#snippet Sunday

[elvensorceress]

sunday snippet

I meant to have this fic done ages ago but it's now somehow three times as long as it was, I've rewritten it five times, and I'm still working on it 🫠 oh well. have a snippet from snickerdoodles.

@tizniz @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @kejfeblintz @smilingbuckley @sofa-king-lame @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @belasmalhotra @bekkachaos @blutterlie @sazanahashi @livinginsunnyhell @epicbuddieficrecs @sparklespiff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @dangerpronebuddie continued from Wednesday

Eddie tries again, but still sounds rough and hollowed out. “I don’t want to drag you down. Okay? You should move on and forget me and— and it’ll be better.”

Not so much for Eddie. He’s never let go of anything in his life. It’s all there hiding under the surface, stuffed in cages. But Buck should move on. Buck should survive him. 

Is this their only future? It feels like losing everything. Eddie is losing everything. He’s kidding himself if he thinks he hasn’t already lost Chris. What if Eddie doesn’t survive this time? What will happen to everyone he loves? Everyone who loves him?

Does anyone love him? Does he mean anything to anyone? Has he ever meant anything?

“Forget— I should forget you?” Buck snaps, his anger un-contained fire now, not just a hint of smoldering kindling. Vicious, spitting, sparking, living flames that will turn everything to ashes. 

Maybe they should actually fight and say awful things and then it would be easier to walk away. 

Eddie’s not sure he could even manage that right now. There’s nothing left in him. No fight, no fire. It’s all shattered, scattered pieces. But he would try. If Buck needs that. 

He might need that. He snaps again, “Like you’re a pair of socks that disappeared in the laundry? Or something I meant to pick up at the store and spaced? Like it’s easy? Like you’re nothing? Like this? Us? You and me? Means nothing?”

Okay, when he puts it that way… it sounds dumb. But how else can Eddie stop hurting him? “No,” Eddie says. Not fiery, not loud, not anything. “No. Just. Something that doesn’t—”

“You're my best friend. You— you’re— I’ll let you go. Okay. Whatever. I’ll do that because I know you and I know you need Chris and I get it. I wouldn’t want you to do anything but love him exactly the way you do. But I won’t, will not and can not pretend that you aren’t my best friend and my partner and the person I love more than anything. All right? I’m not going to do that. I’ve spend years—literal— almost a whole decade of years loving you more than anything. I’m not going to just forget that or forget you. I’m not throwing that way. I’m not ever going to lie and say otherwise. This is not a ‘move on and grow out of it’ scenario. I love you more than anything in the world. Okay? You told me I wasn’t expendable and I had to deal with that so you have to deal with this. You mean everything to me and I love you, and that isn’t going to change even when you leave.”

“—hurt you,” Eddie finishes. It doesn’t really sound finished now. He says it because he was already saying it. 

But that the fuck does he say now? 

Eddie doesn’t usually think of himself as small, quiet, or fragile. But he feels like that now. His feeble words sound like it even in his own ears. Small. Inconsequential. Torn apart.

Buck steps back toward him. Not enough that they’re touching, but enough that they’re closer. “Hurt me. Drag me down. I don’t care.”

Eddie recoils. No. No, he hates that idea. He is not doing that. Not intentionally. Not. What the fuck. 

He knows he said the words. He said them because his mother said them and they stuck and haven’t left his head or his heart and it’s all he does. Ruin people he loves. 

Buck shakes his head. “Be in the way. Burden me. Share whatever weight you’re carrying. Be something that stays even if you’re not here. Be part of my life even if it hurts. I don’t care if it hurts, I need you to be something to me. Having nothing of you would be a hundred, thousand, million times worse. I am in this with you. I always have been. Don’t shut me out just to spare me. If you’re facing the fire, I want to be right there with you. Please don’t make me lose everything of you. Please don’t— please. Don’t pretend this is nothing. I can take you leaving, I can’t take this,” he motions between them, “meaning nothing.”

Eddie stares and doesn’t move. And stares harder like it will help him understand. 

He knows he’s breathing still because there’s air. 

Maybe he’s not breathing. But something is making air flow in and out of his body. Like rescue breaths? Supplemental oxygen? It’s not Eddie doing it, he’s not taking in air, but it happens anyway. 

He doesn’t understand. Maybe he never has. Maybe his brain stopped processing information when he stopped breathing because the brain can’t function without oxygen. Something like that. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t. 

Buck wants something of him even after everything? After all the people who have walked out on him and treated him like he doesn’t matter? Even with how Eddie fails and hurts people who care about him? He means something to Buck? Even though he’s hurting him and abandoning him and losing him? Eddie’s just another person who leaves him. He can’t hurt Buck. He can’t keep doing it. Buck doesn’t deserve this. And Eddie deserves no loyalty, no forgiveness. 

He doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. Not in any form. He shouldn’t have it. He’s never had it. 

“I don’t—” Eddie tries to say. He has to say. He has to make the words come out. “I don’t want to hurt you the way Abby hurt you. I don’t want to do that.” 

Buck shakes his head again and starts to say something.

Eddie beats him to it. “I know it’s not the same. I know I’m not— I know you don’t— It’s different. Still. I know how she hurt you, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t know how to not do that. I’m leaving you here. In my house. Just like she did when she left you. And I have to—” Do the same fucking thing? Give him up? Walk away? Destroy everything they made together? And maybe the only way to survive is to do what Eddie does best and ruin everything? 

He looks back at Buck and doesn’t mean to say it. He wasn’t going to say anything. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. He should be mean and nasty and he should tell Buck he means nothing, this means nothing, and then Buck can just be justifiably angry and hate Eddie properly. 

And it would spare him. Whatever pain and tragedy that is associated with being near Eddie. It would spare Buck. 

That’s what he should do. 

That would be mercy and kindness. Pick up the weapon and blow this all to hell. 

Eddie can’t breathe. He can’t do this. Any of it. 

He can’t let go. He can’t lose Buck. 

And then he’s suddenly confessing, “I don’t want to do this."

It’s too late. It’s always too late. And what he actually wants has never mattered. He doesn’t matter. He never has. He twists his hands together and has nothing else to hold onto. It’s too late, so none of this matters. Eddie doesn’t matter. But he meets Buck’s lost gaze, stares into his eyes for three seconds, and he can’t keep it in.

“I want to be with Chris. I miss him so much. Every minute of every day. But I don't want to leave here. I don't want this. But it doesn't matter what I want. It never has. The one time I said, 'What about me? Why didn't you think of me?' Chris left. He left because I hurt him. And my dad says, ‘don’t wait thirty years to listen to your son.’ So I listen. I don’t know what the hell else to do. I listen, and I do what all of them ask. Even when it’s the last thing I want and I’ve already said, no, please stop, I need more time, please hear me. They don’t listen to me. I’m still nothing to every single one of them. And I just keep thinking why don’t I ever count? Why don’t I matter even a little bit?

"You think you aren't everything to me, too? Do you think that I don't love you just as much as you love me? But I don’t get to pick you. I don’t get to have anything of you. I hurt everyone I try to love including you and Chris. I’m not enough for anyone, in any way. I can’t love anyone the way they need or the way I’m supposed to. You say you’re defective parts, well I’m fucking broken.

"That’s why you should forget me. I don’t matter. You shouldn’t care. I should mean nothing because I am nothing. I’m not worth this. If I were a better, stronger person, I’d make you hate me. But I can’t even do that. I don’t want to hurt you more. I have to lose you and I don’t know how to lose you. I love you more than anything and it’s not enough. I don’t know what else to do but say, you should move on and forget me.”

Eddie turns away and covers his face, tries to hold his head because it’s aching. It’s too much. That was too much. He’s not supposed to be falling apart. Everything is supposed to be getting better. 

Shards of ice crack and fracture and break underneath him. Everything in the cage around his ribs snaps and he’s crying into his hands, trying to keep it together. Trying and failing. Always failing. His face is already wet. He was already broken. A long time ago. So many times. 

Buck is suddenly behind him. Not distant. Close behind him. He touches Eddie’s back gently and then steps around until he’s standing in front of him. He reaches between them and rests his hand on Eddie’s chest. As if he can stop the never-ending bleeding that’s somehow always pouring from Eddie’s heart. “You are enough, Eddie. You’re more than enough."

[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.

[notwritinganyflufftoday]

Snippet Sunday

Time for some family drama.

"Who's there?" Uncle Dennis calls from the dining room.

Sasha holds his breath and tries to tuck himself further between the potted plant and the wall, accidentally tipping it over. The pot topples over, dirt flying all over the carpet.

His uncle rushes out of the dining room, fists balled, ready to kick out the intruder, but he freezes when his eyes lock with Sasha, standing in the middle of the pile of dirt.

"Hi, Uncle Dennis," Sasha greets him with a little wave.

His uncle looks at him as if he's grown two heads, before whispering, "... Sasha?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, for barging in and... knocking over the plant," he looks down at the mess, "I'll clean this up."

"Who the fuck cares about that," he replies, a shaky smile crossing his lips, "come here."

Sasha steps over the dirt and into his uncle's warm embrace. Gods, it's been years but he still fits in Uncle Dennis's arms like he's a ten-year-old child instead of the almost thirty-year-old adult he is.

But there's a part of him that cringes at the touch and wants to squirm out of his grasp. A part of him has changed so irrevocably that the comfort his uncle's embrace should bring is replaced with a sense of doom.

He doesn't belong here anymore.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs in his uncle's chest, "I shouldn't be here."

"What are you talking about, bud?"

His uncle speaks with such warmth, as if he forgives Sasha for the years he's been gone without leaving even a single note behind.

Taglist: @eatinghemlocks, @foxgloves-garden, @sarandipitywrites, @northwyrm, @trixierosewrites,

@walkman-cat, @asher-writes, @seastarblue, @aloeverawrites, @firesidefantasy

@tracle0, @thelaughingstag, @ravenekrops, @frantheram

[ace-malarky]

Snippet Sunday 22/12

Hello here is a snippet super early bc oh my god do I have things that need doing today

also I woke up with words in my head and chose violence <3

no it is not Halliel getting to use her sword <3

~~

Syn landed near Halliel's apartment and pulled their wings back in. For a moment, they almost looked like themself. They missed their antlers, but if they were to have any chance of surviving this…

They straightened out their clothes as best they could, crumbling off the dried on mud. A lot had fallen off during their flight, but… well. There was no hope for this outfit, really.

Their tinted glasses were gone, broken the first time they'd been arrested.

Syn flicked their tail under the fall of their coat, and perked their ears. Tightened their grip on Halliel's sword, tapping its scabbard against their leg.

No sounds out of the ordinary. It sounded like home. Just the quiet contentment of an evening after a long day of work. Music, laughter, conversations, several different shows going at once from different flats.

At least one person had a window open, practising their instrument. They sounded better than the last time Syn had heard them, more confident. Less prone to squeaking.

They took the fire escape down two floors and stopped outside the window there. Curtains still open, lights not on. The dim light from behind them let them see in, if just barely.

There was Trixie, curled up and asleep on Halliel's bed, tail over her nose.

Syn placed a hand against the glass, leaning their forehead against it. "Thanks for looking after her, Trix," she whispered. "I'll try to come back."

Trixie didn't stir.

Syn descended the last of the stairs and stepped out into the street, under the yellowing street lamps. How long would it take, they wondered. How far would they get?

They went back to work.

Three streets down, and [spoiler] fell into place beside them.

"I'm surprised you came back."

"Couldn't let you win, could I?" Syn shot her a wry look. "Not on my turf."

She laughed. "What is this, if not me winning?"

"That's cute," Syn said. "Real cute."

[Spoiler] frowned. "Where's Halliel?" She glanced at the sword in Syn's hand.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I - yes, that's why I asked."

Syn swivelled to face her. "What makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Because she's hurt. Because she needs help. Because why else would you make the mistake of coming back here?" She shrugged, scoffing. "You're predictable, Vale."

Syn hummed and kept walking. Two more streets. The buildings were older here. Archaic, really, with their wide columns and weather-softened corners and too-big windows. Syn had loved them regardless, but the city had changed too much around them and now they just looked… old and out of place.

Progress had come on apace with no care for the aesthetics of the place.

It would have been better, maybe, to come in through the park, but they'd wanted to check on Trixie just one last time.

They'd just have to make the best of their entrance with what they'd given themself.

There were guards on the steps, Verial and Sallen. Almost every window had a blaze of too-bright light behind it, spilling out across the road, almost reaching the trees in the park across the road.

[Spoiler] reached out to take Syn's arm. "Wait."

"No," Syn said sweetly, slipping out of reach. "I'm doing this on my terms."

[Spoiler] searched their face. "What's your play, Vale? Where's Halliel?"

"Wouldn't that be telling." Syn grinned, feral, sharp teeth and the mirrored skin gleaming in the brighter light coming from the building before them.

They walked up to the guards at the bottom of the steps. "Good evening," they called. "I believe you're looking for me?" They waved, their tail wagging in tandem.

[Spoiler] grabbed at their arm as the guards reacted to their presence. "I've got this, thank you," she growled.

"You haven't disarmed them," one of the guards said.

"He's right, you know," Syn said.

[Spoiler] huffed and reached for Halliel's sword.

"Ooh, no, not yet." Syn held it out of reach, dancing backwards. "Take me," they said, grinning, "to your leaders."

[Spoiler] narrowed her eyes, hand still outstretched.

"I promise I won't use it," Syn said. "You know me. Just need the comfort."

"This is highly irregular," said one of the guards. She'd come with Jaiel and Syn from Sallen, was one of the prince's guards. "We can't-"

"I have control of the situation," [Spoiler] snapped, and the guard subsided.

Syn winked at one of the Verial guards, tapping a couple of fingers against the scabbard.

He nodded and didn't argue as Syn walked up the steps to the door, [Spoiler] in their wake.

The next set opened the door without waiting to be asked, without challenging them, and Syn thanked them as they stepped inside.

"Just the usual place, is it?" they asked, looking around the empty foyer. All gilt and marble, a statue seated in the centre of the deer-formed architect.

Syn's antlers had been more impressive.

"This way," [Spoiler] said.

Syn let her lead just long enough to work out where they were going, and then strode past. They'd make her work for it, even though she thought she'd won.

Anyone else would've insisted that Syn hand over their sword, but [Spoiler] was getting cocky with the end in sight. More fool her, really, but then she thought she was winning here.

Syn stopped before the next set of guards. "I should be expected," they said. "Do you want me to announce myself, or…?" They waggled the hilt of Halliel's sword to point at the guards, as if choosing who to do their job.

They took in Syn's appearance - they grinned, feeling the stretch in their mirror-torn skin - and one knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Maj stepped out. "What is it?" Her eyes fell on Syn.

Syn watched the shock and dismay ripple across her face.

"… Vale," Maj said. "I see."

[Spoiler], only just catching up, took possessive hold of Syn's elbow. "I brought them in."

"Make sure Halliel gets this back," Syn said, passing Maj her sword.

Maj nodded and opened the door for them. "Please, come on in."

Syn didn't shake [Spoiler] free of them this time. They'd give her this much.

[Spoiler] cleared her throat. "I've caught Vale."

Neryd looked over Syn and scoffed.

Jaiel looked up from the couch. "Yes, but where is Lance? What have they done with them?"

"Ooh, you didn't tell him?" Syn asked. "Awkward." They bowed. "Your Majesty." When they straightened up, their dragon touched horns and scales were beading in. "Can't say it was an honour serving you." They swept it away before it reached their eyes, dropping back into Vale. Just enough to make a point, not enough to break the last of their guises.

Jaiel schooled his face into a sense of neutrality, but Syn had seen the shock and then the greed flit across him. "We'll take them back to Sallen to deal with," he said.

[Spoiler] really hadn't told him anything. Syn wondered if anyone knew about her.

"I think not," Rion replied. "They have endangered us just as much by their actions."

Syn shot him a glance but couldn't read anything. Did he know who they were? … Did it matter?

[tracle0]

hey writerblr

Snippet Sunday? Is that anything? Post a snippet on a nice Sunday and maybe pick out a few - say, three or five - other snippets from others to comment something nice on? Could be cool and groovy? Oughhh you want to do this so bad

[jinnybinghamsghost]

anyway here's a very very short snippet for snippet sunday for a body horror short story i'm writing inspired by every interaction with a doctor i've ever had

[roguishcat]

Snippet Sunday

Thank you so much @kalmiaphlox for the tag! 💕

This is something I'm working on for an ask by @pebble-bb where Astarion gets to see his reflection for the first time.

@busy-baker has already posted hers because she is awesome and it's absolutely lovely! Here is the link so check it out!

"What have you got there, love?"

"Nothing!" you say a little too quickly and attempt to hide the package behind your back.

Astarion clicks his tongue and slips his long fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look straight at him.

"Tsk, cheeky pup. Lies don't become you. Out with it!" he says in a stern voice, but his eyes shine with mirth and his lips twist into a smile.

"What are you hiding that has you flustered such a fetching shade of red, hm?" he lifts his other hand to push your hair back and expose your neck. Soft digits touch skin, making you shiver.

"Nothing?" you try again, wriggling away from him, but you know it is futile. When one becomes the subject of a vampire's attention, one does not get away until the said vampire decides to set the victim free. And Astarion obviously has no intention of doing that.

"I see. Well, this nothing must be worth something, seeing as you are ready to risk baiting a predator to conceal it. Is it really a wise move to entice me when I'm itching for any excuse to devour you?"

As pleasant as that sounds, you have to be out of the inn and on your way. You have an appointment with an artificer that you must keep. It was difficult enough to convince him to take on the project, as he stated that he 'was an inventor and objects of petty vanity were beneath him'. It took coin, promises of securing rare materials, and some thinly veiled threats for the ingenious but somewhat mad artificer to begrudgingly agree to work on your project.

But you know what Astarion is like. You have to tell him something or he will not let you out of his sight at all.

"Fine. It’s a present for you, happy? "

You give a petulant pout which only makes his smile grow wider.

"Aren't I lucky that you want to spoil me? And my goodness, how your heart flutters!" he chuckles and places a kiss over the bitemarks on your neck. "Must be a very, very special present."

"It is, but it's not done yet. So you better not try to take a peek!" you push against his chest.

"Oh my sweet, you wound me! Are you insinuating that I will try to steal it and see what is inside?"

"Not insinuating, telling you outright that you better not go snooping through my things."

"Fine!" he sighs, pretending to be hurt by your words. "I will not go through your things. Cross my heart and hope to- well, you get it," he grins and finally moves, allowing you to get up.

You have the package in your hands and clutch it to close to your chest. You can feel ruby red eyes follow your every movement and try to ignore him as you quickly dress, keeping the present close at all times lest Astarion decides to swipe it when he thinks you are distracted.

Update: here's the complete story.

No pressure tags: @clazberryk, @inkymoonbunny, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@verbenaa, @fangbangerghoul,

@orangekittyenergy, @cinnamontails-ff,

@nyx-knox, @marlowethebard, @silent-words, @honeybee-bard

and anyone else who wants to share! 💖

[seastarblue]

Snippet Sunday!

yay <3

———

“Dame Sierra… a fine figure, don’t you agree?”

Felix jumped as the voice sounded behind him. The half-fairy turned around to the same portrait staring right back at him—no, this was a decidedly masculine person, and his hair wasn’t nearly as long as the woman’s. He also looked much older than her, grey hairs starting to form on his temples.

“Sir,” Felix said, standing at attention and giving a salute to the current First Justice: Lloyd Santhuff.

“At ease, knight.”

Felix’s hand lowered and rested at his side, starting to tap the hilt of his wooden sai. ‘Wait a minute… oh shit.’

He’d forgotten to drop his training weapons before rushing over. ‘Way to go, BonaDea, he thinks you’ve lost it now.’

Felix didn’t know why he was so intent on going with his partner-in-justice on her excursions with Santhuff. He’d tell himself it was simply worry for his friend, but deep down—though he’d never admit it— jealousy chewed away at him. Green eyed and ugly, it constantly made his eyes burn and his head spin with thoughts:

‘What does she have that I don’t? Why is she so favored? Why isn’t that me?’

———

General Writing Taglist! Lemme know if you’d like on/off <3

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @glbettwrites

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@frostedlemonwriter @ash-thedrawer @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr

[bloodinwine]

snippet sunday

before it hits midnight... snippet for Chp18 Until You

thank you for the tag @eraserspiral

no pressure tags: @meeshrox ; @bardic-inspo; @olivedrop

[xxnashiraxx]

Snippet Sunday

I've been tagged by the lovely @bardic-inspo!! Ty! ❤❤

Pookie is confused by "feelings". What else is new. From Chapter 14: I've Held on But Feel a Storm Approaching of With Stars to Fill My Dream (AO3), coming out exactly a week from today!!

(PS. If I should space these releases out more so the length of the story doesn't look so daunting to new readers, please let me know! I may write for me, but I write so I can share it with the community too, and I want to enjoy the journey together! Kay enough pouring my heart out 💕)

Thoughts unbidden drift across Astarion’s mind. Frustration, longing, anger- why doesn’t victory taste sweet? She plays her lute, eyes shooting over to him occasionally when she thinks he isn’t looking, only to quickly dart away once he meets them. A high blush decorates her cheeks, her voice strong and commanding as they finally re-enter the forest. Every note soothes his frayed mind and the reality of why he’s upset makes him grit his teeth. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He’s not supposed to feel hesitation. She’s finally given up the chase, finally rolled over to expose her belly, and now he feels empty where he should feel gratified. Should feel relieved. Her look of surrender had been divine, but now it tastes bitter on his tongue… He’d wanted to kiss her. Wanted it and knows he shouldn’t. This is an act. Not an indulgence. The thought of brushing his tongue against hers, of nipping at her lips, of cupping the back of her head as he explores her shouldn’t be so tempting… shouldn’t bring him any gratification. It’s supposed to be clinical- easy. Like all the others before her. He shouldn’t feel guilty. This is what’s needed for survival. Any deviation could derail everything he’s so painstakingly orchestrated. He’ll ignore the alarms in his mind, pressuring him to put a stop to this- a tiny voice, growing louder these past couple weeks. Something hidden, deep beneath layers of survival instincts, something he’d forgotten. Why it pesters him when he’s not yet safe, he’s irritatingly uncertain of. Nothing else matters but lifting himself above the others, as close as he can to the sun, reaching ever higher. There isn’t room for anybody else, and as they stroll back through the gates, he quiets that voice until it’s nothing but the ghost of a whisper. He can’t entertain caring about her feelings, or his. Mustn’t. Not if he wants to live.

Chapter Title Song:

No pressure tags!! @pinkberrytea @khywren @verbenaa @elinorbard @ladyduellist @lanafofana @coyote-mint @roguishcat @kalmiaphlox @justabiteofspite @inkymoonbunny @caffeinatedmunchkin @nerdallwritey @alwaysmauria @busy-baker @heylittleriotact @badbloodwitch @preciouslittlebhaalbae

[obsessedwhyyes]

WIP... Saturday?

So the last little while, I've been plagued with jury duty, which means I've not been a very good Tumblrer lately. I've missed so many WIP Wednesday and Snippet Sunday tags!

Thank you so much to the incredibly gorgeous, wonderful @khywren, @davenswitcher, @nerdallwritey, @kalmiaphlox, and @caffeinatedmunchkin for the tags! Your WIPs are a hard act to follow ❤️

Here's a big ol' snippet from chapter 2 of my mystic circus AU, A Tale of Fools and Tricksters, officially titled, 'Looking Glass.' Featuring a slightly frantic Astarion.

Chapter 1 can be found here!

EDIT: Chapter 2 is here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @larvasmoonlight @scrapsovereign @snowfolly @honeybee-bard @inkymoonbunny

[albatris]

snippet sunday

nothin wild from me today, just a little interaction I enjoy from the vampire support group

“Hi, Nat,” said the first goth. “I am Epson. Like the printer.”

“I’m Ampersand,” said the second goth. “Like the squiggly guy.”

“I’m Greg,” said Greg.

“If you would like to add glitter to your nametag, I know where I can get you some,” Epson said. “Atsuo does not leave it out because it goes everywhere but his daughter has a craft cupboard and I know where it is.”

“Th-thanks!” Nat said. “I’m fine, though.”

“No. You need glitter,” Epson said, and she vanished.

With nothing else to do but start, Nat seized an orange marker. He spelled his name out in bubble letters, all caps, and drew a kitty cat face after it.

“Do you like Quantumfish?” Ampersand asked. “I have Parker stickers.”

Nat noticed a few chibi Parker faces on Ampersand’s own nametag, and he nodded. Ampersand leaned over and ceremoniously placed a tiny Parker brandishing a laser cannon on the other side of Nat’s name.

“So where are you from, Nat?” Greg asked.

“Bright Park,” Nat said. “How about you?”

“We’re all from Port Peri,” Greg replied. “We make the drive down every fortnight. There’s no stuff like this out where we are.”

“Folks come from all over,” Ampersand said. “One guy’s from all the way on the Bronze Coast—he comes over once a month just for us.”

“Not just for us,” Greg said. “For the group.”

“No, for us, specifically,” said Ampersand.

[mollywog]

Snippet Sunday

Christmas ficlet coming soooooon…

“Oh, no, not me. My roommate, Johanna… From HR? I came as her plus one.”

Peeta frowns, shaking his head.

“She promised free food and booze.” Johanna was not one for leaving work at work and Katniss had assumed she’d met half her coworkers by now, but she’d underestimated the size of this holiday client party. She was pretty sure she’d noticed the head of the environmental firm she worked for here.

“But I think she really invited me to make her ex jealous.” Katniss adds, scanning the room for any sign of her roommate or the terrifying woman who’d apparently been the other occupant of her apartment before her.

She should have suspected something when Johanna picked out this clingy scooped back cocktail dress for her and insisted on the nails and lashes.

“I wouldn’t want to be them tonight.”

She snorts, “yeah me either, I wouldn’t want to be in Johanna’s crosshairs.”

He gives her an amused smile and another possible meaning of his comment dawns in her. She takes a sip to hide her blush, “um, but what about you?”

[tracle0]

Hit List for Snippets!!

Hi! I'm starting a thing for writerblr called Snippet Sunday!

Wrote at all this week? Give us a taste of it! Maybe 5-7 paragraphs, a little teaser! At the same time, keep your eyes peeled for other writers doing the same! Try to reblog their writing, share a few thoughts, get some back!

This is not intended to be formal critique, just a bit of fun!

This post is intended to act as a vague informational board for what to do for it, as well as a hitlist for me to check on Sundays! So please, reblog this post if you plan to be taking part, and I'll keep you on my radar!

Happy writing :)!

[eddiestightywhities]

SNIPPET SUNDAY

so there i was minding my own business working away on my s08e08 coda when BAM! charlie @playinginthunderstorms goes and drops THIS SHOW-STOPPING FIC and completely derails my efforts by inspiring me to write a completely different fic that is also a coda for s08e08 lmao. having writer friends is never, ever boring, amirite?!

anyways here's an excerpt seeing as i thought i'd get it finished tonight but didn't and need the motivation to keep going with it asfhjhsk

ps pls be kind as it's completely unedited xp

now complete and found HERE on ao3

.

“Take it off.”

Buck looks up to where Eddie is standing in the door jam, big hands on slim hips and pink lips pinched.

“Huh?” he replies.

Because huh?

Eddie gives him The Look; his patented Buck look.

“Buck,” he says in the exact same way Buck just heard it in his head.

Then Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in the way Buck knows to mean you know what I mean, and although most of the time Buck knows precisely what Eddie means with just one pointed eyebrow-raise, right now he has zero clue of whatever it is Eddie is trying to tell him.

“What?” he says, his own brows asking half the question for him.

Eddie sighs, and it's kind of pained and long-suffering, which—fair.

“The hoodie, lover-boy. Take it off.”

The penny-drop is immediate.

For some reason, Buck blushes a little under Eddie's gaze—and maybe a little at his use of the weirdly alluring moniker.

Buck is wearing one of Tommy's hoodies.

He doesn't pout, but it's a close thing.

“But it's—Eds, it's the only thing I have left of him,” he protests, voice pathetically brittle and small.

Eddie's eyes go so soft you could top hot chocolate with them and cover them in squirty cream.

“Look, Buck, keeping it is bad enough. But wearing it? That's some pretty solid self-sabotaging behaviour, man. Trust me; I should know.” His words are cleanly direct, as they always are, only his mouth treats them with such gentleness, and such care, that Buck kind of wants to cry.

Eddie always looks after him. Always works hard to keep Buck's heart safe from harm.

Buck pictures it now, his heart laying uselessly in his friend's cupped hands as it continues to pump Buck's blood out of its floppy ventricles, even though there's nowhere left for it to go.

Tommy left him.

They all leave, eventually. Because everybody leaves Buck, he should know that by now.

Everyone except Eddie.

Adversely, though, it was only yesterday that Eddie had told Buck about his absolutely batshit crazy idea of moving back to El Paso, after which Buck's brain had consequently stopped sending messages to his body to tell it how to breathe.

He remembers picturing Yesterday Eddie crushing Buck's heart in a tight fist, blood and viscera oozing out from between his fingers and dripping down over his knuckles, right onto the sparkling white kitchen tiles. Then, rounding the table and chairs to step on the pedal bin pedal, he'd proceeded to throw Buck's heart away into the trash bag along with the rest of the trash.

Somehow though, in the space between the last of Buck's now-crushed heartbeats and him blinking back to reality, Buck had managed to snap out of the fucked-up vision to remind his body to keep working in the way that it's supposed to.

He'd then forced a plastic smile onto his face and painted it with as much selfless understanding as he could muster, before coming out with, “Well, we should move this party to the couch,” and offering himself up as a Realtor Virtual Meeting Wingman like a certified insane person.

Buck loved Eddie—he was his best friend in all the world—so what the fuck was he doing helping the guy turn his life into a living hell?

But helping being his first instinct was what made him realise he loved Eddie and Christopher enough to give them up, if that's what it was going to take to facilitate them getting their happiness back.

…Or so he thought.

As much as he had tried—and by god, he had really, really tried—Buck just couldn't keep up the Supportive Best Friend charade for very long.

That's when all hell had broken loose.

.

you can now read the completed fic HERE on ao3!

tags are under the cut, play or nay:

@inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch @woodchoc-magnum @kitteneddiediaz @buddiebeginz @watchyourbuck @treasurehuntbuck @daffi-990 @colonoscopys @shitouttabuck @lamardeuse @idealuk @veronae-buddie @isaacthedruid @team-118 @wildehacked @playinginthunderstorms @kyoteugly @hotshotsxyz

[hawkeykirsah]

Snippet Sunday

It's been a hot minute since I did Snippet Sunday the last time but here's some Soapgaz I'm working on. I entertained the thought of it becoming Soapgazghost for quite a while but it didn't turn out that way. Another time, then. Either way, I decided to try something different and write in present tense. Not quite sure how I feel about it yet.

“Gaz?” Soap asks, tilting his head to look at him. “You alright, mate?” He undoes the sporran and places it on a shelf, belt neatly coiled up, and takes off his socks, balancing easily on one foot as he does. Kyle swallows, standing a bit awkwardly two steps into the room. He wants to kiss him so badly it’s making his chest ache. His mind is still reeling, trying to reconcile the all new facets of Soap he saw today with the fact that it made him realize he’s apparently slowly been falling in love with his teammate for months. Soap approaches him slowly, a curious look in his eyes. “You’ve been acting strange all day.” “I—” Kyle starts, wondering how to explain the feelings whirling in his chest. “Fuck.” He surges forward, framing Soap’s face with his hands, and brings their lips together, hoping this doesn’t ruin things between them, hoping that Ghost was right and Soap really is interested. He hears the stunned sound ripped from Soap’s throat but he doesn’t pull away. No, his lips move against Kyle’s with ease, returning the kiss. Emboldened, Kyle traces his tongue over the seam of those lips, slipping it inside when he feels them part. He tilts his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss, the low groan Soap lets out reverberating through him. Slowly, Soap pulls away, his hands resting on Kyle’s chest. He licks his lips, eyes bright. “Not sure what brought this on but I’m no’ complainin’,” he says breathlessly.