#i thought about doing a snippet from the magician au instead but i think it needs to simmer a little more before showing it to anyone

[shivunin]

WIP Whenever

Thanks for the tag back @heniareth!

Here is a piece of a mermaid AU I've been working on in hopes of finishing before the end of the month. I have some great sections that I am really looking forward to executing, but here is one of the fun pieces---an alternate version of the Arlathven, in a world where the aravels are amphibious and can be made sea-worthy when necessary. I put it under a cut because it's a touch long.

Tagging back @greypetrel and @ndostairlyrium, but no pressure. (if anyone else has something they'd like to show, lmk and i will tag you c: )

The waves were gentle today; the Arlathven tossed gently around the little group, swaying from one end of the flotilla to the other with little fanfare. Beyond their little corner of the deck, people wandered back and forth over the walkways laid between the ships of the Dalish and the murmurs of the gathering rose above the whistle of the wind and the splash of the water against wood. 

Emmaera sat with her legs crossed, listening to one of her fellow Firsts, but her mind was elsewhere. It had been elsewhere for weeks now, ever since she’d returned to the clan at sea, and it wandered back to the same place now. 

“Lavellan?” one of the others—Ralaferin, she thought—asked with a frown. “Did you have anything to add?”

“Hmm,” Emmaera sighed, “I don’t know, honestly; you know I’ve been out of the loop for two years now. Matters were different when last I heard of them. So the humans are at war; what else is new? We didn’t intervene when Ferelden forced Orlais from their shores. I don’t know that there is anything the clans can do about this dispute over the throne or the unrest in Kirkwall, save offering safety to our cousins in the cities.”

The other four stared at her, various expressions of perplexity on their faces. 

“We were sharing what we’ve done the past few years,” Sabrae said, her wide green eyes glittering in the sunlight. “I’d heard that you were conducting research on the ruins to the west. Alerion said she’d heard about strange lights throughout the ruins, even when there was nobody inside them. Did you see anything like that?” 

Lavellan traced the patched knee of her leggings, searching for the words. The stitches that held the cloth together were neat, even, and very small. If she were to take them off and look at the other side, she knew she’d find her own name embroidered into the cloth, the Elvhen letters slightly clumsy despite the neatness of the rest. The shoulder of her tunic was mended in the same manner, as were half the clothes she’d carefully packed away in her trunk. 

Emmaera had always been horrible at mending things. 

“Yes,” she said at last, and the others looked at her expectantly. 

“Well? Go on then,” said the Ferelden First—Emmaera couldn’t remember her clan name—and more than one of the others nodded in agreement. 

Well. She’d known that she would have to spill the lot of it sometime. She shouldn’t be surprised that it was happening now; if nothing else, the Arlathven was good for gossip. 

Lavellan straightened up and clasped her hands in her lap. Where to begin when there was so much to tell?

“When I was a child and my father vanished, I developed a fascination with the ancient mirrors,” she began, “and the island’s ruins had markings on the outside which indicated there might be one within…”

[kingdomoftyto]

WIP ask game! Top Sneaky!!!!

uehehehehhehe

The premise of the AU is pretty straightforward: Shinichi knows magic is real, while Kaito is the skeptic.

The way it works in practice is: Shinichi's transformation into Conan is a result of a curse instead of a drug, with the Black Org being more akin to a cult than a mafia. And, although Kaito still takes up the mantle of KID just like in canon, in this universe he gave up on his dream of being a magician shortly after his father's death. (Instead, he's getting an engineering degree. He's bored and aimless outside of heists.)

One of the aspects I'm most excited about is some really intertwined mythological symbolism that I want to work into a prophecy, but trying to make everything that I want actually fit is just sort of making things more difficult for myself lol rip

And I keep getting stuck on what direction to actually take the plot in general, so I only have a couple of chapters written so far and even those are kind of a mess imo. (´･ω･`)

Anyway, here's a generous snippet from a section that I like:

-

“Haibara, I think I was right about him.”

“Good morning to you, too, Kudou-kun,” she replied without looking up from her desk.

“He was avoiding the subject entirely,” Shinichi continued as if she hadn’t spoken, depositing his bag on the floor and leaning absently against the corner of the lab bench. “You said yourself that the moonlight thing was suspiciously occult, but when I pressed him for details he would only say he didn’t want anyone else getting involved.”

Haibara swiveled her chair around, and Shinichi caught a glimpse of half-melted candles surrounding a bowl emitting a worrisome amount of dark green vapor. “That doesn’t mean what he’s hiding is necessarily magic, let alone related to the Black Organization,” she said. Shinichi started to protest, but she went on, “And even if he is in the know, there’s no way to be sure he’s trustworthy.”

Shinichi took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “We’ve been over this. If KID really has been keeping his knowledge of the supernatural a secret all this time, then his actions up to now would point to him being on our side. Why would he keep putting himself at risk with these high-profile heists? Why would he only use ordinary stage magic tricks? The most likely answer is that he’s taunting someone. Trying to get their attention.”

Haibara only crossed her arms, unmoved. Stubborn, Shinichi growled internally.

“And,” he continued, “if he’s looking for some kind of magic gemstone, which I’m now all but certain he is, then he’s probably trying to reach it before that same enemy gets their hands on it.”

“And you think that enemy happens to be our crows.”

“You don’t?”

She stood up, flicking some kind of powder into the bowl that caused the green steam to fizzle out with a pwoof, and crossed the length of the lab until they were standing nearly nose to nose. She stood a few centimeters taller than him now, having hit her growth spurt sooner, and she never failed to use that fact to her advantage during an argument. “I think even if Kaitou KID is after them, he’s too much of a wildcard to rely on if things get dicey—and they will, if you plan on taking the fight to the Organization. He’s a lone wolf, Kudou-kun, not to mention a wanted criminal. If he doesn’t want your help now, what makes you think he’ll cooperate when you insist on sticking your nose even further into his business?”

You don’t know him like I do, Shinichi almost said, but he realized how that would sound and thought better of it. Instead, he pulled himself up as tall as his grade-schooler height would allow and insisted, “If we’re on the same side, he has no reason to hinder our operations. I still think we should offer to share intel.”

Haibara looked dangerously close to rolling her eyes, but she backed down. “It’s not like I can stop you once you’ve made up your mind.”

Shinichi frowned. “You know I wouldn’t suggest this plan unless I really thought it was our best option, right?”

She sighed. “I do know that. And I know you’d prefer to convince me to agree rather than go against my wishes.” She leveled him a serious look. “But, Kudou-kun, there are some subjects where I think even you have blind spots. If you’re going to insist on getting that thief involved, at least do your best to not let your feelings get in the way.”

He blinked. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She really did roll her eyes this time.

[shinebrite97]

Portia Appreciation Week day 5-Domestic Life

Super late on this one, but I’ve been writing it for a month or more, just a snippet from my Arcana College AU WIP. Domestic dorm life for our favorite lil handmaiden.

--

“You in there?” Portia asked as the door opened. Light splashed in immediately, soaking the desk where I sat hunched over my laptop and leaving blind spots in my eyes. Had it really gotten so dark? 

“Hey, Portia…” I replied with a yawn.

“Really burning the midnight oil there, hun.” She said. 

“I know, but I’ve gotta finish this. I don’t know why I decided to join the occult club. Asra is a nightmare with the writing assignments.”

“You know you could just like, not go back. Right?” she asked, plopping down onto her bed and untying her sneakers. “It’s a club, it’s not like it’s giving you extra credits or anything.”

“Actually it’s offering two social science credits at completion,” I replied as I blinked the fatigue from my eyes. “One semester in this club and I can skip my next semester’s human intricacies class.”

“I hope it’s worth it,” Portia replied as she tugged her hair into a loose ponytail. “Human Intricacies strangely sounds more fun than some magic club.”

“Occult,” I responded. “And at least this way I can avoid the stress of that midterm and final, and on the bright side...Asra’s a major hottie.”

“Really?” She asked. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

“He’s not actually faculty here,” I said. “He’s a T.A., about to graduate with a Philosophy major, and he volunteered to run the club with the supervisory signature from Professor Selasi.”

“So you’re basically dancing on the line of an affair with a teach…” She replied. I listened as Portia flopped onto my bed. When I glanced over, her long red hair spilled over the edge as she kicked off her shoes and stretched her arms. 

“That was the longest Econ lecture yet…” She yawned. “We should go to a bar this weekend. You game?”

“Hell yeah.” I replied. I turned back to my open document. Lines and lines of text about the major and minor arcana, what he’d suggested to be a small cheat sheet turned into basically a separate essay on each card. I’d been at this for hours now. I went back to it once Portia was settled, mindless mumbling about repainting her nails. I had been typing up my interpretation of the seven of wands when I felt a soft jab in my arm. I paused, glancing over at the sly little smirk on my roomie’s lips as she poked my arm again, unashamed of herself. 

“You know what’s weird…” Portia said after a few minutes of my endless typing. 

“What’s up?” I replied. 

“I feel like I knew you, like in another life or something.”

“Really?”

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Sarah?”  I nodded my head, finally shutting my laptop to freshen my eyes, before directing my full attention to her. 

“I feel like in another life, we were friends. Maybe I lived in a castle. Or maybe I got to live out my lesbian dream of owning a cute little cottage and a cat.”

“Maybe I was a real magician and I read tarot cards.” I grinned. My deck was sitting on the dresser, still unopened, waiting for me to bring it to the Tarot club on Friday. 

“Maybe that hottie Asra was too,” She added. “If you two knew each other then, maybe you were dating then too.”

“Maybe.” I replied with a blush. “I don’t know, I kinda hope he’s more romantic in this hypothetical version.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She asked, rolling over to lay on her stomach and kicking her feet high above her. “Spill the tea, sis!” 

“It’s not bad,” I replied. “I thought it’d be a little more...scandalous. But it seems that no one really cares. He’s not a real teacher, not being paid by the school, so he’s fair game.”

“Anything...fun...going on?” She asked with a wiggle of her manicured eyebrow.

“Fun?” I scoffed as I swiveled in my chair to fully face her. “Eh, I think he’s taking things slow... like really slow.” I replied. “He hasn’t even gotten me drunk yet.”

“Well, you’re not even twenty yet, I can see why he wouldn’t.” She smirked. “Got’churself a nice guy there, sis.” I blushed, feeling the depth of the red on my cheeks while Portia laughed out loud. Unsure if I should go to the extent of my new fling’s lack of respect for laws, the dude smuggled in more spiked grass than any frat boy could dream of.

“He invited me to his apartment this weekend,” I said instead. “Friday night after accounting, I’m going over for dinner and a movie.”

“Ooh, okay honey. I won’t wait up.” She smirked. 

“Are you gonna call up Nadia?” I asked. 

“Wha-...huh...w-why would I do that?” Her confidence was now gone, and before me was a sputtering red-faced mess of a girl. 

“I don’t know.” I replied. “I thought maybe you might have grown some lady balls and asked her out.”

“Not yet.” She sighed, hitting me with my own pillow. “Let me know how things go with Alnazar this weekend, and I’ll consider it.”

[iztarshi]

Familiar AU

A fic snippet that might go somewhere more interesting in future. Inspired by that meta that talked about Peter as a selkie or a siren.

Peter is finfolk, even on land with legs rather than a tail he has long silvery-iridescent fins running down his arms and legs, only half hidden by the loose grey cashmere he wears. This would be more impressive if he hadn’t decided to learn to talk to humans by reading every training manual in the Institute, which makes him decidedly wearing after a while.

“Look, why are you hanging around me?” Martin asks, aware that this is probably a stupid thing to say to a powerful magical being, especially a predatory one.

Peter blinks, lids flicking sideways over his eyes. “You are a magician,” he says. “Being a familiar has its advantages.”

“You already have a magician,” Martin says, exasperated. There’s no way Peter’s thinking of trading in the Head of the Institute for a half-trained magician who lied about his qualifications. Which means he’s just bugging Martin for unknown reasons, possibly because he’s bored.

“For now,” Peter says, cold voice surprisingly bitter. “If you haven’t noticed he’s courting a replacement, everyone else has.”

“He’s not really going after Jon is he?” Martin says. “I thought…”

“You thought you might stand a chance?”

“No, not really.” Martin sighs. Jon is a moroi, drawing what he wants from people in their dreams, he’s a bit out of Martin’s league. In more ways than one, to be honest.

Jon is maybe not to everyone’s taste, with short black fur and four extremely piercing amber eyes, but most people around the institute are used to fae kinds of beauty, even if he’s not the silvery, ethereal sort, and he’s really handsome. He also has a tendency to only use one pair of eyes at once because he wears reading glasses over the lower pair and shuts them when he looks up instead of taking his glasses off, and he bites his lip with one tiny fang when he’s concentrating, and wears plastic claw-sheaths so he doesn’t tear the books he’s always studying. It’s endearing, no matter how brusque he is or how much his stare can make magicians quail.

Martin sighs. “I thought maybe Tim, or Sasha. He respects them.”

Notes: The Entities don’t really exist in this. Most avatars and monsters are some sort of fae, but with the line between avatars and people who are just involved being very thin it’s often a matter of what I see them as.

Not all fae have magicians, not all magicians have familiars, but since their magic works in different ways they both get benefits when they do.

Jon was raised by humans, so he has some issues about fae instincts meeting human morals. His father was a demon but his mother was human, and he was raised by his grandmother.

Peter is very upset about Jonah’s attempt to trade up, and embarrassed that he still likes him too much to drown and eat him if he breaks the contract.

[eeveedel]

When you see this, post a snippet of your current WIP

I’ve seen this ten times and still have done it. So, here, for your viewing pleasure, is a lil something known simply as ‘the magician au.’

 --

Harry had ever intention to crash on the couch and hopefully wake up to an empty house so he could write this whole thing off as yet another Louis-centric nightmare. But the sound of running water pounded loud and clear through his house, making sleep nearly impossible, and he’d pinched himself enough times to ensure that, no, for better or for worse, this was not a dream.

Instead he stood in his kitchen, poured himself a glass of orange juice, dug a yellow legal pad and a nearly dead ballpoint pen out of his junk drawer, and scrawled down what he knew in a desperate attempt to process what was happening.

Louis was alive. Louis, who at one point had been the love of his life, or at least, that’s what he’d thought when he was young and an idiot and before, you know, Louis went and fucking died on him. He was alive, with breath in his lungs and a heartbeat in his chest and magic in his veins.

He was in Harry’s house. He didn’t know where else he’d been, or if anyone else knew he was alive. A selfish part of him hoped he’d the first one he came back to, that for now he was the only one to know.

He was still gorgeous. Harry wrote that down and then drowned it in pen marks that cut so deep the paper ripped. Because that was besides the fucking point, and also the last thing he needed to deal with right now.

Especially because the next thing he knew was that he still has no idea how to feel about any of this.

After a while the water shut off, and there was the sound of footsteps crossing the hall between the bathroom and the bedroom. Harry ripped his list out of the legal pad and balled it up between his fingers. He meant to throw it away, but a rogue surge of magic pulsed through his hands and the next thing he knew it had disappeared completely.

He grabbed his drink and drained the final dribble of juice and pulp in the bottom of his glass, then leaned his head against one of his cabinets. The sound of his bedroom door opening and then slamming closed made him pound his head softly against the synthetic wood behind him, a sudden and sickening realization flickering into his mind.

He’s such an idiot, because he went and made a list of the facts without even considering that he might not even be playing host to the real Louis. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to break into his house charmed to look like Louis. And Harry just let him waltz into his bedroom. God.

Harry pushed himself away from the counter and slid down the hallway, keeping his feet silent and his back pressed to the wall, back in full defensive mood. He peeked around the corner to look into his bedroom, and swallowed as he leans his body further inside.

Louis was on the bedroom floor, his hair dripping milky drops of water onto his bare shoulders, his folded legs covered in a pair of black jeans. He’d apparently summoned some of his things from God knows where he came, because he was kneeling in front of an overflowing black bag that he definitely hadn’t arrived with.

Harry held up one hand, curling his fingers slightly, and once again felt his palm warm up as he mentally recited the words to an incantation he hasn’t used in years but still knew backwards and forwards. Louis visibly jolted as the spell washes over him, and then snapped his gaze to the doorway glared at him.

“A true form test?” he snapped, “Are you fucking kidding me?”  

Harry abruptly dropped his hand, breaking the spell, and cursed softly. He’d used that spell countless times over the years, it could destroy even the most flawless transformation or illusion charms. But now, it had done nothing. So it was really Louis.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled, and then turned his eyes away from the half-naked resurrection kneeling on his bedroom floor. His eyes fell on the spot between Louis and the foot of the bed, where a large towel laid crumpled on the hardwood.

“You never pick up, do you?” he sighed, stepping over Louis’s legs to retrieve the towel.

He folded it over his arm and in seconds it went from being wet and reeking of cheap body wash to being thick, fluffy, and softly lemon-scented. Usually he’d just throw it in the hamper, do his washing like a normal person. He’d been raised to do his own chores, take care of his own things. Discovering he was a magician one day when he was seventeen wasn’t going to change that. It’s just…he’s tired. And maybe he feels like showing off a bit.

“Only because I knew you were going to do it for me,” Louis said without looking up.

And.

Shit.

That’s so Louis. It’s so fucking Louis, and it’s in his voice and the way he always talked and the way he was so goddamn insufferable sometimes, and Harry hasn’t heard it in so long.

And yet he can’t shake away the prickle in the back of his neck and the sick feeling in his stomach that tells him something is really fucking wrong.

“So – “ he started, the same moment Louis interrupted him.

“You have a calendar in your closet,” Louis said, “You know that?”

“Oh,” Harry said, “Yeah,”

“I checked it,” Louis said mildly, “You’re not lying to me,”

Harry just stared at him.

“You seem very calm for someone who just lost four years of their life,”

“Uh huh,” Louis said. He pulled something out of his bag and stood up, then yanked the object in his hands -- a tissue-thin white shirt -- over his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing as he pulled the fabric down over his torso. He turned in a circle when he was dressed, his feet rotating smoothly on the floor as he glanced over at the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He grabbed the back of his neck and tilted his head, dragging his free hand over the side of his face.

“My hair’s a mess,” he murmured, lifting a hand to drag a hand through it, “That doesn’t make sense, does it? My hair growing but me not remembering anything,”

“No, it doesn’t,” Harry allowed. None of this made sense, but one step at a time.

“I’m offended, by the way,” Harry said, forcing his voice to be level. Louis glanced over his shoulder and looked at him, and Harry cleared his throat and kept going, “That you had to look at my calendar to know it’s not four years ago anymore. That you couldn’t just look at me and know,”

“You look the same,” Louis scoffed immediately, and then turned back to the mirror.

“Really. The exact same,”

“Fine, I’ll appease you,” Louis rolled his eyes, “You’re bigger. I think you’ve grown three inches, too, so congratulations on that. Did you fuck up a spell to do that or is that just you trying to rub it in even more that I’m never going to grow?”

He turned around, still keeping both hands locked around the back of his neck, and looked at Harry fully.

“You’re paler, too. Did you finally catch on bronzer looks like shit on you?”

“I finally listened to you,” Harry allowed, “And I remembered you being a little sweeter than this,”

“Jesus Christ, now I’m offended,”

Louis smiled just for a moment, and in that moment, it was like everything was same, like they’d just bickered like this last night, and would every night after that.

But then Louis’s face fell and he turned back to Harry’s mirror, this time flattening his palms over his beard.  

“You’re afraid of me now, too,” Louis said, “That should’ve tipped me off,”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Harry said, but Louis snorted.

“Remember when we performed at Old Queen’s Head, and you spent the entire hour before we went on crying because the owners told us it was haunted?”

“I was seventeen,”

“Yeah, well, you still refused to go back,” Louis said, “You’re scared of me. I’m dead, and you’re afraid of ghosts. It makes sense,”