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vidalinav · 5 months

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(lovingly banging fists on table) sick Nesta! Sick Nesta! Sick Nesta!

Okay, part 1! Though it doesn't include sick Nesta yet.

Oh! Also this is an acofas re-write basically.

"Maybe she decided not to come," Elain whispers to Feyre, peering through the window as if that might summon their sister--a ghost in winter white.

Cassian pretends not to overhear, but one look from Rhys tells him they're all aware of the missing Archeron sister who's decided to not grace them with her presence.

Mor claps her hands, moving to stand with a drink in her hand--probably to remind Feyre of birthday wishes and solstice celebrations--that life is not lived staring out of windows. Rhys only takes a sip of his wine, his eyes growing darker as he stares at burning firewood. Ashes and dust collecting at the bottom.

Not for the first time does Cassian wish he could peer into his brother's thoughts, like he can hear into his mind. He has a vague inclination as to what he might find, and Cassian can't help the feeling welling up in his chest, howling like the winter wind.

Nesta said she'd attend, but she's nowhere in sight.

She does have an act for haunting them.

Her absence is here in this room, and no amount of ignoring that simple fact will stop Elain from checking the windows or looking up at the door. Feyre keeps looking at the envelope he knows is filled with money--a bribe for coming to her own sister's birthday.

A bribe for coming to a place she'll know he'll be.

Because he hasn't forgotten that part. Cassian hasn't forgotten how Nesta throws him away, telling him in no uncertain terms she wants nothing to do with him. Nothing but... laying on his body to shield him from a fatal blow.

Nothing but almost dying together.

He can hear the crisp crackling of the fire. A snap and a twist, like bones and blood. A war that took from them all--but somehow left a ghost where Nesta Archeron used to be.

"She said she'd come," Feyre says, certainty in her voice. A certainty that no one in this room must share--not even Cassian who keeps thinking of her name as if that alone will call her forth.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

The wind howls it.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

The winter sings it.

Where must Nesta Archeron be?

"Do you think something happened to her?"

"I'll go look for her," Cassian says, standing abruptly in response to Elain's question.

Amren scoffs, sniffing at her drink like it might be blood. He wonders if she wishes she still had a taste for it. "You're probably the last she wants to see."

Cassian looks to Elain and then to Feyre, who stands by the door, the envelope tucked closely in her hand. "Do you want to go look for her?"

Mor huffs, grasping Feyre's arm. "It's Feyre's birthday. Should we not celebrate? Azriel can send his shadows."

At the mention of his name, Azriel peers towards him. Cassian can't read his mind, but he thinks he knows what that look means--knows that it's something he'll never say aloud.

"You should go," Azriel says, his voice strong if not quiet.

"But you'll be missing the celebration!"

Feyre only looks to Cassian at the words, her look stern and commanding. He is her loyal soldier after all.

"I want her here," she says.

It's Elain who offers her sister reprieve, a placating, soft palm resting on Feyre's shoulder. "What if she doesn't want to come?"

"She doesn't have a choice," Rhys grits out from his seat on the couch, his drink swirling in his hand. Cassian thinks of tornados and storms, a rumbling earthquake trapped in glass.

Feyre stands taller as she faces her mate. "She'll always have a choice."

Cassian doesn't wait to hear Rhys grumble or his muttering apologies or what he'll say about Nesta. He doesn't know if Rhys will keep quiet or not, but something tells him his brother is getting close to putting his foot in his mouth rather than biting his tongue.

So Cassian goes for his coat, and the scarf he knows Elain had meant to gift Nesta at the beginning of the season. It sits in the closet collecting dust, and so too does her name in his mind--calling and echoing, never silent. Never answered.

"Take my coat, too," Feyre calls. "Just in case."

Cassian gives one firm nod at his high lady, one grimace to her sister, and one glance to his family who look at him as if they've never quite seen him before. A look he's seen plenty. A look that means they just don't understand why.

Cassian isn't sure himself, if he's honest.

Or perhaps, it just hurts too much to be honest.

That this human turned fae, this woman turned saint, cauldron blessed or cursed, had not just taken from the cauldron.

She had taken his entire soul with her too.

He finds her lying in the snow with a fever in the next part. bye!

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acofas rewrite #vidalinav writes snippets #snip snip hooray

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basiatlu · 3 months

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Lil Belated Wip Snip - ty for tagging me @squintclover ♡

The name of the game is to share a snippet, a smackeral, a tiny taste of something you're working on! I'm tagging @littlewinnow @mono-chromia @hihimissamericanbi @maxrowave @lqtraintracks only if you'd like~☆

#wip snip #wip snippet #tag game #art #drawing #artists on tumblr #harry potter #doodle #illustration #wip #art wip #harry james potter #as i live and breathe #drarry #boshdraws

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nyoomfruits · 3 months

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you’re wip lives rent free in my mind every little taste we’ve gotten has been insane

aaaah this is so sweet thank you so much ;-; ALSO as an extra thank you. here u go:

“Alright,” Lando says, sliding up to the counter where Oscar’s running a cloth over the surface. “I’ve suffered through an entire week of fruit related pastries. I think it’s time I get rewarded.” And then, just in case, he adds. “With a croissant.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “I hardly think yesterday’s pain aux raisins counted as a fruit,” he says.

Lando shrugs, completely undeterred. “Every raisin was once a grape, Oscar. Now hand over the goods.” He drapes himself over the counter and makes grabby hands at Oscar, who rolls his eyes fondly and then dutifully puts a croissant in Lando’s outstretched hands.

“You are the love of my life,” Lando tells the croissant very seriously. When he glances up, Oscar’s ears are a truly vibrant shade of red as he rings up Lando’s order.

#landoscar #i promise this is the LAST of the snippets #no more snips until i finish this thing this is IT

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whatlovelybones-if · 1 year

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There’s a severe lack of Sebas asks, my husband deserves so much love 😤 Can you tell us how he met the MC ? What made him so interested ?

i agree, bonnie 😞 our resident wet cat journalist deserves some love and attention too <3 i’ll just give y’all a not-so-little snippet of the scene in which they met. spoiler warning since this will be present in the game:

‘this is the worst fucking day of my career,’ sebastián thought bitterly.

the clouds thunder heavily in the night. rain drops fall in tandem with the unrelenting wind which makes the trees sway surrounding the road. the whole atmosphere was miserably cold and wet.

every single bone in sebas’s body hurt like crazy. he wonders why the hell did he even try to fight off the muggers, they outnumbered him by a lot and he had multiple cuts and bruises to show for it. darkness threatens to encroach his vision but he fought it off. he knew he’d really end up dead if he let his growing fatigue overpower him.

but hope was dwindling inside him. no one was going to come looking for him. it’s not like he had many friends. the only man he even dared to call a friend had gone missing weeks ago. and now sebastian was going to end up joining him too. the only difference was that they never found henry, while they’d find his body on the side of this abandoned road.

his stomach growls and a weary sigh leaves his body. what he wouldn’t give for a warm meal right now. maybe a bowl of his mom’s homemade chicken soup.

“you’ve been working hard again, mijo,” she’d tut while running her fingers through his shaggy dark hair. “díos mio, you worry your poor mother too much.”

a broken sob threatens to leave his throat. sebas knew he made for a pathetic sight. it was his fault he ended up in this situation after all, and he could not change it no matter what.

the stab wound on the side of his stomach stings and almost makes him blackout as he tries, in vain, to keep it from bleeding out. his assailants had made sure that he couldn’t go for help, even if he tried to crawl to the nearest hospital.

this is it. this is where he dies. this is where the short life of sebastián rafael navarro ends. shivering and sobbing on the side of an abandoned road while he dreams of a warm meal and a life unfulfilled.

suddenly, the screech of a pair of tires halt his increasingly pessimistic musing. he vaguely notices the touch of a gloved hand on his neck and wrist, checking for a pulse. sebastián wonders if he’s already dead and is currently being examined by an angel. he questions himself if they can feel how faint his pulse is, how faint he feels.

sebas hears them curse, and he wonders if angels are allowed to do that. struggling to open his eyes against the onslaught of the rain, he manages to catch a glimpse of a white coat and a face which makes his breath catch in his throat. he decides that his angel theory didn’t seem so ridiculous after all.

“it’ll be okay. i’ll take care of you.”

it is the last thing he hears before he feels himself fall unconscious while the ‘angel’ hauls him up with an unnatural strength and places him on a warm leather seat.

#asks #how could sebas be not infatuated with the MC?#thet literally saved his life #especially when most people around him have treated him like shit #what lovely bones #bonnie nonnie #ro: sebastián navarro #ch: the killer #ro scenarios #snip goes the snippets #spoiler tings

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raikirikiri · 26 days

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missing-nin kakashi who leaves the village on his own accord. he’s pushed to the edge, and despite all the anbu missions he’s taken to get himself killed, it just doesn’t work. so he leaves and becomes a mercenary and thinks he might have some luck dying that way. he thinks part of him is still loyal to konoha but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. plus the constant needling of his ex-classmates insisting their his friends when he knows he doesn’t deserve friends, he barely deserves comrades.

so he leaves. and he does the jobs he takes well and yes, he’s still hoping he dies but he’s too good at being a shinobi so he keeps living. no matter how accidental.

he has a good fortune by the start of canon time but id like to believe he lives in a cave with a ratty futon and a few shabby changes of clothes. he lives an extremely solitary life but he’s…healed. a little. he’s never forgiven himself, he probably never will, but he’s made some sort of peace with himself and his actions.

meanwhile. the akatsuki is forming. itachi, kisame, sasori, kakazu, pain, konan, zetsu, obito (still in the shadows). almost the whole crew is there, they just need to round out their numbers a little. and who better to approach than missing-nin copy ninja kakashi? pain brings it up first one rainy day in ame. obito, or madara, is meeting with pain, konan, and zetsu and pain brings up kakashi first.

obito chokes out a no, barely hanging onto his madara act. no, he denies vehemently. the mean thought enrages something in him and the thought of having to see kakashi’s beautiful ugly mug more than he already does (because yes, he may be a missing-nin but obito wouldn’t be a stalker if he couldn’t find his prey over and over again) is brain melting and heart stopping in a very very negative way.

of course pain has to ask why, madara has never had such a visceral reaction to suggestion for a recruit.

his pants around his ankles, obito has to scramble for an excuse and it’s a little more elegant than “he’s not evil enough”. obito shuts the conversation down then and there, deciding to come back to it at a later date when he can be prepared for his ex-teammate’s name to be brought up again.

for the next three years, any time they’re low on numbers, kakashi’s name comes up and obito always struggles to react normally and his answer is always some iteration of “he’s not evil enough”. so hidan comes up with the brilliant idea to force him to be evil, similar to how they forced deidara to join the akatsuki.

obito, failing to come up with counter arguments and running out of excuses, concedes. pain, during their monthly meetings where tobi is madara, is pleased. he suggests sending itachi to fetch him, since they were once anbu together and seeing a familiar face may help. obito vetoes this and decides he’ll go get kakashi himself. he’s, of course, seen how being away from the village has affected him. and while he’s entirely competent, he’s almost too competent. and doesn’t do well with surprises.

without further preamble, he kamuis into kakashi’s cave, startling him and causing him to spill his soup everywhere. now, kakashi is very much attack first, talk second at this point in his life. having been away from society for so long has allowed his hatake genes to really take over and he’s become much more uhhh instinct driven.

so once he gets over his initial shock and his initial reaction of ‘kill kill kill’, he freezes. he’s always had a sharp sense of smell but it’s on a different level now and there’s something familiar about this strange ghost man. for someone so ghoulish, he has a scent and it lights a lamp in kakashi’s subconscious.

‘i know you’ kakashi accuses, a snarl rising in his throat. this ghoul man is in his cave, his private space, he wants answers.

‘do you?’ a deep voice asks, sounding surprised and amused.

kakashi weighs his options of arguing with ghost guy or figuring out why the hell ghost guy just…appeared in his cave.

‘i’m here to take you to join the akatsuki’ ghoul man decides for him. kakashi grunts and picks up his overturn bowl.

‘no thanks’ he states, scooping some soup from the pot into his bowl.

‘it’s not an invitation’ the apparition snaps and kakashi pauses. he sniffs towards ghost guy again but he still can’t place the scent to the man.

‘can you please leave? i’m trying to eat my dinner and well…’ kakashi asks (but of course it’s more of demand), pointedly gesturing to his mask.

‘what? no. you’re coming with me,” obito growls, his eye twitching in irritation. after all these years, all his suffering, all he’s learned and how much he’s grown…bakakashi still gets under his fucking skin.

‘i don’t want to’ kakashi pouts, petulance and amusement in his tone.

‘you don’t get a choice’ obito hisses in madara’s voice. it sounds wrong and entirely too much like obito.

‘maa, what do i get out of it?’ hatake drawls, a glint in his eye that tells obito hes enjoying this far too much.

‘nothing. you get nothing except me letting you continue to live your sorry life’ obito snaps back, unable to stop the heat of annoyance racing up his spine.

‘how do you know my life is sorry?’ kakashi taunts loftily, crossing his arms and lifting his nose to the ceiling.

‘for the love of sage’ obito takes kakashi by the arm and warps them into kamui, uncaring if kakashi recognizes the jutsu or not. he just wants him to shut up. he should kill pain for making him do this. he would kill hidan but that fucker can’t fucking die.

‘hey i recognize that foot’ kakashi mutters to himself, eye squinted at the severed foot he warped into the dimension months ago. huh. that’s where the things he disappears go. interesting.

hey wait—

‘i know that look’ obito bites out, letting his facade drop. stupid fucking genius asshole.

kakashi gasps, eyes watering in disbelief. ‘don’t—don’t fucking do that. get it together already. you’re about to meet a bunch of fuckin’ s-ranked missing-nins, you can’t be crying’

obito’s voice is a little awkward this soft, but he’s sincere. he doesn’t know how or why he’s sincere, he hates kakashi. he thinks. he’s not too sure but he hasn’t been…soft…in years. but the sight of kakashi, broken and worn down, has something in him melting just a little.

‘you fucking dickhead’ kakashi croaks, shoving obito’s shoulder. ‘you fucking— fucking asshole! you were dead! you bastard, how could you not come back? how could you not tell me?’

kakashi’s voice is hard and cracking at the edges. it throws obito off entirely. his mouth opens and closes like a limp fish behind tobi’s mask, trying to find the words he should say.

after a few moments of kakashi’s hardened stare, obito finds himself feeling indignant. ‘i never thought you’d care’ he sneers. a lie.

‘you’re not that fucking good at lying still and i’m not dense. you’ve been stalking me. at least since i left the village’ kakashi accuses with a scoff.

‘i run a terrorist organization!’ obito shoots back hotly. ‘excuse me for thinking duty-driven kakashi wouldn’t take his dead sunshine-happy teammate becoming an s-rank criminal well!’ he seethes, finding he isn’t all that angry. this feels familiar.

‘oh please. i’d follow you till the end of the fucking earth’ kakashi spits before his eyes widen in shock, much like obito’s eye does. kakashi drops his full bowl of soup on the floor of kamui and covers his mouth with both hands.

obito makes a noise in the back of his throat, ‘don’t—‘ and then he’s ripping his mask off and pulling kakashi’s hands away from his face and tugging him close. lips to mask, he doesn’t care, he kisses kakashi fervently.

he tastes kakashi through the clothe of his mask, moaning at the way kakashi moans against him, the way kakashi’s fingers find themselves in obito’s hair. when they finally pull away, obito manages a please smile, cheeks bright red and pupil blown, ‘don’t follow me. walk with me.’

kakashi rolls his eyes and pulls him in for another kiss. ‘told you i knew you’ he whispers against obito’s lips, before nuzzling his face into obito’s neck, scenting him, marking him.

———

AHEM ANYWAY:

i think kakashi’s hair would be grown out, similar to how obito’s hair was during cave life with old ass madara. his already long canines would grow, and he’d be super in touch with nature. i think he’d be able to communicate with animals similar to how juugo is. basically, once away from the village and society, he becomes a lot more hatake-ish. just. kakashi growling and snarling snurfing at any akatsuki member that isn’t obito. or itachi. he’ll accept kisame eventually too, but that’s it. everyone else he does not talk to, only growls at.

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lovebunnie · 8 months

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the spy had seen many dead bodies in his line of work. it came with the territory and he found it easiest to see them as concepts rather than people. he had shot many fathers, stabbed sons and strangled aunts, he had taken from many families and as the years went on, though it never got easier, he never stopped all the same.

you need to do chest compressions, medic had told him over the comms. wait until im there to take over, but in the meantime, steady compressions, dont stop until im there. ill be five minutes.

five minutes.

spy did not know one could lose so much in such a short amount of time.

he saw scouts unmoving chest and imagined bringing his hands down on top of it, pressing up and down until his clumsy hands cracked through the rib cage and was elbow deep in viscera. he would shatter the fragile rib cage and it would be more than was fixable, broken beyond repair. the spy was not used to his hands being used to heal, he only knew how to hurt, it was all he ever did. his hands did not know how to be gentle with scout. instead he stayed rooted into the ground, fearing what he would do if he got closer, what he would stumble into doing. the spy had seen many dead bodies in his line of work.

the scouts body was laying on the ground with wide eyes staring up into the sky, glazed over as though lost in particular thought. it was ridiculous to think of scout lost in any kind of thought so intensely, but in that moment the spy wished the boy had anything to think about, any thought in his head, something to keep him aware and alive. something that made the wound in his stomach not so serious. he wished scout would call him a name or insult him, wished this was a practical joke. he wished today they all overslept their alarms and missed work and instead had to do clerical work where scout would bemoan the tedious tasks instead of the adrenaline of combat. he wished he was there to help scout against the bots, that he had his back and saw the stray machine coming up from behind with a jagged saw as an arm before it sliced into his own flesh and blood, a part of him. he wished he told scout he remembered his birthday and he wished he told him that every year he would call his mother to see how he was, one year older than the last, growing up.

most of all, he wished scout was laying on his stomach; spy remembers the night he left boston, he checked on his son one last time and got a peak of him in his crib, snoring softly on his back with arms splayed to his sides, warm and safe and loved. he never loved anything like he loved jeremy.

he thought of the phone call he would have to make after all of this. hello mon amour, i hope you are well. our son is dead.

he looked at the clock. the medic would arrive in four minutes.

#space.txt #tf2 #dadspy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tw death #me versus dadspy snippets #dadspy isnt a concept hes like a sister to me #space snips

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definitelynotshouting · 5 days

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Just wanna say your writing is amazing, like your way with words is just lgffkydbkuc. You literally got me out of writers block thank you so much. Don’t worry about pumping out chapters like a machine, we’re all just happy to wait (I waited 7 years for the Yuri on Ice movie I’ll be good lmao)

-🫧

GWUH..... ANON THIS IS SO SWEET THANK U SO MUCH???? this was SUCH a nice message to see before heading to bed 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

I'll admit ive been really frustrated abt the accidental hiatus i took, and felt a little bad for deciding to go crazy on edits instead of just posting the raw chapter like i was originally supposed to do on that pseud >>..... but tbh its nice to have something to control. These last two months in particular have been absolute hell for me so being able to pick at this and turn it into something i know i'll be insanely proud of is kinda therapeutic!!! And you guys get a honkin' big chapter (currently 11k and counting) in return, once it finally drops PFFTTT

But its really nice and makes me feel a ton better to get messages like these 🥺🥺🥺🥺 im really glad you like my writing so much!!! And its so flattering to hear i helped you get out of writer's block, thats crazy!!! :DDD im really really happy to hear im inspiring people to create 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Here, a little morsel i wrote tonight for you to chew on in the meantime:

Thank you for the kind words bubble anon, i super appreciate them!! :D❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #compliments #my snippets #ksndksjdkd by this rate chap 10 is just gonna get released in disconnected snips /silly #hunger au: the ARG #find my pages boy /ref #this is what playing alan wake 2 every sunday does to a mf #txt

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nari-writes · 7 months

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In which Jason has not stopped his crusade to get Children to stop being vigilantes, and Tim has had a run-in with cuddle pollen.

"Then this is fine?" Jason says, all bitter growl through the vocoder, like he's sneering. His hand is wrapped around Tim's neck, but it's still skin, still touch, and Tim's heartbeat is stuttering as the pain eases.

There is a knife at his throat, there is a hand at his throat, there is Jason's body weight, bearing down, telling him to give it up because Bruce doesn't deserve Robin, doesn't deserve to have more kids dying for his crusade, there is blood on Tim's jugular and blood bruising under his skin, he's marked by collars of trauma every time Jason's gotten close to his throat-

There is no-one else coming.

"It's fine," Tim whispers.

#dc #batfam #batfam fic #nari is writing #snippets #tim drake #jason todd #tim drake & jason todd #am *I* writing tim hit by pollen and jason hit by big brother instinct? fuck yeah man you betcha #lol well i say that. i have snip #fic snips

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short-and-ugly · 3 months

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#snip snippet

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adiduck · 9 months

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Rules: Make a new post and post the latest line in your WIP & tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Tagged by... god, many people. Most recently @whetstonefires! And [scrolls back through mentions] @oathkeeperoxas, it seems! And... I think... @frostbitebakery? Frost this is a snip that's safe to read ;)

So due to the fact that my last line is "Damn it" and that seems like a bit of a cop out considering how many people have tagged me that I have... not done this for, I'm gonna give a scene and change from Operation Groundhog AU. Under the cut! Featuring: my pain re trying to make it clear which character I am referring to when it is an older and younger version of the same person LOL

And because I had to use a cut, I'm just mentioning that I'm no pressure tagging @asukaskerian, @goddammitjim, @hawkeykirsah, @joisbishmyoga, ...who else. @hangsterwheel, @lambourngb, @doodledrawreblogs... yeah we'll go with that LOL that's already a lot

Maverick catches up to younger him outside the door to the base. “Maverick,” he calls. The kid doesn’t even slow down. “Hey, kid! Lieutenant Mitchell!”

The kid stops in his tracks, turning around to look. “Sorry, sir, but I’m a bit busy--”

“You’re a bit busy leaving base without being dismissed,” Maverick says, and comes to a stop in front of himself, frowning. “Let me go after Lieutenant Kazansky. Go back inside.”

The kid stiffens, eyes narrowing. “Sir,” he says, pulling himself up to his full height. “I don’t feel a reprimand for Iceman is warranted--”

Aw, that’s cute.

“Why don’t you let me worry about Iceman,” he says again. “I promise I’ll return him in working order in a few minutes. Seems he and I need to have a chat.”

“Sir, if you’ll just let me--”

“No,” Maverick says.

The kid pauses, eyes narrowing. “No?”

“No,” Maverick says. He’s getting a bit annoyed now. “I gave you an order, Lieutenant. Go on back inside.”

“I can talk him back down!” the kid says.

“I’m sure you can,” Maverick says. “But you’re not going to. I am his superior officer. Go back inside.”

“You--”

“I am also your superior officer,” Maverick interrupts. “You, Lieutenant, are out of line. You’re going to let me talk to my aviator--alone--or you’re going to find yourself with bigger problems.”

The kid scowls at him, furious and right in his face. Maverick can practically see the gears turning in his head. Go ahead, Maverick thinks viciously. Go on, hotshot. Ask me what I can do to you.

He could pull him off the mission, is what he could do. He could send Ice out in an unfamiliar fighter on a suicide mission without a Maverick to watch his back.

Maverick watches the exact moment that occurs to this younger version of himself--the moment he freezes, pulls back just a very little bit.

The kid eyes Maverick for a long minute. Maverick raises an eyebrow back.

“...Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Mitchell barks, drawing himself to attention, jaw clenched tight.

“Good man,” Maverick says, and walks straight past him. “Return to the debrief room, if you please.”

The kid manages, through what Maverick assumes is an effort that should be honored with some sort of medal, not to call Maverick an asshole.

It’s for your own damn good, Maverick thinks, and keeps walking. One thing at a time. First, he’s got a Lieutenant Kazansky to track down, on orders from an Admiral.

Maverick does not go back inside. He watches the Captain continue on past the parking lot, quick-marching off in the direction he couldn’t possibly have seen Ice go but apparently guessed anyway.Maverick grits his teeth, and then sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and nearly dislodging his capt. He pulls it back straight and sits down, just for a minute, and tries to calm down. Damn it. Damn it.

#adi is a writer #the process #last line game #icemav #operation groundhog au #wip snippet #going to try to remember to tag new snips with that going forward #I make no promises though my brain is a sieve

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oflights · 10 months

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wip snip 4.1

thank you for the tag, @teledild0nix! your wip seems like such an interesting start and i'm excited to see more of it!

here's about 900 words of the time travel fic, featuring a draco vs dumbledore confrontation 2.0 😌 i'll tag @the-starryknight, @kittycargo, @purplehotmess, and @chamomileteafuel to post their own with absolutely zero pressure!

in this snip, draco is in the past, has just made the absolutely insane decision to take harry with him, has put the dursleys to sleep, got harry to agree to go with him, was caught out by mrs. figg, and now dumbledore's here.

Albus Dumbledore stands before him.

He looks as if he’s just stepped off the Hogwarts grounds, in his familiar purple robes and wizard’s cap, his long beard stark white against the deep color. He doesn’t look any younger than the Dumbledore Draco had known, but he supposes that’s the trick of old wizards; he exudes a timeless sort of power that used to both intimidate and annoy Draco in turn. It’s doing both of those here, mixed with lingering, flickering guilt that had risen in him after the year he was 16 along with the resentment that had grown over the same time period.

Dumbledore is possibly the very last person Draco wants to see here; he can’t think of anyone worse off the top of his head.

Draco angles himself in front of Harry, putting his hand on his shoulder very gently, as Dumbledore stares at him before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“Lucius,” he says softly. Draco’s shoulders straighten instinctively, and he holds himself taller; his father is quite a bit taller than him. “You’ve cut your hair.”

He can feel Harry’s eyes on him and gives his shoulder a light, entreating squeeze, gathering his own strength, tipping his chin in the air and trying to gather the exact haughty cadence of his father’s voice on his tongue.

“Albus,” Draco says coldly, nodding stiffly, the name so odd and discomfiting in his mouth. “Yes; I’m told this is a more modern fashion.”

Dumbledore cracks a near smile at that, even though Draco had been careful not to leave even a hint of humor in his tone; his father never has and never would joke even lightly with Albus Dumbledore.

“It suits you.” His eyes shift back down to Harry, the lamplight glowing faintly in his spectacles. “Hello, Harry. It’s been a long time.”

Draco fights the urge to tighten his hand on Harry’s shoulder, to shove him further behind him. An unpleasant revelation is starting to niggle at him, like the edges of a bad dream he can’t quite recall, the outline of a thought he should be upset or angry about.

It starts to fill in when Harry says, “Hello, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“I met you when you were just a baby,” Dumbledore says. “I arranged for you to live here with your family.”

He knew, Draco realizes, the thought screaming through his consciousness. Behind him, Harry stiffens up too, and crowds in a bit at Draco’s hip. Draco reaches his arm over to rest on Harry’s farther shoulder, looped behind his back. He has let go of the pouch of sand to hold his wand instead.

Dumbledore must have known exactly where he left Harry. He’d known that Draco was here—and suddenly Mrs. Figg and her cats and her cabbages, staggering out through a horrible storm, makes a whole lot of sense—and he’d have known from her reports what the Dursleys were like, as least some of it. Now Draco wishes he hadn’t destroyed the padlock and the cupboard door, just to march Dumbledore in front of it, make him stand there and explain himself.

But that’s not right, either—Draco has heard Dumbledore explain himself before. He remembers hearing about mercy, about the all-knowing, omniscient Headmaster of the school he attended as a child knowing a student had been pressed into committing murder and doing absolutely fuck-all about it. He remembers not being a killer. And for a moment, he is so angry he can’t quite remember why he’s not.

Draco draws his wand. Dumbledore hasn’t drawn his, simply looks mildly disappointed; he tilts his head to the side.

“Your wand. Another new fashion?”

Draco ignores him, glancing at the mirror. He can’t take Harry through it if Dumbledore plans to stop them; while this method of time travel was only invented after Dumbledore’s death, even an idiot would recognize the way to stop travel through a mirror would be to break it. Draco has an awful vision of Harry stuck in a mirror shard for years before Dumbledore lets him out to fulfill his Dark Lord killing destiny and dismisses it out of hand, thinking over his options.

He has a backup, of course, a small hand mirror he keeps in another inner pocket, but he doesn’t think two people can get through it intact, even someone as small as Harry. He could also try doing it the hard way, pure magic, no instruments or sand, the way a Time Master does—instinct, focus, careful and measured steps through time—but he’s not quite there yet. He’s only ever managed short and quick jumps after years of practice, and never with another person. He won’t risk it now; won’t risk Harry.

So Draco will have to incapacitate Dumbledore somehow; he didn’t really have dueling the most powerful wizard in an age wielding the bloody Elder wand on his to-do list for today, but then he hadn’t really had any of this on it.

He clutches his own wand, looking at it for a moment—Potter had given it back to him years ago, looking utterly pained to do so, forcing out a huffy sort of “Thanks, I guess,” while eyeing Draco like he was a bug a cat had spit up. It’s still one of their most positive interactions to date.

He hadn’t known until it was over that he’d briefly been the owner of the Elder wand. The thought of having a second crack at it isn’t all that unappealing.

#wip snip #drarry #drarry snippet #drarry wip #drarry fic #time travel fic

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jamietxrtt · 3 months

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🌹🌹🌹

ohhhh thank you so much!!! here's a snippet from the wip i'm working on now >:3

With his head tilted to the side like this, Ted has a perfect view of the woods outside the window.

The world outside is almost tauntingly serene. The window is open, and Ted can feel the inviting breeze from outside, the one that rustles the leaves and gets the animals all in a fuss, coming in and soothing his blistered mind. The cicadas are back on their chirp. The sun’s just starting to set, orange and purple and blue all mixed together in the sky, but the wind is warm. It cools Ted’s feverish skin without chilling him to the bone.

As he’s watching, two figures emerge from the woods. Jamie’s voice is as loud as ever, carrying easily on the wind and up to Ted’s window. That’s to be expected. What’s a little more unexpected is the laugh it pulls out of Roy in response-- a sharp bark of a thing, strong and crisp. Roy reaches out toward Jamie, and a brief moment of worry passes through Ted-- but Roy is only winding his arm around Jamie’s neck gently, ruffling his hair until the younger man pulls away, pouting and preening in response.

Of course. Roy reaching towards Jamie has only meant affection, and not violence, for years now. This is nothing like those early days.

Ted finds himself smiling at the thought. If only those two men that he met all those years ago could see where they are now-- Jamie squatting alongside the dirt path, looking at something on the ground, a bug or a rock or whatever’s caught his interest, and Roy standing above him, the fondest smile he’d never let show if he knew anyone was looking stuck smack dab in the middle of his face.

Those two really are the best of friends, now. It’s more balm than the wind, more balm than the sunset.

Ted closes his eyes, and sighs.

send me a rose or a word to get a snippet from my wip!

#snip snip #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #thank u so much for the ask!! sorry i didnt answer it earlier tumblr didnt notify me of it for some reason :(#i'm very excited about this wip :) its gonna be so angsty and good #^ sort of scared to put main tags on my writing i feel like i haven't done that in so long ASLKFJLSKDFJSLDK #but i like seeing other ppls snippets in the tag so

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pupyr0arz · 1 month

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the tulips on your pillow are sweet, sure, but they’ve been torn up from the roots and the dirt speckles your bunk. You sigh as you brush it onto the floor and carefully gather the manhandled flowers, straightening blunt stems and setting them at the foot of your bed.

Roach, for all his stealthiness, isn’t the most subtle man alive. He’s staunchly denied any involvement, but the cheeky way he sidled uo to you the first day and his bashful little smiles every-time you keep the flowers make it more than obvious. Now, if you could just get him to sit still long enough to acknowledge he’s leaving you flowers and it’s coming up to valentines, you could tell him you’ve got the weekend off and enough time for a date.

and maybe to get him to stop leaving ants in the other sergeants bunks while your at it.

#.bark #cod #roach #roach x reader #snippet #writing #doing my daily snips to keep up with my word count goals between fic writing

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lqtraintracks · 2 years

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I was tagged to do a Wip Snip by @tackytigerfic and @wolfpants -- thank you both so much!!! --but I thought I’d share this opening scene from the rejected version of my Suds which will never see the light of day otherwise (inspired by @nv-md sharing her rejected first attempt at Suds too).

I started it this way and then decided it wasn’t the tone I wanted, the tense, or where I wanted the story to start, so my actual Suds will be quite different, but I still love this scene and think it’s quite funny, so... Here is my rejected Suds scene:

***

“The Goblet of Fire? Are you bloody—?”

Luna hit Harry with an unsubtle Silencio, which he immediately removed, but she’d made her point. He would have preferred to make his; it was a pretty good one, he thought.

“Professor Potter,” McGonagall began, “we were aware you might take issue with its use, but rest assured,” she spoke over him when he once again opened his mouth, “it has been tested for functionality, and is being used not for a ludicrous life-and-death tournament but only to decide which two professors will be staying at Hogwarts to mind the castle over the summer. Placing one’s name in the goblet was voluntary—”

“Yeah, that’s what they said the last time,” Harry grumbled.

“ —and there is nothing magically binding about the outcome. In this case, it is little more than a random name generator in a cup’s body.”

Under his breath, Harry said, “Muggles use hats for this. Just… hats.”

As McGonagall prepared to cast the spell, Harry sighed, his gaze moving over the other teachers, landing finally on Malfoy, standing across the way, his arms crossed and a small scowl on his face. Whether he was scowling in support of Harry or because of Harry could not be determined. Their eyes met, held a moment, and then Malfoy dropped his gaze away.

“Goblet,” McGonagall addressed the cup, and it began to glow a sickly purple that Harry remembered all too well. “Please reveal the name of the first person designated to stay at the castle over the summer.”

The cup shook mid-air; it shimmied; it made an alarming rattling sound. Then it farted out a cloud of purple and a piece of parchment. McGonagall took it from where it swayed on tiny air currents like a feather. She looked at it. She pursed her lips. Chagrined perhaps, she cleared her throat and said quietly, “Harry Potter.”

“WHAT?”

She held up the slip. “It… says your name.”

“I didn’t put my name in the blasted cup!” Harry shouted.

“I believe you,” she said, cheeks colouring. “We will draw a third name, Mr Potter; you are exempt.”

“Thank you,” he said, much aggrieved, and Neville, on the other side of him from Luna, squeezed his arm in sympathy.

“Goblet,” McGonagall said again, this time with slightly less confidence, “please reveal the name of the second person… or perhaps it’s now the first, if we’re not allowed a third. At any rate, please give us another name for whomever is to stay at the castle over the summer.” She ended with a small ‘ahem’, and the lot of them waited for the cup to shake, rattle, and roll. It did. And then it belched out the new name.

“Draco Malfoy.” McGonagall held the parchment aloft.

Harry’s gaze shot to Malfoy again, and Malfoy, looking at McGonagall, gave a short nod of acceptance, having apparently legitimately placed his name in the stupid cup.

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy,” McGonagall said. Then, “Goblet!”

“Wait!” Harry said without having meant to say anything at all.

McGonagall waited. Everyone waited. When Harry said nothing further, Luna prodded him with the end of her wand. The pointy end.

“Oh, erm. Never mind,” he said sheepishly, dropping his gaze to the floor as his cheeks heated up.

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Goblet!”

“No!” Harry blurted. Then, warbling with uncertainty, “Wait?”

“What is it, Professor Potter?”

“I’ve uh…” He looked up at Malfoy, gulped. Malfoy was frowning openly now, but in a worried way, like he thought this was finally it; Potter’s gone and lost his ever-loving mind. Harry really couldn’t contest that. Still, he shifted his weight and stammered, “I-I’ll stay. I’ll stay at the castle.” And then, mortifyingly, “It’s cool and all.”

“It’s cool and all?” McGonagall said, becoming even more prim and Scottish than usual.

Harry nodded. “No need to risk the cup malfunctioning any more than it already has. Plus… I like Hogwarts.”

She softened, hearing the last. “Well, if you are quite certain.”

Harry, against his better judgement, looked right at Malfoy then—at his indecipherable expression and frosty grey eyes. Harry said, “I am.”

And that was that.

***

Again, not my actual Suds, but I hope you liked it!

I’ll tag: @the-starryknight @amywaterwings @thebooktopus @softlystarstruck @nerdherderette @t4tdrarry and @veelawings if you want to play! <3

#suds but not suds #drarry snippet #wip snip

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