#snippets !

[stickdoodlefriend]

Snippet for my Lestappen Harry Potter AU

The dark turrets pierce the thick smog—heavier than the last time Charles had visited—and a passing flickering candlelight in the windows catches Charles's eye. Before he can discern what the luminous blur is, it vanishes out of his viewpoint.

He nudges Sebastian with his elbow, tilting his head towards the office, "Someone's in one of the professor's offices." Considering everyone would be in the Great Hall for breakfast, he doubts there are papers to grade and any professor would want to trudge up five stories to fetch them.

The cold nips his face and he burrows his mouth deeper into the big collar when they hop on to their brooms, the wind picking up the harshness of winter making the whole trip entirely dreadful and there was a murder for them to investigate.

"All studies for the professors are enchanted to keep students out. Are you sure it's not a dormitory and a student slacking off breakfast?"

"No, Max's office is just below it. It has to be a faculty member"

Sebastian raises his eyebrow, and Charles thanks the cold for hiding his flushed cheeks and retorts at Seb's unspoken question, "You know Professor Button's office."

"From the inside, yes. But can I identify it from half a kilometer away from the hundreds of windows and multiple wings and floors of an eight-hundred year old castle?" Sebastian says incredulously, "How many times have you been to the offices?"

"I didn't visit them too often when I studied here," Charles deflects with a half-truth, "only when Max got us both in trouble and lost points for our houses."

To be fair, most hadn't expected Max to get sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin, whispering about Max breaking records on his O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts, slaughtering his way through the other teams in Quidditch, youngest seeker and a champion for the Goblet of fire. Not Charles though—he knows the same hunger that runs deep in Max about the speed and the race of victory but also of the cats back at his mother's house that Vic writes to him about, the numerous dogs, toads and horses that make up the household.

There were whispers about Charles too, Slytherin green unsuitable for someone always running second; loyalty is a Hufflepuff-ridden flaw and maybe that's the hunger within him gnaws at his edges. He's well past it now since graduation, since Max and he parted ways like they've hit the fork in the road and the chasm Charles will not let go.

Now, Max teaches the care for magical creatures at Hogwarts and transmutation, tracking bowtruckles and billiwigs and all sorts of fantastical beasts in his spare time. Charles wonders if the thrill is enough for Max to keep rejecting Charles's offers.

With Sebastian here, no doubt Max will want to seek answers and work with them, be an Auror beside him, wands drawn and fighting with their backs against each other. Charles must be wicked for being excited to visit a crime scene.

[piltoversfinest-caitvi]

Caitlyn Kiramman and Vi from the Artbook

Please note there are 221 pages in this artbook. I am not posting everything! But here are some of the spreads for both Caitlyn and Vi that I decided to upload. Some tidbits are also incredibly interesting!

If you want more snippets, I'll be over on twt posting them (@FelurianRose)

Temporarily out of stock but here is the link to buy the artbook: https://www.amazon.com/Art-Making-Arcane-Gaming/dp/B0D47SKF19

[torakowalski]

I was thinking about post S4 Dustin finding some songs that Eddie wrote and he decides he's going to record them as like, a memorial. But on the day he's too upset to do it, so Steve steps in and does it for him.

And it's only meant to be for the Party, but people hear it and the lyrics are good and Steve has a nice voice, so it gets on really local radio. Which leads to a bit more attention and then a bit more.

People want to interview Steve about it, this singer-songwriter from the town that was just destroyed by an earthquake.

But all Steve wants to do is explain how they're not HIS songs, they're Eddie's songs. Except! Everyone thinks Eddie is a murderer, so he can't say whose songs they are, just sort of talks around it. And it accidentally sounds like he's talking around them having been written by an ex boyfriend.

Some people who read the music magazines are like GASP that boy who sings those songs is queer! Like us!! And then he gets a FOLLOWING.

He truly has no idea how any of this is happening, but everyone from Hellfire is so happy that Eddie's songs are getting heard that he just kind of keeps going. Plus he's making money from them, which he can give to Wayne.

(Eddie obvs gets out of the Upside Down and is like, why have you POP SONGED my lyrics??

Steve like, um excuse that's rock. Also I think I've fallen in love with you via singing your songs. That's chill, right?)

[regency-monster-love]

Think of all the Wet White Shirt scenes in period dramas. Now imagine that instead of a man in a wet white shirt, it's an Orc. The wet fabric is practically see-through now, making all the lines of his green muscles and his thick black body hair visible to you. Maybe you can even see that his nipples are pierced. It's scandalous, but you can't help but stare, nor can you help getting a bit aroused. And the orc smells it—suddenly he's not so embarrassed to be seen so improperly attired.

[kraken17]

On account of the "Enid is the stalker" theory resurfacing in some corners of the fandom...

Wednesday: So, of all people, you are my stalker.

Enid: ...yes.

Wednesday: Just a minute after Xavier gave me that infernal phone object you threatened to sever his jugular if he didn't give you my number and the first thing you do after getting it is send me a death threat.

Enid: [nods].

Wednesday: And after that you have spent the last four months threatening me, manipulating images and videos and getting me to suspect everyone but you.

Enid: [nods again].

Wednesday: And you have only chosen to confess the truth to try to stop my attempt to eliminate Yoko, whom you had made suspect number 1.

Enid: Yep.

Wednesday: Enid, why? Why all this?

Enid: [very quietly] I thought you'd like it?

[beat]

Wednesday: Querida [takes Enid in her arms] ...I loved it.

Yoko: Okay, cool, but can you untie me from this pole and keep the gasoline away? Pretty please? Thank you.

[whisperofaflame]

Bruises

WandaNat x Reader

Just a short snippet written on a long drive home. (I’m currently covered in bruises after a very fun climbing trip, and it got me thinking about waking up with some more intimate injuries…)

-----------------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅-----------------

You wake up wedged between them, with Natasha nestled up behind you, and your head nuzzled into Wanda’s chest. Your vest top has ridden up in the night — or perhaps been lifted, since Natasha’s fingers are lying on the skin of your stomach. One of Wanda’s hands is resting around your hip, slightly curled into the waistband of your underwear.

You feel warm and safe snuggled up here, with one fist beneath your chin and the fingers of your other hand clinging to Wanda’s slip. Pressed between the bodies of your two favourite people, your muscles heavy and content, filled with a lingering ache from last night. Wanda and Natasha are still on either side of you, so you assume they’re both still sleeping. But when you shift your feet slightly, Natasha hums behind you.

“Good morning, malyshka,” she whispers in your ear, before kissing the back of your head. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hm,” you murmur affirmatively. You wriggle around, slow so as not to wake Wanda, and turn to face Natasha. She presses her forehead against yours, then tilts her head to kiss your lips. “Actually, I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

Natasha grins.

“I’m glad. You needed a good sleep; you’ve been working so hard lately, my little dove.” She brushes your hair out your eyes, and you reach to do the same to her, wanting to feel her soft curls between your fingers. Natasha frowns, and intercepts your hands on their way to her. “Malyshka…”

You follow her gaze to your wrists, where there is a reddish tinge to the skin.

“Oh,” you breathe, considering the bruises with interest.

“Do they hurt?” Natasha asks, looking worried as she inspects the damage. You shrug.

“Not really. I just bruise easily, I guess.”

Natasha presses a gentle kiss to each wrist.

“I’m sorry, lapushka moya. Maybe we need to be more careful next time.”

“No,” you whisper, wriggling forward and kissing her lips. “It was perfect. I don’t mind having a couple of bruises.” You hesitate, ducking your gaze as the truth bubbles in your chest. “In fact,” you admit quietly, glancing between your wrists and Natasha’s avid eyes, “I kind of like it.”

Natasha smirks, and presses her lips to yours again, giving you a brief but heated kiss.

“My little masochist. Noted.”

-----------------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅-----------------

[nyehilismwriting]

Project Hadea: Bonus Hub

Since it's been more than a year since I had an active Patreon, and I think the statute of limitations there has probably expired, I'm making the bonus content from there publicly available. This hub contains 20+ bonus snippets, both sfw and nsfw, written over 2022-2023. As always, this content is 18+ only, and may contain spoilers (or the suggestion of spoilers) for the main game :-) enjoy!

[cokoweee]

Srry drawing these guys make me happy atm

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy is gripping the steering wheel of his truck so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

He’s grinding his teeth and can already feel a headache starting behind his eyes while he’s staring up, up at the window of Evan's loft. He can see light behind the glass. Wonders what Evan might be doing right now.

If he might be with someone.

Tommy swallows around the lump in his throat. His chest feels tight with sadness and anger, and regret. It’s like a cold hand is curling around his heart, fading out the echo of all the good things he has felt with Evan. All the bits of happiness he allowed himself to have.

He misses Evan so much. Misses him so much it hurts.

You do know you could go up there. You could knock. And you could try to explain.

Tommy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing at his temples. It’s been too long. Evan probably already moved on, as he should. This … Whatever it is, is pathetic. Tommy is pathetic. It’s not the first time he’s driving past Evan’s place tonight. Not the first time he’s done it this week either. And he stopped counting the times he kept himself from texting Evan.

Just do it. It doesn’t matter if he already moved on. At least you could talk to him. Get some closure. Or … Maybe he’s missing you too?

Sounds too good to be true. But what does he have to lose? Tommy reaches for his phone. Opens the chat. Starts to type. 

Hey.

Deletes it again. Shakes his head. He can’t do this. He glances up at the window again, startling when he thinks he sees movement. Tommy shakes his head. It’s time to leave. Time to move on. Time to get himself together. Things like this happen. You're happy. You fuck up. Life goes on. What doesn't happen is that good things last. At least not when it comes to Tommy's life.

He is just about to start the motor when his phone vibrates with an incoming text message.

Evan: Hey. Do you want some cake?

Tommy freezes. He stares at the words until they start to blur in front of his eyes.

Evan: I know you’re there. Saw you bubbling me again. I’m seeing your truck too. You want to talk?

Tommy swallows. He shakes himself out of his stupor. Finally, he manages to type: Sorry. I’m not very brave.

Evan: We’re all scared sometimes. Why are you here, Tommy?

I missed you. Tommy can’t believe he typed that. And sent it. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears and feels slightly lightheaded.

Tommy can see bubbles. But no words appear. Then, the bubbles are gone. Nothing happens. Oh. Is this some kind of revenge? Tommy deflates. He gets it. Evan has every right to -

Evan knocks at the window on the passenger side of the truck, waving at him.

Tommy startles, almost dropping his phone.

“Hey,” Evan says, opening the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Tommy says in disbelief.

Evan climbs inside, sitting on the passenger seat. He hands Tommy a box. “Cake,” he explains, glancing at Tommy. “I baked a lot of it during these last few weeks. Kept me busy. Kept me from thinking too much. About … you. I missed you too, Tommy. Miss you every day, actually.”

Tommy stares at Evan, wide-eyed and with slightly parted lips, his heart beating faster. “Can we drive somewhere and talk?” He asks, holding on to the box of cake like a lifeline.

Evan smiles. “Yeah.”

(AO3 Link)

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Rook x Observant Reader excerpt pt way too many:

You give Vil a tight hug back. 

“You remind me of a mom,” you state. 

The model freezes. 

“What?” he asks.

You elaborate, “We’re your found family and you fuss over us, wanting us to be our best selves. You take care of all of us. Is that not what a mother does? Besides, you lean into your femininity and we all consider you the Queen of Pomfiore, not the king. Queens are sometimes referred to as the Mother of the Country.” 

“I suppose that makes sense. Thank you. I’m glad I’m a source of safety and comfort for you,” the actor answers, rubbing your back. 

“You also give milf vibes,” you add. 

He stiffens. You let go as Epel and Grim scream and cackle in the background. You grin, and Rook chuckles. 

“Oui, Roi de Poison does exude that beaute and mature energy,” he comments. “Just remember that people find them devastatingly attractive, Vil.”

The hunter maneuvers you out of the queen’s grasp and to the dormitories. From behind you, you hear Vil scolding the freshmen and demanding to see their homework. He’s not beating the milf allegations. 

(I love Vil. This is also very accurate... I hope I'm not giving away too many funny parts. Although I suppose I'm saving the drama for the full fanfic)

[light-koe-pinsky]

Bugs goes rogue

[stickdoodlefriend]

The fic is up now!

WIP Wednesday

So here they were, travelling through Izmir, Turkey, because Lian couldn't be more bothered when Roy was 'depriving his teenaged daughter to hang out with female role models especially as a single father' which is a load of emotional blackmail Mia must have fed her, so her, Mia, and Dinah could spend a week of her summer break doing 'girl things.'

It shouldn't worry him, but the last time Mia, Emiko, Dinah, and Sienna went anywhere for a girl's night in Star City, they got involved in a triple homicide case and took down a trafficking ring in Manchester while hungover. Roy hopes they're less wild with a teenager not allowed to drink yet and him checking in every night.

Dick stiffens underneath him, glancing at Roy troubled and beginning to untether, "It's been a long time since calling something a circus meant a good thing. I forgot."

There are no words Dick will appreciate from Roy's mouth for comfort even if those are the right ones for fear he'll splinter into a thousand needlepoint shards like glitter with no reference point to put himself together. Instead, Roy cups Dick's face and kisses him deep, resting his forehead against his and offers, "Want me to grab a cup of coffee for you? Heard they're killer over here."

Dick snorts, "Not if you're just getting it for me. You'd paint a target on my back, treating me so special, when you've got all these pretty ladies vying for your heart outside the door."

Roy thinks if it was anywhere else but the bustling 'mobile town' of the circus and the feather-light weight of flirting, Dick's words would carry a sharp edge of paranoia—wariness at the slightest attempt to ease his life and drop his guard despite the trust he gives.

"I thought coffee didn't do anything for you anymore?" Roy grins, deflecting if Dick was in fact in that headspace.

Coffee has never worked for Dick the way it does for Roy on a Monday morning. The unspoken consensus within the Titans is their self-medicating Robin using this instead of Adderall to cool down the jitters and regulate his wild swings of tunnel-vision hyperfocus and multi-tasking twenty tasks.

Before Dick can retort indignantly and untangle his rumpled mess out of the sun-warmed blankets, a knock on the door interrupts him.

Previous snippet >>

[piltoversfinest-caitvi]

Vi's full-back tattoo! I forgot to include this in my last post but I think this deserves it's own post :)

[torakowalski]

So the Olympics have started and @pennyplainknits and I have been talking about Swimmer Steve. His first Olympics is 1988, where he gets two silvers and a bronze. Two golds and a silver come in 1992 and he's all set to wipe the board at his home games in Atlanta 1996.

Except he has a training accident right before World's, some rookie crashes into him as he's making a turn at the wall, and he's stetchered off with a broken shoulder and a concussion.

What no one knows is that Atlanta was supposed to be his last Olympics. He and Eddie had life plans that didn't involve Steve needing to be firmly in the closet to keep his sponsorships. But he can't leave it there and Eddie isn't going to LET him leave it there. So he drags himself back to form, qualifies for Sydney 2000. And then...

"Wait," Robin says, grabbing Eddie's arm. "There's no way, he -"

Eddie is sitting so far forward in his seat that he's in danger of falling onto the people sitting in the row below. He reaches back blindly, ends up clutching Robin's knee with his fingernails.

"He can. He totally can."

He wasn't supposed to. He told everyone he just wanted to come to Sydney to compete.

But Steve was sixth at the start of the penultimate lap, fifth by the middle, fourth as he takes his final tumble turn. He pushes off long and strong, resurfaces in third and then it's on.

Half a length to go, he's level with Alexander Popov in second, and then he just, he surges. Eddie didn't know he could still do that, hasn't seen it in a decade.

The Dutch dude, Van Den Hoogenband is new and fast and twelve years younger than Steve, but Steve is strong and beautiful and stubborn as fuck. They're in sync for that final stroke, but even this far away Eddie is sure - he's _sure_ - that it's Steve's fingertips that touch the wall first.

On Eddie's left, Robin screams. On Eddie's right, Dustin yells, "Jesus Christ!" like all the air has been punched out of him.

Eddie yells louder than any of them. He's on his feet without knowing he's going to move, friends and family of Team USA jumping up and down around him, Robin and Dustin yelling in his ears, but Eddie's eyes are firmly locked on Steve, still down in the pool.

He's pulled his cap off, hair everywhere, and he and Van Den Hoogenband are side by side, waiting together with their eyes locked on the screen.

"He did it," Robin says, "he _did_ do it, right?"

"He did it," Eddie says. He did. They all saw it. Why the fuck is it taking so long for the confirmation to come up?

The screens flash, a ripple goes around the Acquatic Centre, and then finally, there it is: Van Den Hoogenband (NED) - 48.30; Harrington (USA) - 48.29.

(ETA: now with more here)

[regency-monster-love]

Regency Vampire who comes to a ball simply to watch and choose someone to feed from for the night, but somehow finds himself dancing with you.

Etiquette dictates that the lady may not ask the gentleman to dance, but you dropped so many hints to him, kept teasing him, were just so bewitching in your sweetness, that somehow he found himself asking you to dance, and you excitedly accepted.

So now he's dancing with you, touching you, and it's all proper, but you're so close that he can smell your blood flowing right under your skin, so delicate he could tear through it like paper. He can picture himself doing it, your hot blood pouring into his mouth, sliding down his throat, filling him with life stolen from you.

His fangs ache. He has to taste you. You're the only one he wants now, no one else will do. He needs you.

Yet he hesitates. You're so vibrant with life, shining with an inner light that he's loathe to dim. How could he put you under his thrall and watch your eyes go dull and your body sag like a mindless puppet? The thought is abhorrent, even to his dark mind.

Regency Vampire has hurt tens of thousands of people over the course of his unnaturally long life, but he never wants to hurt you.