#lots of little snippets!

[pynkhues]

ok i'm biting the bullet for the team, it's kinktober after all. ahem, the words for the ask game - kiss, lips, thighs, fingers, sex

trying to list all the body parts that could participate in the horizontal tango without going too explicit 🤓

Hahaha, OKAY!

-

Another snippet from the weird roleplay cruising fic:

And Lestat surges up then, mouth aiming for Louis’, and he’s fast, always, but this time, Louis’ faster. He grabs a fistful of blond hair, tugs, hard, until Lestat holds steady and he can feel it - - Lestat’s hot, wet breath on his chin.

“I don’t kiss boys steppin’ out on their husbands,” he says, his voice low and firm, and Lestat blinks wild eyes back up at him, pupils blown from the coke or the chase or just this, Louis doesn’t have it in him to care. He lets his lips twitch into something like a smirk. Leans in close enough to run the tip of his nose across Lestat’s sharp cheekbone on his way towards his ear. When he gets there, he lets his tongue dart out, flick at his lobe just to feel Lestat squirm underneath him, before he adds: “I fuck ‘em though.”  

-

Reunion fic

“What’d it feel like? In my head?” Louis asks, glancing up at him. “Back when I was mortal?”

Lestat blinks at him, like the question’s surprised him, and he parts his lips only to close them again when Louis turns properly to face him.

“No romance, Lestat. Just. Real. What did it feel like in there to you?”

-

Also Reunion fic

The slacks are too big for him. Fabric hanging like curtains down Lestat’s skinny thighs, and Louis half wonders if they’d fall down entirely if Lestat let go of the waistband. Still, there’s the belt, Louis thinks, his hands moving to grip it, and it’s designed for a larger man too, the notches not running down far enough to do much of anything for Lestat, and it’s a memory Louis can’t bear to linger on. The fact that he knows where to sink a fang into the leather of it, where to place another notch to fit the slender waist of the man he once called husband.

-

Louis-photography fic

Louis hooks two fingers through the suspender, blood pooling behind his molars at the heat radiating off Lestat’s skin as he tugs the elastic back as far as it’ll go, testing the give of it and the fit of the garter belt. When it doesn’t shift, the lace sitting snug around Lestat’s narrow hips, he releases it, the snap of the suspender against Lestat’s milky thigh almost as satisfying as Lestat’s breathless little gasp.

-

Lestat-POV BDSM-weirdness fic

“What is it?” Lestat asks, voice low so as not to alert Bertrand and Valentin to his question, watching as Nicki tilts the book towards the candlelight, needing the illumination of it to read.

“Pornographie,” Nicki tells him after a moment, flicking through the pages of the book. “A new libertine writer, the Marquis de Sade, he writes about sex like Satan himself. Weren’t some of the players talking about him last week during rehearsals?”

Send me a word and if it's in my WIP, I'll post a little something

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #6

(A/N: Vote winner so I did my best to finish this)

"Screw it, i am done..." Danny grumbled as he stepped onto the watchtower through a portal, ignoring the startled heroes around him, or his own rather disheveled state. His green glowing eyes surveyed the room he was in for a brief moment before his eyes zeroed in on the one hero that caused to much work for him.

"YOU!" He pointed an accusing finger at the red clad hero before floating over and grabbing the hero by the front of his hero suit. "Do you have any idea how much work you cause me!"

Danny got one confused blink before he launched into a rather thorough explanation of what he just went through fixing 20 different timelines that got created because of one flashpoint while shaking the Flash like he was a ragdoll, ignoring the other heroes around him.

Clark, who arrived a little late to the meeting, looked around the meeting room confused. He glanced to the side to one of his hero colleagues. "Is there....?"

"A white haired floating teen boy giving Barry the lecture of a lifetime?" Oliver cut in arms crossed as he watched on. "Yes, there is."

Clark blinked, looking back at the scene and then back at Oliver. "And..."

"And Bruce is actually taking notes and enjoying Barry getting lectured to an inch of his speedster life while also getting information on time itself? Yes he is." Oliver added an, his tone slightly frustrated but also happy that he wasn't at the receiving end of the teen boy's rant. The kid had been going on about different time lines and the multiverse theory as well as how Barry apparently created several different timelines any time a new flashpoint happened or the past gets seemingly changed. Oliver wasn't even sure the kid was breathing with the way he had been talking non stop.

"And for the record! Changing the past does not automatically fix your present! You just created an entirely new timeline! Do you know how many times I had to fix these? You left so many unattended timelines! I would be rich now if I had gotten a dollar for every time I or my siblings had to fix the stuff you did! Did you ever hear about the multiverse theory?! Hell you are heroes! Didn't you deal with other universes already!?"

The kid rambled on and Clark was pretty sure he wasn't hearing the kid breath in once, which was worrying in so many different levels. But a little traitor part of his mind was actually finding the situation quiet funny.

"Oh and don't get me started on your spawns!" Clark winced a little as he heard the floating boy breath in for the first time in his entire rant before launching into another rant about how it wasn't just Barry but his entire family. Next to him Oliver chucked finding the moment simply funny end enjoying the show of Barry, aka the Flash getting lectured by a floating teen boy.

Though they partially wondered why Bruce wasn't stepping in but then again, the kids rant was... rather informative if he wasn't cursing at Barry's entire family.

A little earlier that day...

Danny groaned as a green note fluttered onto his desk in the middle of his English exam. His head hit the desk and he was sure he was creating some sort of misunderstanding and appearing like he didn't study enough for this exam. Which for once he did, he actually had managed to get time to study for this exam for once. And that despite all the work that had been piling up lately.

The fun fact was that work didn't pile up because of some ghost king title or something, or his rogues dogpiling on him. No it piled up because of a hero organisation outside of Amity. Now don't get him wrong, he admires these heroes. The ones from outer space are his favorites even. But unknown to them they caused im a lot of work ever since clockwork started to mentor him.

Danny glanced at his English exam and then at the note before his head hit the desk again.

Just one day... was one day to much to ask?

He blames whatever hero was at fault this time as he couldn't concentrate on is exam anymore. He barely remembers finishing it as he hurried out of the classroom, forgetting to give Sam and Tucker an explanation as he went ghost and hurried of to the ghost zone. Danny's eye twitch a little when he noticed Clockworks amused expression.

"What is it this time?" Danny groaned already knowing he wouldn't like what he was going to hear.

"Another flashpoint was created. You know what this means." Clockwork chucked handing him a time medallion and Danny groaned even more.

"Can't Dan or Dani..." He started but Clockwork cut him off with an amused headshake. "No, they are currently busy with another job I gave them."

Reluctantly Danny nodded and stepped through the time portal. While he knew, he would actually only be gone for a minute at most in the present, it still annoyed him that he had to constantly fix time. And most of the time it was because of one specific hero at that. He was not looking forward on how many different timelines he had to fix right now now. this was going to take a while too. Even if only maybe a minute will pass in his timeline.

He still had bruises from the last 20 timelines he fixed. And in all honesty he was getting tired of this kid of work, he was partially sure Clockwork was him now, so he wouldn't have to do this himself. Or the ancient of time was getting a kick out of watching Danny fumble while fixing other timelines.

He yelped as he dodged velocraptors right after coming out of the time portal. "SERIOUSLY?! THE MESOZOIC ERA THIS TIME TOO?! WHAT AM I EVEN SUPOSED TO FIX HERE?!" He yelled at nothing in particular. That was it, this time, this time he decided he would finally go and pay these heroes a visit and make them aware how much work they had been causing him...

[wrenhavenriver]

[wishfulsketching]

Ohhhh man I'd forgotten about Lu Zhen and Long Min! Love those boys 💕 I rlly missed reading their comics 🥰

THANK YOU! THANK YOU THANK YOU! I love you

Here's a little comic I did long ago but it was "too messy" to post but eh, here ya go. Context: dragons "kiss" by booping noses

Long Min realizes he has feelings.

And here's a even older doodle of Long Min's and Lu Zhen's first meeting

Lu Zhen had feelings from the start

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Lala...

[wildstar25]

WolShtola Week 2025 - Day Two - Fell first/Fell harder

A gradual acceptance of ones own yearning heart.

A sudden clarity to long harboured, deep affections.

The moment shared across two points of time.

[blushingsastiel]

i hope castiel and sam know (somehow they know) that i think about them holding hands all the time. the show gave us crumbs of sastiel hand-holding, but that didn't stop me from imagining it myself. warm hands entangled, callouses from repeatedly holding a gun or angel blade or from fighting in general can be felt when they touch. it may be just a simple brush of fingertips or knuckles that become intertwined, making the two feel safe.

[howlonomy]

Might I pester you for another monster clover?

clover: just happy to be here :)

[smilesrobotlover]

I don’t draw the boys enough despite them being the main guys lol. I really need to focus on them more. I love them

[ellsey]

One day Yor Briar Forger is going to be faced with what she thinks is an opportunity to bring about world peace and Mr. Loid Twilight Redacted Forger is going to get the kiss of his life

[yasmindifference]

so @aceofshitposts and I did a little challenge where we spent an hour(+ change) writing for the same prompt! the prompt was Have one character brushing the hair away from the face of the other and here's what I came up with:

Before Robin, Tim was a normal latchkey rich kid—nannies, housekeepers, postcards from his world-travelling parents. He took martial arts with his mother’s bemused approval, but it was all carefully structured, closely supervised katas. Neither of his parents ever imagined he’d need to actually defend himself.

After Robin—well. Bruce very much imagined he’d need to defend himself (ensured it, in fact), but he viciously hated guns. He taught Tim how to handle them safely, but no more than that. There were certainly no lessons on firearms maintenance.

Of course, Bruce never could have guessed what a disadvantage that would leave Tim at, here after the end of the world.

“Wrong,” Jason says without looking up from his own work, and Tim sighs.

“How wrong?”

“Very.”

Tim sighs again, louder, and takes the half-assembled revolver back apart to start over. “I’m not getting better at this.”

“Sure you are,” Jason says. He’s still focused on the gun he’s cleaning—his fifth, while Tim struggles to put his first back together. “You’re only fucking up because you’re rushin’ it. Take your time and you’ll do fine.”

Sounds nice in theory, but—“I need to be fast.”

“Can’t be fast until you’ve got it down,” Jason reminds him, which Tim knows. Of course he does. It’s not just Firearms 101, it’s Anything 101. He didn’t start at disarming bombs in under 15 seconds, he started with hours and worked his way down.

But that was then, back when he was a kid in the safety of the Cave, in danger of nothing more than Batman’s disapproval.

These days, taking too long to do anything—especially weapons maintenance—could get him killed. Or worse, could get Jason killed.

“Freaking out won’t help either,” Jason says.

Somehow, he’s moved on to his sixth gun. His sixth, while Tim is sitting here struggling with his first. He’s got three guns to clean, Jason’s got more than ten, and at this rate, Jason’s going to end up cleaning Tim’s other two while Tim struggles with basic assembly in a way he didn’t even struggle with literal rocket science—

“Hey, hey,” Jason says, and suddenly he’s there, pulling Tim away from the table and sinking to his knees in front of him, brushing Tim’s too-long hair out of his face to kiss him.

It’s sweet. Gentle, soft. There’s no force behind it, but it punches right through Tim’s panic anyway, like a little puncture to let all the anxiety spill out of him. Tim melts into it—into Jason—leaning forward further and further until he ends up sliding out of the chair and into Jason’s lap.

Then they’re both on the floor, a spread of half-cleaned guns on the table above them plus a gun on each of their hips.

“There you go,” Jason murmurs against his mouth. He kisses Tim again once, twice, and then pulls back to look at him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Tim lies. In reality, he’s embarrassed that he almost worked himself into a panic attack over weapons maintenance—that Jason had to interrupt his own work to calm him down—but embarrassment’s still an improvement over hyperventilation, so…whatever. Close enough.

Jason’s eyes narrow. “Are you lying?”

Tim groans and buries his face in Jason’s neck. Jason, surprisingly, lets him. Instead of dragging Tim up by the hair to face him, he just cups the back of Tim’s neck, one thumb sweeping soothingly over the skin behind Tim’s ear.

“I told you it’s not the end of the world if I have to handle the weapons maintenance,” he says.

“It’s the end of the world anyway,” Tim mutters, and Jason laughs a little.

“Well, yeah,” he admits. “But still. What’s got you so upset about this? You’re not usually this picky about the division of labor.”

Tim laughs humorlessly. Division of labor, right. As if he’s contributed anything at all.

“Hey.” Jason’s hand tightens in his hair, and now he pulls Tim back, forcing eye contact. “What was that? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Tim echoes. He wants to—to laugh or scream or cry or something. “What’s wrong is that you’ve saved my life a dozen times in the last two weeks and I haven’t been able to do anything for you.”

Jason scowls. “That’s bullshit.”

It’s not. It’s really not.

The world is falling apart and all of Tim’s skills are worthless. He’s worthless.

Three weeks ago, a coordinated strike took out every power grid in North America. Not all at once, no, but ten simultaneous major failures took their toll on connecting systems, causing cascading failures until nothing was left.

They could’ve recovered from that. It wouldn’t have been easy or fast, but it could’ve been done.

Then the virus hit. In Gotham, the hospitals were the first to fall, but far from the last. A wave of zombies—actual fucking zombies, like something out of a movie—swept across the entire city (the entire world, they suspect, but haven’t been able to reach the Justice League to confirm), and hundreds of thousands of people died.

All of Tim’s skills, all of his training—none of it helped. He’s spent his entire career as a vigilante honing himself into a carefully, purposefully nonlethal weapon…and only lethal action works against the zombies.

If not for Jason, he’d have been dead the first day.

If not for Jason, he’d have been dead every day since.

And Tim can’t even pay him back by helping take care of the guns Jason has been using to keep them alive.

Maybe Tim accidentally says it aloud, or maybe Jason can just read him that well by now. Their casual fuck buddies relationship turned serious really fast after the zombies showed up.

Either way, his scowl deepens.

“You think you’re not helping me?” he demands. “You think I’d have gotten half this far without you watching my back?”

“If you didn’t have me to protect—”

“If I didn’t have you to protect I’d be losing my fucking mind,” Jason interrupts. “If I had to do this alone—if I had to actually think about what’s fucking happening here—”

He stops and swallows hard. Tim closes his eyes.

They don’t know what’s happening outside of Gotham. Their phones are charged, but don’t get a signal, and none of their communicators are working. Tim shouted himself hoarse trying to get Kon’s attention with no response.

And inside Gotham—inside Gotham—

Tim wrenches his mind away before it can go back to the Manor and what happened there. Hoping to distract them both, he kisses Jason again.

Jason lets him. Jason kisses him back. Not gentle this time: deep and hard, something filthy that makes Tim’s blood sing.

And when it stops, Jason presses their foreheads together, one hand cupping the back of Tim’s head to hold him in place.

“I don’t give a fuck if you can’t clean the damn guns, baby,” he says. “I don’t need you to help me keep us alive, I need you to keep me fucking sane.”

A sweet sentiment, but—“I need me to help keep us alive.”

Jason takes a deep breath, then another. Then he kisses Tim again and sits back.

“Okay,” he says. “I get that. But you gotta chill, okay? Your shooting’s getting better a lot faster than your maintenance is. Prioritize.”

Well, fair enough.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Yeah, okay.”

Jason brushes his thumb over Tim’s cheek, then brushes his hair out of his face again, this time tucking it behind Tim’s ear. It’s the kind of tender gesture that always puts Tim’s heart in his throat.

“Ready to try again?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

[onsideramen]

Monstrosity spoilers probably possibly. Also I was bored so it's like the smallest snippet of writing ever . Maybe I'll write a fanfic for monstrosity later who knows .

"It is not useless."

Kai glared at the mech, trembling fingers holding the compass tighter than he should. "Yes, it is!" His voice was snippy, cracked. He pushed himself up, dragging himself through the mud, huffing at the sound of large metallic footsteps behind him.

No response. Of course there wasn't, Rusty may be somewhat sentient, but he wasn't human in the way Pixal or Zane were. No, stop it! He shouldn't be comparing any of them.

"No, it is not. It is broken, injured. Not useless." The mech stepped forward, stopping beside the fire wielder. His gears creaked and groaned, clacking together in harsh ways, grinding against metal, scaring off possible prey.

Kai shifted, loosening his grip on the compass. He plucked dirt off of it and swiped mud away from the screen, gingerly brushing his fingers over the cracks forming along it. He turned it over in his hand, flipping the back hatch-thing open.

"See?" Rusty moved, robotic wiring filling the isolating silence. "It just needed help," the robot stated, simple as fact.

Kai didn't speak, hardly even thought, as he clicked a loose gear back into place, the compass flickering to life. He forced himself to keep walking, limping and dragging himself through the muddied terrain around him.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Rook x Observant Reader snippet:

The Pomefiore dorm leader grips Rook’s hand just as tightly, before sighing. He produces a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to the hunter.

“Don’t get snot on my clothes, and I’m sorry for scaring you. Thank you for leading the others. I’m proud to have you as my second in command,” Vil tells him.

Ace interjects, “He led us better than you ever did. [Y/N] says that emotional damage is real, and I expect some compensation.”

You snort as Vil’s mouth drops open in offended shock.

“Ace!” Deuce cries, looking horrified.

Grim cackles, “There’s our classic Ace! He doesn’t hold back the punches.”

The redhead smirks at the varied reactions.

(Was rereading the story, saw this and went “this is hilarious. I must share this in a snippet)

[ariadne-mouse]

For the "I wish you would write a fic where…" I don't know if this counts because it's not a new fic, but:

"Was? Essek? I thought you were out of town?"

Caleb wakes up with obsidian flakes of a'a in his hair and and no memory of the last few years. His very-new boyfriend has adopted his cat, there's a court case for his attemped murder, and he might have been a ghost?

A followup to The Fire Kept Closest, from Caleb's POV, filling in the timejump to the epilogue.

Thank you for the ask! It took me a minute to get to this ask game, but here we are. I am not writing exactly to the prompt, but I hope you like this 830-word slice of post-fic Volcaleb nonetheless!

-

"I would like to go, I think."

Essek paused where he had just gathered a scoop of cat kibble. The awaiting dish lay on the floor, empty. "Are you sure?"

"Ja," Caleb answered. He folded the local newspaper he had been reading in half, the headline visible: Corporate Clash: Cerberus takes the stand. "I know it's best my situation stays out of the spotlight, at least for now, but I want him to see me. To see my face, and know that I know." His expression darkened. "I want him to sweat."

At Essek's feet, Frumpkin yowled his impatience, unaware of corporations, or bureaucracy, or indeed the significance of newspapers beyond the fact that they were sometimes fun to sit on.

"Calm down, calm down," Essek tutted, and gave the beast his meal. He smoothed a hand down Frumpkin's back, thinking. "I'll go with you, if you really want to go."

Caleb smiled grimly. "Danke. I would like that. But I have an idea, also - you can help."

-

Vence Nuthaleus cleaned up well in a suit, and he knew it. It was unfortunate that the volcano on Rumblecusp had popped its top as soon as it had, but he was still safely ensconced in respectability - and more importantly, plausible deniability. Research was only as good as records available, and his land use recommendation report had been scientifically sound with the data from the island's active seismometer network.

It didn't even alarm him that he was playing a kind of mutually assured destruction game with Cerberus. They wanted to publicly shed him as a "bad actor", especially convenient given his contractor status - but if they did, he'd reveal they had been the ones to disconnect the last seismometer. He had enough leverage in writing to make the accusation compelling, and they knew it. The thing they might most want to pin on him... well, they didn't have any evidence of that. All told, it was in Cerberus's best interest to protect him. And so he wore his most approachable suit, and a polite smile, and answered questions as earnestly as he could when he was on the stand. Mardoon Estate only wanted money, after all, and Cerberus certainly had plenty of that. Vence didn't need to be scapegoat for it all to work out eventually.

The courtroom around him was full for the spectacle. The door creaked open every so often as the gawkers and media came and went, like bees buzzing on a hive. He sometimes saw familiar faces from the island: Dr. Vilya, Beauregard, Thelyss. Today the last of these was sitting in one of the back rows by himself, glaring at Vence like he always did when he was there. Too bad; being a stuck-up trust fund baby wouldn't help Thelyss here.

It was some minutes before Vence's attention was drawn by a spot in the standing room in the back that had not moved at all for some time. Even as his mouth answered the current question on autopilot, his eyes were drawn to look at the vacuum of stillness.

A dead man was looking back at him.

Vence's words curdled in his throat, choking his breath.

He was there. Caleb Widogast was there, standing among the throng.

"Mr. Nuthaleus?" prompted the examiner.

"I... I..."

The ghost - it could only be a ghost - stared at him with those eerie blue eyes, unblinking. He was dressed like he had been, for a hike on the mountain. There was even a lightweight heatsuit half-zipped and tied around his waist.

He looked exactly like he had when he had died. When--

Vence couldn't pull his gaze away. "Could- could you repeat the question?"

The examiner repeated it, and again Vence did not hear.

Nearby, Thelyss was standing up. He favored Vence with a last look of contempt before making for the double doors. The crowd parted to let him pass, but Widogast did not move. And Thelyss... walked right past him, like he wasn't there.

A chill rolled down Vence's spine and his breathing came faster. He could hear a ringing noise, his vision was narrowing.

With effort, he turned a smile to the judge. "I'm sorry, I think I need a moment."

When he turned back, Caleb Widogast was gone.

-

Outside in the hallway, Essek leaned on the wall next to Caleb, who sat heavily on a bench. The heat suit was stuffed back into a bag.

"Feel any better?"

A muscle in Caleb's face twitched, and his hand balled in a fist. "A little. I don't know. Seeing him-" His breath left him in a gust. "It was harder than I expected."

Essek touched his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "Come, then. Let's go. We can learn what happened later. Frumpkin is waiting for you at home."

This last tactic was always a surefire way to bring a little smile back to Caleb's face, and it proved to be so now.

“Ja,” Caleb agreed, straightening up.  “Let’s go home.”

[cloudclangen]

Something's cooking...