#Sneep

[sneppu]

One of my silly headcanons is that Arthur Weasley is forever fond of Snape, because once upon a time, at some mandatory order event, Snape ended up explaining in a bit too much detail, exactly how one might go about stealing a muggle car the muggle way such that the ministry would not be alerted.

[fafodill]

Sneep is baby 🤍

He is 🤍

[spindle-and-nima]

Sprint LTE and NEMA 5-15

No signal

[wookiecookiesfactory]

All grown up

[vilvianthedepressed]

Baby Snape in the forest

One might mistaken him for a forest fairy :3

[korpuskristae]

The Sneep collection

[deadpeopleinc]

Happy Birthday to my beautiful boy, Sneep may you always be famous!!! I know I'm a little late, but my son needs appreciating <3

[opossumapothecary]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore & Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore & Severus Snape Characters: Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, Young Severus Snape, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Gaslighting but in a fun way, where Dumbledore convinces everyone that Snape looks nothing like Snape, but he does, McGonagall does most of the work because she’s responsible, Hurt/Comfort, De-Aged Severus Snape

  Summary:

When his role in Dumbledore’s plan is compromised, Severus Snape must temporarily disappear. With some experimental magic, he can be hidden in plain sight. The downside? Severus Snape has been transformed into a very young, very frightened child. Dumbledore and McGonagall disagree on how much effort should be expended on a temporary second chance. And what exactly made Severus Snape become Severus Snape?

Meanwhile, Harry Potter tries to unravel the mystery of what happened to the previous Potions Master.

[ancient-tree-with-deathwish]

sometimes you need a frungly little sumpner to breeble up your life.

[sunflaresspace]

So sometimes I write stuff, like, creative writing for media I am interested in. I create characters and lore and background. Today it is Transformers.

Today it is the worst person I have ever created.

TW/CW: blood, needles, medical setting, surgery/operations, caste like systems, elitism, medical trauma

The processor.

Such a delicate element of Cybertronian biology, an intricate network of connection and wires, brought to life by energon, electricity moving faster than his optics could see.

It was a privilege to see the processor so up close. Lights blinking, systems whirring, the almost indiscernible clicking of the chronometer. He was ignoring his own, using his patient’s steady clicking to keep his awareness of the passing of time.

It was only when the helm was open, when the dome was removed, that he got to hear the sounds. At times he could tell just from a glance what those delicate, thoroughly designed systems were optimised to do. Intended to do.

The fans of the mech below him grew louder, a clear sign of discomfort. Of possible waking.

“Shhhh, its okay, you're okay,” Red Cross murmured, his servos stilling as his focus shifted to the machine he'd connected himself to, flooding his patient's systems with anaesthetic.

The mech stilled again.

Good.

Perhaps having mnemosurgical needles installed was not the most accepted within the medical community, but he hadn't regretted it a single day. The rush of connection, the possibilities laying at his fingertips, the complete life of someone unfolding before him. The control he had over their memories. Their thoughts. Their ideas.

It wasn't uncommon for non-medics to have good ideas. He was more than happy to hear them out, to develop those ideas for application and use within his field.

It was so easy to convince them to talk to him. To have them follow him to his domain. An explanation here, a demonstration there, they ate from his palm. It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. If he hadn't been destined for medicine, if his function had dictated else, perhaps he could have been a great politician. After all, isn't politics just using the correct words to convince your way is right?

Images slid through his processor, stills of memories, thoughts and dreams. He didn't care for their other experiences, all he needed was the smell of disinfectant and the clicking of their chronometer. His lips parted, glossa running across it slightly as he pressed further, needles probing deeper into the core of this being, sliding between printplates and impossibly thin wires.

Deeper. More. He needed the treasure, he needed the fruit of his labour, he needed the victory and ecstacy of another success. Another addition. Another idea to cement himself in medicine.

His first patients hadn't survived. He'd been told this would likely happen, even with his steady servos. A surgeon with shaky servos might as well offline, what purpose could they have?

No, his servos had been as steady as ever. And in the grand scheme of things, what were a few casualties in the name of science? At times there was a price to advancement, to improvement, to the betterment of all. Why would a nameless mech be worth more than the lives of the many?

His venting hitched. The wash of memories slowed down, the first bubbles of thoughts and ideas finding their way through his connection with this mech's very essence. They sunk into his processor, his bright blue eyes dimming as victory washed over him. It filled his frame with joy, with satisfaction to its core.

He bit his glossa. He could relish in his success later.

The memories were extracted from the mech's mind, the ideas leaving nought but a trace of their existence. He'd had enough practice with tweezers, removing foreign bodies from hosts that didn't need them.

No, this nameless mech certainly didn't need those ideas. A miner could only hope to retrieve the materials for a good medic, but to aspire any higher would be foolish. Unnatural. After all, how could a demolitioner's hammer ever be of use in the delicate works of operation? How could his scalpel ever wish to carve out rocks and ore? No. Your destiny is your function. And he had just relieved this poor mech from doubting the good creator of all, from doubting the path Primus had laid out for him.

Red Cross extracted himself from the miner's helm, taking up a fine cloth to wipe the energon residue on the sharp points on his digits. The scent of freshly drawn energon no longer bothered him, he had gotten used to it early on in his career. He knew the limited amount of bleeding wouldn't be a risk to someone of his stature.

Though, in all honesty, if he died...

A glance was cast at the monitoring device.

Who would miss a nameless miner?

[sneppu]

a little Snoliday Blancmange for The Sneep

happy snolidays, little Sneep (and the rest of you too!)

[whydoihavetoart]

no

[bummykins]

Having two full time jobs sucks ass don't do it. That's why this took so long 🫣🫣

[cubbihue]

(no need for a drawing for this one :3 don't overwork yourself)

Considering FOP:ANW takes place ~20ish years after the original FOP, would that mean that 10 earth years are about 100 fairy world years then? Seeing as Timmy has been a fairy for 200 years.

Yuup!! You're spot on!!

Time functions differently in Fairyworld, and is perceived differently as well!

Although it was 200 years, for Timmy, it more or less feels like only a few years. If he didn't know better, he'd have assumed only maybe 5 years passed on Earth. Likewise: Perceptions change as Fairies enter in and out of Fairyworld. The longer Timmy is on Earth, the more he'll be hit by 200 years of living, instead of the feeling of 5.

Rules exist for a reason!! For both Fairies and humans alike!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[spiderywigglerodstuff]

gif for when you're uh, when you're

when you