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phoebe-delia · 1 year

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"Fast Car" WIP Snip

I don't think I've had (a public) one at all this year so far!! This is a fic I started literally just now but I told yall I was gonna do one to "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman and I am pleased to say that I have the first scene!! And you can read it right here!! Yay!!

“You’re not serious.”

Harry shrugged, staring straight ahead and walking past where Draco had dramatically paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Harry slowed his pace, though, and nonchalantly sipped from his to-go cup of coffee. “I think it makes sense.”

Draco moved to catch up, their steps aligning once more. He scoffed, and his breath fogged in the frigid late autumn air. “How on earth—“

“We both want to—“ he briefly interrupted himself, glancing around to make sure no one in the open park was staring or listening in on their conversation. He was certain the Glamour was still holding up, but he could never be too careful in public. “We both want to leave,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It might as well be together. At least that way, we’ll know someone.”

“But we’re barely even friends,“ Draco nearly whispered. “How do you expect us to like each other for that long—let alone live together?”

Harry stopped walking, and Draco did too, letting Harry turn and face him directly. Draco’s eyes were wide and uncertain; he was shivering slightly, his body no longer warmed by their brisk walk. His cheeks had flushed in the cold, the color spreading to the tip of his nose, and Harry suppressed the sudden, potent urge to pull him into his arms and press his lips along the pinked skin. To warm him from the inside out.

“Well,” Harry said instead. “I think ‘barely friends’ is a little unfair. We’ve hung out.”

“Having a drunken heart-to-heart at Luna’s birthday party doesn’t really count, Potter.”

“That wasn’t the only time we’ve hung out just us two.”

“Since when?”

“Since now, arguably,” Harry said with a quick half smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, I suppose you sending me an Owl to meet up and proposing this ridiculous idea does count as us ‘hanging out.’ But what about your friends? Your life? Your job?”

Harry waved a hand. “I’ll see them. It’s Muggle America, not Siberia. Besides, I’m tired of the Ministry. It’s…”he trailed off and sighed. “I need a change, and so do you.”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you. Your mother fucked off to Paris with a man half her age. Your father is rotting in Azkaban where he belongs. You’ve got to be getting lonely in that obnoxious Manor of yours.”

Draco scoffed. “You don’t know me—“

“Don’t I?”

Draco studied him in silence, a bit stunned, before shaking himself. “It’ll never work,” he said, finally.

Harry shrugged. He took another sip of his coffee and grimaced at the drink, now gone cold. He looked back at Draco, who was staring at him with a frown.

“Only one way to find out,” Harry said, tossing his cup in a nearby trash can. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do, do you?”

Draco stared for another long moment, and then he huffed a laugh and looked away, shaking his head, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.

#MUAHAHHAA #I THINK THIS FIC IS GONNA BE ANGSTYYYYYY #:)#wip snip #I WROTE A THING!!!#LIKE IM WRITING AN ACTUAL WIP AND NOT A RANDOM LATE-NIGHT FLUFF ONESHOT STRAIGHT INTO TUMBLR

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slyther-bi · 10 months

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I keep listening to sad songs and I keep making myself cry invisioning heartbreaking scenes about Severus and his friends🥲🥲🥲

#Severus: WE WERE KIDS! WE WERE KIDS TOO!.....so why? why didn’t you save us?#In all my scenarios I keep imagining Severus saying this to Dumbledore 🥲#Not only that I also invision Lucius having a picture taken of Severus - Mulciber - Avery & Evan laid in each corner of one bed #genuinely smiling for the first time in their lives and he frames it and has it on his desk in his study after they all die #the picture thing is part of a angst au idea I have in my head but imagining it in canon makes me sadder then the angst bullshit I imagine #Basically all these thoughts are just snip bits to go with the song #like an edit video but with more heartbreaking scenes than canon #shit post #random #random shit #my shit

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stevethehairington · 1 month

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so like. i may or may not have a SUUUUPER rough 1 ish k of terror fic written out currently...........

#it is by no means even CLOSE to anything finished #in fact it is more several random semi related scenes written in one document #but like they are words!!! that i wrote!!!!#and i actually think they dont sound half bad #i kiiiiiinda wanna share some but like idk if anyone would even be interested #i have very few terror followers im sure lol sooooo #mayhaps ill post a snip if anyone wants to see #mack writes #the terror

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chubsieee · 8 months

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#this wasn’t drawn in ms paint it was drawn in fucking snipping tool #random chubsieee shit

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ilovedthestars · 6 months

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trick or treat... something spooooky :3

if only i'd ever written a single word of that Frankenstein AU idea...alas! i spent so long mulling this over, i don't really write horror and even like, suspense is rare for me and i think i've shared all the best examples of it.

so here is a more recent wip that i hope is written suspensefully!! to set the scene: a ghost ship has just been detected on the edge of Preservation space. It's drifting under no engine power and not responding to comm contacts. Murderbot goes with the station responder to check it out, and when they get close they pick up a short range "assistance needed" signal. Here's two snips, since they're short:

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“So they were desperate.” “Yes.” “Why couldn’t we pick up the signal until we got this close? It’s not very good as a distress beacon.” I had also wondered about that, and I had an answer from my analysis of the signal. “It isn’t coming from a bot pilot. It matches the signal strength of a planetary rescue marker. We had similar ones on surveys. It’s meant for a hopper flying over an area to be able to locate a single lost human, not a ship in the middle of space.” “So the bot pilot is probably down, or it would be broadcasting a stronger signal.” “Probably. Or it’s playing dead.” “What’s your assessment?” “We can’t rule out that it’s a corporate decoy.” Indah made an I know, you’ve said that already face, but I wasn’t done. “We shouldn’t stop treating it as a potential threat, but I don’t think that’s the most likely scenario. I think a system failed, some panicked human managed to set off an emergency beacon, and then the ship lost power completely.” “So you think when we board it—“ “We’re going to find a lot of dead humans.”

[they board the ship, and find a lot of dead humans. they go exploring a little bit....]

The size and layout of the room was familiar. Just big enough for Indah and I to both squeeze in without her getting too close to me, but not much bigger. A cabinet in the corner that was tall enough to hold a set of armor. A locked crate to hold weapons and other security equipment. And in the corner— Indah took a step towards the chest-height white cube, looking puzzled. I said, “That’s a cubicle.” She froze. “For?” “For SecUnits.” Indah cursed under her breath. “Is there one inside?” “It’s shielded to scans.” I moved towards the cubicle, and she got out of my way. I had an unpleasant guess about what was still drawing power even before I put my hand on the casing. There was a faint buzz. It was running. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. There was a SecUnit inside. My threat assessment spiked, even though I had anticipated a high probability that the cubicle was occupied. The SecUnit had its eyes closed, and it didn’t move when I opened the door. I watched it for a few seconds, and then said, “It’s in stasis.” Indah had one hand on her baton, like that was going to do anything against a SecUnit. “What does that mean?” “It’s like sleeping. Or…cryo pods, like on the generation ships…?” I wondered if those actually worked the way they did in the dramatization of Preservation’s founding that I’d watched with my humans once. “It’s partly offline. It will only wake up if a system tells it to.” It still hadn’t reacted to me opening the door. The cubicle didn’t seem to be kicking it into a restart. “It probably disabled the automatic restart and sealed itself in here. It was trying to escape the contamination.” “Clever,” Indah muttered.

#stars wips #ask game answers #the title of this folder in scrivener is 'yet another rogue secunit (assistance needed)' XD #let's go with #assistance needed wip #i've written so many half baked random rogue secunit fics #i looked So hard for something genuinely spooky and i have that one snip from the three time travel fic but i shared it already on discord #i do think that one is suspenseful tho #it's certainly spooky for three

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tbcanary · 6 months

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curly wolfcut steph. that’s all.

#STOP ! giving Stephanie perfect straight runway ready hair!#start! letting her wear flannels and ripped jeans and look messy again!#my girl cuts her own hair in the bathroom when she gets sick of it getting caught up in her mask and hood #and then cass ‘fixes’ the back (read: snips off strands at random and then asks steph to give her bangs just for fun)#text.tb #i love Steph but first and foremost we have to remember that while she is put together compared to tim.#literally everyone is put together compared to tim.#the bar is on the floor.

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outlying-hyppocrate · 8 months

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JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS FINE WITH MY APPEARANCE I REMEMBERED THAT I HAVE TO GO BACK TO HELL????????????

#random thoughts #yes. returning to. my education this september #i now suddenly have the urge to hack my hair off. they won't take me seriously otherwise #and. h. i have to talk to the teachers about my name. again. how lovely #and. one of the new students supposedly went to the same school as my friend? who does NOT know i am trans. this should be. something #help. i want to. cut my hair. it grew back uneven anyway. i must. i have scissors #it's better than using the scissors for. other purposes !! 11 months clean and i would rather not reset my progress #look. i could. theoretically i could. snip away at my hair. just a bit. just a bit. would anyone notice? i shouldn't think so

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obstinaterixatrix · 3 months

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doing my yearly ritual of braiding my hair and cutting 2-3 inches off to attend to split hairs or whatever & air was like. if you chopped off all your hair I was gonna assume you were about to fake your own death

#my ramblings #nope just my yearly(ish) ritual #sometimes I’m just like ah it probably needs maintenance (snips off a random amount)

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feralghxuls · 1 year

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🌹🌹

An hour of this, and Dew still isn’t back yet, and Aether is starting to wonder if he’s in over his head, if he can stand to keep at this much longer without giving in to the ever-present urge to let go. He has to.

#thank u!!!#these are so fun hehe #especially with my Extended Process for finding random sentences for this lol #dorito.text #dorito writes #dorito snip hours

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etonnante · 1 year

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Welcome back to short hair club 💇🏻‍♀️

#personal #random #me #hello #hi #selfiebutnotready #short hair #haircut #snip snip

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fallowsthorn · 2 years

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Fakepatine Imposter AU

This is a series of ficlets from the Clone Haven server, after some discussion of what would happen if an Among-Us-style imposter replaced Palpatine without doing any research re: his extracurriculars. A thousand million thanks to the friend who wrote a script to convert Discord's special snowflake markdown formatting into HTML tags, which I had been banging my head against for ages and which was the main hurdle to uploading all these little extemporaneous snippets. (They did not want to be credited.)

Also for some reason tumblr no longer supports horizontal line breaks! Why would you do that! I need that! So I guess we're just doing the "extra empty lines means a new scene" thing.

somewhere along the way dooku tries to have fakepatine assassinated. fakepatine is entirely too fascinated by this and wants to help. fox says they're there to protect him, since fakepatine has so far distributed 100% less torture than realpatine. some shiny points out that technically, he outranks them and can do whatever he wants

"okay," says fakepatine, gets up from behind cover, avoids both the clones grabbing for it and the assassins firing at it, mimic-judders its way down the hallway faster than should be possible, and vanishes around the corner the assassins are hiding behind

there's a series of wet grinding and scraping noises and screams, and then fakepatine strolls back out looking none the worse for wear. "that was fun!" fakepatine says. "what's next?"

Fox rounds the corner and puts his hands on his hips, surveying the scattered pile of weaponry interspersed with occasionally recognizable small body parts. "Huh," he says. "Looks like it was a false alarm."

"Score," says someone whose name Fox definitely doesn't know and therefore will not have to discipline.

"Um," says Rift, their newest shiny, in the tones of someone who knows he's missing something but doesn't know how to ask what that is.

Fox takes pity on him. "See, if this were an Incident," he says casually, leaning down to free a rather nice dagger from the half-a-hand still holding it, "we'd be required to log all this as evidence and submit it to CoruSec to be put in a warehouse while we hunted down the perpetrators. But it's not." He flips the dagger over, eyes it, and nods to himself. "So if somebody just happened to leave a lot of really nice gear lying around, it'd be our job to take it to the Lost and Found." The same Lost and Found where items are legally up for grabs if no one claims them in a month.

"Oh, do you want these, too?" a new voice says brightly, and Fox turns to see whoever (or whatever) is pretending to be the Supreme Chancellor offering him two holdout blasters, both thankfully pointed at the ground. There's a short silence, during which everyone looks between Fakepatine, the pile of weapons and gore, and the significant distance (and multiple clone troopers) between the two. Fakepatine's smile acquires the fixed quality that means he doesn't understand why the Humans aren't Humaning correctly. Fox can relate.

"Where did he get those from?" someone whispers. Too loudly, because Fakepatine opens his mouth and takes a breath.

"PLEASE DON'T ANSWER THAT, SIR," Fox says in his best Command voice, and if there's an edge of hysteria to it, well, he dares anyone else to do better.

This isn't right. Something is going on with the Chancellor, and unlike Obi-Wan, who apparently just wants to star in a spy holothriller, Anakin is worried about both his friend and the leader of the Republic. He opens his mouth to ask straight out about it, because this dancing around it is getting them nowhere, but he's interrupted by the office's holoprojector chiming an incoming call.

"Ah, we should leave you to your work," Obi-Wan says, in a tone that implies... something. "You must be very busy."

"Nonsense!" Palpatine(?) says cheerfully. "Anakin at least is one of my closest friends, I have nothing to hide from either one of you." He grins at them a little, like he's sharing an inside joke. "Perhaps seeing a pair of Jedi Generals with me will make whoever it is get to the point faster, hmm?"

Maybe-Palpatine-or-maybe-a-shapeshifter-or-something turns away to answer the call, allowing Obi-Wan and Anakin to throw confused looks at each other. Palpatine usually cuts his meetings with Anakin short if he has to talk to someone else, not because he's trying to hide anything but because politics is a delicate job and he needs all his attention for it. Besides which, in Anakin's experience, seeing a Jedi immediately makes any given Senator harder to work with, not easier (with some exceptions, of course).

And then the call connects and Anakin just. Stares.

There's a long silence. Anakin sneaks a look at Probably-Not-Palpatine, who seems to be trying to keep his expression on the blank side of "crazed panicking," and then at Obi-Wan, whose expression actually is blank and whose Force presence has gone very still.

"Chancellor," Obi-Wan says, almost pleasantly, "why does the leader of the Separatists have your personal, heavily-encrypted comm frequency?"

Because standing in front of them, life-sized in washed-out blue, is indeed Count kriffing Dooku. Anakin has to clench his teeth together to suppress the hysterical laughter that wants to pour out of his throat.

To the credit of whoever's pretending to be Palpatine, they miss only a single beat before saying, in such a wildly confident voice that it's clear they're making this up as they go along, "Be...cause he's not the leader of the Separatists."

"He's not?" Anakin hears himself say, in unison with Obi-Wan. Dooku's mouth twitches like he had to stop himself from asking right along with them.

"He's not," Not-Palpatine confirms, suddenly serious. He fixes the two Jedi with a severe look. "But nothing you see here can leave this office, do you understand me? Count Dooku has been undercover as a spy for the Republic for almost the entire war."

Anakin glances at Dooku. If nothing else, at least they can be pretty sure whatever's happened to the real Palpatine isn't a Separatist plot, because Dooku clearly doesn't know what the kriff is going on either.

"Has he," Obi-Wan says, just as clearly not buying a word of it.

"Yes," Fakepatine decides, confident in the way of the desperate and poorly-informed. "Everything he has done has been in the service of the Republic, however it may seem."

"He cut my arm off," Anakin says faintly.

"And I'm sure he's very sorry about it," Fakepatine covers flawlessly, in exactly the same voice Anakin once heard a crechemaster use to explain that hitting is wrong. "Aren't you?" And then he looks at Dooku like he's actually expecting the man to answer.

Dooku looks at Anakin. Anakin shrugs minutely, indicating that yes, he finds this just as weird as Dooku does, and no, he doesn't have a better idea than just going along with it. Dooku blinks. "You have my most sincere apologies," he says, and then looks as surprised as Anakin feels that the statement wasn't entirely sarcastic.

"That's lovely," Obi-Wan says, suspicious and edging on furious, "but if the leader of the opposing faction is actually on our side, what are we doing fighting a war?"

Oh shit practically appears in neon above Fakepatine's head. He opens his mouth, but before he can speak he's rescued by Dooku, of all people.

"Nominal leader," Dooku says. Everyone swivels back to him. Anakin wonders vaguely if this is what being high feels like. It's extremely weird. "Who profits, in a war?"

Obi-Wan is doing his best impression of an overdue volcano, so Anakin hurries to supply the other half of the... lesson? "What do you mean?"

Dooku crosses his arms. "Wars are expensive. Not just metaphorically, but literally. They cost money. But those credits don't just vanish into thin air when they're spent; they get paid to someone. You've been to Separatist planets, you know that their galactic coordinates are the only thing stopping most of them from defecting to the Republic. They certainly aren't getting much out of it, so, if not them, who profits? Where is all that money going?"

"...the trade unions," Obi-Wan says, into the perfect silence that follows. "You think the trade unions have orchestrated a galactic civil war in order to profit off the sale of weapons to both sides."

"Weapons, supplies, armor, ships, reconstruction, anything and everything they can put a price tag on," Dooku says. "In fact, I know it. I just need proof."

"Which is why you must not even hint at this to anyone," Fakepatine says. It would be grave, except they've all forgotten he's there, and startle when he speaks. "We don't know who might be on their side. Do I have your word?"

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange a look. Don't say anything, just nod after me, Anakin hears, right before Obi-Wan says, "Very well. On my honor as a Jedi Master, I will not share what I have learned here with anyone outside this room."

Anakin nods, wondering what Obi-Wan is up to, and allows Fakepatine to end the call and hustle them both out of the room. "Don't you want to tell the Council about this?" Not that he's generally in favor of the old coot brigade sticking their noses everywhere, but at this point, even Anakin has to admit they're in over their heads.

"Where do you think we're going?" Obi-Wan says, quietly enough that no one will overhear them.

Anakin frowns. "But you said--" His mouth shuts with a click. He'd said. Anakin hadn't promised anything at all.

Obi-Wan smiles grimly. "Precisely. I'm not going to tell the Council a thing. You are."

Mace is having a very long day. Mace has been having a very long day for about two years now. No one had ever told him that when he became Master of the Jedi Order, his unofficial title would be updated to Someone Else. As in, "that's Someone Else's problem." As in, "Someone Else will deal with this." As in, "let me go ask Someone Else." He's going to drown in paperwork one of these days and that'll be his epitaph: Mace Windu, Someone Else.

Which is to say that when Kenobi walks into Mace's quarters, way too chipper for ass o' clock at night, and says, "Ah, good, I thought Someone Else ought to hear about this," Mace thinks he can forgive himself for the brief but understandable urge to stab the man. He closes his eyes and releases the irritation and frustration to the Force. There is no peace, there is serenity. Er, wait. There is no passion-- Fuck it. There is no sleep, there is caf. Close enough.

"If this is about the supplies from Cato Nem--"

"The Chancellor found a bunch of Sith stuff," Skywalker bursts in, to the room and also the conversation.

Mace goes very still. "The real Chancellor or--" He stops himself from saying "Fakepatine" just in time. "--the imposter?"

"The fake one," Kenobi clarifies. He has perhaps left the realm of chipper and is fast on his way to the land of manic. "We still don't know where the real one is."

Mace turns back to Skywalker. "Found it where."

"In a secret room in his apartment," Skywalker reports, practically vibrating with concern. "This has to have something to do with what happened to him! The real him, I mean."

"If it does, why would Fakepatine comm us about it," Kenobi says wearily.

"All right," Mace says loudly, before they can descend into the fiftieth repetition of the argument that clearly led them here. "Council meeting, let's go." At least if a Sith Lord kills him, he won't have to fill out any more forms in triplicate.

In the end, every physically present Council member comes with them to meet Fakepatine in his fancy senator penthouse. They're wary, but honestly Mace can't sense anything from the man(?) besides worried confusion, and the Force is quiet, if... anticipatory. Which is unsettling in its own way, but not in a lethal one. Hopefully.

"When did you find this?" Mace asks. Two lightsabers rest on an office desk near a previously-concealed lift. He can feel the kyber screaming from across the room.

"Tonight, a few hours ago," Fakepatine says. "I've never seen any of it before in my life."

The thing is, he's not lying. Even the best liars can't hide themselves from the Force: to tell a lie is a form of division, between the self that knows the truth and the self that doesn't, and that duality is obvious. Shielding one's mind to hide the duality is also obvious. Fakepatine is doing neither.

"You live here," Allie points out.

Now it's there. "Um," Fakepatine says.

It's too early in the morning for this circus. "We know you're not the real Chancellor," Mace says bluntly.

"Oh."

"What did you do with him?"

"Um," says Fakepatine, wincing in a way that indicates Mace isn't going to like the answer. "I, uh. Ate him."

There's silence. "What the fuck," someone mutters.

Mace closes his eyes. "So no body, then."

"...No."

"If he was a Sith Lord, how did you ever get the drop on him?" Fisto asks. Mace notes with amusement that aside from Skywalker, who is bickering with Kenobi, no one is bothering to pretend Palpatine might have been innocent. Slimy bastard.

"Oh! Ah...." Fakepatine glances around the assembled Masters, like he's surprised they want to know. "I was pretending to be a clone. He called me into his office alone." He frowns. "Actually I think he was going to torture me. He was monologuing about something, but I wasn't paying attention, I just saw he had his back to me and. Went for it."

Went for it. Mace wants to sleep for the next thousand years. "He didn't notice your approach?"

"Oh, no, I've got a...." Fakepatine gestures vaguely. "Harpoon. Sort of. Thing. Would you like to see?" His jaw starts to work.

"NO," everyone else says, suddenly united in their desire to not see the Chancellor's face invert itself. "Maybe another time," Mace adds unconvincingly. Whatever. The hurt feelings of the bodysnatcher who ate the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, who was also probably the Sith Lord, are currently very low on his priority list.

"Hmm," Yoda says, which means Mace's workload is about to either double or evaporate. "Take the sabers now, we will. Much more to do in the morning, we will have."

Fantastic. It's both. Mace is blaming Skywalker, just on general principle.

#star wars #informal ficlet #fakepatine au #anakin skywalker #mace windu #sheev palpatine #sort of anyway #commander fox #mace is 5000% done and it's always funny #sorry mace #also i never remember between snips whether i'm using star wars swears or real swears #so they flip back and forth at random whoops

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