#Rp snippets

[lettersnorth]

“Maybe I’m too much of a distraction.” "Aislinn, darling. You are the most welcome distraction that a man could ever ask for."

[barbwillbrb]

Snippet Sunday!

Thank yee @ladyofcrowsandcoffee for the tag! I finally got snippets to share for once thanks to the monstrosity of an RP @faerunsbest and I got going on.

I wanna show various aspects of Mortimer's persona, so here are five snippets showing different sides of him.

Combat Mortimer:

It was too strange, too surreal; faint memories flickered past his troubled mind, the ghost of his past life haunting him. Walking in his childhood footsteps, Mortimer worked his way through the house that was his personal hell, finding his way to the uppermost floors. His senses on high alert, he reached out with his magic, searching for any signs of life, but ultimately seeking one soul in particular– sure enough, Mortimer could feel him, a dark, angry force above him, in the office. Some things never change. 

While most of his father’s forces seemed to convene on the bottom-most levels– the man always, always hated being interrupted during his work, a lesson Mortimer learned all too well as a child, earning the scar on his wrist– a few lingered upstairs, holding fast to their positions as carnage echoed up the stairwells. The distraction proved fruitful; they never heard Mortimer approach, nor had the time to react when the wizard flooded their lungs, water blooming in their chests– the guards dropped dead, drowning where they stood, liquid tinged with red dribbling from their lips.

Hysterical/Sad Mort:

It wasn’t like Mortimer didn’t try, wasn’t like he didn’t want to– the gods themselves knew how much he wanted the man back. 

Fear, however, was an insidious, ugly thing– especially fear wrought from deep-routed traumas and broken memories. 

Mortimer knew damned well it wasn’t Sybyll that hurt him– not really, no. Sybyll wasn’t to blame for any of this. Unfortunately, the harm that befell Mortimer unlocked parts of his mind he kept buried for his own survival: all the very worst moments of his wretched life– the darkest, most vile recollections from his time with the cult, his time imprisoned. He couldn’t sleep without being taken to a dark, awful, choking pit. Nightmares weren’t nightmares when you knew them to be true, their marks buried deep in your skin. 

On the nights he could sleep, he woke in a cold, panicked sweat; Mortimer had taken to relying on potions to maintain any sort of rest. 

Mortimer didn’t just lose Sybyll; he was losing his damned mind, his peace, his sense of self.

More Sad Mort because making him miserable is fun, and he had to break in order to get better. Also, he swears!

It seemed fate would not bring Mortimer a moment’s peace, regardless of his misery. A knock came from the door, followed by Lennox’s voice; of course the wizard forgot something. Mortimer was half tempted to dismiss the werewolf’s concerns, simply wave away the questions or just refuse to open the door… if he didn’t know for a fact that Lennox would simply break it down to figure out what was wrong.

Besides, Mortimer didn’t want him to think something was wrong with the chair, not after everything Lennox had done for him. Gods– all this work to fix himself, and Mortimer was still a mess. Broken… incomplete. Without Sybyll, that’s exactly what he felt like, a puzzle without all the pieces. 

And Mortimer lost him. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Mortimer swore under his breath, wiping his eyes with his sleeves, his hands balled into fists in his frustration. He did his best to dry his face, pinching at his cheeks, and looked over the mess that was his desk. Hurriedly, he stowed the bottle and glass away, shutting the cupboard drawer. If he delayed any longer, Lennox would surely knock the door off its hinges. “Coming, coming,” he muttered, hating how hoarse his voice sounded; he should have brought water with him. Then again, his plan was to get shitfaced and forget about everything, wasn’t it? Thank Lathander that he only had the one so far. 

Mortimer being a disastrous romantic

It wasn’t that he had nothing to say– quite the opposite; the words came quite freely in regards to his feelings. The difficulty was trying to narrow down the torrent of emotions he felt for Sybyll into something that didn’t come off as the barely coherent, lovestruck ramblings of a madman– or led to him practically begging forgiveness for his stupidity. Although, if Mortimer was honest with himself, the shortest note he scribbled was probably the most accurate: “I am sorry, I am a fucking idiot, and I love you. Please tell me it’s not too late?”

A groan left him and he threw his head in his hands. At least Pinky was not trying to kill the goldish, or Mortimer very well might have lost his mind. Nothing was coming out right. Mortimer looked at the drawer of unsent letters, all pulled from his heart. Each one was a silly mess of fluff, pining, begging– unedited and raw. Why didn’t he send them before? Pride? Worry that it would be too much?

Each letter was nothing but honest. Mortimer needed to be honest– and damn-it-all, he didn’t give a shit anymore about his pride. 

Sybyll thought he was alone. Mortimer was determined to prove he never left his heart. 

He gathered all the letters and placed them in a box, surprised at the weight– he might as well have written a novel– tying it closed with red thread. Whatever Mortimer wanted to say, he would say it in the moment, and if Sybyll needed proof about his feelings– well, here it was, wrapped in a bow.

... aaaaaaand spicy time Mortimer

The vampire yanked his robe's collar free, fangs dragging lightly along his throat; Mortimer hissed in delight, feeling his lover trace an intoxicating path against his skin. The wizard wanted to be patient, to take this slow– but when Sybyll lay back, erection firm against his stomach, looking up at Mortimer with a pleading pout on his pretty red lips– he couldn’t hold back. “By Gods, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much– and I’ll fucking prove it,” Mortimer growled, removing his fingers, snapping into life a mage hand that quickly took on a more appropriate form. 

Working quick but gentle, Mortimer wrapped an arm around the smaller man, flipping their positions in an instant so Sybyll straddled his lap. His hands went to the man's waist, holding him in place as the ghostly cock slid between Mortimer’s legs, beneath his lover’s waiting entrance. Eyes dark with barely contained lust, he pulled the ribbon free from Sybyll’s neck with his teeth, kissing his way up to the vampire's jaw, then lips. Mortimer guided Sybyll down onto the cock, gripping his hips tight. “I’ve longed to do this for months,” he murmured, beginning to move Sybyll, his hold firm.

No pressure tag time: @lemonsrosesandlavender @faerunsbest @kimberbohwrites @commander-krios @savriea

[sergiusreports]

“Fine. You take off for one of them or one of them gets a hold of you, I’ll initiate shutdown hopefully before it can use you.” It went without saying Sergius didn't like it and it was a last option but given the alternative, he'd do it. August gets rattled out of this stupor by Sergius. He marches towards him with a thinly veiled rage, building and pent up and bursting, now. Out of control. “No. You won’t. Cuff him to the fucking bike, knock him out, I don’t care. Do what you need to do, except that.” August: “That’s an order.” Sergius turns his head to stare in Rema's direction as he approaches, unmoved in the face of the man's outburst or his attempt at issuing orders. If he needed the reminder, Rema was a pitch-perfect example of how emotions cast logic to the fucking wind every time. "I'll do what has the greatest probability of success. That's my job." So Rema could keep his orders. Arym goes on a start-stop-start-stop journey of trying to decide whether he should get in the middle, and he finally makes it close enough, "hey--!" His metallic fingers flex into the leather of August's coat, floundering as he tries to read August's expression. "…fuck, have a little faith, August. I'm not that easy to kill." “I want you to understand what life is supposed to be,” August manages. “And I want both of you to respect your own god damn humanity.” He may seem to be out of control, but he’s actually clinging onto what remains of it. He hasn’t lost it completely, and he doesn’t want that to happen while he’s with these two. It’s the last thing anyone needs. He inhales so sharply, it’s like something’s jabbed up and punctured his diaphragm. With that, on the cusp of being completely blinded by emotions he normally suffocates, he turns abruptly to leave. Sergius doesn’t try to stop him. It’s not the first, nor the last time people will confuse the fact that he wants any part of this humanity they claim to have. Acting as though it’s a fucking ideal he should strive for when he knows it to be anything but.

[thorneyes]

[goldenbeastkeeper]

(Flicker trying to come up with excuses as to why they don't know what Halloween is)

[shinyramblings]

They had all been traveling for a few days now, moving farther south than Solana had ever been before. The snow she was so familiar with this time of year eventually gave way to green forests as the three gateon moved to warmer climes. Her parents still hadn't told her why they'd had to leave. The two spoke in hushed worried whispers as she trailed behind, going silent whenever she picked up the pace to try and catch what they were saying.

"...Mama, when are we going home? I'm tired." The cub finally spoke up before sitting down. It was true. This was probably the most she'd ever walked in her life- her paws hurt, the grass felt sharp against her pawpads compared to the cold snow she was so used to.

Her parents stopped their walking when they realized Solana was no longer following, both glancing to the other before looking back at her sympathetically. She was so young... This wasn't a journey they would normally make with a child in tow, but... "Home isn't safe anymore, little one. We had to leave," Her father murmured before leaning forward to pick her up by the scruff. "We'll make a new home. A better one than the one we left."

"But I don't WANT a new home... There was nothing wrong with our grove, I don't see why we have to leave." The cub pouted, her mother leaned forward to rasp a tongue over her ear reassuringly.

"I know, Sol. We didn't want to leave either, but we want to keep you safe. One day you'll understand..."

----

She hadn't understood at all, not until the sounds of unfamiliar footsteps reached her ears one day as they walked. Not until her mother grabbed her by the scruff in a panic to run at full speed while her father turned to stand his ground with teeth bared and hackles raised in order to buy them time.

"Stay quiet!" Her mother let out a hiss from around her fur, Solana hadn't even begun to open her mouth to ask what was happening before she clamped her jaws shut. Something was wrong.

It felt like they were running forever, with the sound of fighting drumming in both lynxes ears before it eventually faded somewhat with distance. Her mother came to a small clearing in the forest and slowed to a stop, dropping the cub from her mouth in order to catch her breath before glancing around feverishly.

"Mama what's happening? Is...is Papa going to be ok?" Solana finally found the courage to speak, pressing herself against the larger cat's leg in an attempt to stop her trembling. She went ignored, her mother frantic and looking for something.

"Mama..?"

Finally her mother moved, nudging her with her nose towards a bush. An old fox den sat beneath it, partially hidden underneath the greenery. "Hide in here, don't come out until I come back for you. No matter what you hear out here, don't move, don't make a sound, ok?"

Solana's ears pricked at the sound of distant footsteps again, felt her heart pounding in her chest. "But-"

"Promise me, Sol." A paw shoved her inside and she let out a muffled yelp before turning around to spy her mother desperately digging in the dirt for a moment to cover their tracks before speeding out of the clearing as the sound of footsteps and hissing grew louder.

Elven boots and gateon paws she didn't recognize ran past her hiding place, barely paying the bush she was hidden under any mind. Harsh voices and even harsher growling came from them and she pressed herself farther into the den until their sounds faded into a distant echo.

Night had fallen and the sun rose once again before she dared to poke her head out further, ears pricked to listen for any sign of her mother or father. She was greeted with silence.

She was alone.

[bookished]

( a collection of fun and adventurous dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.

"Want to try sneaking into the movie theater?"

"There's this exclusive sky bar on the top floor. I bet if we act confident enough, we could just walk right in. Ready to blend in with the high rollers?"

"You know the 'Staff Only' areas in aquariums always look so intriguing. I've got an idea involving lab coats and clipboards. Interested?"

"There's a secret passage in this art gallery that leads to a hidden exhibit. I overheard the curator talking about it. Shall we go exploring?"

"I've always wanted to see a movie from the theater's projection room. I've got a friend who works here – you get what I mean?"

"So, that exclusive restaurant is fully booked for months, but I may have 'borrowed' a couple of names from the reservation list. Feeling adventurous?"

"The old amusement park's been closed for years, but I know a way in. Imagine having all those rides to ourselves under the moonlight."

"I heard there's an underground speakeasy in this library. Apparently, you need to whisper a password to the librarian. Wanna try our luck?"

"Remember that fancy pool party we weren't invited to? I've got two waiter uniforms and a brilliant plan. You in?"

"There's a secret rooftop garden on top of that skyscraper. I bet we could talk our way past security if we pretend to be lost interns."

"I know this sounds crazy, but I found a hidden door behind the museum. Want to see where it leads after closing time?"

"The local TV station does live broadcasts from that studio. I bet with the right timing, we could sneak onto a set during a commercial break. Ready for your 15 seconds of fame?"

"I discovered a hidden hot spring in the woods just outside town. It's a bit of a hike, but imagine a midnight dip under the stars."

"There's a secret room in the library that's usually locked. I copied the key while volunteering. Want to see what forbidden books they're hiding?"

"Remember that fancy cooking class that was full? Well, I may have found a way for us to observe from the kitchen's back entrance. Hungry for some culinary espionage?"

"I know how to get onto the roof of the tallest building downtown. The view of the sunset from up there is incredible. Shall we?"

"There's a masquerade ball at the governor's mansion tonight. I've got two masks and a wild idea. Care to crash a high-society party?"

"My friend works at the zoo and says we could help feed the penguins after closing time. Interested in a secret animal encounter?"

"I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

"There's a secret beach hidden behind those cliffs. The catch? We'll have to climb down a rope ladder to reach it. You up for it?"

"I found an old map of the city's underground tunnels. Fancy a subterranean adventure date?"

[b0nelessdoodles]

i keep thinking im gonna like actually finish these but that ain't happening so have some gay people

[ask-elland-n-will]

[Polyjuice Swap 2024!]

[William drank the wrong Polyjuice Potion: is there any doubt whose fur got into his vial?

Context: some Polyjuice Potions (sponsored by an organisation wishing to remain anonymous) have been specially produced for this Halloween party. They are meant to be swapped between students in secret to allow for fun interactions and "who are you"s. The rule of fun for bending the rules is allowed: long duration, change of clothes, transformations that are not normally possible with Polyjuice, and so on.]

William was really excited about this event as he was one of the people in charge of it, just like the year prior (as much as Cassandra claims it to be her idea). Potions allowing the user to change into some spooky creatures in spirit of the Halloween were a success back then, especially for those who didn't have a costume. Everyone from sandy mummies to cats with pretty bows roamed the ballroom (and some — wreaked havoc).

Changing into their classmates was not the aspect they'd considered until this year, and the permission to do it officially took Will a lot of time and effort. The prefects had to make sure that no transformed student left the designated area, that only the 7th-years took the polyjuice vials, and that the potions themselves were acquired from a reputable source.

William expected some cheating to occur, but not that it would affect him personally. And yet.

He took the vial he was given with excitement. Who would he become! Who else is participating! What is the pool of students he's picking from! William spent a few days looking through his archives, trying to recall his friends' mannerisms and speech patterns, obvious ticks and smaller details, typical topics of conversations, and so on. He was so prepared to play his role that—

— that when he watched in horror as teal fur started growing all over his face, as he felt the same hairy needles spread over the rest of his body, as sharp claws replaced his carefully manicured fingers (at least it didn't spread to his feet?), and as his lips— Merlin, he no longer had the lips, he had a beak! When all of that looked back at him in the mirror, all hope for a fun evening was lost.

[Welcome to the Swap!]

[angeart]

burny burny <3

grian blinks, and the item is flying at him, and he reaches for it without thinking, catching it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. it's cool and smooth against his fingers, ready to cause havoc.

he glances up from it at the cabin, then at scar. casually, he throws it up and re-captures it, a tiny ghost of a grin on his lips. his hands are steady now.

"alright." his eyes twinkle with mayhem, with retribution.

--

by the time he steps outside, the inside is filled with thick smoke and flames. yet he emerges unscathed, eyes alight and intense and lips curled into a smile, flint and steel once again tossed and caught as its job is done.

grian takes only a couple of steps before he's swivelling, wanting to take it all in. wanting to see this destruction in the process.

he stands facing the building that's quickly being consumed by an uncontrollable fire, set by grian's controlled hands. his wings flare out, bright and violet, the burning cabin a backdrop of deserved destruction.

the giddiness in him tips over. his wings are spread, without fear, for all to see. the cabin is the beacon here.

grian laughs.

[lettersnorth]

“We should go target practice sometime.” "Oh, fancy a competition, do ya? It would help test our aim." Luma joked, chuckling lightly. "A friendly wager could be partaken as well if you're up for it." Though he feared it would be a wager he may lose. Aislinn’s mouth curves up in a thrilled arc. “Come on now, I’m always up a little friendly wager. Especially if it involves my shooting.”

[frank-zhang-praetor]

Valgrace - Behind the Scenes : Part 1

I have more somewhere so maybe it will be a series.

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

[dreamlands-wifi]

Upon returning to the Aron Hero’s prison for the second time, seeking battle, Dreamland’s Protector was distraught at the scene that greeted him. The Aron Hero, albeit shabbily, had prepared a celebration for the Protector.

“I have seen your work!” The Hero claimed, running to Dreamland’s protector and enveloping him in a hug. “Oh, dear Knightmare, you tried so hard!” It cried, a smile behind a mask of stardust.

The Protector looked confused for a moment, but realisation dawned on him. In an effort to fulfill his duties, Dreamland’s Protector had tried to take complete control of his very own homeland. And the Aeon Hero was proud of him.

“You’ll be just like me in no time,” The Aeon Hero promised gently, filling the void with a sense of unease. The universe itself shook, scared of the promise of another Galacta Knight.

-?

[goldenbeastkeeper]

(They don't know it'll be decades before they ever see each other again)

[heylittleriotact]

It's Snippet Sunday Wednesday (because time is arbitrary soup and making your own rules is fun!)

I have been snippet-ed-ed by the ever wonderful, ever charming, ever hilarious @thefallenangelsgang and hiatus doesn't mean No Writing At All Ever. No. NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER.

Anyway, this is a portion from a WIP document that's lovingly titled "UNUSED" and it's taken on a life of its own and I'll probably finish it and post it as a oneshot at some point.

It's part of a story about the one time back in their adventuring days when Senna decided that the best way to help their cleric friend was to drug her into unconsciousness at the dinner table.

Enjoy!

(Also, forever thanks to @allofthebarks for the absolute joy that is Nayeli <3)

The next evening, Senna sat at a table in a secret demiplane with Kali, Ennic, Nayeli, and her father, Malek: the hulking Efreeti they had freed from the dreadful prison in the fire plane where he had languished for the entirety of his daughter’s life until very recently. 

Upon his return to the inn the night before, Senna had spoken with Ennic and Kali while Nayeli was doing her evening prayers and the three had hatched a plan: bring Nayeli to her father’s safehouse and somehow talk her into staying with him while they ventured to the hells to deal with the matter of her contract… do everything they could to hang the fact that she had a lifetime full of memories to make with her absent father over her head and hope that it was enough to guilt her into sitting this one out. 

It was a terrible idea, and arguably opened her to knowingly breaching the contract if she agreed to it - which she wouldn’t, judging by what Senna knew of the stubborn cleric by now - but no one else needed to know that. 

All that mattered was that they were here, around this table, sharing a sumptuous feast from Malek’s magical pantry as father and daughter continued to acquaint themselves amongst cheerful company. Wine was poured, truths were told, jokes were made and memories too. 

Timeless as this plane was, hours flew by in effortless enjoyment. It was hard to come by guiltless laughter and frivolity for the four thrown-together adventurers these days. Senna found himself enjoying the novelty of well-wasted time with others… a feeling he hadn’t felt deserving of in centuries. 

But there was still work to be done. 

He flipped his silken golden hair over his shoulder with one hand and reached over the table, making to nudge Ennic’s scaled hand away from the plate of massive olives - one of the many delectable treats on the table. “S’cuse me, your lordship.” A jesting mockery of the white dragonborn’s proud noble heritage. 

“Hey now!” Ennic chided, the air around his nostrils clouding as he huffed with indignance. 

Senna popped an olive in his mouth, meeting his scaled companion’s glacial eyes purposefully as he slid the fruit over his tongue and delicately gnawed at the soft flesh, stripping it away from the pit with his molars. 

Kali was pouring herself another glass of wine. Nayeli was speaking loudly to her father, her hands flashing through the air as she regaled him with some tale. Malek stared at her, attention rapt - taking in every word, every motion, every breath of his daughter as if she might vanish into dust any moment.

“You seem… tense,” Senna said, lifting his hand up to draw the naked pit from his mouth, watching the dragonborn’s eyes follow the path of his fingers all the way from his lips to the bowl where the other pits were piled up. His left hand popped the cork from the vial he had procured the night before and as he dropped the pit in his right hand, his left extended over the table in a precise, fluid movement. It passed over Nayeli’s cup of wine - one, two - then back to him, his fingers snagging another olive, the half empty vial secreted in his palm. “Want to talk about it?” He flashed Ennic a devastatingly coy smile. 

Ennic squinted then rolled his eyes, picking up his cup of passionfruit juice and swirling it with dignity. “Ha-ha. Mister I-Hate-Rich-People-And-Look-Good-Doing-It-Because-I’m-A-Pretty-Elf trying to bully me around because of my upbringing. Soooo predictable!” He took a sip and pursed his lips defiantly at Senna. 

Senna arched a brow and chuckled. “I only wanted an olive. You’re the one that made it personal.” He made a point of drawing his lower lip through his teeth, earning a faint rush of pink that sashayed across Ennic’s snout. Next to the dragonborn, he marked the movement of Nayeli taking a big drink of her wine - she was well in her cups and well past the polite sipping she’d been doing earlier. She slammed it back on the table, spilling a few drops before launching back into her story. 

“Look, I don’t know you three the way you know each other, but sometimes I get the sense that you’re not telling me everything.” 

Senna smiled drolly around the second olive, eyes lidded as he stretched his bare arms up over his head luxuriously. “How does one put a definition to something as inescapably broad as ‘everything’ though?” He worked the meat from the olive once more and maneuvered the pit with his tongue to the front of his mouth where he gripped it very, very gently with his incisors. 

Ennic’s rose-pink blush deepened, and his eyes darted away. “Stop that.” 

The pit fell into Senna’s waiting palm and he chucked it effortlessly into the bowl. “Stop what? I’m only eating olives. I didn’t realize that was a crime in this demiplane.”

Ennic’s neck frills flared, quivering slightly and throwing off flecks of frost as his claws dug into the table and he leaned over the banquet to Senna. He opened his mouth to retort at the exact same time Nayeli very loudly declared, “There were orgies in Sune’s temple, but not as many as you would think!” She shot to her feet, downing another mouthful of wine and pointing at nothing somewhere over Malek’s shoulder. “The lookie-loo tourists were verrrrrry disappointed… buncha perverts…” She frowned, swayed on her feet… looked at Senna. The frown became a glare. “You dare–” 

And then she collapsed back down to the bench and folded face first onto the table. Her goblet rolled from her hand onto the table, its contents staining the weathered wood. 

The room turned crimson, then white. Steam billowed off of Ennic as the windowless sanctuary they occupied became unbearably hot in an instant.

“WHAT?!” Malek was on his feet, fists the size of swans slamming onto the table. “MURDERERS!” He roared, white flame blazing from his eyes and curling up his brow.

Huge. He was huge. His arms were as wide around as Senna and he towered over his daughter’s so-called friends, sparks spilling from his mouth as he looked to each of them as if deciding who to roast first.

At the sudden sound of Nayeli hitting the table, Kali had sprung away from the bench, pressing her back to the wall and holding her daggers before her defensively, lip curled in a fanged snarl as her pointed tail cut through the air around her. 

Ennic was staring with an awestruck expression at Malek, and Senna clambered over the table to stand between the enraged Efreeti and the dragonborn, hands held high.

“No! No murder. She’s fine - just sleeping. I swear.” 

This. This was why Ennic and Kali couldn’t know of his plan: better he be subjected to a molten ass-kicking at the hands of an extremely pissed off Efreeti than all of them. 

He ducked under the fiery fist that was barreling towards his face and nudged a pile of rolls off of a silver platter, kicking it up into his hand as he straightened. “She’s fine, see?” He knelt on the table and with deliberately exaggerated tenderness turned Nayeli’s head so she was no longer facedown on the table. He held the platter in front of her mouth and angled it so Malek could see her breath fog the polished surface. 

This appeared to at least somewhat quell Malek’s rage as he appeared to be gripping the edge of the table in a concerted effort to restrain himself from throwing another punch at Senna. The wood under his fingers sizzled and blackened. 

“You had better have a very good explanation as to why you think you can come into my home and poison my daughter in front of me and leave this place alive.” Sparks flew from his mouth with each word. “Explain.” He demanded in a tone that promised painful death should the explanation not satisfy. 

No pressure tags if you feel like it or if you have anything cooking: @allofthebarks, @inkymoonbunny, @roguishcat