And we wouldn’t want my stomach giving us away later, now would be, Harpy?” Wally quipped at her. Artemis rolled her eyes when she spotted him. One arm was carrying three neatly piled plates, all filled to the brim with food. The other was running through his temporarily dark coloured hair, destroying the immaculate style that had been there before.

His eyes met hers in a muted glare. Artemis nodded at him, gesturing for him to join her. Wally rolled his eyes and set his plates down, striding across the deck to her side. Once there, he held out his arm for her to take, and she obliged, making sure to dig her nails into the fabric of his tuxedo.

“Lady Genevieve,” Artemis turned at the sound of her alias, towards Frankfurt the dignitary. Inwardly, she groaned. Outwardly, she beamed at the portly man.

“Freudhein! I was hoping to run into you again. Might I introduce to you Sir Harold Angus, Duke of Montmartre, my fiancé,” she said, digging her foot into Wally’s when he stiffened beside her. Damn fool had better not cost her the mission, or there was no way in hell he was making it off of this boat without getting tossed overboard at least once. “Harry, darling, this is Freudhein, Lord of…” She blanched. What was he lord of again?

“Lord of Mount Penta. So pleased to make your acquaintance, sir! You are an incredibly lucky man to be in the company of Lady Genevieve.” Freudhein bowed low to Wally, only a hint of bitterness lacing his words.

“Ah, yes. My Genny—“ Wally winced as Artemis’s foot dug into his once again, “—is certainly one of a kind. Definitely not the ordinary duchess type.”

“Oh, darling, you flatter me,” Artemis replied, looping her arms around Wally’s neck and gritting her teeth.

“Of course not, babe, I only speak the truth.” Wally’s grip tightened on her hip. She could feel his breath against her hair, ragged with suppressed annoyance. The expensive cologne he had doused himself with for the mission tickled her nose and she tried to push back a sneeze, only succeeding in making a rather unattractive face. Frankfurt cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“Ah, yes, well, I must… Be off… Business to discuss. You certainly know the whole ordeal. Till the next,” he sputtered and scurried off. Immediately, Artemis took a step away from Wally, looping her arm through his and rubbing her nose.

“Thank gosh. Come on, we need to make it to the control room,” Artemis muttered, and turned to head below deck. She didn’t succeed, instead finding herself held back by Wally’s firm grasp. She looked at him expectantly, one perfect eyebrow reaching towards her hairline. “What the hell, Harry. We have to go. We’re on a timeline here.”

Wally refused to meet her gaze, which usually meant he was about to say something stupid. The light red flush spreading over his cheeks would look to anyone else as if he’d had a few too many sips of champagne, but Artemis knew that he couldn’t get drunk off of regular booze. “I mean, since we’re a ‘couple,’ we should dance, right? For the sake of keeping up appearances,” he said and winced, knowing how awful it sounded aloud. Slowly, he flicked his emerald gaze to hers, eyeing her expression with uncertainty.

“Are you freaking drunk, Baywatch?” Came the reply. Maybe she underestimated the booze after all.

“N-no! Fine, whatever. It’s not like I want to dance with you anyways. You’d murder my toes in those shoes,” Wally spat. The flush on his cheeks had darkened. Artemis determined that it had probably had nothing to do with alcohol at all.

“Psh. I’m a fantastic dancer, thank you. You’re the only one with two left feet, Kid Clutz,” She whispered fiercely back. Her feet moved of their own accord, until she was glaring directly up into Wally’s face, her chest inches from his and her arms crossed tightly under her breasts.

The speedster smirked widely at her, leaning over until they were eye-level with each other. She knew what he was going to say before he said it, but the words still send a thrill of adrenaline through her. His emerald eyes gleamed dangerously as he extended a hand to her.

“Prove it.”

She grabbed the hand angrily, linking their fingers together in an iron grip. Wally led her to the center of the deck, spinning her under his arm once and pulling her tight to his chest. He grinned down at her, settling his free hand on her waist while hers came to rest on his shoulder. The band had started playing a fast, almost angry waltz, and dignitaries were swirling around them.

Artemis smirked up at her partner. She leaned towards him, intending to lead the dance. Wally parried her step with his own, turning the pair and allowing them to merge into the sea of couples on the deck. It was no different than a spar. Wally would try to attack, spinning and stepping to the music, eager as always to be ahead of the game. Artemis countered each move, her footwork immaculate on the waxed wood. Somehow, they found themselves pressed flush against each other. Wally let go of her hand, tugging at the other so that she spun away from him. She caught on quickly, and with a suppressed grin, used her momentum to twirl back towards him. He grasped her free hand once more, so that their arms were wrapped around her stomach, his chest against her back. Their feet swept across the deck as if rehearsed.

Wally could hear the music coming to a climax, the strings building themselves up. With a flourish, he stepped forward and spun the disguised archer under his arm, switching directions at the last moment so that, with no time to recover, she fell back into his arms. He smirked down at Artemis’s outraged features as he dipped her low, one arm supporting her back and neck, his left hand falling automatically onto the curve of her thigh. She sucked in a breath at the contact, steely eyes never leaving his.

The couple stayed that way, challenging each other with flashing eyes and twisted grimaces, until a smattering of applause broke them from their staring contest. They both looked up, not having noticed that they were the only two on the floor. The other couples had stepped back to watch, Lex Luthor himself included.

“That was truly incredible. You two are such a splendid couple,” the bald man’s voice dripped venom. He had seen something, a certain move or a hint of super speed, to make him suspicious. It was all over his face. He eyed the two teenagers carefully, a tense silence filling the air for several moments before he broke into a smile. “Give it up for the Duke and his fiancée! Let us all wish them happiness in the future, and return to the festivities.” His tone was clipped and final.

Wally bowed to the older man, gritting his teeth as he did so. As soon as the crowd began to disperse again, Artemis pulled him away, sliding into the shadows near the cabins. He turned to face her, ready to take a lashing. Artemis was livid, her grey eyes turned molten silver, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in a snarl.

“What the fuck was that, Wally? Are you trying to get us caught? You idiot, you bloody idiot, we need to get those files now. I am not sacrificing any more of this mission’s integrity for your fun and games. Either help me or don’t, but make up your mind,” she hissed at him, stray hairs falling around her face. With a final glare, she spun on her heel and strode down the steps to the control room. Her footsteps faded quickly away, and Wally groaned. Stupid archer with her stupid pretty hair and her stupid words. He stomped gracelessly after her, shutting the door behind them.

“We’re looking for anything that relates to the new Venom serum that’s being distributed,” Artemis threw a folder over he shoulder at him from the filing cabinet, her head buried amongst the papers. He should have been angrier that she knew he would follow her, but they didn’t have time to squabble anymore.

“The one with speedster capabilities,” Wally affirmed grimly. He logged into the computer easily—seriously, who the hell sets their password as 7seas4ever? No one very smart, that’s for sure. Stupid yacht couldn’t sail the seven seas if it taped a cruise ship to its hull.

If only Dick was here, Wally grumbled as his fingers flew over the keyboard, clicking through documents and folders. He would know how to deal with the harpy. With a sigh, he opened the email icon. Immediately, a flagged message caught his eye. He opened it and scanned the letter. Jackpot.

“Artemis. Shipment receipt. Delivered to Happy Harbour on October 1st.” He called, and was about to add a snide comment about finding the answer first when he felt the cold barrel of a gun click at his temple. He sighed and turned around, hands above his head, to see Artemis in a similar position. She was cornered against the filing cabinet, two goons holding her in their cross hairs. Lex Luthor stood next to Wally, looking entirely too pleased to himself.

“You know, for a covert operations team, you’re quite awful at the ‘covert’ part,” he said. “Pity, you two really do dance well together.” He raised his gun and applied the gentlest amount of pressure to the trigger. Just as the shot went off, Wally slid to the side. He watched the bullet move sluggishly by, straight toward the computer screen. In less than a second, he had taken the gun from Luthor, cracked the two goons’ heads together, and swept Artemis up into his arms. Another two seconds and they were above deck, where people were now in a full fledged panic. Gunshots tended to do that to people, he supposed.

“Put me down, Kid!” Artemis yelled at him. He obliged, watching as she tightened the buckles on her shoes and pulled a collapsible crossbow from somewhere he really didn’t need to know the specifics of. They met a herd of goons head on, ducking around each other in perfect sync. When Artemis stepped back, Wally stepped forward. Each shifted their weight to accommodate the other’s body.

A loose bullet went skittering across the deck. Wally, who had been sprinting towards Goonie #17 with a determined scowl on his freckled cheeks, didn’t see it until it was right in front of his nose and he was flat on his back. He rolled out of the way to avoid another bullet, glancing up in time to see Artemis’s foam arrow soar straight and true towards the goon’s chest. He went down hard, catching several others in his foam prison.

“Thanks, Arty!” He called over his shoulder. She stiffened at the nickname, roundhouse kicking her anger out into some poor soul’s face. He couldn’t help but snicker as he turned back to his own enemies.


By the time the deck was cleared, M’gann had arrived to take them back to the Cave. Robin sat in the front most seat, and looking down at the piles of unconscious henchmen, he whistled, long and low. “Have fun explaining this to Bats, guys. I can’t help you there.”

“I think Luthor was right when he said we aren’t too great at the covert part of being a covert team,” Wally said, barely glancing at his best friend. His gaze was on M’gann and Artemis, who were squabbling in the med bay, M’gann saying something about a bandage and Artemis refusing to give in to her.

The archer finally sighed and presented her arm to the Martian. M’gann carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound—a nasty cut from a broken champagne flute—before she let the younger girl go. Artemis stomped over to her seat, strapping in and glaring pointedly out the window.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Robin cracked lame jokes about Wally and Artemis’ impending death by Batman, and M’gann piloted quietly. The debriefing was slightly more eventful, but no more interesting than any other. Batman scolded them for being caught but was ultimately pleased with the information they brought back. It was later that night, after Wally got out of the shower, that he stumbled into the kitchen at 3:04 am, and found that someone had beaten him there. Artemis sat on the counter, her hair in a loose bun, a bowl of Rocky Road in her lap. Her head snapped up when she heard his footfalls, and she rolled her eyes. He could see the remains of mascara and eyeliner under them, making her look even more exhausted than she probably was.

“Hey Wally,” she sighed, and returned to her ice cream. He stared at her for a moment, before silently digging out his own bowl from the freezer. He leaned against the fridge, unable to think of anything to say. Finally, he settled on the most obvious way to break the silence.

“So how’s your arm?”

“Fine. How’s your back?”

“Good as new. Accelerated healing and all that jazz.” He scoffed, waving one hand semi-enthusiastically. Artemis snorted, a bark of laughter escaping her before she could return to her ‘I hate everything’ routine. Trying to cover her slip up, she scarfed down the rest of her ice cream and set her bowl in the sink. Wally watched her as she left the kitchen without a word. He sighed, letting his eyes drop to the spoon in his hand. Returning footsteps caught his attention. Artemis was leaning against the door frame, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” She blurted out. She tried to pass off as indifferent, but the way she was eyeing him was anything but.

“My mom taught me. She said every gentleman has to know how to dance,” he shrugged. It hadn’t ever been a big deal, he’d never taken classes or anything. 

“Well you’re not bad, Twinkle Toes. If only you could get that footwork right during training.” There was the jibe he’d been waiting for, the regular Artemis back from La La Land. Wally chuckled, not wanting to egg her on. It was close to 3:30 when he glanced at the clock, and then at the blonde girl staring him down.

“I couldn’t, because then I would whoop everyone’s asses, including yours.” He smiled as he joined her in the doorway. She snarled at him and made to stalk off to her bedroom, but she didn’t move fast enough. With one hand, Wally spun her under his arm and dipped her again, pleased with the way her eyes widened and her lips lost their permanent frown. Then, as quickly as it happened, it was over. Wally set the archer back onto her feet and brushed past her to the rooms.

“Goodnight, Arty,” he called to her as he walked away. She was silent for a few moments, but he could hear her indignant squawks of ‘What the fuck, Baywatch?!’ as his door slid shut.

Oh yeah, he was going to pay for that one.

uniterkuvira  asked:

korrasami high school au

Senioritis was in full swing and Korra’s already shaky literature grade was suffering for it. She thought having her girlfriend as a tutor would make the entire experience more bearable, but she was starting to second-guess that logic. She sat staring blankly out the library’s wide window, watching the wind knock a flurry of white petals from the flowering tree outside and wondering how long it would take before—

Korra.”

Not as long as usual.

“I’m paying attention,” she muttered, ripping her eyes away from the unfairly gorgeous spring day to look down at the beaten copy of The Great Gatsby in front of her. She tapped her pencil against her notebook rhythmically, wrinkling her nose. “This book is terrible.”

“It’s a classic.” 

“I don’t care.”

“This essay is worth—”

She heaved a dramatic sigh, pushing her things out of the way to lay her head down on the desk. “Asami, I don’t care,” she sulked, voice muffled against her arms. “Can’t we just quit for today?”

There was a moment’s pause before she felt Asami’s fingertips on her bare forearm. “Hey.”

“What.”

“My dad’s not home this evening.”

Korra lifted her head to peer at Asami suspiciously, sitting across from her with her stupidly immaculate uniform and her stupidly pretty face and what was she planning.

“If you get this outline finished, we can go back to the mansion,” Asami offered, resting her head delicately against her hand. 

“And do what?” Korra asked, eyes narrowed.

Asami gave her a rare smirk, drawn-up lips distracting as hell, eyes a shade darker than usual. 

“…Right.” She picked up her pencil. “So. Gatsby.”

zeldas-deactivated-deactivated2  asked:

Borra, Korra finds out she is pregnant

She burst into the kitchen and dropped herself into the chair across from her husband. Not speaking, she leaned heavily on one hand, ignored the tea he had set out for her, and stared at him.

Moving slowly, he lowered the newspaper he had been reading, regarding his wife cautiously. “Uh…good…morning?”

She bit her lip, drumming the fingers of her free hand against the hard wooden surface.

“You know how you get along really well with Tenzin’s kids?”

“Yeah?”



“And how you said last week that you wouldn’t mind us having some of our own?”

“…Yeah?”

Korra smiled.

gaymergirls  asked:

hey, bb, i'm sending you lots of positive thoughts and love right now! *hugs* how about korra/asami as buddy cops/detectives? or a superheroes, whichever one you like!

<3!

“I can’t believe I got stuck on detail with you.”

Asami stared down at the helment she was holding in her hands, jaw clenched, tapping out a tinny rhythm against the steel face mask with her thumb. Don’t do it, she told herself. She’s just baiting you.

“Seriously, of all people,” Korra huffed, slumping against the wall with a scowl, “they land me with the chick who doesn’t even have any real powers.”

Asami’s grip on her helmet tightened. 

“Would you please be quiet,” she seethed. “You’re supposed to be watching–”

“Whoa, don’t lecture me on how to do my job,” Korra cut in furiously. “I’m not the rookie here, Metal Girl.”

Steel–”

“Whatever." Korra stretched. "The point is, you’re just some rich kid in a fancy suit. You don’t have any powers, you don’t have any skills, nothing. You wouldn’t even be able to fight without that suit.”

“Just because you were born with the ability to control the elements with your mind or whatever doesn’t mean you can condescend to me like that!” Asami said furiously.

Korra glared at her for a moment before glancing away again. “Whatever,” she said again flatly.

Asami tossed her hair out of her face, eyes flashing. “How about you meet me at my place after this is over and I’ll show you just how many skills I really have?”

Korra snorted. “Is that a come-on, Sato? You trying to get me in bed?”

“…I don’t know,” Asami smirked, demeanor shifting. She drew closer, relishing the startled look on Korra’s face. “Is that where you want to be?”

“…Put your helmet on and let’s get the job done,” Korra dodged. “We’ll see how good you are when it’s all said and done.”

She had heard legends since childhood of the brave prince trapped in the secluded palace, locked in a century-long slumber, his chambers guarded by dragons that breathed ice and would freeze a man in his tracks before he even reached the door. Her brother told her not to bother with her quest, that they would find a way to defeat the horrible wizard Ozai on their own, but she had spent her entire life watching her people get beaten to the brink and she wasn’t going to waste any more time. She was a knight, courageous and just, and she would rescue the prince if it was the last thing she did.

andragonyremade-blog  asked:

kataang, fairy tale au

She had heard legends since childhood of the brave prince trapped in the secluded palace, locked in a century-long slumber, his chambers guarded by dragons that breathed ice and would freeze a man in his tracks before he even reached the door. Her brother told her not to bother with her quest, that they would find a way to defeat the horrible wizard Ozai on their own, but she had spent her entire life watching her people get beaten to the brink and she wasn’t going to waste any more time. She was a knight, courageous and just, and she would rescue the prince if it was the last thing she did.

anonymous asked:

Korra thanks Lin and shares her pain with her (after Bumi comes to the island, before going to the South Pole). Not romantic, just a friendship.

“Listen, I wanted to thank you.”

Lin sighed, turning to face the nervously hovering Avatar. “What for? You were the one who stopped him.”

Korra dropped her eyes and studied her hands. “I guess that doesn’t matter,” she said, voice soft. “He still took my bending.”

“You saved a city,” Lin countered, brow furrowed. “That has to count for something.”

“Maybe,” she said, “but I’m nothing without my bending.”

Lin’s stomach lurched with anger and sympathy. Crossing the space between them, she rested her hands on Korra’s shoulders and ducked her head down to look her in the eye.

“Listen to me,” she said in a low voice. “This was tragic, and I’m sorry he did this to you, but if you are nothing without your bending, then you were nothing with it.”

Korra started, eyes wide, face breaking with hurt, but before she could utter her first pained word of protest, Lin cut her off.

“And we both know that was never the case.”

sherbeeee replied to your post: GIVE ME A PROMPT AND A PAIRING AND I’LL WRITE A…

korrasami - spark

Asami stared apprehensively at the shivering blossom of fire nestled in Korra’s cupped hands, the flame casting flickering shadows on both of their faces.

“I’m scared of burning myself,” she admitted, reaching out for Korra’s hand but stopping several inches away from her skin.

Korra leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Asami’s, murmuring a reassurance of, “I won’t let that happen.”

decisions I will regret

Okay so here is what I have decided to do for this 30 day writing challenge thing

Because I hate myself and want to make my life as difficult as humanly possible, I’m going to attempt three cohesive, multi-chapter stories with one theme per chapter, one story for each of the three main pairings I am hoping to focus on. (Korrasami, Linorrasami, and Tokka)

In all likelihood, I’ll also write one stand-alone oneshots each day for Zukaang and Borra, which I also want to mess around with, but don’t think I can swing a multi-chapter fanfic for them.

I might change my mind and try to make those multi-chapter fics as well. I don’t know. We will see.

If time permits (spoiler alert: it won’t), I’ll also do Linorra and Kataang oneshots. Hahaha. Ha. Ah.

Also as a general note, at some point, I really want to do a Linorra multi-chapter and if an idea strikes me for this challenge I will, but I’m trying not to die over here.

Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go cry over my word processor for a while.

… oh my god I’m so oblivious

I have been struggling with this fanfiction of mine for WELL over a year. it’s an AU, and it’s probably the biggest story I’ve ever tackled, both in terms of length and.. the size of the story/plot itself. .. if that makes sense.

I know where I want it to go but what’s been tripping me up has been the fact that I am.. following three different POVs/plotlines at once? It is, predictably, an ATLA fic, but for the first (sizable) chunk (by which I mean “three goddamn years”), the Gaang is split into three parts, and I have to.. follow all three.

I know EXACTLY where I want two of these lines to go and I’ve just been winging it with the third, but that’s been part of my problem. Combine my indecisiveness with one of the plotlines with the fact that I can never get the timing of the plotlines to sync quite the way I want them to and you have a fic that stagnates for literally months at a time (which thank god I anticipated because at least it isn’t published yet) (especially since I’ve had to rewrite the first chapter twice)

So I say to myself, “Well shit, Snows, why don’t you just write each of the plotlines by themselves and then put them together when you’re done”

Which is a fantastic idea and I’m furious that it didn’t occur to me sooner

Oh I guess I’m doing a sort of 365 writing thing because shut up.

My goal is 2,000 words a day. “Day” meaning “before I go to bed at night”. :|

Most of it will probably be fanfiction. I’ll reblog it to my personal if I really like it, but in case you want to follow my writing blog directly, the URL is “songofsnow”.

(continuation of this because I have the approximate creative range of a small teacup)

Their progress in returning to the teashop was greatly hampered by the numerous street merchants of Ba Sing Se, all of whom were eager and desperate to sell their wares to the couple. 

“Finest silks in Ba Sing Se, right here!”

“Musical instruments – sir, you look like the sort to enjoy the finer things! We sell all variety of – ”

“Ceramics and porcelain, imported from every corner of the continent!" 

"This is ridiculous,” Mai grumbled. “You can hardly take five steps in this stupid city without someone harassing you. How did you live here for over a month?”

Zuko shrugged noncommittally, making an effort to ignore the merchants crowding him. 

“Excuse me, sir, would you be interested in buying some jewelry for the lovely lady?”

“No,” Zuko snapped, attempting to brush past the offending merchant. This one, however, was more persistent than most, circling around to cut Zuko off. 

“Oh, come on, now,” he said with a broad grin, grabbing Zuko’s arm and half-dragging him towards his shop. “A necklace, a bracelet, something!”

“I could buy my own jewelry if I wanted it,” Mai said as she followed them, not bothering to disguise her indignant eye roll. 

“Ah, but what’s a trip to the city without a romantic gift between lovers, eh?” grinned the merchant, giving Mai a knowing wink. 

“I’m going to vomit,” she deadpanned. 

“Here, see now!” he exclaimed, steering Zuko towards one of the displays draped with borderline obscene ropes of jewel-encrusted silver. “Wouldn’t that look lovely on your girlfriend?”

“Only if he has another girlfriend he’s not telling me about,” Mai chimed in from behind them. 

Zuko groaned, dragging his hand down the length of his face. “Look,” he said to the merchant, “I’m really sorry, but we’re not interested in buying any your wares. Try your luck elsewhere.” With that, he ducked past the man, grabbing Mai’s hand and dragging her back out onto the street. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on!” the merchant called desperately after them. “This is the finest jewelry in Ba Sing Se!”

“I’d hate to see what the worst looked like,” Mai said over her shoulder to him. Zuko snorted.

She sighed, facing forward again and grumbling softly, “This is such an awful city.”

“Tell me about it." 

batpersons  asked:

KATAANG DRABBLE. Also I could've sworn I unfollowed you yesterday but at least I was asleep for the liveblog xP

Incidentally I fell asleep before I could finish the damn thing so no harm done either way. Alcohol, how does it work. KATAANG DRABBLE IT IS!

The dark and quiet of the temple sanctuary was nigh unbearable, but Aang couldn’t bring himself to get up and find brighter patches of the place - not yet, anyway. He owed his people at least a few minutes of his attention, honed and focused by the hard memory of what this place used to be like blended clumsily with the ruined reality that lay around him. 

When he decided that he was going to visit the Southern Air Temple again, Katara had insisted on going with him. It wasn’t up for debate. He did, however, manage to coax her to wait out on Appa for a few minutes while he went in on his own at first. He didn’t mind her being there, and if he was going to be honest with himself it was probably for the best that she was, but she wanted a little bit of alone time to mourn quietly by himself. 

Now that he was alone in the temple, however, he almost regretted it. The ringing silence of his childhood home bore down on him, crowding in oppressively as a landslide, making him feel trapped in the dark and the quiet. The intricate mosaics and vast murals, so bright and colorful in his mind’s eye, had faded with time. Rooms that had once held everything from spare robes and rods to cots for the youngest monks now held only ashes, the only thing left to tell their story being the scorch marks scrawled across the walls. The elaborate stonework depicting the history of his people had crumbled. The floors were cracked, bits of grass flowers and even small trees forcing their way through the fractures; the Universe was already taking the temple back. 

That was the way it had worked, the monks had explained as he stared at some scrub that was growing in a washed-out patch of sunlight in a corner of the sanctuary. Everything around him, even his own body, was just borrowed from the Universe, and eventually the Universe - nature, here, but it also existed on a broader scale - would take it back. 

That had been so easy to accept when he was ten and sitting in neat rows with his friends, listening to the tranquil voice of the head monk as he read verse after verse of the sacred texts to the pupils. Why was it so hard to take now that he was seeing it in action? 

A dry sob was ripped from his throat before he even realized that tears were welling up inside of him, and he pressed his hand against his mouth, despair threatening to overwhelm him. He hunched over, the memories and the silence bearing down on him. He thought he was going to suffocate under their weight. Despite his best effort, the tears began to slip from his eyes, running down his cheeks and falling to the dust-covered floor of the sanctuary.

They’re gone. They’re all gone and they’re never coming back. 

Another sob escaped him before he could stop it, and he pressed his other hand to his mouth in a futile effort to keep the sorrow stuffed inside of him. In his haze of desolation, he started hearing things; the lowing of the bison, the chatter and laughter of his friends, the chanting of the monks, the footsteps that once echoed through the hallways, the soothing advice of his mentor…

Two hands rested on his shoulders, and a voice whispered his name. Arms wrapped around him, pulling him into an embrace. He desperately clung to whoever it was. 

“Aang,” she whispered again. “Aang, it’s okay, I’m here." 

He clutched her tighter, trying and failing to stifle his sobs. "Katara…I…”

She sat back slightly and pulled him against her, rubbing bis back soothingly and pressing a wordless kiss to the top of his head. “I’m right here, Aang,” she whispered. 

He couldn’t handle it. He cried uselessly into her shoulder, the pressure  of everything that had happened and the stabbing absence of his people finally too much to bear. He had tried so hard when he was on his journey to end the war to keep this in, knowing that he couldn’t distract himself with his own sadness and not wanting to upset his friends, but he just couldn’t do it anymore. He cried until he couldn’t possibly cry anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered when he had finally regained enough composure to speak. “I’m sorry, Katara, I didn’t…I didn’t want…”

She hugged him tighter still. “Don’t say you’re sorry for this, Aang,” she said softly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for." 

He shuddered lightly, finally pulling back to look at her. She gave him a sad smile, cupping his face and kissing his cheek, wiping away some of his tears with her thumb. 

She pulled back and studied him wordlessly, scooping up one of his hands to grip in both of hers. "Maybe we should go…” she suggested, her eyes searching his face worriedly. He shook his head no in response, wiping his eyes with his wrist. 

“No,” he murmured, glancing away briefly. “I need to see the rest of the temple. I still haven’t been through some of the dormitories.”

She looked uncertain, but she didn’t try to dissuade him. “I’m coming with you, then." 

He considered telling her not to, but the feel of his hand in hers silenced that thought before it could fully form. "Okay." 

She gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hand gently before she rose to her feet. He was pulled along with her, leaning against her lightly as he tried to coax feeling back into his numb legs. He was suddenly very glad that she had thought to come find him; his chest no longer felt like all of the air was being squeezed out of it, and the thought of looking at the rest of the temple without her was absolutely unbearable. 

"Come on,” she said, tugging lightly at him as she started for the door. He followed without a word. 

trishna87 replied to your post: GIVE ME A PROMPT AND A PAIRING AND I’LL WRITE A…

Jaime and Brienne, where Jaime confesses to Brienne about his relationship with Cersei (actually not sure if this happens in the books or not XDDD… not that I recall)

LOL I’ve never written shit for GOT and I’m working off the show not the books, let’s see what happens.

The confession hung sharp and cold as ice in the air between them. However, it would be a lie to say Jaime was surprised at how fast it dissolved into mist. She shouldered the words, and they continued on their way.

Wally saunters into the local coffee shop a week after his stealthy return to Happy Harbor, breathing in the spiced air with nostalgia. He’s come back for the summer at his mother’s request, but aims to spend as little time locked in his childhood home as possible. Though Stanford’s classes won’t start until September, he’s determined to go over the material for at least the first few chapters of his textbook. And early morning studying, it’s said, goes well with coffee.

The place hasn’t changed, small and dim, littered with mismatched furniture and fairy lights. The counter is still topped with worn wood.  The Specials blackboard isn’t wiped clean for the new day. It’s as if the thin layer of dust is only there to emphasize how early it is in the morning. Wally picks his way through the mess of tables, careful to avoid the handful of patrons as he approaches the counter. The barista on duty is facing away from him, standing on a stool to rearrange the packages of coffee grounds above the machines. He clears his throat, waiting for her to turn and react. She doesn’t. It takes him a moment to notice the earbuds drowning out her surroundings, and when he does, he can’t help but heave a sigh. Hesitant, he taps the service bell on the counter, watching the sleepy customers at the tables behind him with a wary eye.

The barista starts, yanking out her earbuds and hopping off the stool. She turns to face him, lazy bun flopping out of place, and Wally feels his heart stop. Maybe his younger self had been right, after all, because he has no idea how to deal with this situation. Come to think of it, this was probably the reason he had fled his hometown in the first place; an intense desire never to have to face the woman in front of him, ever again. He pinches his elbow, hard, but the barista’s name tag still reads Artemis in neat little handwriting.

“Um, sir? Can I help you?” she asks, shifting uncomfortably under his stare. He blinks, shakes his head roughly, and coughs to clear his throat.

“Yeah, sorry. Large dark roast, two cream, one sugar, please,” his voice comes out hoarse, much to his embarrassment. If Artemis notices, she doesn’t comment. He hears her read out his total, hands over his credit card with numb fingers. His eyes trace down her figure, taking advantage of her distraction. She’s different than he remembers, with short bangs framing her face and a softer, less violent look about her. Her expression remains unchanged, though, from the raging tigress of a girl he knew in high school. Boredom in the line of her mouth, one eyebrow arched in a permanent ‘are you kidding me?’

She glances at him with uncertainty, the faintest trace of a smirk on her lips. For a moment, Wally thinks she may have recognized him after all, and he can feel his palms start to sweat. Maybe he should make a break for it, get out while he can. He’s so focused on planning his escape route that he doesn’t notice Artemis speaking until she’s forced to repeat herself a third time.

“Can I get a name for the beverage, please?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Wally,” he stammers out, realizing a third of a second too late that it would have been in his best interest to provide a false name. Something suave. A name she doesn’t have a rather embarrassing history with.

“All right,” she practically attacks his cup with the sharpie in her hand. He waits, forlorn, for her to finish brewing his coffee. She hands him the styrofoam travel cup a few minutes later, and he flashes her half a smile before he practically sprints out of the shop. Wally glances down at his cup, checking to see if all his requested ingredients are marked down. What he sees causes his throat to close and him to choke on his own spit.

This beverage has been prepared for Baywatch, the cup reads, and Wally knows that he’s utterly screwed.

Hey guys!

If any of you guys are interested in doing some beta reading for me, that would be great! I’d really like someone to help me with editing/pre-reading, stuff like that. Just shoot me an ask telling me:

  • what genres you’re comfortable with
  • what ratings you’re comfortable with
  • anything that you’re not willing to read (smut, any possible triggers, etc)
  • a little sample of your writing (it could honestly just be a paragraph, but I’d like to know what your writing style is like!)