Sunday Snippets

[thrillingdetectivetales]

Okay so technically it's Tuesday, but whatever, it was a long, weird weekend and I forgot about the linear passage of time. Have some snippets of current works in progress, as a treat. Now with bonus graphics!

More developing Hannigram + "secret twin/doppelgänger" trope.

“Billiam.”

“Chuck.”

The reply was clipped, and so cold Hannibal was surprised not to see a curl of winter frost on Will’s breath. Will rose to his feet, tugging the duffel bag back over his shoulder. He kept both his hands curled around the strap, fingers fluttering in an arrhythmic tattoo against the nylon, and darted a look at his brother. None of the usual trouble making eye contact, Hannibal noted, although Will’s gaze didn’t linger.

“Thought I told you not to come,” he said, glancing down at the dogs and unfurling one of his hands so they could nose at his fingers.

Hannibal’s eyebrows rose in delight at the sloping sprawl of Will’s vowels as he slipped back into the accent of his youth without even seeming to notice.

“You did,” Charlie replied cheerfully. “I came anyway.” He levered himself up to cross the room to where Will was standing and captured him in a tight embrace. “Deal with it.”




Sequel to an existing fic that I didn't write, about a girl reconciling with her father, who has claimed to be an accountant her whole life but was recently outed as the owner of a strip club/drug kingpin and also happens to be dating her ex-boyfriend.

“You want to come to the club?”

Beth nods, a sharp jerk of her head, and then remembers that he can’t see her.

“Yeah, I - I want you to show me. I’m - ” her eyes go hot and start to sting at the corners, so she stops and squeezes them shut for a second. “I’m still mad at you. I’m really fucking furious, actually,” she amends, with a little bitter laugh. “But I want to see. I want to know exactly what it is you do, so I can decide how mad I need to be and for how long. So you’re going to bring me to your club and you’re going to show me everything and you’re going to answer all my questions.”

A taut, pained silence stretches from the other end of the line and Beth tucks her lower lip under her teeth, rolls it back and forth, waiting.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” her dad sighs, mournful and resigned. “I’ll answer your questions.”

“Every single one,” Beth warns.

“Bethy, I promise: I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Okay,” Beth says, and the breath she takes afterward is the first one she’s really been able to feel since last night. It presses sweetly against her ribs and carries the cold weight clenching behind her sternum back out with it when she exhales. “So brunch, and then your club, and then shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“You’re rolling in dirty titty money,” Beth teases, though she doesn’t manage to crack a smile. She reaches up to swipe under her eyes and very graciously doesn’t mention that he also scooped up her sloppy seconds, because she isn’t quite ready to joke about that yet. “The least you could do is buy me a new jacket.”