101 - 120 of 172 Works in Snowman (Homestuck)
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There’s a wrongness to Lord English that turns the entire air around him foul, that distorts the world and twists and perverts it. Snowman takes a breath, doing her best to stand it. The taste lingers in the back of her nose and throat though, reminding her of a truth she can never forget: he is Wrong and not part of anything natural or good.
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(AU) Droog's sudden death puts strain on the remaining Midnight Crew, as well as fraying the uneasy flushed relationship between Slick and Snowman as they struggle to piece together what happened.
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Taking deep, even breaths, he slowly lifted the gun, his expression sorrowfully stoic though his mind was in an anguished state of emotional discord. Without a moment's hesitation, Spades Slick fired one final bullet into the heart of the woman he hated as much as he loved. The woman whose very life was intertwined with the life of the universe.
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Snowman nearly takes Slick's life and then feelings jams are engaged.
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Who thought Snowman could have gotten sick?
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One of these days, Crowbar's going to figure out a way to say no to Die often insane requests. Today is not that day, and that's why he's butt-naked except for the paint smeared over his stomach, about to participate in what can be kindly described as some sex cult ritual.
Some days, he really wishes he'd asked Doc Scratch to be more specific in his job offer.
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Snowman and the young Handmaid bond over tea.
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After a night of heavy drinking, Snowman wakes up to a massive hangover, an unfortunate bed-mate, and some very ill-advised new jewelry.
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Droog thinks about his daughter. Who was also a robot.
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A series of drabbles related to the End of Act 5.
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In which some characters discuss their roles in the end of act flash, and Problem Sleuth offers consolation.
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There is a mole in the department. You are certain of it. A mobsterswitch Felt fic.
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Sometimes, you just need to let somebody else take the reins for once. Crowbar hands control over Stitch and Snowman just watches.
Series
- Part 1 of Control
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Crowbar probably shouldn't find her nearly as attractive as he does. They're not even the same species when you get right down to it. She's got some sort of shell where her skin should be, not to mention she always looks like she's been dipped in molasses. His mother would be throwing a fit if she knew he was lusting after a woman that was genetically closer to a lobster than to him. But as far as his mother knows, Crowbar's dead, so what's one more disappointment right?
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A nail was the final straw. Blood washed out and tiny rips and tears were easily stitched back up, but somehow, she managed to catch her coat on a nail and ripped it too badly to patch. She ran a finger across the frayed edges and felt a bit of regret that it was a nail, and not something more spectacular. Her coat deserved a far more dramatic ending.
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Snowman woke up slowly, her mind cloudy and hurting. There was a dry, sour taste in her mouth and some sort of cloth gag, and her arms and legs were tied up. And her hat was missing. The hat being gone pissed her off more than any of the rest. That was her hat.
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Climbing down an open manhole isn't exactly how she planned on spending her evening, but Snowman's learned to be flexible. And if she's got to climb down into what appears to be the sewer, then she'll give it a shot. The four or five martinis she had back at the bar may be affecting her judgement a little, but not that much.
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Of course he's thought about fucking her before. His go-to jerk-off fantasy for the past year has been of him pinning Snowman down and fucking her raw and refusing to let her come. And Slick's got no doubts that the bitch imagines something similar when she's rubbing one out. Except this isn't anything like that. No punching, no kicking, not even talking dirty. He's been kissing her like he actually likes her, pressing his teeth against her neck and only nipping instead of tearing.
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Slick doesn't pull his punches, especially not the ones he's aiming at her. His right fist catches her jaw and sends her reeling back. Snowman keeps her feet under her, and when he tries to follow it up with a left to her stomach, she just steps to the side and backhands him as hard as she can. Slick falls to the ground, and the back of her hand stings like a bitch.
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Snowman was stuck in her room, pacing like a caged tiger. Even though she was no longer the queen of anything, she was still genetically a Queen. Normally, that affected her very little. The mansion wasn't exactly a hive the way Derse had been, but it did in a pinch, and the Felt weren't drones exactly the way that her teeming millions of citizens had been, but they were good enough that she could feel at ease. Except, as it turned out, they were drone-like enough to finally trigger her desire to mate.