#Story snippets

[moodymelanist]

happy wip wednesday, my fellow freaks. enjoy a snippet from sub!cassian:

“Hello?” Cassian answered immediately, not even bothering to pretend like he hadn’t been waiting around for Nesta’s call.

“Hey,” Nesta said, and then her casual tone shifted into something distinctly more teasing. “Did you even wait for the phone to ring? Jesus.”

“Sorry,” he immediately said back, his face heating up despite the fact that she couldn’t even see him. “I was just, uh… excited to talk to you, I guess.”

“Don’t apologize,” she told him. “It’s cute. What are you up to?”

Cassian relaxed a little into his chair at the word. “Just making dinner. What about you?”

“Deciding what to order for dinner,” she told him. “I can’t cook worth a damn. What did you make?”

“Chicken parmesan,” he replied, his mind already conjuring up the image of cooking something delicious for her. He wouldn’t even mind cleaning up the dishes after. “What do you mean you can’t cook?”

Nesta sighed, and the sound of it had Cassian’s lips curling up into a grin. He couldn’t wait to hear this. “I may have been banned from the stove after I burned water once.”

“You’re kidding,” Cassian breathed, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“That’s not important,” Nesta responded over the sound of his laughter once he couldn’t hold it back. “I know my strengths now, and that isn’t one of them.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll make you something,” he told her. “Unlike you, I am allowed to use my own stove.”

“Fuck off,” she said, laughing quietly. She had such a pretty laugh, and he wanted to hear it more often. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. I won’t even hold that against you.”

“Trust me,” he said back. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did.”

“Masochist.”

[crypt-arcaneum]

Story Snippets: Baking

First Snippet of a random assortment I found in my writing folder!

Mammon X Fem!MC

Mammon’s head rested on his hand as he watched, Robin had decided to do some baking. She had bustled in this morning with arms full of groceries from the human world, insisting that he help her make some human world food. 

So here they were, an hour later, Mammon leaning on the counter watching as Robin worked on another pumpkin-based dessert. It didn’t bother him as much as he let on, some time alone with his favorite human? He’d be crazy to miss this, even though it was mostly just her telling him what to do. It had been ages since it was just the two of them, one of his brothers always butted in. Asmo invited himself onto their shopping trips and made him pay for everything. Levi dragged her off to his room to play some game he didn’t understand, Satan did the same, but with his stupid mystery novels. He couldn’t even get close when the twins decided they wanted to nap with her in the attic. And Lucifer, don’t get him started on Lucifer. So what if they were dating, who cares, he was her first. He should-

“Mammon?” Robin’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He jerked slightly, looking down at the witch in question. She peered up at him, a bit of concern in her eyes as a hand came to gently rest just above his wrist. “You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just thinking.” He shifted, turning to face her fully as she pulled away.

“About?” 

“Nothin’” he huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

She turned back, “seemed awful focused for just ‘nothin’, Mams” 

He flushed at the nickname, “It’s MAMMON,” he snarled, “none of that cutesy, nickname crap. Show some respect to THE Great Mammon”

She cocked a brow at him, “none? Not a single one?”

“Hell no!”

She leaned back, closing her eyes sadly, “now I guess only Beel and Belphie get nicknames”

“Good! I didn’t even--” he started before realization hit “wait what’s that supposed to mean”

She had already started mixing again, “it’s exactly what I said, I’ll only use Mammon when I talk to you” 

“Hang on! I didn’t say that!” he floundered, fumbling towards her. “I just meant… I mean I--”

She twisted around, the spoon coming up to silence him, “Yes you did. Make up your mind Mammon, this mixed messages shit is getting annoying”

He pulled back slightly, flushing even more, “c’mon, ya’ know what I mean”

“No, Mammon. I don’t.” she scowled.

He lightly grabbed her hips, dragging her towards him, shooting her a pleading look. But she didn’t budge, leveling him with an unamused glare that rivaled Lucifer’s. He dragged her even further forward, winding an arm around her back and dropping his head onto hers. He wrenched his eyes shut, face burning at this point as he willed himself to speak, “please keep callin’ me nicknames”

He dropped his head onto her shoulder, “please”

She sighed, moving a hand up to card through his hair, “alright Mams, I’ll just save it for when it’s just the two of us, alright?”

He nodded and squeezed her again, she hummed before gently prying herself away from her first man. “Now, let’s get back to baking, shall we?”

[rotting-ink]

i need to meet A. Lancaster so bad! and i need to make them the most wholesome witch ever! i need this witch to make them facepalm, a witch that makes them go "i am hunting THEM???" with pure incredulity because like, sure they are a witch and inherently dangerous and all that, but like, "REALLY!?!? THAT ADORABLE WEIRDO?!?!?"

HONESTLY, IT MAKES ME SMILE.

The head hunters office, cold and orderly. A Lancaster reporting with their findings.

"Dr. Knight is a registered Grey Witch and had no contact with the victim. There are a few others that seem to fit the profile of the killer."

Laurence DuGray watches them over the rim of his cup, steely gaze unflinching as A tucks their papers away.

"I've heard... That there is another. This one." He pushes a folder towards A, tapping on the cover twice with his gloved fingers before withdrawing.

A steps forward and picks it up, promptly flipping to the front page. A beat.

"... Are you kidding, Sir?"

"... Excuse me, Lancaster?"

"Sir, I think whomever told you this has missed the mark. I have met this person and I cannot emphasize enough that they are the last personal to be an untagged Witch, nevermind a Dark one."

[whencatsfoxesandwolvesfly]

Gust Forth, and Cast a Dawning Flight of Twin Midnight Steel (Working Title)

GitLab OneDrive: Snippets

As stated in the project read-me:

A potential 'transgender female Kirito' Sword Art Online AU fan work.

Also an isekai 'Aincrad is/becomes real' work, I think.

This isn't anything I've really started devoting any serious time to yet (as of this writing.)

I'll start with these few snippets of potential dialog that I've come up with so far. ('No plan survives contact with,' of course.)

---

Snippet 1 — Kirito talking with Argo and Mito some time between the end of Sword Art Online's beta test and the game's launch:

For lead-in, see:

https://gitlab.com/RandomDSdevel/gust-forth-and-cast-a-dawning-flight-of-twin-midnight-steel/-/blob/main/All%20Content%20(Unprocessed)/Development%20Logs,%20Notes,%20and%20Musings/Sketches%20and%20Outlines/Plot%20and%20Scenario(s)/Initial%20Plot%20and%20Scenario%20Sketch.md

Mito: …Y'know, you could crossplay, like I did. Argo, after a short beat: I could see ya pullin' it off, actually. Ya'd make a cute girl, Kii-bou. Kirito, gob-smacked: Wha — Argo!?

Somewhat-obvious 'TO-DO:' Figure out how/where, exactly, the conversation leads on from there.

---

Snippet 2 — Kazuto's first ALO log-in and character creation:

Kazuto (thinking to himself:) An I really about to go through with this?

---

Snippet 3 — Suguha figures out that Kirito's been crossplaying and confronts him about it:

(Kind of a two-fer, but both parts go together.)

(Note: The text below, as currently drafted, includes some CriticMarkup.)

Suguha, bursting into Kazuto's room right as he's logging out of ALO: How long?! Kazuto, still reorienting himself a bit after logging out: Wait, Sugu, what? Suguha, persistently insistent: How. Long!? How long have you been playing as a girl!? Kazuto: Oh. You figured out {~~it->that {>>Kirito's female avatar's screen/user name~~} was me, then. Suguha: ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Kazuto, tentatively: So, then…you aren't mad? Suguha: (Huffs a short sigh.) …{>>([Note] TO DO: Figure Suguha's exact response here out. I know she may suspect that this continuity's Kirito is a dense transwoman in denial after hints from some of his behavior in-game, but I'm not sure of the precise details of how she noticed this or how she'll verbalize it while doing so gently. I also don't know if this continuity's Suguha might or might not have met any transgender individuals before. There may be a remote chance that she's run into and has become at least acquainted with one at school? Not sure if they'd be in her class, though, or even her grade.) <<}

---

Snippet 4 — Only a short time before SAO's launch:

(Note that Kirito has started to question his birth-assigned gender enough by this point for this to make sense as a conversation by now.)

Suguha, speaking a little softly/gently: So…, which avatar are you going to use in SAO? Kazuto: Honestly? I…don't know. Suguha: …I wouldn't mind having a big sister, actually, you know. I didn't think I'd have to lose my big brother to get one, though. It's just… — you looked like you were having fun. You've been sad for a while, and you deserve the chance to be happy. I won't — I can't stand in the way of that. Kirito: That… — that's what scares me. What if I lose myself? (Some kind of steely response to this from Suguha where she: 1.) forcefully refutes this and 2.) affirms her support for her sibling.)

(He settles on his ALO/girl look.)

---

Snippet 5 — After Kirito Finalizes their decision on which avatar to use for SAO and before logging in:

This could actually happen not too long after the previous snippet, maybe even as a direct continuation of it. I'm not sure of its exact timing just yet.

Context: Suguha is telling Kazuto that they need to tell their mom and dad that they're a transgirl.

Suguha: After we log out, you really need to tell Mom and Dad. Kazuto, still kind of anxious about it and bracing themself for it: …Yeah.

(…I may not be entirely happy with this snippet yet? It gets the gist across for now, though.)

[moonshine-nightlight]

Last Line Tag

I like participating in these, but i either answer them right away or not for a week lol - thanks @snowkissedmonsters!

Rules: Post the last line(s) you wrote/edited.

For the next chapter of Nothing's Wrong with Dale:

"I suppose that reminds me, do you wish for me to call you by another name?”

“Hm?” He half turns towards you, but continues to look so clearly inhuman. Its fascinating what light and shadow can do to change a person.

You’re not scared of him, but you are somewhat intimidated by the gap in your experiences. How much you still don’t know of him as even this basic question demonstrates. “I only meant for when we’re alone, of course. But you must have a name besides ‘Dale’?” As soon as you clarify, you start to second guess yourself. What did you know of demons and their naming conventions. You’ve heard tell that names mean something to them. Or that they use them differently? But what was rumor and what was fact, you’ve no notion.

“Oh!” Dale turns fully away from the fire, looking startled, and you realize he’s returned to looking fairly human. His eyes must be the hardest to control. They still seem to have a glimmer of firelight in them. After he gets over his surprise, he appears to give it a brief second or two of thought before shaking his head. “No, I don’t mind Dale.” You breathe out a sigh of relief that you didn’t accidentally offend him. He continues, “We didn’t have names as such in the Depths, not permanent ones. Names, if you wish to call them, were to reflect who you were in a context. In this context, I am Dale of Northridge.”

-/-

No idea who to tag that hasn't already been tagged - @nessiefromspace? @vaya-writes ? No pressure though - whoever wants to be tagged can jump in.

[creatorbiaze]

Meet Videns; one of the most feared Draconic Deities

just some snippets of Videns's chaos antics that I couldn't think of full short stories for

"w..what are you doing, Videns?" Blaze asks, watching Videns inspect a small rock while sitting on the table in the lab. She's learned by now not to leave Videns unsupervised in the science room.

"Science!" Videns almost-whispers, smiling widely as she tosses the rock into the bucket of water on the ground beside her.

Blaze jumps back when it starts to spark and pop, catching fire, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?"

"sodium metal," Videns replies, tilting her head and giving a closed eye smile, "it's highly reactive with water."

Cobra frowns while watching the energetic teen dart around the lab. 'This is the Guide of the Vengeful, the most dangerous Salhan Deity...?'

"What are... you doing... anyway?" Cobra decides to ask, cautious.

"got bored, tryna learn more about the acid you guys have. Salhan Draconics have mildly poisonous blood because of how we process Salha's poison, you guys are naturally scavengers and have an acid in your saliva that helps you eat basically anything that used to be alive. Fascinating, isn't it?" the teen replies, speaking quickly, before finally looking at Cobra directly. She's smiling widely, like always, and holds a metal cup out for Cobra, "hey, your family has venom in your fangs too, right? Can you do me a favor and gimme some venom? I wanna see how it interacts with things."

"w-wha-"

"Venomize the cup, Cobra," They cut off Cobra, smiling brightly.

"Where are you leading me...?" Pandora asks, following Videns down the worn path, looking at the flora around them. None of the plants were familiar to her. She sees a beautiful star-shaped flower, and reaches up to gently touch one of the petals.

"The Celestial Pantheon. Oh, by the way, if you see a star-shaped flower with sky blue-to-periwinkle petals, don't touch it, it'll kill you," Videns says with a cheerful smile. They smile even wider when they hear Pandora shriek in fear and jump back.

"Kidding, kidding, it's actually suprisingly harmless," Videns laughs, waving her hand dismissively without looking back at the human, before she points up to a blood red bell-shaped flower, "That one will kill you very painfully, though."

Ignis sat at the dining table, stirring her cup of tea, while glaring at the icy eyed hybrid across the table.

"Stop sm-"

"No," Videns smiles wider, propping her cheek on her palm, watching Ignis.

"Don't-"

"Can't control my mind reading," Videns shrugs, lying through her teeth. She could very much control it, she just preferred to know what everyone's thinking.

"At lea-"

"I already know what you're trying to say, why let you finish speaking when I can just reply?" Videns gives a closed eye smile, knowing how much she's pissing off Ignis with her interrupting.

"I h-"

"I hate you too, Iggy~"

At this point, Ignis throws her spoon at Videns, standing up and storming out of the room. Videns just waves bye, leaning to the side to avoid getting hit in the face with a hot spoon.

"How do you get Videns to calm down..?" Blaze asks Vizerxa, frowning as she watches Videns annoy Dawn Shadow.

"Quite easily, actually," Vizerxa replies calmly, looking around. She walks away, soon returning with a candle and a lighter. She doesn't even need to say anything for Videns to dart away from Dawn Shadow, getting a sheet of paper and jog over to Vizerxa, who lights the candle and sets it on the table.

"just give her fire, trust me," Vizerxa shrugs, watching Videns tear off small pieces of the paper and drop them into the candle flame, giggling as they catch fire.

"...I feel like that's actually very risky," Blaze murmurs, frowning slightly in concern.

Vizerxa shrugs, "you're the one that adopted someone who loves fire, while living in a very flammable place. Thought Dusk repeatedly burning the kitchen would get you to change the materials of your living space, but apparently that didn't work."

[thehunterstrial]

INTRO!!!

This is a blog that's solely to rant about our beloved rewrite of a wings of fire fanfiction we wrote in 2021!!

The two people on this blog are @cr1ck3tt (Cricket, he/him) and @newellthedragon (Kaida, he/she/they).

The Hunter's Trial (THT) is a story that we first began writing in 2021 on wattpad. We never finished it, and the story was never published, but we recently revisited it and decided to rewrite it.

The story takes place in the Allwing Kingdom, a continent separate from Pyrrhia and Pantala. After a recent war, the continent is now in peace, except for hybrid hunters who keep on popping up everywhere. And also an old friend, whom Queen Aracari (previously named Newell) and Commander Skyfire didn't think they'd see around here ever again.

Our story is still in the process of being rewritten, but I'm having a lot of fun writing and creating the world, and if I don't talk about it within 30 minutes I'm going to fucking explode you don't undersTAND

We'll probably be posting things like story snippets, character references, maps, and pretty much anything else that has to do with THT. Feel free to ask questions, or just speak your mind in our askbox!!

Posts from Cricket will be tagged #posted by cricket, and posts from Kaida will be tagged #posted by kaida. Art, story snippets, and just general rambles will also be tagged similarly.

[theriu]

I’m feeling very happy after a super positive review from my niece who beta read book 2 of my series-in-progress, and also I wrote a funny scene for book 3 last night, so I’m gonna roll like a proper Writeblr person and share a snippet. Please enjoy!

———

(Context: Barrenger is from another dimension where everyone is interesting colors and have glowing energy powers and patterns, and Mercury is driving.)

“And on that note, it’s my turn!” Mercury’s mouth scrunched in thought as she reviewed what he had explained. “So the Hawaii—”

“Haweyh.”

“Right, the Ha-way are brown. Sort of like Brock?”

“Sort of. The tone is a little different, though. More…earthy, maybe?”

A snore from the back let the driver and front passenger know that Brock, much like Lyra and Shannon, was sound asleep and would not be contributing to the conversation. They moved on.

“And they have white hair. And yellow-gold glowing skin in kind of…splotchy patterns?”

“That’s not…the exact way we describe it.”

“How did you describe it?”

“They’re just called selah patterns. And they’re…kind of random and irregular and…”

“Splotchy?”

Barrenger sighed. “Sure. Splotchy.” He could imagine certain Haweyh priests clutching their chests at such a crass description, but whatever. And the widely varied patterns could be kind of…well, splotchy.

Mercury nodded once in satisfaction, although she didn’t take her eyes off the road. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. “So that’s your mom’s people. And your dad’s, the Rukilef—“

“Rukilef,” he corrected automatically, then grimaced repentantly as he realized she’d said it right.

Mercury had the grace to not do more than grin at him before continuing. “They’re all dark green, like you, and black or really dark green hair, and the neon-green stripes. Hey, do the skin tones vary a lot?”

That was a good question. He closed his eyes and thought back to the Rukilef he’d seen in Salein’s encampment—it was the only time he had actually seen large groups of his father’s people. “Some. I’ve seen a few who were even darker than me, almost black, but others were closer to…” He looked out the window at the landscape rolling past, and pointed. “Like those leaves.”

Mercury glanced out the window to where he was pointing. “Oh, oak leaves! Great reference point.” She gave him a quick, critical study before looking back at the road. “I think I’d call you forest green. I always liked that color,” she added offhandedly.

Barrenger opened his mouth to respond, but paused. He…couldn’t think of the last time someone had said they liked his color. Aside from his mum, of course. He glanced over to see Mercury casting him concerned looks. “Oh crap, did I say something weird? You’re going to have to let me know these things, I don’t want to be offensive or accidentally propose marriage or something.“

A laugh burst out of him before he could stop it, and he spent the next minute or two turned toward the window and struggling to get himself under control.

[eponastory]

Technically, sharing a bed is being under the covers together...

Oh, Zuko, you awkward turtleduck...

He's so cute.

How can anyone say he is a bad boy? He isnt... and never has been.

[moodymelanist]

happy wip Wednesday everybody. @nessianweek is 2.5 weeks away and I am SO HYPE. can you guess the prompt for this one? 🤭😏

“What exactly did she say it was?”

Azriel, who hardly ever showed what he was feeling so freely, actually started to turn a little pink. “I…”

“Whatever it is, I can handle it,” Nesta responded, more than a little impatient now. Surely it couldn’t be so terrible that even he was reluctant to say what had happened. “Just tell me, Azriel.”

Cassian of course picked that moment to stir, his wings twitching a bit as he slowly started to wake up from his magically-induced sleep. Strangely enough, instead of trying to push himself up so he could see what was going on, Nesta could only watch in surprise as his hips rocked downward against the couch with a loud grunt.

His odd behavior began to make some sense as Nesta nearly choked on the scent of his arousal, so strong that it nearly rivaled the weeks after their mating ceremony. Azriel took several steps away from Nesta, clearly already plotting his own exit, likely to avoid whatever mating instincts might rise to the surface at him being so close.

Nesta wasn’t having any of it. She marched across the room to stand before Azriel, releasing just enough of her magic to make her eyes burn with cold flame. “What. Happened.”

“I don’t know,” Azriel replied, clearly starting to panic a little as Cassian started truly rising to consciousness with a series of low moans. “He got stung by something while we were on watch, and then he started acting like that, and Madja said he’d have to just work it out of his system so of course I took him here—”

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned, his eyes nearly black as he sat up and looked around wildly. Once his eyes found her, he seemed to calm somewhat, though the scent of his arousal didn’t weaken in the slightest. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Cassian,” Nesta said as calmly as she could manage. She was beginning to understand why Azriel had been so reluctant to tell her what was going on, and she looked back to the Shadowsinger just in time to watch his expression turn incredibly alarmed. “How long will he—?”

“Not the faintest idea, leaving now,” Azriel answered as quickly as possible, none of his usual grace present as he turned and practically fled the room.

“Don’t worry about him, Nes,” Cassian replied, barely a moment after the front door had slammed shut behind Azriel. “It’s only us now.”

[crypt-arcaneum]

Story Snippets: Late Nights Talks

Some Camp Talks between Surana and Alistar

Alistar X Female Surana

“Have I ever…what? Licked a lamppost in winter” he started, grinning towards the elf 

She stared back, face as impassively annoyed as ever, “not what I meant”

“I mean, have you, though?”

“Have I what?”

“Ever licked a lamppost in winter?”

She closed her eyes and sighed, “no, I haven’t licked a lamppost in winter.”

“No, no well that’s good, I hear that’s rather painful” he hummed, lightly tapping his fingertips together. “As for that other thing? No, I haven’t ever done that”

Her eyes opened back up before her eyebrows knit together, “truly? Handsome man like you?”

He flushed further, “you think I’m handsome, do you?”

“Of course, I mean look at you” she started, “the girls would have been all over you back at the tower”

He jerked back, he couldn’t get redder at this point. “What?? You’re having me on. The mage girls? And me, a templar recruit? Ha ha, I get it”

“No I’m serious,” she leaned towards him, hands resting on his thighs as she stared wide-eyed, “and besides, you honestly think the mages didn’t find the templars cute enough to shag?”

She grinned at his reddened face, leaning back, “if you were one of the good ones, there’s a real chance you broke those oh so sacred oaths.”

“Alright, alright,” he started, hands flailing in hopes of silencing the mage “very funny, payback for all the tricks I pull right?”

“Nope, the mages usually stuck to other mages, but there was the odd templar from time to time” she shrugged, “stick a bunch of hormonal teenagers in a building with nowhere else to go, we’re bound to get up to something”

“Y-you’re actually being serious right now, aren’t you?” he stuttered, barely able to look her in the eye.

“Indeed, there was always a handsome new recruit every few months,’ she brought a hand to her chin in thought, “Cullen was the newest before I left, more handsome than most too, missed my chance to jump…”

“I’M GOING TO GO GRAB SOME FIREWOOD!” Alistair all but screamed as he cut her off, and bolted up, face still burning. 

“Stop yelling, the others are still sleeping, you idiot!” she hissed, but her smile betrayed the sheer amusement she felt watching the towering man shuffle away in embarrassment.

[rotting-ink]

Poly and Love Triangles Snippets

Written for if the player is bisexual. If the player chooses only  female love interests, then all the RO's are all women. Same as for if  the player chooses only male love interests.

Poly Groups

“Darling, who is this?” The lady gazed at you, her gloved hand still lingering on Victor’s forearm.

He shot a smile at you, the spell between him and the Soprano broken the moment he cast his lazy green eyes over to you.

“They,” Victor slipped from her fingers and cupped your elbow, his secret, soft smile soothing your beating heart. “Are my companion for the evening.”

“Ah.” She stared at you for just a moment, but in that very moment, there was something dark and cunning and hungry slipped into her own pale green eyes. Then it dissolved into warm sea foam and she extended her hand for you. “Quincy Beaumont. Hope you enjoyed my performance, especially since you’ve stolen Victor for the evening.”

Victor stiffened up next to you a bit but Quincy didn’t even give him a moment to say anything, slipping her arm through yours and leaning in, almost conspiratorially. The hard glint of sea glass that was her eyes before had vanished, and now there was something else in them. Something you couldn’t quite place…

“Poor old J. Couldn’t hold a candle to you, can they?” She whispered, her satin gloved finger momentarily brushing your chin. “What a gem you are.”

You figured it out. In that moment, you realized that they had the same hunger in their eyes. Both looking at you like they could devour you whole.

“No.”

“But-”

“I said no.” Starling finally gave up his act of aloofness. He tossed his book down to the side and sat up in his chair.

“But Star, I’ll be perfectly safe-”

“That’s not the problem.” You almost jumped out of your skin as a cold hand pressed against the small of your back, Zaniyah leaning forward to rest her chin against your shoulder. “The problem is that the good doctor is worried he might end up with someone else dead hanging around him.”

Starling grumbled in his chair, crossing his arms and eyebrows scrunched.

“Z, I-”

“Although…” Zaniyah gave you such a soft, fond look that it seemed to shut the doctor right up as he watched. “You’re less dignified than a bird, my little love. He won’t be able to stand your pawing at his trousers as he sews up cadavers.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit and pecked Zaniyah on the cheek.

“There. A peck instead of the dog licks I usually give you.” You teased her softly as she relaxed fully against your back.

You hadn’t noticed Starling’s silence, not until you finally stopped looking at your undead lover. He had a strange look on his face, the same he used to give you when you were bothering him with your questions a few weeks back. Except he was looking at Zaniyah with the same… Reluctant softness.

Oh.

Ambrose’s warm fingers were laid over your knuckles as you slowly woke up, his head buried into your side as he slept, breathing low and soft. You raised your head groggily, just to smile at his sleeping face, so serene, all sternness dropped. Like a slate wiped clean of dust and scratches.

“Didn’t expect him to be a heavy sleeper.” A voice from the doorway said, and you looked over to see Dietrich. “He used to wake up at the drop of a pin.”

You gave the professor a similar smile you gave Ambrose, as he made his way into the room, holding a tray precariously, laden with a pot of something hot and a few pastries.

“When you were kids?”

“Hmh.” Dietrich set it down on the bedside table and started to pour out the contents into two pretty, porcelain cups, leaving the third one empty. “He also had nightmares. Would take my hand in the middle of the night to make him feel better… Guess your hands are the ones he prefers now.”

You glance down at where Ambrose’s fingers were curled over your hand. Secure. Warm. Protective. Just like him. But… You couldn’t shake the almost sorrowful tone Dietrich’s voice carried. Glancing over at him this time, you managed to catch his soft eyes, fixed on your and Ambrose’ gently clasped hands. He felt your gaze, quickly blinking away and instead fixing up your saucer to have a pastry on the side as he handed it over.

His fingers felt soft, warm, against your own when he handed it over. You couldn’t help but smile up at him, and colour rose to his pale cheeks.

Love Triangles

The nightmare wrenched you awake, and for a few short moments, everything was alright in the world. Until it wasn’t.

“Awh, afraid I’m going to take your place by the fire?”

“No. It’s just discourteous for a guest to outstay their welcome.”

“Hmmm. Your owner has allowed me to stay as long as I want.” Saleos’s soft voice lilted as she teased, an edge appearing to make it tip over into mocking.

“That’s because you’re nothing but a fucking tool.” Seir hissed, his voice growing darker with anger. You felt your connection tug. Better to get up and break up the fight. “And they know they can fucking use you.”

“Hmh.” Saleos hummed. “I bet they will. Such a sweet thing they are-”

There was a crash, glass breaking and you sat bolt upright in bed. Fuck.

The two siblings sat on opposite sides of  the table, Luther nursing a glass of whiskey as Emilia tapped the edge of her cigarette off, into the ashtray, smoke curling up into her eyes. The atmosphere was frigid, still. A far cry from when you had met the both of them all that time ago.

It took them a moment to notice you in the doorway. Emilia spotted you first, straightening up in her chair and putting out her cigarette quickly. You couldn’t help but notice that her shirt was very thin and wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

“Hey, angel eyes.” She grinned at you, exhaling the last bit of her cigarette smoke.

“Em.” Luther grunted, his calloused fingers tightening around his glass, his impressively broad shoulders tensing. “Stop it.”

“Don’t be such a puritan.” She snorted, leaning back in her chair, her eyes never leaving your figure.

[randomffiction]

Story Snippets 🌊 By His Fingertips

I'm so sorry this man just casually hold me by the collar and ask me to make more fics I promise I'm still sane.

This fic will follow Eki Eviland and Male!Preacher that takes place in a village near the sea. I do plan on inserting naughty naughty scene and I have developed the general flow of the story. But for now you all will just have to eat only a portion of what I have to offer.

Stay tune for more snippets ;)

[Master List/Links]

The gentle wave sweep the beach. Bringing the sand new critters to live in every nook and cranny.

Far away from the sandy beach, away from the little village living off of the sea, far beyond the deep blue, a creature look at them in awe and curiosity.

From it's point of view, it could see a well built man dressed neatly from head to toe. Black silk hugged his form as a silver necklace hang around his throat.

"How interesting," it mused, "It would not hurt to pay them a visit." And so it retreats back into the deep ocean blue.

[autobot2001]

Painful Death

@themerrywhumpofmay: box @mediwhumpmay: first night in hospital Tw; drugs, murder, death (Snippet from Hidden Killer)

A man walks down a row of storage units, looking for number forty.   There's little in the storage unit, but the man is looking for a particular box. "I knew It was wise to copy the files," he whispers once he finds the box, "hopefully there's something in here that'll help the police. "Too bad they'll never find the box," a voice taunts. The man recognizes the voice and panics, clutching the box close to him. "You should have been given the death penalty!" He yells. "I believe you have evidence that you've committed a federal crime in that box." The man can run out of the storage unit and down the street. Hoping to reach the buddy street before the man chasing him does anything.

The man makes it to the busy street, running on the side. He doesn't make it far before being tackled to the ground. Resulting in losing his grip on the box. The box lands on the ground, the lock remaining intact.   "I could kill you no problem," the man taunts, "but I'm returning the beating you did to me." The man is used as a punching bag. Not for long until several cars park on the side of the road to stop the attack. The attacker gets one last good punch to the head, knocking the man out.

The man wakes up, slowly realizing he's in a hospital room. A nurse walks in, pleased the patient they came to check on is awake. They leave to get a doctor.

"You've been unconscious for three hours. Aside from a serious concussion, you're fine, but I want to keep you here at least overnight. Do you remember who you are?" "My name is Charles Curtis. I was targeted because of — the box! Where's the box!" "Police custody. Why must you have the box?" An officer walks into the room, carrying the familiar box. "Care to explain why this box contains medical records?" The officer asks. "Intuition. I worked at the asylum that burned down two years ago. Not during my shift, but Austin hoped I'd be there. I copied his files, hoping they could help the police get him. I should have brought the box to the police when he started attacking..." Charles stops talking, realizing what he thought was a great idea two years ago now has him in serious trouble. "That's enough," the doctor demands, "he looks fine but has a serious concussion." The officer leaves.

"An expensive kill," the drug dealer comments, "we could have worked out a deal." "No, this is going to be worth the price," Austin smiles. "Fine, it's your five hundred and fifty-eight dollars." "Actually, this will look like my victim made the purchase."

Charles tries to rest, but his mind worries about Austin's next move. Knowing Austin will not give up until he's dead. "Death or life in prison," Charles sighs. "I can decide for you." Charles panics but has no time to react before Austin pins him down with one hand and puts a piece of tape over his mouth. Two others cuff his hands to the rails of the bed. "Be ready to remove all evidence and run," Austin tells them as he prepares the syringe. Enjoying Charles' muffled screaming, "a nice cocaine injection. Three, two, one, move!" Austin cuts the line for the nurse call button before the three leave. Austin would love to watch Charles die, but leaving a camera behind would risk being caught. Charles knows he has no time to get out into the hallway for help. Tears roll down his face.

Within minutes Charles feels the effects of the drug. Before he can't move, just me, Charles writes a vital note. Struggling with chest pain and feeling like his heart is exploding. Knowing even if nurses hear his scream, there's nothing they can do. Yo Charles' luck, his scream is heard. Several doctors and nurses rush into the room. By now, Charles struggles to breathe. The medical staff work as fast as possible, fearing only a blood test or scab will tell them what's happening, but their patient only has a little time. A nurse rushes to get a crash cart.

When the nurse returns to the room, Charles is having a seizure. The doctor by the bed thought Charles was only unconscious once the seizure ended. "No pulse; we have a code blue."

"Ten minutes with no change," the doctor sighs, "time of death, ten-thirty p.m." "Something is not right about this," one nurse comments. "An autopsy will tell us." "Sir," another nurse calls out, holding a piece of paper. "This adds to the mystery. The note reads Donald Garza is in danger. Protect him. Even has where this guy lives written." "This is going to sound crazy, but this suggests someone came in here. The only way Charles' condition could determine that he's now dead is by injecting something into his IV. Call security and the police."

Austin exits the hospital and walks down the alleyway. Police cars speed by. "He's dead, perfect. You're next, Donald."

[storiesforsomeone]

“He's stopped breathing,” Guinevere says. “What's happening? Gaius?”

She turns to Gaius in a wordless plea for him to deny it, to forestall the grief already cracking behind her ribs. But Guinevere watches Gaius put his ear to Merlin’s chest, sees the way that Gaius’s expression drops, and she knows.

No. 

She shakes her head, a tiny, aborted motion.

“His heart has stopped,” Gaius whispers.

There’s a commotion outside the physician’s chambers: distant yelled voices, the slap of feet on stone steps, the thud of the wooden door slamming open. 

Arthur bursts in, out of breath and wild-eyed.

“Where is he?” Arthur demands.

He barely waits for an answer, advancing forwards like he's storming into battle.

“Did it work? Was it enough? Is he—”

Arthur stops. Jerks, to a halt. The rest of the words yank in his throat with a sharp, pained noise. 

He’s staring at Merlin, who lies too still. Pale on the bed, head lolled a bit to the side, hair damp at his temples, deep bruises under his eyes. Slack. Unresponsive. 

Arthur says nothing. He stares at Merlin like if he does it for long enough he will see Merlin breathe.

“He's dead,” Guinevere says, as the tears crawl up her throat.

A chink of a reaction cracks through Arthur’s shock. His sword-hand spasms. Arthur’s face goes grey. He reels back a bit. 

“He can't be,” Gaius says, disbelieving. He stands, withdrawing from Merlin. "He can't be.”

Guinevere can’t look at Arthur’s expression. It’s too much. The red-raw of his eyes, the tight way he’s holding his jaw, clamping down on the tremor of emotion, the bright-burning anguish.

She turns into Gaius instead, who pulls her close, holds her as she begins to sob. 

“It’s my fault.”

Gaius shushes her. “No, Gwen. No, the fault is mine, I…”

“This was my doing.” Arthur cuts them both off. It’s the first thing he’s said since seeing Merlin, and the emptiness in his voice makes Guinevere flinch. “The poison was intended for me. I allowed him to drink it. I…” His voice runs out.

Guinevere looks up through her tears to see Arthur has gravitated nearer, one hand on the pallet just shy of Merlin’s head, as though he wants to touch but can't allow himself.

“I failed,” Arthur finishes, and Guinevere sees the exact moment he breaks. Something in him crumbles. His shoulders curl in. “I. I failed.”

“Prince Arthur!” A voice yells distantly from outside. “Prince Arthur! You are to return to the cells immediately! By order of the King!”

For some reason, this makes Guinevere cry harder. Deep, wracking sobs that rise from somewhere unknown and terrifying. Gaius holds her as she cries. His head bows and she feels his tears in her hair. Arthur doesn’t move. The muscles in his shoulders bunch and convulse. His fists clench against the wood of the bed-frame. He is utterly silent and yet Guinevere can see him screaming.

“Prince Arthur!” 

There’s a thunder of footsteps. The door bangs open again. Gaius makes a small, wounded noise as the guards pour in around where Merlin still lies.

Arthur raises his head at the intrusion. His eyes are black with grief, glistening with an awful wet sheen. He looks at the guards, and they stop dead.

“Prince… Prince Arthur,” a guard at the front tries, hesitantly. “The King has ordered you remain in the cells. You must come back with us.”

Arthur dismisses them with the flick of his eyes. He turns from them, back to Merlin. “I will not,” he says.

“Prince Arthur…”

“I will not leave,” Arthur snaps. “Any man who tries to make me will be met with force. I welcome you to try.”

Arthur is unarmed. His words still make some of the guards hesitate. A few of the others who don’t know better draw their swords.

“Arthur,” Gaius says, very gently. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

“He died because I was in those cells.” Arthur says, head whipping sideways to stare at Gaius ferociously. “Because I went quietly when my father demanded it.”

Fresh tears fill Guinevere’s eyes. She’s hurting with him, but she tries, too, because she knows, “Merlin wouldn’t want—”

“Merlin is DEAD!” Arthur breaks out.

“Ah, well. That’s inconvenient,” says Merlin.

Guinevere feels faint. Gaius sits down heavily with a little moan. The guards startle backwards.

Guinevere turns around, disbelieving.

Merlin’s eyes are open. His head is raised a bit, and he’s breathing, and he’s staring at all of them with bemusement.

“Merlin,” Gaius manages, breathless, “you’re alive.”

“No, I’m a ghost come back to haunt you,” Merlin returns, lips curling up.

The laugh that gasps out of Guinevere hurts — sharp and lovely, like good things hurt.

Merlin's eyes are gentle as they find her. Then they shift sideways to Arthur, and Merlin's eyes widen.

"Arth—"

There’s a blur of movement. 

Arthur kisses him. Out of nowhere, dropping down and cradling Merlin’s jaw to turn his head, kissing him deeply with something feverish and bright, a desperate outpouring of relief.

It’s over as quickly as it began.

“Arthur, what…?” Merlin murmurs the moment they part, turning into Arthur like it's the most natural thing in the world. Merlin looks — dazed. Astonished. He looks at Arthur like Arthur had been looking at him earlier, like there’s no air to breathe if they are not sharing it. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says immediately. His hand is still cupping the nape of Merlin's neck, thumb framing the curve of Merlin's jaw seemingly without realising. “I just. Thought you were dead.”

Everyone is staring at them. Neither of them notice.

Arthur is flushing a bit. He’s gone stiff again, drawing back and straightening up, rubbing at his neck, looking anywhere but Merlin.

Guinevere bites down hard on her smile.

“It’s fine.” Merlin says automatically. Then he appears to grasp the situation, and amends, with a smile that’s small-part cheek, small-part uncertainty, but altogether emanates joy, “It’s more than fine.”

Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin's again. Neither of them look away. 

The guard coughs, looking a bit like he's wishing for the sweet release of death. “Um. Prince Arthur?”

Arthur jumps almost guiltily. He glances round, apparently just remembering their audience. There's an awkward beat of silence.

“Ah, yes,” Arthur says, as though this had been the intention all along. “Cells. I’m coming.”

Merlin looks confused all over again. “...Why are you in the cells?”

“For saving your life,” Arthur shrugs off as the guards surround him, still appearing marginally terrified that Arthur might kill them if they touch him.

“Right,” says Merlin, sounding more confused. “Why are you not in the cells right now?”

“Broke out to confirm that I saved your life,” Arthur says. "After my father crushed the miracle flower and I smuggled it in bread, I wasn't sure it would work."

“Right. Hang on. What?”

“Gaius will explain,” Arthur dismisses as they start to escort him away. "If my father should lock me in the dungeons indefinitely, I expect you to wear my favour and remember me fondly."

“I will not," says Merlin, indignant. "I would come and get you out, you prat.”

“That’s preferable,” Arthur admits. 

None of the guards look like they know what to make of any of this. Gaius is sighing the deep sigh of a man who has experienced the trials of a decade in the space of a few minutes. Guinevere is still desperately trying to suppress her mirth behind her hand.

“Arthur,” Merlin calls in different tone, just before Arthur reaches the door.

Ignoring the guards entirely, Arthur stops and turns. His and Merlin's eyes meet again. Guinevere sees worlds in the look they share.

“Thank you,” Merlin says.

Arthur’s expression goes a little slack, almost vulnerable. There’s a warmth there, too, though, a tender sort of sincerity that feels too intimate to witness.

“You too,” Arthur says, gentle in a way Guinevere hasn’t heard from him before. “Get some rest.”

Then he’s gone, strolling off down the stairs whilst the guards scramble in his wake to follow.

Merlin turns back to the two of them. Gaius raises one, highly dubious eyebrow. Guinevere isn’t sure what her face is doing, but Merlin takes one look at her and cracks up, slumping back onto the pallet with his hands over his face.

“Okay. What happened? The last thing I remember is drinking the wine, then the next thing I know…”

“Arthur’s kissing you?” Guinevere finishes dryly, sitting down on the pallet next to his hip.

Merlin makes a small, muffled sound into his hands. Just beneath, Guinevere can see his skin flushing deep red. She grins.

“It wasn’t that dissimilar to how you woke up, come to think of it,” she says thoughtfully. “You collapsed, everyone else started pointing swords at each other and yelling, but Arthur ran to your side, took your face in his hands…”

“Gwen!”

Gaius starts laughing. Merlin tugs the pillow over his face in a weak attempt to smother himself. Guinevere pokes him in the side and steals the pillow away, and then Merlin is laughing too, when barely a minute earlier Guinevere thought she might never hear him laugh again.

The pillow falls to the floor and Guinevere pulls Merlin into a fierce hug. She presses her face into his chest and she breathes him in. Merlin makes a small sound of surprise but his arms come up around her without pause, gathering her closer, turning to press a quick kiss to her forehead. She doesn’t have any words. There are no words for relief like this. She just breathes, listening to his heartbeat.

“It’s alright,” Merlin murmurs. “It’s all alright.”

Gwen’s fingers curl into his shirt, holding on, and she sends a prayer of thanks for the little yellow flower and Arthur’s disdain for the rules. 

“Don’t let it get to that big head of yours, Merlin.

I just… thought you were dead.”

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is...

Sad

Face/Body:

Avoidant/reduced eye contact

Drooping eyelids

Downcast eyes

Frowning

Raised inner ends of eyebrows

Dropped or furrowed eyebrows

Quivering lip/biting lip

Wrinkled nose

Voice:

Soft pitch

Low lone

Pauses/hesitant speech

Quiet/breathy

Slow speech

Voice cracks/breaking voice

Gestures/Posture:

Slouching/lowered head

Rigid/tense posture

Half formed/slow movement

Fidgeting or clasped hands

Sniffing or heavy swallows

Self soothing gestures (running hands over the arms, hand over heart, holding face in palms, etc)