#drabbles and sneak peaks
Note
can we get a preview of the nxt chap?
Sure! The next chapter is meeting the friends and will give us our first outsider look at the relationship between Peter and reader!
Vio stumbles on you working studiously at the kitchen table late into the night.
Your hair is piled into a crown atop your head in loose bundles, secured by colorful hair clips. Your school books are spread across the table as you fiddle with some ugly shrub. You've broken up the roots with a metal chopstick and you're clipping away at dying overgrowth.
He watches you silently labor—you hum as you work, your lips twisted in concentration, your nose is scrunched up. You squint at the plan like it's a puzzle you are close to solving.
"Unless your goal is to massacre the poor thing, you're doing a shitty job."
You startle, plucking off an entire healthy stalk. You curse and press the stem back to the plant like you expect it to magically reattach before dropping the greenery on your plate of plate scraps.
You frown at your mistake and Vio smirks, gesturing to the crime scene of dirt and roots covering the tablecloth. "But by all means," he draws, "if a bloodbath is your intention, continue."
The plant is ugly. It's covered in brown stems and yellow leaves, the flowers are holding on for dear life despite the wilting—daisies?
"Chamomile," you answer his silent question. "I found it dying in a hardware store... I'm trying to save it."
Vio looks at the pile of dirt and clippings you've amassed on the table and back at the plant. It's sparse in it's lingering life—each surviving cluster a different length, like a child's hair after discovering scissors for the first time. "Looks like you're doing a shitty job at that."
"I wouldn't say that," you mumble. You don't sound annoyed yet, but Vio can tell that given some time he could push you there. "They're hardy plants—very popular in teas and herbal medicine. I think that's why the Victorians decided it would symbolize patience in adversity."
“You think I give a shit about your weeds?”
You hum, letting the meanness slide off your shoulders, as you fuss with the flowers. After a long moment you answer, "I don't know you well, but I don't think you would be talking to me if you didn't care at least a little bit. And besides, I think you have more in common with my weeds than you're willing to admit."
Vio frowns down at you.
"You think I'm like one of your flowers?" He asks it meanly, spits it like he's caressing it with his tongue. He wonders if you think he's pretty—
"Flowers need sunlight, kindness," you explain and you still haven't looked at him. It spares him the embarrassment of having to worry about what expression he images might be on his face.
You finally peer up at him, the movement causes your hair to spill over your shoulder. You meet his eyes, blazing like a flame. Vio had not thought much of you when you first met... you had seemed small, quiet. He had mistaken that for mousiness—
That was a mistake.
"I think you could be like that too," you start after a moment, "given a little patience, a little warmth."
Vio says nothing, uncomfortable under the weight of your gaze. He thinks, faintly, that you must see things as they are.
Finally he opens his mouth to ask, "Why do you pay her rent?"
You pause for a long moment before looking away and allowing your fingers to resume their task. You murmur, softly, "I don't know how much of her story you may know, but Lucy has gone through more than most. Some people... they need more care than others to flourish."
Also bonus:
“What’s that?” You point towards where Chamomile is curled on Vio’s chest.
Vio smirks. “A cat.”
"I know that," you sigh. Vio snickers, enjoying the way you experience your exasperation with your entire body. "I'm trying to ask why you have a cat."
#vio your boyfriend#Vio learns how to be a good friend in this chapter#we love a goth egg with zero canonical personality that we can push our own cat supremacy agenda through#and in the water i found you#drabbles and sneak peaks#asks
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Correction. Jason fucking hates school.
Those fucking elitist assholes keep staring at Dick and him like they’re goddamn monkeys in a zoo. One had tried explaining the fucking concept of laptops to them earlier, like they’d been raised in the fuckin’ ass end of nowhere.
That guy had changed his tune real damn fast after Jason pointedly pulled out his own unreleased Wayne tech laptop and fired it up with a harsh glare.
Frankly, Jason wouldn’t be so ticked off if it was just him, but they keep. Targeting. Dick. After they realised that, wow, Jason isn’t the poor back alley rat with an IQ barely high enough to let him breathe correctly and take their shit lying down, they kept trying to crowd Dick.
After the third time some spoiled girl had tried touching the skittish talon in some guise of “Oh wow, your hair looks really soft!“ and Dick’s eyes had done the deer-in-headlights expression where he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to fucking say no Jason had snapped and nearly bit the offending hand off.
The surprised scream he got in retaliation was so fucking worth it, even if he’s pretty sure B will have choice words to say about it once they get back to the manor.
Sadly, Dick had also taken that reaction to mean that Jason felt threatened by the girl, which was… less optimal.
At least Jason had managed to keep him from literally tearing into her. If barely.
“I fuckin’ hate these snobs,“ Jason growls, opening their Alfred issued lunchbox with a bit more force than strictly necessary.
Dick coos inquisitively, back to his bird sounds in the relative privacy of the abandoned classroom they’ve been hiding out in since the fiasco during second period.
Jason hands him one of the sandwiches with peanut butter and jelly he loves so much and chooses one with with cheese and ham for himself, taking a vicious bite to vent his frustration in a way that won’t immediately get them expelled. “All these people thinking we’re some new and shiny toy. Wanna bet they think we don’t even know how to fuckin’ read?“
Dick eats at a more sedate pace from where he’s perched in a crouch on top of a desk, watching Jason rant with attentive eyes.
He doesn’t say anything, but that’s ok. Jason’s spitting enough vitriol for them both, and at least he knows that Dick is listening. Even if Jason were to suddenly switch topics and babble nonsense about the Teletubbies, Dick would still hang onto his every word. It used to be a bit creepy in the beginning, but now it’s… nice. Especially since he’d figured out how to interpret all the bird noises Dick makes.
“Really, if any of these privileged asswi-“
Dick’s head snaps up, body suddenly tense like a bowstring, and Jason whirls around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, heart in his throat.
His eyes immediately lock onto the previously closed door where a wide eyed boy is standing, laptop under one arm, mouth agape, and looking more like a displaced toddler than a student with the pudgy baby fat clinging to his cheeks.
Dick makes a low tittering sound deep in his throat, wary but not yet hostile, and Jason takes one look at the tiny child that looks like he might start crying under the heavy stare of two older boys and exhales a groan.
“You need something, kid?“
The boy’s wide, blue eyes snap to him and Jason has to blink a bit at how similar they look to his own, if perhaps a few shades lighter.
He shuffles on his feet, clutching the laptop against his chest, “Uh, n-no. I was just- uh- homework.“
— Owl Song pt. iii Preview
#owl song#sneak peak#preview#snippet#drabble#batfamily#dick grayson#batfam#bruce wayne#robin#batfam fic rec#jason todd#tim drake#fic#talon dick grayson#court of owls#accidental child acquisition
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Hiiii
Hope you’re doing well. It’s been two years I think ? but I still keep reading the Seokjin and omega teaser again and again🤣🤣
I am doing well! Also. You know what is crazy about this…. Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega is like… basically done. There are maybe 2 scenes left to write and honestly I should write them. I am powerfully considering it BUT—
Since you’re so nice AND you keep reading it… SO here’s a little taste of what comes directly after that teaser…
“This is NOT FUNNY!” you hissed from underneath your blankets.
As soon as Seokjin revealed his identity, you dropped the knife (and your dignity) and ran straight back to your bedroom.
Okay. Well maybe not straight back.
For some reason you also ran into Jin’s room, stole a stuffed Yoshi toy, deliberately knocked over one of his custom “busty Peach” statues, and THEN ran straight to your room.
Currently you were curled up in the fetal position cuddling both Yoshi and Toad while Kim Taehyung—your former best friend—howled with maniacal laughter over the phone.
“—and you said he was a mafia boss! Bahahahaha—”
You rolled your eyes.
“Well what else was I supposed to do?! He didn’t look related to you!” (His features were rather hard to make out in his current condition.) “He was just a strange man covered in dirt!”
“Jin’s house flooded this morning. He’s been slogging around in two feet of disgusting water trying to salvage his stuff since 7 AM.”
“I guess that also explains why he smells like a sewer.”
There was a slight pause and then—
“So you haven’t smelled him yet?”
“I could barely smell anything under that awful flood stench.”
“Good… that’s good.”
Your nose wrinkled in confusion.
“Why is that good? Taehyung, you’re not making any sen—”
“I heard a new boutique opened up on Main Street last month. Why don’t you go check it out? Just—you know… get out of the house for a while. Have some fun and stuff—out there. For a couple hours—like three hours.”
“Uh… okay?”
What the heck?
“Excellent. Jin should be gone by the time you get back—
“He what?!”
“I have to catch this flight. Love you! See you soon! Go shop!”
Then the line went dead and you went scrambling back down the stairs.
————————
“KIM SEOKJIN!”
The man in question was trying to butter some toast (in peace) when your sudden shrieking caused him to drop the knife.
He sighed wearily, watching it clatter to the floor with a depressing little clang as you charged into the kitchen—still half naked.
“You can’t leave!”
Jin didn’t bother looking up at you. He just continued to stare forlornly at his butter knife.
“Oh, I am definitely leaving,” he mumbled eventually.
“But I’ll be by myself!”
He shrugged and bent to retrieve his knife.
“You were by yourself when I got here.”
“Exactly! What if someone else breaks in?!”
You weren’t too proud to admit that the incident had shaken you.
Sure, this time the intruder was supposed to be there, but what about next time? You were far too beautiful to be murdered in your sleep, surely Jin could see that.
Not to mention… the thought of him leaving was unexpectedly unsettling. You had the oddest urge to keep him close and frankly you saw no reason to deny yourself in this situation.
(You rarely encountered situations which required denial.)
“I didn’t break in,” he reminded you, turning to fetch himself a clean butter knife. “I have a key.”
Your eyes narrowed irritably. It was time for the big guns.
“So… so you’re just going to leave me here? A defenseless omega all by herself?”
Jin’s hands froze. He was mostly angled away from you but you could see a muscle beginning to tick in his jaw.
Now for the grand finale.
Tears welled up in your eyes and you whined pitifully.
Jin dropped his new knife.
“Please… don’t leave me.”
After a long moment of silence, the tall dirty man leaned his forehead onto the cabinets in front of him and groaned.
“Okay...” he ground out tightly. “I won’t leave you. Just—please—don’t say another word.”
Then he abandoned his breakfast all together and took off directly for the stairs.
Huh…
A puzzled expression settled over your face.
You got what you wanted, but he seemed almost… pained? Normally people were thrilled to spend time with you.
The smell of sausage and toast suddenly tickled its way under your nose, reminding you that Kim Seokjin had interrupted your snack.
You were just about to take a bite when a loud—vehement—shout of profanity echoed from the second floor followed by the sound of Jin’s footsteps pounding back down the stairs.
“Were you in my room?” he asked as soon as he swung back around the corner. Your eyes widened momentarily, but you caught yourself just in time.
“No. Why would you think that?”
Perhaps you should feel bad about lying, but how could you even begin to explain your actions when you yourself didn’t totally understand them.
Besides… it’s not like he could prove it.
Tae had mentioned specifically that there were no omegas in his family and a beta’s nose was far too weak to detect latent scents like yours could.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he considered your response. After a moment his eyes began to travel slowly over your body, taking in the feigned innocence of your expression and the mouthwatering expanse of your soft exposed curves…
A strange foreign heat twisted eagerly in your belly under the weight of his regard and you shivered involuntarily.
What the—
“Are you eating my breakfast?”
Oh whoops.
#Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega#sneak peak#honestly I love this story#kim seokjin#Kim seokjin drabble#Kim seokjin au#a/b/o fic
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Oh my gosh, can we please have a little drabble of the thing from the previous ask where it's reader scolding her and Tara's child and it looks over to her for help? (Basically what the last anon described)
Working on it babe! Lil preview:
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Write Chapter 2, a little 🤏 sneak peak —
Also thank you so much @mein-teri-mehbooba for the suggestions baby 💙
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[🧪] 00:00
Doc’s wristwatch beeped. It was midnight, a fact much harder to distinguish when out in the outer reaches of space.
It had been… a long day. Evident by that crick in his neck and a migraine which pounded against his skull. Doc unclenched his jaw as a jab of pain shot through his gums— a nasty habit, one he hadn’t been able to shake. He breathed in deeply, and it breathed out hollow as it trembled. An unsteady grip ran through his tangled hair and slipped off the goggles that pressed so taut against his forehead.
ATLAS’s corridor halls had been quiet (always too damn quiet) as the old doctor stared off into the beyond, just outside the viewport glass.
As his mind all but drifted to the lull of the void; a chilled, metallic hand touched the shoulder of his lab coat.
“Hoho! Don’t be so alarmed, Joseph.” A laugh. A rasped, resonant laugh in the face of fear. “It is only I.”
‘Yeah, no shit— THAT’S the problem,’ <- the thought hadn’t dared be uttered as Doc turned his head toward the hushed speaker (only to wince at that damned crick in his neck).
FATHER NECROSIS peered outside the viewport right beside Doc. He was a touch smaller than the chief physician, but what Necrosis lacked in height, he made up for in presence.
Covered head to toe in garb that mimicked a plague doctor, along with mechanical pauldrons with phials bolted in that pumped who knows what to who knows where— not a sliver of skin was bare as he donned a metallic mask whose filters reverberated a heavy voice.
Father Necrosis’s very own face remained on of ATLAS’s greatest mysteries, and Doc had decided the very first day he met Father Necrosis: he never wanted to know.
“How do you fare tonight? You look… tired. Rest is important, you know.”
“Uh— I’m… alright, I’m okay.”
“Good, good.”
A moment passed. The graveyard of stars outside had not moved.
“Well,” Doc faked a yawn, all with a stretch and everything before he clapped his hands together. “It’s getting late, you know how it is, don’t want to burn the midnight oil any lo—”
“You’ve been teaching GHOST-713 how to speak.”
Another moment passed. The graveyard of stars outside still had not moved, but the pit in Doc’s stomach? Oh, how it twisted.
“Have you not?”
“I have.”
The two men had not moved.
“Hm. Novel. But so… charming. I commend your executive decision.”
He… had?
“Wh— you do?”
“Why, of course~.” Father Necrosis hummed. “To hear its experiences from itself; perhaps that will be the key to unveiling the inner machinations of its core— what had you coined it, again? Ectoplasm? Yes… why, it’s so simple. Admittedly: I am shocked it had not come to my mind first.”
Doc nodded and a mumbled thank you was shared, which Necrosis only nodded in return. Neither of their sights moved from the glass viewport.
“Of course, between you and I—” Father Necrosis tilted his head, closer to Doc, but the empty glow of his masked eyes remained focused on the reflection through the glass. “— I am curious how her voice will sound, more than anything.”
Doc had not moved. After a moment, The Upper Echelon turned away.
“Good night, Joseph.”
#📝 … drabble#🧪... ic#//lil sneak peak at what all my mutuals who have an ATLAS au with me get to deal with eventually#//edit 3.19.24: fixed and tweaked the past tense verbage and updated character voices!
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Some of my favorite lines from my drabble series
link to series page
#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#destiel#samruby#sam and mary#dean and sam#sam and lucifer#jo harvelle#spn#drabbles#spn drabble#my writing#my fic#mine#one of these is a sneak peak for tomorrows final drabble 👀
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. . . No clue who Walter is, but I trust you've used the recipe well? What kind of experiments have you done? Anon is on this time thank fuck
I have tested it on a 'Willing' Endo
it works perfectly, now, we must simply- Wait where did Sun and Moon Go!? DAMN IT now we have to wait till they get back!
#sun and moon show#sun and moon show au#the monster i've become#meme#catnip adventures#New drabble sneak peak? 👁️#drabbles
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Chapter 16 of UDLTTOM has been experiencing some delays…& I made a meme about it 😆
A brief snippet from said oneshot:
“You don’t truly believe all that pureblood rhetoric, do you?” Henry Evans regarded Tom Riddle pointedly as he leaned against the wall of the outside courtyard. He stood, half cloaked in shadow, illuminated only by the lit torches casting a faint, warm glow over half of his face, the right side where the jagged-edged curse scar slashed through his brow. That same brow arched as Tom shrugged.
“Do you?” The headboy asked his smaller housemate instead.
Evans snorted, his opinion on it made abundantly clear by the soft sound of dissent. The younger boy held out his hand for the lit muggle cigarette pinched between Tom’s thumb and index finger. Tom passed it to him, exhaling slowly as the other boy brought it to his soft, supple mouth for a puff.
Two months ago, Evans wouldn’t have dared to do something so intimate, so sensual, as share a muggle cigarette in a dark alcove of one of Hogwarts’ outside courtyards. He would’ve rather tried to burn him with it. Sometimes, Tom was sure the thought still crossed his mind here and there.
It was a look, narrowed green eyes, a firm press of those pretty lips into a frown, jaw clenched as he bit back the urge to lash out with that sharp tongue of his. Sometimes Tom liked eliciting such looks, and went out of his way even to get that reaction. He was past pretending he didn’t enjoy the heated words that left the boy’s mouth when he was in a foul temper. The way they lashed out, quick and lethal, cutting under his skin in a way that no one else had ever managed.
Sometimes Tom wanted him to let loose, to hurt him, make him bleed because it made him feel something. An acute sense of vulnerability. A feeling he hadn’t felt in such a long time. Perhaps never to the degree that Evans was able to illicit. It was a different sort of feeling. Something new. Something exciting. It made him feel on the days when nothing else could.
Sometimes Tom was sure he made Evans feel too. Watching as Evans exhaled a cloud of smoke, Tom’s gaze was drawn to the slight pucker of those lips wanting. His curiosity was burning, an urge to touch, to taste kept nagging him in the back of his mind. An intrusive thought he couldn’t quite shake. He had only been half listening to this conversation about their other housemates in seventh year. Evans had been snickering at Abraxas Malfoy’s essay topic on muggleborns and where their magic originated from and his inane theory that it was stolen from the pureblood families.
With no sense of propriety, Evans had laughed straight in the Malfoy heir’s face. Unable to resist poking a dozen holes into that theory within a minute all the while jeering. This, of course, made Malfoy feel like a fool. A fool he was, but rarely was he made so acutely aware of the fact and Evans might have as well carved the word “dumbass” on his forehead and shoved a mirror in his face for his utter lack of subtlety. The Slytherin headboy had been forced to separate them before a scuffle broke out in the middle of the Yule Ball.
Now here they both stood wearing their nicest dress robes with a lit cigarette passing between them in the snowy, disused courtyard far away from the ball attendees and patrolling school faculty members. Evans' hair was a mess. It was always a mess. But even with that Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion Lyra Burke had wrestled into it, that bird’s nest of curls had only managed to be tamed for about an hour and a half. Wispy, stubborn flyaways were springing up in every direction and Tom wondered if they would feel as soft as they looked.
Another intrusive thought, a memory, a remark Burke had made came to the forefront of his mind. She had said: “He’s got the kind of hair you just want to run your fingers through.” A little flash of envy coiled in his gut knowing that Burke now knew full well what it was like to run one's fingers through that wild mess of hair.
Tom fingers itched as he took back the cigarette and put it to his lips.
“Why do you go along with it?” Evans looked up, brushing one of the flyaways away from his cheek.
“Go along with what?” Tom looked down to those unwavering green eyes. Piercing green. Knowing green. Evans' expression flattened; unamused at Tom’s attempt at deflection.
“You know what.”
“Some battles are better lost,” he answered.
#udlttom#tomarry#tom riddle#harry potter#tomarry fanfic#drabble#udlttom spinoff#time travel au#I’ve been procrastinating on chapter 16#sorry not sorry#sneak peak#I’ll post this full thing on AO3 when I’m done with it
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Until The Party.
chapter 1 sneak peak: 8 days until the party.
cws/tws: blood, hanahaki, self hatred (?)
(can you tell this is my first time submitting fanfiction to the site,,,)
word count: 774
.+*+. .+*+. .+*+. .+*+. .+*+. .+*+. .+*+. .+*+. .+*+.
Pure rage.
Pure Agony.
That’s all that surged through Dark’s veins.
He was filled with disgusting agony, and he was so angry with himself.
How could he let his emotions see the light of day again? He swore to himself he would never let that happen again, and yet, he did.
He looked at himself in the mirror, tears swelling in his eyes. Blood and spit smeared around his lips, staining his beard. A few seeds and petals stuck to his mouth. It felt disturbing against his face, but he couldn’t be bothered to remove it. The numb, agonizing feeling in his arms made it hard for him to want to move them. It was like any movement would make his skin feel thick and heavy against his bones. It was a gross sensation.
Dark’s dull, exhausted eyes began to trail around the room instead of his body. The black, elegant frame of the mirror, the marble counter, the gray, blood-stained floors. Blood. It was hard to try to take his mind off what had just happened when the whole room had evidence of it. The monochrome demon glanced at the gory, white and pink petals that acted like boats on top of the blood he had spit out.
How could he let himself fall in love with him? He was supposed to be a cold, powerful being. He wasn’t supposed to feel these emotions. He felt his face get wet. Fuck, now he was crying. Why was he crying? Slowly, he lifted his hands up to wipe the tears away, the uncomfortable feeling in his arms bouncing back and forth in his skin. It felt so awful. He just wanted to lie down and pray for this to go away, but he knew damn well this wouldn’t just go away in the morning. This would keep growing worse and worse until he died. Why did he have to fall back in love with him? The demon sniffled, his chest stuttering as his breath went shaky and heavy.
The sound of the air from the vent rushing into the room startled him, causing him to flinch. Flinching. He flinched. Fear. He wasn’t allowed to feel that. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be pow-
“Darkk?? Hellooo?!”
A peppy voice called out from behind the bathroom door, interrupting his thoughts. A soft, candy-like smell wafted in the air. That was always the sign of who was at the door.
Wilford.
The demon glanced over at the closed door, eyes widening. Quickly, he reached for a towel to wash off the blood and saliva from his face and floor. He had to get rid of any evidence as possible.
“What is it, Wilford?”
He asked, trying to keep his voice steady, wanting to avoid sounding weak. The demon didn’t want to cause Wilford to worry about him. He hated it when people worried about him. It felt unnecessary. He peeled off the petals from his face and shoved them into his pants’ pocket and kneeled to the floor to try and remove the mess.
“Oh, well, we haven’t seen you since the afternoon, and it’s already almost midnight!”
Dark held back a sigh, biting his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the towel tighter. Every urge to just demand him to leave bubbled in his chest.
“I’m perfectly fine. There’s no need to worry about me.”
He assured with slight urgency in his voice. He picked up the remaining petals, placed them in his pocket, and threw the bloodied towel into the hamper that rested right next to the sink. He arranged a few clothes and towels to bury it. His hands began to shake slightly, a tight, twisting feeling within his chest springing to life. The demon had no idea what was going on with him. What was his body reacting like this? He hated it.
“Are you sure? You sound a little off!”
Dark bit back a sharp remark. He couldn’t reveal to the man on the other side of the door that he wasn’t alright.
“Wilford, please. I’m completely okay.”
An annoyed sigh came from the other side of the door. Dark could hear the man lean against the door, the new weight pressing the closed door as far as it could go.
“..Will you at least pay a visit downstairs? We’re worried abo-“
“I’M. FINE. WILFORD.”
Silence filled the air. For what felt like hours, yet was only about a minute, the two didn’t speak to each other. Wilford eventually was the first to speak up.
“…We’ll be downstairs if you’d like to join us.”
“..Alright.”
#hanahaki#darkiplier#wilford warfstache#sneak peak#drabble#sort of?#its not the full chapter soo#angst#fanfic#fanfiction
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Sneak Peak for Chapter 11 and 12 of Punk Princess!! (I’m on tik tok now)
#punk princess fic#punk steve#punk!steve#steddie fic#steddie#Hexx drabbles#sneak peak#Sorry for this haha
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but what if i want you to speak :/
remember when i told you i was writing something for this?? okay well it got bigger than just a drabble and this is literally all your fault.
here is snippet of omegaverse fantasy!bakugou:
we’ll see if i ever finish it 🙈🙈
idk i have a lot of weird Lore i’ve thought of for omegaverse stories. World Building, if you will. i think it’s fun to play w 👀👀
#vic im gonna start calling you worm bc you’re the reason for so many of my brain worms#(affectionate)#hope your day is going well 💞💞💞#drabble#cielo writes#cielo’s writing#sneak peak#bakugou katsuki x reader#cw omegaverse
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This may sound repetitive but I can’t wait to read what you have for us Obidala shippers. I don’t know you but you sound like a very nice person ❤️ I just have a few months in the fandom and everyone seems so nice!!! 💕
Hi! Thank you! I love the support, encouragement and love the Obidala community has 💜
I promise I haven't been ignoring the requests. In fact, here's a little peek of what I am working on right now. I've been on vacation, holidays, applying to a grad school program hence why I haven't been as active here.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Sandstorms.
Most on Tatooine wanted a reason to stay inside and avoid the harsh, brutal heat of the blazing binary suns that scorched the surface. However, there were two sentient beings that dreaded this day after hiding from the Empire – and each other – for almost a year.
But the stars aligned, and the weather had different intentions.
Every day he would leave for town to find work to earn some sort of income, while she would do the same in her own way, under the guise of a bounty hunter, both partaking in Tatooine’s reputable descriptor of ‘scum and villainy.’ They did this to not only avoid each other but to also avoid the painful memories and the overwhelming burden of the emotions that came with them. It worked – they had barely said a word to each other, and if they did it would be a grunt here or there from Obi-Wan or Padmé bringing a meal to consume, that is if they even saw each other in passing.
They found a way to coexist without acknowledging each other’s presence.
Or so they thought.
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W.I.P Wednesday
How could Dazai be so fucking stupid!? How could he have not seen such an obvious mistake. This was not supposed to happen. He was not the one that was supposed to be captured at the end of the night.
Dazai glared up at his captor, pictured wrapping his hands around the bastard's throat or stabbing a knife through his eye.
Wolf cackled, head thrown back. "Awwww, don't look at me like that, you were so much prettier when you were pretending to like me."
Dazai reared back as much as he could, dislodging the offending hand and twisting his neck to snap at it with his teeth.
Wolf simply pulled his hand back, laughing at Dazai when the detective groaned as the world spun around him again.
Dazai let his chin fall down to his chest, hair falling into his face as he waited for the room to stop moving.
#whump#whumbtober#sneak peak#i know its thursday#fuck off#my stuff#screaming into the void#and the void screams back#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bungou gay dogs#soukoku#bsd dazai#dazai osamu#bsd fic#my writing#bsd drabble#bsd whump#bsd angst#dazai whump#dazai angst#wip wednesday#jester's scripture
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Writing little something with husband Ram 🤭 Here is a little sneak peek—
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Sneak peek of shrek 3 rewrite
This is after the scene Gwynn quits the play after Charming threatens Artie & Shrek and they had a big argument. She runs away (not before stealing charming's horse) to get a moment alone. Hope you all like it!
Gwynn choked back a sob as Alexander sprinted through the forest. She needed to get far far away as possible. She didn't want to go back to the bar, she needed to head somewhere different so they wouldn't find her easily.
After some time the stallion arrived to a part of the forest. The pathway was blocked by thick brambles and shrubs. Taking out her knife the barmaid began hacking at them, hoping to take her frustrations out on something. The blade revealed a large building greying with age. Windows busted open or boarded shut. Parts of the roof dangled fron the edge begging for help. The last place Gwynn wanted to be but knew Charming wouldn't step his foot in.
She sniffed with disgust. Screw him and his parents! She hoped Shrek and Fiona came back to kick his ass. But a tiny part of her still clung on to the hope that Charming would change his mind. Leading the horse to the front ahe whispered it to stay as she tied the rope to a rusty bar sticking out of the wall. Inhaling the stench of mildew and lust, Gwynn entered the building.
The lobby was damp, carpet sunken and moldly. She squinted through the dark to the door that led to the warehouse section. When she found the knob, She plucked one of the pins out her hair (unravelling her bun) and used it to unlock the door.
The warehouse had equipment left over. The hanging chains still had strength, and the platforms provided the height and length for her to run around. One of the giant tubs used to make potions had water she painstakingly filled by hand to use as a swimming pool.
Gwynn sniffed again. Godmother had all this stuff yet couldn't figure out how to bring back her parents. She had time to mess around with somebody's marriage though. Perhaps that's why she and Bruce had such intimate relations! Same flocks.
She was too depressed to work out so she settled on walking on the platforms instead. As she did the events of today echoed throughout her head. She couldn't believe he'd go this far! Even if some of them were ogres she didn't feel right picking anyone who couldn't fend for themselves especially children. She remembered the look of horror on Shrek's face. The disappointment on the teenage boy's face when Charming insulted him. The crying when the babies were separated from their father.
It all hit her. She had cried like that when she lost her parents in that raid years ago. Gwynn didn't want to wish that pain onto someone else. If this is what it meant to lead a revolution she'd gladly go back to being a thief. At least she be humiliating greedy barons than killing people.
Gwynn understood Charming also lost his mother. He was still grieving. But she wasn't about to sit back and watch him take it out on people who had nothing to do with his pain. She wasn't about to let him drag her fellow villains down with him either. But it seemed no one wanted to listen to her, they'd too busy wreaking havoc. She thought about the poor families who weren't involved in any of this mess. Guilt came over her like the plague. But what could a lowly thief to do?
Suddenly she heard something or someone else entering the other room. Quickly she scurried off to a darker area, and hid behind a shelf. She watched as Bruce entered into the warehouse. With him was a smaller man wearing green tunic and fairy wings.
"So as you can see Mr. Charming the factory's been needing repairs for some time."
"God this place is a mess," muttered Bruce. "BUT that's nothing a man like me can't fix!"
"I'm sure you will," the fairy adjusted his glasses. "Um anyways we still need the claim for the deed."
"I have it right here!" Bruce thrusted a piece of paper in the fairy guy's face. He looked closely then said:
"I'm afraid I need the signature from a fairy in order to solidify the deal
"That won't be a problem," Bruce replied arrogantly. "I have the claimant by Friday morning!"
Gwynn bit her lip. Charming mentioned something about his mother's will being lost which was why he wasn't able to inherit her factory. Daddy Dearest had it all along! But why would Bruce be interested in the factory if it was such a frivolous venture? She saw them go further down the steps to the bottom floor.
"I'm glad to have my horse back! The little witch stole it," Bruce complained. "She's been trying to seduce him but poor boy's too much of an idiot to notice so I had to step in."
Gwynn had to admit the idiot part was right but seduction? Come on! She wouldn't sleep with Charming if he was the last man on Earth! And that included cherry Chapstick!
"She had an outburst earlier and now we're out of a leading lady," the redhead continued. "Women I tell ya! You do everything for them and still don't be satisfied!"
Gwyn heard the other guy cough then he added, "What about the King and Queen and their brood?
"Unless they swear loyalty to my son. I'd would hate to waste such strong potential, no hard feelings for ogres, but I need to set an example to those who think about rebelling."
Gwynn gasped. She knew the play was just for his son's ego trip but actual murder? And with his interest in the factory she had a feeling the swearing loyalty part wouldn't be of their own free will.
That was it. As much as she hated his ass at the moment she had to warn Charming! He would be making a mistake he really would not come back from. Insecurities aside she was about to sneak off but she missed and her hit foot on something hard.
"You hear something?"
#shrek fanfiction#shrek the third rewrite#shrek oc#shrek 3#shrek the third#oc x canon#oc: gwynn#drabble#sneak peak#fanfiction#WIP
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