#wippet snippet

[heart-0f-a-rebel16]

I’m gonna throw up these dorks are so cheesy

[novemberhush]

I’m posting this in the hopes that it’ll make me actually finish something (slightly) longer than a drabble. (Nobody hold their breath, though.)

Anyway, this is from a fic that was originally supposed to be a drabble (which I started back in August of last year and then abandoned) for a set of prompt words from the @sterekdrabbles blog, but there was no way I could make it work in just 100 words, at least not in the way I wanted, so, if I do manage to finish it, I’ll be submitting it to the @sterekdrabblesgonelong blog instead. Check both blogs out for all your Sterek needs!

“Derek! Come on! Dance with me! Pleeeeeeeeeease!” Stiles wheedled, his speech grown more slurred since he’d disappeared into the heaving throng on the dancefloor with Erica hours before and not looked back. Clearly they’d found the bar at some point.

Derek sighed the long-suffering sigh of ‘too sober for this shit’ people everywhere.

“How much alcohol has he had exactly?”

An unrepentant Erica shrugged, smirking, before an unsteady Stiles, swaying like the pendulum in the old grandfather clock that used to stand in the hall of Derek’s childhood home, interrupted with a question of his own.

“Are you scared?”

I tag @all-or-nothing-baby @stellarmeadow @chaoticfandomgirly and anyone else who feels like sharing something they might be working on (doesn’t matter if we’re mutuals or not). No pressure on anyone who doesn’t feel like sharing/have anything to share.❤️

[phoenixiancrystallist]

"Dunno. Guess we'll just have to ask."

"You keep saying 'we.' Need I remind you that you're the only one who can hear me?"

"Okay, fine. I guess I'll just have to ask. And you can just sit there and look pretty."

"Aww, you think I'm pretty."

"Shut the fuck up."

[jamiesfootball]

Blue rose pastries! (Not tentacle monsters.)

These are so mesmerizing. Have a snippet!

“Sam looks like he can handle things on the fly because he trains so much, but he doesn’t do well with surprises. If something unexpected happens, he freezes up. If I’ve gotta move the ball on the fly, it’s going to Dani. He likes a little spontaneity.” Roy made another note- “Put Sam in more situations.”

[tenderhooked]

Legit anything with Jamie pls and thanks 🌹🌹

SORRY TO EVERYONE i am currently on my football kiddos agenda so. that is what y'all are getting. SORRY.

Jamie’s brow furrows, as if he’s thinking through the merits of a post-footie treat that’s not a scone. If his expression is any indication, it’s a grave consideration. “D’you promise?” he asks, at length. He gnaws on his thumb a little, and then tugs it from his mouth, like he doesn’t want to be caught. “Yes,” Roy says. “Pinky fucking promise.” “Even…even if I don’t make all the goals?” Jamie says. His voice is pitched, high and tremulous. “I get a sweet even if I don’t make all the goals?”

jamie............. JAMIE!!!!

[antitheticallyargumentative]

🌹

from any wip of your choosing they are all lovely <3

you are getting more of this infernal scene from the jamie study that took me three literal weeks to get through.

“I’d say fuck you.” Jamie spits it out without really thinking, cos he’d never say it to his dads face. The closest he ever got was don’t speak to me like that. Don’t speak to me like that. Don’t speak to me like that. It didn’t even feel that good, like he thought it were s’posed to. Felt fucking terrifying, really.

Ted doesn’t like swearing that much, Jamie doesn’t think, but he nods thoughtfully again and goes, “Makes sense. Anything else?”

A jolt of panic goes through him. Ted’s lookin’ down like he expects something, eyebrows raised all friendly and open-like, but Jamie can’t help but feel like he’s fucked it, somehow. Maybe by going with fuck you. Ted’s not one for vitriol, no, he'd rather say something sweet and then turn a blind eye. It might work for some people. It’s never worked for Jamie. “Yeah,” he fumbles, his breath hitching funny. His dad made him good at football, right? That’s something worth being grateful for. “I’d say… thank you.”

tyyyyy :)

[adickaboutspoons]

Rules: Post the last line in your current WIP and tag as many people as there are words.

Ed briefly weighed the pros of maybe accidentally getting stabbed again and letting Stede tend to his wounds against the cons of explaining the how and why of the butter knife’s current location embedded in the wall.

I should have been abed an hour ago, so if you want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

[phoenixiancrystallist]

He grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her down into a kiss, messy with the blood staining his lips and dribbling down his chin.

"Never," he hissed, "ever apologize for the greatest gift anyone's ever given me. Now fucking run before they find you."

She huffed, wrinkled her nose in blatant defiance. She would not run. They both knew it. Stubborn, headstrong fool. He loved her for that, too, even as he hated her for it.

Writing Prompt #2960

"I'm sorry for loving you." She admitted. "It got us into this mess, and I don't think it's going to get us out of it."

[ofmermaidstories]

a snippet (wippet) from the shouto fic:

[manygeese]

snippets from my wippets 😎

@puzzled-pegasus

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Wrote this earlier today and it gives me a giggle so figured I'd share :3

"Do you... understand what fuels my powers? At all?" "Nope," Bobbi answered with complete honesty. "It isn't simply 'life energy.' I consume their souls." Incredulity hung in the air for a beat before Bobbi snorted. "Seriously?" "Yes." She almost choked on her giggles. "What in the anime bullshit— Souls? Their fucking souls?" "I don't understand what's so funny." "No, I know, I'm sorry, it's just— It's so cliche!" "I beg your pardon?" He actually spluttered, which did nothing to calm Bobbi's incredulous mirth. "Cliche?" Her giggles warped into full-on cackles that she fought to control. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Look, again, if it's just the Broken whose souls you're eating, I don't care! They're already dead, yeah?" "Yes...?" "Then what does it matter?" "...Bobbi, do you know what a soul is?" "Yeah, I—" Bobbi cleared her throat and forced herself to treat this conversation seriously. "Okay, you had to ask that, so maybe I'm being insensitive. So let's, let's approach this sideways. I know what I think a soul is." Susurrus and Knell shared the interesting skill of being able to sigh without owning any lungs to sigh with. "Explain it to me."

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Frey sighed through her teeth. "I'm sorry."

"There," Cuff said, "was that so hard?"

"Yeah, it was fucking torture." She hesitated, then continued. "But you're right. I should have listened to you."

Cuff chuckled, but it ended on a pained grunt as Frey scrubbed a little too hard trying to buff out the gouge Gigas had left on him. "Apology accepted. I'm sorry, too."

That surprised her. "For what?"

"That I couldn't protect you at the end there."

Frey had to stop what she was doing so she didn't make the damage he'd taken worse. "Wha— Cuff, you were broken! I almost thought you were dead!"

"You mean you hoped?" Cuff teased despite the pain in his voice.

"No, idiot, I was scared shitless! You're my only friend out here, I—" She cut off. She'd said too much. Let her heart run away with her mouth. The worst part was she couldn't run this time; whatever Cuff decided to do with that, she was stuck with him. Her only solace was he couldn't just throw her away like her foster parents had every time she started to get attached. They were stuck together, but if he wanted to leave like everyone else anyway—

"Frey? Frey, I need you to take a deep breath."

She did. It didn't help, but she took another one just in case that did the trick.

"I'm not going to leave you, Frey," he promised, and at first she was certain she'd heard him wrong. 

Prompt #1030

"Do you really need me to say it?"

"Yes. Please."

[jamiesfootball]

🌹🌹🌹 please tear through them like chips. We will send more!

You are so freaking nice to me. Here's a snippet from the the 5+1 jamie falling asleep pavlovian fic:

Then from the front of the bus, in a voice that wasn’t trying to be quiet, Jan Maas said, "Well this is awkward."

The blood rushed to his face, humiliation settling thick in his throat as his eyes prickled. Beside him he felt Roy stiffen like a brick, a sensation so clear that Jamie didn't need check to see the expression of murder on his face.

"Jan," Isaac snapped, his voice booming and captain-ly. "What the fuck?"

"What are we supposed to do, pretend otherwise? That was shit." Louder, he added, "That was shit, Jamie!"

"Oh my God,” said Moe. Jamie couldn't agree more.

"Read the room, man," Cockburn added, sounding hoarse for some reason.

“I’m going to kill him,” Roy hissed under his breath, and even though Jamie knew, he knew it couldn't possibly be aimed at him this time--he hadn't done anything, he'd barely fought back--the words set something scrambling in his chest, making him flinch hard against the window like a wounded animal trying to break free.

There was a shuffling from the seat in front of him. A soft voice asked, "Amigo?"

[tenderhooked]

🌹🌹 brings my empty bowl of football kiddos angsty whumpy goodness up to you, please may I have some more?

always ALWAYS!!!

Christ. First it was Lasso and his fucking mustache, now it’s Keeley and her fucking pom-poms. Maybe Roy should put up more decorations around the flat; the walls are bare and white, blank as a fresh canvas, and probably not much fun for a fuck-muppet to stare at all day without end. He’s completely goddamn clueless when it comes to child-rearing, but he’s seen those idiots online who deck their nurseries out in beige and grey. There’s something real fucking sad about a kid growing up in the dark like that. Roy’s not much for the sun, but he’ll fling the windows wide open if it means Jamie doesn’t have to be one of them. And if it also means Jamie will quit babbling on about mustaches and pom-poms and people who’ll ruin him the minute Roy lets them get too close, well. Roy can keep that bit to himself.

royo means so much to me!!!!! sorry royo. everything will be okay (eventually).

[antitheticallyargumentative]

🌹🌹🌹🌹 i can’t remember if i already sent any but love to read whatever you want to share with the class

thank youuuu <3 here’s a bit i wrote recently from the season 4 fic

tw- jamie’s dad, mention/implication of the Amsterdam Thing (not detailed. but there.)

There’s a singular framed photo on the table, in a room that is otherwise bare of personal touches. The glass is dusty, like it’d just been pulled out of a storage box, or something. Jamie can’t help but wonder if his dad might’ve set it there, just this morning. Just for this. Then he can’t help but feel guilty for assuming shit like that. Then he can’t feel much of anything, cos he’s looking at the photograph, really, now, and it’s Jamie and Dad, and Jamie’s fourteen at the Johan Cruijff, and he remembers Dad got someone to take that picture at halftime, when Jamie was smiling cos he thought — Before— Before— He turns away, hands shaking and tingly. He shoves them in his pockets.

you can always send me asks babes , i thrive off the pressure to provide Content

[thusspoketrish]

WIPPET SNIPPET!!!

I'm almost finished with this massive Drarry story + art that I've been working on, and I'm a bit nervous (and so thrilled, really! haha) to share it with you all! To ease into it, here's a little snippet + my Harry for you. I hope you enjoy it! xx

Many thanks to my lovely friends: beta reader @youknowyoudid and alpha reader @dewitty1. Ya'll are keeping me sane as we cross this finish line together! Love ya both, MWAH!

Draco tries to put Potter out of his mind until the object of his thoughts appears in the arts and crafts room. 

Potter shuffles in, clad in threadbare joggers, a plain white t-shirt, and a dressing robe, his feet snug in slippers that have seen better days. Despite the late hour, he appears to have just risen from a deep slumber. The telltale signs of medication linger in the slight droop of his eyelids and the sluggishness of his movements. His eyes, however, betray a sharpness, a keenness that sweeps across the room before settling on Draco. 

Draco’s hand falters, and the paintbrush he’s holding slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor. He remains rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with Potter’s. There’s an unmistakable tension in the air as Potter slowly advances towards Draco’s Nest, each step measured, each movement deliberate. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Potter’s voice slices through the air, dripping with disdain, sending a shiver down Draco’s spine. 

His words, though slow from the effects of medication, carry an undeniable threat that causes Draco’s heart to slam against his ribcage. He lowers his gaze to the table, his hair falling like a drape to shield him from Potter’s piercing stare. The room feels suffocating; each breath he takes is a struggle against the rising panic and regret threatening to drown him. He grips the edge of the table, his knuckles white, desperate to hold onto the last shreds of his composure in the one place in hospital he thought was safest.