#birthday snippet :)

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hee hee hee Happy Halloween!

Here’s a story request! What about a werewolf whumpee (they mainly keep their sentience while in wolf mode) and a caretaker friend?

Hi Lily! Thank you for sending this in! Here you go, I tried my best! I hope it’s okay that I gave Whumpee some dog-like traits in their wolf form!

Whumpee sighed. It was getting dark out, and the moon would be up any minute.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker called, “can you come here please?”

Whumpee trudged into the kitchen. Despite their feelings, they couldn’t help but smile a little at what they saw. A huge birthday cake in front of them, with as many candles as Whumpee’s age, and lots and lots of presents.

“Caretaker, you didn’t have to, I mean, tonight is a-”

“Full moon,” Caretaker finished for them, “I know, I’ve got it all worked out.”

They beckoned Whumpee over.

“The cake is peanut butter flavored, with not a hint of chocolate in sight,” they said, “your actual presents are safely tucked away in the attic, these are just dog toys you can have a go at, and finally-”

Caretaker took them to the living room. In front of the TV was an enormous fort made up of pillows and blankets and giant pet beds.

“-werewolf-friendly movie night!” Caretaker said proudly.

Whumpee stood frozen to the spot. Tears brimmed in their eyes.

“Oh, oh no, did I do it wrong?” Caretaker asked, “I’m so sorry, I can take it all down and we can-”

Whumpee wrapped Caretaker in a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s perfect,” they said, “thank you.”

Caretaker sighed in relief and smiled.

“It’s your birthday, full moon or not,” they said, “now let’s get this party started!”

…

Whumpee curled up next to Caretaker in the cozy fort. The cake lay decimated beside them, and squeaky toys were scattered about. They watched the ending of Lady and the Tramp while their tail wagged. Best birthday ever.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad

[tryalittlejoytomorrow]

Happy birthday, @scarletslippers !!! Here's a little, off the top of my hat snippet for you! Hope you enjoy 💜

"You're engaged?" Jesper's eyes widen almost comically, if it weren't for the fact that nothing about this whole situation is funny at all. "As in, to be married?"

Nina takes a long gulp from the drink Anika served her with a pitiful look. Kaelish whiskey, probably the finest money can buy - and Kaz can afford to buy the very best to lure tourists and partygoers and serious businessmen with extra coin to spare for a night to remember. This is her third, and this one's on the house - a sure tell that Kaz had somehow heard of the news before she announced it herself. "Yep," Nina shrugs as she puts her glass down with a loud click. "As in, to produce big, blond Fjerdan heirs because that's my purpose and my duty and my honor."

She almost chokes on the last word as she remembers Zoya reading the official proposal to her. As if a political alliance wasn't retrograde enough on its own, she's meant to be happy and grateful about being a good little housewife to some Fjerdan oaf who's probably never been with a girl who wasn't paid for it before. Because that's totally every princess's dream, right?

Save for the fact that Nina's a duchess, her point still stands - a fact that Zoya, her advisor, had not bothered rebuffing before allowing her one last night of fun with her unlikely friends in Ketterdam before they made the journey back to Ravka, where all the wedding preparations would start as soon as they crossed the Little Palace's doors.

"Is he cute?" Jesper asks. "Do you have any pictures?"

Inej almost stabs him with the blunt force of her elbow in his side; Jesper doubles over, and Nina can't help a chuckle. "That's hardly the point now, is it?" Inej scolds him.

"Right," Jesper nods his head a few times in apology. "But - I mean...that would help, right?" he still tries tentatively.

Inej only narrows her eyes at him, her gaze as dark as the bitter coffee of Kaz's eyes. For once, Nina almost wishes Kaz were here; his cold, callous comments would be so much better than Jesper's naive views on a betrothal that is, ultimately, nothing more than men shaking hands two decades ago and deciding her fate before she was old enough to understand what and who she was, as if her life was nothing but a deal.

The deal is the deal, as they said in Kerch, the capital of trade. And right now, Nina would trade anything to be anyone else.

She sighs and collects her phone from her purse. She flicks through her emails, finds the proposal - there had been a real emissary from Fjerda with an ancient roll of parchment, but there's an email too, because this is the twenty-first century despite the outdated practice - and slides her phone across the table. "There, you can have him if you like."

Jesper lets out a low whistle. Any other day, Nina would probably share his enthusiasm - if Matthias Helvar had popped on her Tinder instead of sending an emissary with a marriage proposal from His Grace, Duke Matthias of Halmhend, First of His Name.

Nina likes uniforms as much as the next girl - and even she has to admit that he looks delicious in his black and silver drüskelle uniform, his long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes as unforgiving as the ice surrounding his land. But she's not going to be happy about being married off to some man she's never met before just because he's hot.

She'd rather take that shameful secret to the grave.

Perhaps read more from this modern royals AU soon 👀

[mundrakan]

Snippet for/from the Birthday boy

From the fic I am currently working on and hope to finish this week... Even when it likely will only get posted by the end of the year.

“Sirius?” He didn't turn to Moony, just moved on as if he had not heard him at all. It was too dangerous. But Remus didn't get the message. With a few quick steps he was at his side and pulled him around. “Sirius. So Mundungus didn't lie for a change. He said he saw you here...” Sirius knew already that he was on thin ice. Under his skin the snakes of the Thrall bond began to pulse painfully. Whatever he said had potential to set them off and render him into a writhing mess on the ground. So for now he said nothing at all. “He also said you were running errands for the Death Eaters.” Remus threw him a look as if to ask him for a denial. “Not them. Just him. Greyback.” Remus wrinkled his nose in disgust, but before Sirius could leave he caught himself again, holding on to Sirius' sleeve. “I can smell him all over you. But... that's not the end of the world. I beat him. I can help you do the same.” The snake around Sirius' neck twitched and tightened, ready to cut off his breathing, but he barely noticed above the bitter disappointment that rose in his mind. “How did I not think of this. So obvious, isn't it?” He knew what he looked like, teeth bared and eyes wide, barely tethered on the edge of sanity in his rising rage. But there was no point in sparing Remus. The sooner he realized the lost cause the better. “The thing is...” Sirius bared enough of his neck to show the scaly abomination on his skin. “I can't. They hurt, and the moment I just think of straying from the path they suffocate me, poison me.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to Remus' pity. “I cannot tell you what I want to tell, nor ask what I want to ask.” This lament was enough already to tighten his throat and he shivered. “I could just tell you. Without you asking.” Sirius didn't remember Remus to be this stubborn. “Don't. The less I know the better. I already have to much vital information. One day I might no more be able to refuse, if they ask me again. It could be today.” He stared beyond Remus, telling the thin air what needed to be said. “For all that matters I am dead. I died a long time ago. Months. The moment I was captured. You did well to remember that. Hell, you should make it reality.” “But Sirius,” Remus' hands nervously ran over his arms as if they could bring him back. “You are my friend.” “As a friend...” Sirius struggled to bring the words out against the pressure of the Thrall snake closing his throat. “If you cared about my wishes, my well-being, you would leave and never come back.” He knew Remus would not do that, so he freed himself and ran, finding shelter in the next dark alley to let the bindings calm down.

[seoulmatez]

“these are for you, lesser lord kusanali!” you kneel down to gift the archon the flower arrangement you made for her the night before. “thank you so much for coming to see the performance.”

the imposing presence beside her doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i brought you some, too.” your smile doesn’t falter when you turn to face the wanderer, slowly standing up and holding out the second bouquet you had put together in anticipation of today.

his fingers twitch at his side. you brought something… just for him? his lips curl downward as he tries to imagine just why you’d go and do something like that. perhaps it’s a mocking gesture, a show of pity, something of the sort. but the smile you’re wearing makes the answer clear—it’s the same reason you gifted them to nahida, because you’re simply happy to have seen him.

he takes the flowers from your hold, rotating the collection bound by a pink ribbon in his hand. soon, violet eyes like the night sky are staring deeply into yours. “i have no use for these.”

the words scratch at your heart like a cat’s claw—quick and painful, but you try to ignore the way it stings.

“oh, well, you don’t have to keep them.”

you reach out to take the flowers back but the gloved hand tightens around the bunch of stems, and you’re almost certain that the wanderer pulls the bouquet closer to his chest. “it’s rude to ask for gifts back, is it not?”

“i suppose you’re right.” the scratch he left behind on your heart is quickly bandaged, the lingering sting disappearing like it was never there to begin with. you can’t help but smile, let hope sprout in your heart at the thought that maybe you’re making your way into his. “in that case, i hope you find some use for them.”

[f-imaginings]

Because it's my birthday tomorrow I am going to give y'all a present in the form of a rough doodle/sneak peak of a scene from the kmky sequel.

Enjoy Bill and Stanford falling into the bottomless pit.

(I promise this scene will be very funny when it's posted haha)

[threestargirls]

Within a split second, a deafening crack rippled throughout the forest as Jacob’s fist met Edward’s marble-like skin. I’m sure a scream escaped me as a strong arm pushed me off to the side- I couldn’t have been sure whether I made a noise, or even whose arm it was given my state of shock. Or fear? The stage directions from Romeo and Juliet kept repeating in my head. They fight; Paris falls.

All I managed to catch a glimpse of in the second that I was pushed back was Jacob’s furious face, his entire body practically convulsing, his knuckles bloody as he raised his fist again. I saw Edward’s face, his beautiful porcelain skin appearing cracked and his golden eyes dark with anger somehow even more intense than Jacob’s.

Edward’s arm raised to knock Jacob backwards, everything happening so quickly all I saw was the glimpse of russet brown fur and the shine of diamond skin disappearing out of the clearing and into the depths of the forest, as I was left by both Paris and Romeo, hyperventilating in my meadow with my hands shaking and twisted in my hair.

[as a birthday tribute to jacob black, here’s a snippet of him punching edward told through bella’s point of view. didn’t feel like writing a whole story so you get whatever this is.]

[myonmukyuu]

[20980wan]

art dump

cakeverse au (because why not) i like it when the "victim" is actually the freaky one

mafia au (??) for a friend

and random doodles

[albatris]

snippet sunday?

snip snip.

Back at Quinn’s place, they left him on the living room couch and darted off into the garden. When they returned, they were holding two golden marigold flowers on their stalks.

They leaned over the back of the couch and pulled the front strands of Nat’s hair off his face. Nat felt Quinn working, felt them weaving the flower stems through his hair, but couldn’t see what they were doing until they finished and held their phone out in front of him, camera open.

Two plaits adorned either side of his head, gathered together at the back and clipped there. Nat tilted his head and saw the two marigolds perched at the back of his hair. He wasn’t wearing his formal clothes anymore, but he didn’t need to be wearing them to know that the flowers would match perfectly.

“There,” Quinn said softly. “You are the most dashing and beautiful person I have ever met.”

The way they said it, the gentleness with which they pushed the syllables from their lips and their voice like honey, he was almost—almost—inclined to believe them.

[asukiess]

grr hello i am still thinking about your sentiemilie au

emmy pov...imagine! you have no life before, and no life after. all you know is the House.

the House and those who live in it. the Man who stares too much. the Woman who averts her eyes. and the Boy who pities you, when it should be the other way around.

an intern, they call you - and you may not know much, but you do know that this is not what an intern should be doing.

the Man has you pose for him often. he designs clothes, he tells you, and more than that, he designs clothes for you. you stand in his office, eyes drawn to the large frame behind his desk. the empty frame.

perhaps he'll put a portrait of you up there some day, he says. you don't ask whose portrait used to be up there.

the Woman barely glances up from her tablet when you approach. you're here to help, you tell her. isn't that what an intern should be doing? her lips purse, as though you have said something wrong. but you don't know what wrong is - all you know is what you were told.

you're a hard worker, you insist. please, if there's anything you can do--

no, she says, harsh. but then, she softens. you can go spend some time with the Boy, she tells you. he'll be glad to see you.

then why aren't you glad to see me? you want to say. you never do.

the Boy is often in his room, a fact you don't quite understand. his door is not locked - not like yours so often is - but he acts like it is. like it would be the hardest thing in the world to wrap his hand around the doorknob and step outside.

with that, you sympathize. your world is the House. what could possibly lie beyond?

the Boy is so, so kind to you. he treats you like something fragile, something delicate - like if he closes his eyes and opens them again, you'll vanish. gone, back to wherever you were before the House.

he stutters over your name, the syllables unfamiliar in his mouth.

is there something else you'd rather call me? you ask him.

...no, he says, not yet.

then when?

when it is your portrait on the wall? when the Woman sees you as an equal? when the Man finally tires of dressing you?

the Boy looks sad. because of you, perhaps. but when you rise to leave, his hand reaches out to catch yours.

you can stay, he says quietly. if you want.

you do want, so you stay.

i'm sorry, you say after a moment. if me being here... if it's making things hard for you.

it's all right, says the Boy, and he squeezes your hand. he is so very kind. but then he says: it's only temporary, after all.

what is?

you, he says. sooner or later, they'll get tired of you. sooner or later, they'll make a new one.

a new one. a new intern, a new model. a new family.

you think your heart would be pounding in your chest - if you had one.

HI NEMALI!!! my love!!! my insp!!

my god..... genuinely I adore your 2nd person pov writing, it just arrests me and I know it'll gut me sooner or later in the story and UGH!!

ALL YOU KNOW IS THE HOUSE!!! what an absolutely confusing situation. I just know Gabriel sanded her down just enough to not ask questions, but the right questions so she isn't boring to him.

"the Man has you pose for him often." SICKENING. and hello!!! emilie always haunting the narrative!!!

and Nathalie hating to face her--in some way, a cowards way out--but offering her a solace, a friend, someone who will genuinely and wholesomely be happy to see her. !!

"his door is not locked - not like yours so often is -" O H OH OH HELLO!! who locked it!!! does she understand on some level or is it Nathalie, protecting her, or Gabriel keeping her from leaving!!

him stuttering over her name and her asking if he'd rather something else GUTS me. the layers. "...no, he says, not yet." UGH!!! nemali please!!!

"you think your heart would be pounding in your chest - if you had one." EMMY ESCAPE THE HOUSE ESCAPE THE NARRATIVE I AM OUTSIDE THE GATE!!

thank you thank you thank you aaaaaa I genuinely LOVED this and I'm literally so over the moon at everyone who has sent in ideas and art and I love!!! this idea and how people are using it and yours, as always, are outstanding <3

oh emmy..... alexa play what was I made for.....!!!

[calamitoustide]

gabby's special birthday extravaganza

or whatever you wanna call it... for the third year in a row I give you guys gifts on my birthday because it's fun and the last two years I've started something new, finished a fic, and updated a fic so I had to continue that too. So of course, I've gotta get the band au in here, finish is it new years yet... and post a little new moonchaser fic <- not so little my first canon compliant fic i'm terrified <3

Fuck It! I Love You!: Prologue

There's always been something about James and Remus that they've never allowed themselves to fully fall into... but when the entire friend group is a mess and all they really have is each other... Fuck it! Why can't they be happy? or James and Remus fall in love in the aftermath of "The Prank" but it's not the be-all-end-all cure they were praying it would be

Is It New Years Yet?: Chapter 5

[James Potter]: Party starts at eight!  [James Potter]: No you can not cancel this late I’ll cry  [Regulus]: I’m sick  [James Potter]: Liar [James Potter]: Marlene saw you at the shift this morning  [James Potter]: I’ll see you in three hours Exactly <3 

You Don't Get To Tell Me About Sad: Chapter 19

i'll tell you something right now i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning...

[prince-liest]

Writing Lucifer's dialogue is like 50% socially anxious motormouth and 50% Dad (TM).

[burning-academia-if]

[11-17-20XX]

The last thing Lars realized, during the summer before his sophomore year, was that his uncle was serious. Clearly, Uncle Harvey had no idea how the hell to be a parent. He forgot about dinner and coming home at night, or he'd show up at school, still half asleep, after the few fights Lars had gotten in to, shrugging his shoulders like he couldn't be damned despite the other fuming parent.

Yet, he could read Lars like a book. Everything he refused to say, Harvey just knew. After his first official high school fight, he'd handed Lars an axe and told him to go chop some wood to get the energy out. Lars had looked at him like he'd lost his mind yet ended up going at it until his fingers were raw. When Lars had felt the hint of a cold, the cabinets were suddenly stocked with medicine. When the unquiet of the dead reached for him, his uncle would drag him away, telling him looking only gave them power.

[creationsabyss]

A Home Amidst The Infinite Stars

He looks inhuman, with his smile that strains just a little too much at the corners and eyes that gleam with an artificial liveliness. An ink black stain on his skin, marring his neck and displaying his sin. Dangerous, you hear the whispers, mocking and cruel with a hint of caution that feels ice cold. Aventurine, they call him, with eyes of vivid colors that perhaps would have been mesmerizing once, but were dull and glassy now. A gem, polished and set on a pedestal for all to see.

You find it, and him most of all, tragic. Someone clearly put effort into making him presentable, clothing him in bright hues that are impossible to ignore, and his personality is loud, ringing in your ears like the echoes of a scream within the long halls of desolation. He hides himself away, protecting himself in the only way he can. Even then, you see the scars that chip away at his mind, the tiny nicks and scratches that feel like chasms to your stardust vision.

You want to reach out, wish you could cup his soul in your hands, and hide him away beneath the starshine veil you wear. You want to fill his wound with sunglow and stitch him back together with a long thread, shadow stained to prevent another scar. Perhaps he would not notice a new mark on his skin, but you did not wish to add to his canvas. Perhaps kindness is poison to him now, years of cruelty that led to painful isolation.

He is frozen, frostbitten limbs that burn as they warm by the fire. You wonder if he would cry if you hugged him, the steady pulse of a star in your chest that reaches out for him just as it has for your cherished companions. You wonder how long it will take before he willingly returns to your side, head bowed as he presses himself into your chest and shudders as though he'll fall apart the moment you let him go.

You wonder when he will relax in your hold and when he will not flinch but lean willingly into your touch. Perhaps it will take years, or even decades. Perhaps he will never lose the sharp, jagged edges of his broken pieces. But that's okay, you have time. You will wait however long it takes, just as you have for each and every one of your beloved companions.

[aza-trash-can]

Snippet (Blossoming of a Blue Spring)

Happy birthday to the guy of all time, Gojo Satoru!

Here's a little snippet of his birthday from this wip for the birthday boy, I hope you like it as much as he likes his gift!

“Well, go on. Open it.” He tears into the wrapping paper, shreds falling around him like snowflakes as he frees his gift. Galaxies meet his eyes with the last of the paper being tossed to the side, contained to the cover of this book.

“Is this…”

“I know you probably have textbooks that go into way more detail than this, but I still thought you might like it.” He carefully opens the book, crisp coated pages smooth under his fingers. His throat grows tight as tears start to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill onto the pages.

“Satoru? Are you okay?” He nods weakly. “Is it… do you not like it?” He shakes his head, a wobbly smile tugging at his lips.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

[spiderscribe]

the nature of being a writer who a) likes deadceptor and b) likes fun references to canon apparently means that in my deadceptor fics, i just write them saying and doing the same shit all over again