#the mother load of snippets

[uncertainwallflower]

WIP TAG

Tagged by @eastwindmlk, @nodirectionhome-ao3, @annabtg and @wearingaberetinparis. Thanks for tagging me, lovelies! This is right up my alley so I'm excited.

Rules

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Titles

Between the Desire and the Spasm (Modern Magical AU/No Voldemort. Mature. 10 chapters published.)

Expectations Encumbrance (Regency Muggle AU. General Audiences. 2 chapters published.)

To Live Without a Heart (James Lives AU. Mature. 2 chapters published.)

Murder in Godric's Hollow (James!Detective AU. Mature. Unpublished.)

I Can't Love Him (Canon-compliant Hogwarts Era Jily fic. Teen and Up. 9 chapters published.)

Upcoming scene, event or detail

Between the Desire and the Spasm

2. Expectation's Encumbrance

3. To Live Without a Heart

4. Murder in Godric's Hollow

5. I Can't Love Him

Tagging: @merlinsbbeard @charmsandtealeaves @kay-elle-cee @athenasparrow @abihastastybeans @annasghosts @liiilyevans @nena-96 @ohmygodshesinsane @practicecourts

(Sorry if you've already done this! I've not checked Tumblr in a few days and ten is a lot.)

[pant--eater]

Objective: write a Frifnab fanfic

Result: end up making up headcanons about Friftar's mom WAY more than you originally planned

[seleneprince]

Snippet of my Neglected! Family x Yandere! Batfam au (I really need to find a name for this au already)

Wife! Darling has known of the Batcave's existence for years already, and so do her children.

She found out by pure accident. Her oldest daughter was doing her usual computer stuff she didn't understand, and said she found a weird signal coming from under the manor, in the underground...only they didn't know there was anything down there, not even a basement. Alfred never mentioned it.

The girl went to check, tracing the mysterious signal with her phone, and found a hidden compartment behind the pendulum clock. Before her mother could tell her to stop, she went down there.

Cue to Wife! Darling following her daughter to make sure she didn't get in trouble or hurt herself, because who knew if Batman even bothered with basic security measures for his vigilante stuff. From what she's seen of him as Bruce Wayne, she doubted it.

And that's how they found the Batcave. By the time Alfred found out and met them there, the daughter had already tinkered with half the equipment and replicated part of the Batcomputer's code in her tablet for fun, while her mother explored the whole place with a critical eye. Alfred expected them to be angry, to ask a lot of questions, but instead:

Wife! Darling!: "Who takes care of this place?"

Alfred: "Mostly me, Mistress (Name)."

Wife! Darling squinted her eyes, gaze darkening: "Just you? Does no one help you?"

Alfred: "It's part of my job, Mistress (Name). Don't worry, I can handle it perfectly well on my own."

She scoffed. "Well, this has to change. You're just one man, Alfred, and you're not getting younger with the years. The fact that they let you do so much already by yourself is infuriating, and you also have to clean after their crime-fighting bullshit? The nerve. I'll take care of this from now on"

Alfred blinked: "Mistress (Name), I can't possibly ask you that. You already help me more than enough around the house-"

Wife! Darling: "Nonsense, Alfred. You do way too much already. At this rate, it'll only affect your health for worse. I live here too now, so technically it's also my responsibility."

And that's how she ends up handling the maintenance of the Batcave along with Alfred, even taking over his tasks entirely. She starts off with the excuse of helping him, which it's true, but eventually she always takes care everything so the man has no option but rest.

And because she's such a perfectionist, she doesn't spare any efforts in the task. Cleans all the surfaces, fixes the suits, rearranges the weapons after cleaning them and creates a system to organize their gadgets so they're much easier to find. Even the Batmobile is left spotless, inside and outside. She goes as far to feed some of the bats casually roaming around the edges of the cave.

(And if her kids had naps inside the batmobile sometimes when they were down there, only she and Alfred are witnesses. Well, the bats too, but they're not snitching)

This way she takes some work off Alfred's shoulders. She finds it enraging that a man his age has such a heavy load of work with little to no help, so she takes over some of the house chores for him so he can have breaks. Plus, it helps her unwind and relax a bit from her usually stress-fuelled life.

She also begins to leave snarky notes about the shameful state of their gear when she finds it in particularly bad shape. And feels even worse that Alfred has had to take care of all of this at his age until she came.

"This blade is duller than your sense of self-awareness. Fix it"

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up"

"If you die in this crusty suit, I’m not cleaning your corpse"

"Are you fighting villains or rolling in garbage?"

Seriously, the richest man in Gotham can't even afford a bit more of staff? But of course, she reminds herself he's the same man who forgot to use protection when fucking a random woman, so she shouldn't expect too much from him.

To avoid uncomfortable encounters, she specifically schedules her cleaning times for when the whole team is out, so she can work peacefully without being having to be in the same room as them. So far, it goes well. Alfred even warns her when they're coming back, and the Batcave is actually a pretty nice place to enjoy time for yourself when it's empty. Just the beeping of the computers as background noise, or her children messing around when they go down there to do their things.

It becomes part of her routine, one she even looks forward too during the day. Until one day.

The Batcave has been left spotless, as usual. Weapons polished. Suits lined up by height and damage level. Even the Batmobile has that new-car shimmer. It smells faintly of citrus-scented cleaning spray and frustration. There are also four sticky notes scattered across the table already, complaining about the state of their things again.

She is crouched near the weapon rack, holding the Batman suit with one gloved hand and a lint roller in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended her.

She mutters under her breath in Spanish, something about how "ni siquiera una máquina de coser podría salvar este desastre de traje, Dios mío." (Not even a sewing machine could save this disaster of a suit, my godness)

She’s in sweats, hair tied back in a messy bun. An apron over her tank top that says "KISS THE COOK (or don’t, I’ll stab you)". She's so deep in the cleaning zone she doesn’t hear the footsteps.

"Well, this is a surprise. I could get used to this."

Her entire body freezes. It feels like her blood turned ice in her veins instantly with the voice. That irritating, familiar voice.

Her head turns slowly, and there he is. Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Her husband in paper, father of her first child, owner of this cave, and responsible for half of the stress she deals with.

She could be annoyed or even embarrassed that he caught her like this, handling his suit no less. But instead, her mind is focused on what he said, and the tone in which he said it.

She arches a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

He steps closer, clearly taking note of her work there. His eyes drifting to the Batmobile, the weapons, all she's taken care of already.

Bruce: "Me, coming back from work to find you cleaning my stuff. It’s so… domestic. It’s almost like we’re a married couple."

There’s a beat. A dangerous silence.

She blinks at him. Once. Twice. Processing the fact that he really said that. Out loud. To her. And in a completely serious tone.

Then he looks at her, and she notices the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Oh, that filthy little-

Her eye twitches.

Wife! Darling: "...........Oh, absolutely."

WHACK.

She chucks a batarang at his head with a speed and accuracy that would’ve made Deadshot whistle. He barely ducks, and it slams into the metal behind him with a THUNK so loud the Batcomputer flinches and some bats burst out from their spots.

Bruce: "That could’ve taken my eye out."

Wife! Darling:"I was hoping so."

He stares at her, and then shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. A chuckle. Since when is this man capable of that? Before she gets her answer, he pulls out the batarang with ease and places it back on the rack (Good, she would've murdered him for real if he left it anywhere else).

Bruce: "I meant it. I think I like this sight of you. Suits you well. You look like the ideal housewife."

Without looking, she reaches for another batarang and throws it at him. This time, he catches it mid-air, cool as ever, before setting it down on the table like he isn’t one second away from getting stabbed.

Bruce: "Was that really necessary?"

Wife! Darling: "It was either that or shoot you. You're lucky I'm generous today."

He watches her, barely concealing his amusement now, but there’s something else in his expression too, something he's never had when looking at her: Curiosity.

She doesn't like it.

Unbothered, as if he didn't just activate her kill switch, he starts to walk to the table and peels off one of the sticky notes, reading it aloud with a deadpan tone.

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up."

Bruce: "You know I beat the shit out of people in this suit, right?"

She replies without sparing him a glance, wiping down a grappling gun with unholy aggression: "Yeah? Well, do it without staining it with their blood. You look like Gotham’s dirtiest raccoon."

He leans against the Batcomputer, arms folded. "How long have you been doing this, exactly?"

She scoffs, going back to adjusting the suit like she isn’t being interrogated. "Long enough to know that you leave your weapons in a shameful state. Honestly, it’s a miracle your stupid gadgets still function. Do you ever bother to maintain your own things, or do you just throw them around and hope Alfred fixes it?"

He watches her for a moment longer before finally speaking.

"And you’re doing this because...?"

"Because unlike some people in this godforsaken house, I actually care when an old man is running himself ragged taking care of things that none of you seem to appreciate."

Bruce pauses. He glances at the Batmobile, cleaner than it’s ever been. At his weapons, neatly arranged, polished, functional.

At the post-it notes stuck to the Batcomputer, scrawled in Rosa’s angry handwriting.

He actually huffs a quiet laugh. Again. It's unsettling her.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters, "Besides, if you die because your equipment fails, it’s only a matter of time before you try to drag me into this circus. And I refuse to wear spandex."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’d look good in spandex."

Silence.

She throws the batarang at him again. This time, it actually clips his shoulder.

"Go get that treated before you stain anything, or I'll wipe the floors next with your face."

.......................

...........

Suddenly, Bruce starts to "casually" come to the cave early more often.

Now she has to adjust her schedule AGAIN to avoid him. And in the meantime, her children start betting on how many batarangs it takes before Bruce gets critically injured. Or dead.

[womanofwords]

Silver Swan (Part 5)

Neglected!fem!reader x yandere!batfam

You got into the habit of going on long walks, preferably after Damian had insulted you so you'd have a reason to leave the house in 'tears'. Nobody ever checked on you, so you knew there was no chance of them ratting you out to anybody. You were safe to practice.

You took your gown and hoverboard and practiced flying. You also decided on the perfect call for your board, 'my darling'. Your board was your darling.

Every waking moment was dedicated to your plan. When night fell, you did test runs of where you would be going on the big day. During the day, you would be hunched over with your work making . . . teddy bears. Cotton printed ones with silk shirts and dresses, and all with neatly-tied ribbons around their necks. But for now, focusing on the bears was the most important.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" Dick asked.

"Handmaking stuffed animals for children in need," you said.

"Why do we have to see you do it?" Damian asked.

"I felt like being downstairs where my family is," you said. "I wanted to listen to my gut."

"Maybe you should do that less often," Damian said.

You bided your time well. You waited for everyone else to leave before you made yourself ready. Your dress was hung up waiting for you, underneath your inside-out gown. Now for your mask, shoes, and the window.

"Let's ride, my darling!" you said, and your hoverboard raced to your side like a loyal hound.

You did not go to the gala immediately. Instead, you went to where the cars were parked and slashed all the tires. You slashed the tires of your family's car to delay them coming home, and you slashed the rest to their car wouldn't stand out. You held your hoverboard under your arm and listened to the conversations twisting around each other. The snippets you heard made you sick.

"It's always sad to see a good man's name being slandered."

"It's natural for a boy to sow some wild oats."

This would be more difficult than you'd thought. Just think of the money, you thought, as you decided to make your entrance, hoverboard at your side.

People gasped as you came in, as they should. You were stunning. A particularly slimy older man grasped your hand and kissed it.

"Goodness, you're beautiful," he said. "Who are you, by the way?"

"Silver Swan," you said. It amazed you how easily it came out of your mouth. "I heard there was a gala happening nearby for a young man in need."

"Yes, that's me!" A younger version of the slimy man grabbed you. He may have been slimmer and less wrinkled, but he was no less gross. "Hello, I'm Forbes Umbleby. It's a pleasure."

"I'm sure it'll be a pleasure for us both," you said, trying not to puke. Gee, this guy was gross. "What exactly is the purpose of this . . . gathering?"

"I happen to be a bit strapped for cash. I've been accused of some awful things by some very nasty women, and I need to clear my name."

"People can be so cruel," an older woman said. Forbes' mother, you presumed. "I hope you never have any idea how heartless people can be when they think they can take you for all you're worth."

"I can imagine," you said. "Psst, I've got some wonderful party tricks up my sleeve. However, it involves this little . . . donation pile. How about you put it onto this hoverboard and allow it to be passed around to the guests?"

The repulsive family's eyes sparkled. "Are you sure that'll work?" Forbes asked.

"I'm quite sure it will." You smiled an artificially whitened smile at them. "Unless this little money box weighs more than 500lbs."

They burst out laughing, and helped you load it onto the hoverboard. "You're funny, Silver Swan," Forbes said, putting his hand on your back and letting it slide lower and lower. "I don't meet many funny women."

"I'm sorry to hear that," you said. "And if you think that's funny, I'm about to be hilarious soon."

You watched with glee as the already rather large money box filled with more and more money. Clearly, everyone in attendance thought that this was hilarious too, a masked woman letting a box of money float around to people.

"Hello there, Mr Wayne," you said, trying to keep the resentment out of your voice. "Care to make a charitable donation?"

"Of course, miss," Bruce Wayne said, flashing an easy smile your way. Your own father found it easier to smile at a stranger than at you. You forced a smile at your siblings before you moved on.

"Well, now that this money box is making my hoverboard dip lower with the weight of your generosity," you say, as the partygoers laugh, "it is time I gave you something. Please gather into small clusters, no more than four or five to a group, and hold out your hands for something that is sure to bring you all together."

As if you had hypnotised everyone, they did as you said. You reached into the deep inner pockets of your cloak and handed one person from every group a glue grenade. The Wayne family had split into two groups, one with Bruce, Barbara, Duke, and Jason, and the second with Cassandra, Stephanie, Dick, Tim, and Damian. In the first group, you pressed the glue grenade into Bruce's hands. In the second, the grenade was passed to Damian.

"Just to be clear, this gift is best enjoyed if everyone is at eye level, so if you are with a child or someone who is sitting down, it is best to crouch down to their level." There was a momentary shuffling as everyone adjusted. "Now, whoever's holding the little ball press the button on the side and count down from ten immediately."

A clicking of buttons echoed around the room as people began to count. Their counting was a cue for you to weave through the room and get to the exit before you got stuck in your own glue trap.

"Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . ."

Why was this so hard?!

"Seven . . . six . . . five . . ."

Did all those people really have to smile at you? And did you really have to smile back?

"Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . ."

Finally, you were out of the blast zone. You could breathe.

"Zero," you whispered.

Everyone screamed as they were encased, not in gold, but in glue. Horrible, sticky glue that stuck them to their neighbours and had no leeway. You were finally safe, and you had the money. You could finally get out of there.

"YOU BITCH!" Forbes screamed. "COME BACK HERE WITH MY MONEY!"

OK, maybe not yet. You turned around and waved at him, far too cheerily. "Hiya, creep!" you giggled. "Hey, maybe being stuck in all that glue will remind you of the women you forced into place and couldn't leave. Thanks for the cash, dude, really appreciate it."

"You're going to doom me to a life in jail! You can't do this!"

"I can and I have. And what you doomed those girls to is far worse." You turned away from Forbes, deciding to make your exit. "My darling, it's time to go!"

And you took off.

Luckily, you had bought yourself plenty of time; once they got out of the glue, they'd have to go to their cars and realise that they were out of commission. Enough for you to make an alibi for yourself.

Re-entering through the same window, you dressed into your loved-to-pieces old pyjamas and began stuffing the money under your bed. Sure, it was an obvious place to hide something, but nobody ever went into your room anyway, so whatever. You grabbed the last few bears to be sewed and made the last few details. Hopefully, that would be enough to convince Alfred that you'd been in your room all night.

"Miss Y/N, your family has come into a bit of trouble recently," Alfred said. "A masked vigilante named Silver Swan has intruded onto the fundraiser and has immobilised them with exploding glue bombs."

"Really?" You stifled laughter. "Are they OK?"

"Apparently, Silver Swan stole the money raised for Mr Forbes Umbleby and flew off on a flying skateboard."

"I think that's a hoverboard, Alfred."

"Quite. Oh, and Miss Y/N?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"The next time you come home from being Silver Swan, remember to take off your mask. I know it's very pretty, but it gives you away."

Oh, shit.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 <- You are here

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @simpingfor-wakasa, @kittzu, @simpingpandas, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @galaxypurplerose, @wisefuncherryblossom, @vanessa-boo, @deathbynarcisstick, @sirenetheblogger, @asillysimp, @toxicvoidsstuff.

[athenaluthor]

Snippets of life

pairing: darth vader x reader, unburnt!vader

summary: dad and husband vader moments because i want to

tags: mild smut, slight breed!ng k!nk, mentions of pregnancy and labour, kids

masterlist

At this time, your eldest was less than two weeks old.

The little boy had been a rather tough birth. After a long hours of labour, the boy came out healthy and rather big. He had all of his limbs, 10 fingers and 10 toes. The boy was big, especially for one's first baby, a side effect of having children with a man as large as Vader you supposed. The postpartum bleeding afterwards nearly took your life had you not been in the hands of the finest doctors in the galaxy.

During recovery, your husband had begun being more…. present. A change that had been most peculiar seeing as he only used to appear when he wanted to fuck his child into you. Once you became pregnant, he begun to appear during dinners or at bedtime to sleep or again, fuck you.

He seems to appear more now. Not talking much to you or anything, but just lingering every now and then looking at your son in his crib or in your arms. Each time you offer your darling boy to him, he tenses and hesitation fills his eyes. You’re unsure whether the hesitation was because he’s afraid to hurt the baby, or he didn’t want a child.

Deep in your slumber, the whimpers of your son in his crib stir you awake. Blearily, you open your eyes and the sight of Vader looming over the crib greets you. His tall frame towers over the crib, all powerful and terrifying. His gloved hand reaches down to the baby. For a moment, your heart lurches, what if he hurts the baby?

But Vader’s hand seems to be harmless, stroking the baby, quieting his small whimpers. Was he soothing the baby? The warm and quiet air of the room is far too comforting and you nearly fall back asleep as you watch Vader and your son. Exhaustion still seeps in your bones, weighing you down to pull you back to the land of sleep. You try to resist, but eventually exhaustion takes over.

Before you drift away, Vader leans down, and quietly he says “There, there your father’s here, hmm? No need to wake up your mother, my boy.”

Something in your heart, perhaps maternal instinct, you supposed. Despite the lack of evidence to support it, your heart tells you that he somehow would be a good father.

—-

Vader likes you pregnant, all barefoot and belly swollen full of his child. He craved you more now that you were pregnant with his second child, always touching you and pulling you into bed to spread your legs. Your eldest is barely 2 years old as head already keen on another.

Late at night, he’s balls deep into you. Thrusting at a merciless pace that has your sensitive body trembling in pleasure. He’s made you climax so many times, filled you with his seed over and over again as if you weren’t pregnant with another son of his.

Just as he’s about to shoot another load into your sweet cunt, a sharp knock on the door interrupts him.

A voice came from outside the door. “Lord Vader! I’m— I’m sorry to interrupt, but it's the young master! His fever is too high, we think he’s seizing.”

Without hesitation, you move to push him off of you but your legs are shaky from the countless orgasms he gave you. Your swollen belly doesn’t aid your cause. Vader gently pushes you back down, “I’ll go to him, don’t force yourself up if you can’t. I don’t want you to…hurt yourself or the baby.”

He dons his robes before heading to your son’s bedroom while you try to gather yourself. Down the hall, your little boy needs you and you need to get it together.

Shakily, you clean yourself up. You forgo a nightgown and quickly wear your robe, before heading to your son’s room. Walking through the hall, you hear his cries and you hear Vader too.

The sight that greets you both melts your heart and twists it. Vader is on the bed, cradling your son in his lap, gently soothing him through the sobs.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I know it hurts. The doctor will be here soon, hmm?” He says to your son.

“See, there’s mummy. She didn’t forget you. Do you still want her kisses, to make you feel better?” he asks your son.

When your son sees you, he cries out for you, sobs wracking through his small body. You sit down next to Vader, reaching out to stroke your son’s head and kiss his head. The little boy leans into your touch, body relaxing when you calm him. His temperature is high, he wasn’t even feverish when you were breastfeeding him or putting him to bed earlier.

His skin is flushed red, even in the dim lighting of the room. “Have they called the doctor?” You ask Vader, voice trembling with worry.

Vader merely nods as he continues to rub your son’s back. The little boy eventually gets sleepy and wants to lay with you. Vader lays the boy’s head on your thigh, making sure his head is supported. Vader pats your son’s stomach to lull him to sleep while you stroke his little head.

“He was fine when I put him to bed,” you say quietly, trying not to jostle the sleeping boy.

“Wasn’t feverish when I fed him earlier either. I don’t know how I didn’t feel him coming down with something.” you continue, guilt and worry lacing every word.

“It’s not your fault. Children get ill all the time, him included. I think.. I might know what’s happening but let’s wait until the doctor get here.” Vader somberly replies.

“Speaking of which, they better get here soon or else they’re dead. Why pay them so much and they can’t even get here quickly?” grumbles Vader.

A sharp kick from your baby earns a small whimper from you. “Baby’s kicking hard again?” He asks.

You nod, “He’s usually active this time of night. Kicking my bladder for fun. Do you want to feel?”

Vader reaches out and places a hand on your swollen belly, feeling his son move inside you. Eventually, he helps you back to bed. He promises to not kill the doctor for being late and insists you require the rest. After all, its his baby growing inside you.

By the time the doctor arrives, Vader wants to kill him for arriving so late. The only reason the doctor is alive is that his son needs a doctor and his pregnant wife would faint if he killed a man in their home.

He decides against waking you up since the results won’t be available till morning anyways. The doctor administers some medication and thoroughly ensures checks over his son.

Vader orders the doctor to stay overnight, in case another seizure comes. Vader picks up the now sleeping boy and brings him to your bedroom.

“Papa?” his son sleepily calls out.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, you feeling bad again?”

“Wanna sleep with you and mummy.”

“I know. That’s why I’m taking you to our room. Mummy’s going to make you all better with her kisses, hmm?” Says Vader

His son is already asleep again before he can reply.

[sinandguilt]

snippet — ♱

You pushed the door shut, snuffing the daybreak's light from the room out like a dampened fire. You could hear heavy boots dragging down the hallway, the light peeking from the room. Small conversations are mumbled too low for you to hear. Your eyes distract you from distant chatter, flitting to the crested shotgun bolted to the wall behind glass. Markings had been carved into the silver of the receiver, some of flowers, some of crosses. Your legs tugged you closer, ducking your head beneath the glass to see more markings under the loading port. No, letters. No— initials. Your hand blankets your chest and over your necklace, gripping the cross Nana gave you tight in your palm. Pops' cross.

There was a drag of feet that thumped toward you, then stopped. Idle, like it'd been waiting for you to notice. You turn, meeting your tío's eyes once again. He looked exhausted. The same look he'd give to Pops whenever it came down to the nitty gritty of protecting this town— scraping together coins to get by. “You ready to carve yours there?” he asked, slicking back dark curls that fell short at his nape. He'd grown his hair out since Pops passed, stray hairs growing silver and out of place. You gave a slowed nod, nervous in ways you can't explain. Your chest felt tight again. It took him a bit to pull the thing down, nails stubborn to unhook from the wall. You watched as he struggled, unease never settling for what was to come. Finally, he pulled it free, nodding over at the dining room table. You settled back into your chair as he took his place beside you, placing the shotgun in front of you. Mami hated guns on the table. Your eyes slide over to her door, still shut and locked tight. “Eyes up, nephew.” he sniffed, brushing scarred knuckles against his nose.

His hands graced yours as you held the shotgun. Rough, worn. Your fingers trace the silver, over the carvings of flowers and leaves, down to your father's markings. His initials. M.N. — Malachi Narváez. You part your lips to a sigh without meaning to, tracing the patterns of his memory. You hadn't noticed the lingering eyes on you until your tío slapped his palm against your back, thumb brushing over your shoulder blade solemnly. “Let's put yours under his, yeah?” You nodded, gracefully accepting when he hands you a small chisel— a pinprick, really. He watches as you work at the metal, insistent. The sound of a door creaking open doesn't deter your focus, carving into the silver barrel. You lean back, proud, turning your head to meet— your mother's own. Her lips curve into the smallest smile, not meant for anyone else to see but you. Her eyes her bleary, swollen. She'd been adorned in her favorite blanket. The one you never thought would see the light of day. The one that lounged over Pops' chair. “Get ready, it's almost time.”

[butchvaderkin]

Non-Chosen One / Non-Sith AU

Ex-Jedi Anakin // Estranged-to-Lovers Anidala // Anakin & Leia bonding

When 17-year-old Leia Naberrie demands to go work for her father, her mother Padmé can find no reason to refuse. Anakin, as much as he may struggle to show it, is grateful for the chance to reconnect with his nearly-adult daughter, after painfully avoidable mistakes estranged the family when the children were still young. However, ever since being thrown out of the Jedi order, Anakin hasn’t exactly taken on the most legal or savory work — a fact he’s worked hard to conceal from Padmé. Now Leia has entered her father’s world, which is often dangerous, sometimes surprising. She finds a different man than she expects, one with whom she shares too much in common to ever settle her opinion towards either resentment or respect. But soon, extenuating circumstances bring Padmé back into the fold of Anakin's life, leaving him much to account for, and Anakin refuses to let another chance slip by to finally set things right.

snippet below the cut

“I don’t understand why you live here, seeing as you hate it so much,” Leia says, as they ascend the loading ramp. Dry sand swirls around them, clouding Anakin’s eyes.

“I don’t live here. I just stay here sometimes between jobs. It’s convenient.” He dumps his satchel and storage pack on the steps leading down to the cockpit. R2 appears from the underside, whirring with excitement, and Anakin pats him once on the dome. "Convenient," Leia repeats, sounding doubtful. “You’re the one kept us here for three days longer than I wanted.”

Leia is already examining the control panels, prepping the ignition. “I had a few meetings. Personal business.”

“Tell me. What sort of business meetings does a Civil Sector Junior Officer need to arrange on Tatooine?” Anakin is already losing his focus to the hum of the ship. The sound running through his body is a bone-deep pleasure. He settles into his pilot seat, where the leather has shaped itself over many years to fit his form.

“I’m not a civil servant anymore.” Leia’s voice is punctuated by an accelerating score of beeps. “I’ve already told you that. It’s why I’m here.”

“You didn’t answer my question. About the meetings.”

“Why do you need to know? I think a father needing to know everything about his children is evidence of a weak character. A controlling nature. Latent aggressive tendencies.”

And Padmé’s likes to accuse him of being too hands off. Anakin wishes he had more control. Sometimes, sometimes, he imagines a world where things went differently. Where he managed to keep his family firmly in his grasp – a real father, a real husband.

Where it didn’t all slip away.

[islandtarochips]

“What the hell was THAT, Blast?”

“What’s what?”

“Back in that room. When we were interrogating Butcher? Using his wife and his SON to get him to squeal out?”

“Oh. That? Yeah, we already got it.”

“But YOU pulled out the line.”

“I WASN’T, Gaz. I was helping you and the Captain out to make him spill the tea faster.”

“By almost SHOOTING his son in the HEAD?!”

“Yeah, at least he actually told us where the gas was, right?”

“But you ALMOST. SHOOT. THE BOY’S. HEAD!”

“It’s not like YOU haven’t done any interrogation like this!”

“I HAVE! But not THAT far!”

“Well you said you wanted to take your gloves off and Price had already given you that opportunity! And you SQUEAL it!”

“THEY WERE INNOCENT!”

“NOT EVERYONE IS INNOCENT WHEN THEY’RE RELATED TO A CRIMINAL, KYLE!”

“.........”

“That’s how life WORKS. Even when they confess they are innocent, in the future they WON’T be anymore.”

“And who told you THAT?”

“....I would rather not say.”

A/N: In case anyone is confused. This was in the Modern Warfare 2019 Reboot AU. This was the conversation between Gaz and Blast (My OC) after they were done interrogating the Butcher by using his wife and son. To tell them where the gas and Hadir was at. I won't be typing a story about this though. Just wanna share a little snippet of it that it won't be coming out...maybe. And this idea kept eating me up in my head and it NEEDS to come out. But anyway, in this one the two Sergeants were arguing about Agnes's (a.k.a Blast) action during the interrogation. If you guys remember the part when Gaz pulled the trigger, there were no bullets. And once the Sergeant had loaded it up. Blast had volunteered to pull the trigger instead. Which Gaz kind of hesitated to give but did it anyway when Price ordered him to give it to her. And instead of Price pulling the boy away from the mother, it was Blast. She pulled the boy away from them and pointed the gun against his head. It was unexpected when Gaz and Price saw this. You could already imagine how shocked Gaz was to see someone with such a fiery personality had turned into a dangerous BLAZE. But nothing could make him even MORE shocking once Blast had pulled this move. By almost shooting the boys head to make the Butcher confess to tell them of where the gas and Hadir was at. Which he did with such a fearful tone in his voice. Once returning his son to his wife, Blast had given the gun back before walking out. And THAT is when Gaz started to argue with Blast about that stunt she had pulled. So yeah, that's my thought for that scene with my OC. Thank you for reading this far! Love ya, peles! 😘💖

(Although. I DO wonder of who told Blast about that phrase that she had said.🤔)

Tagging List In/Out:

@alexa-mwll @ctxinari @raresvtm @fw-pixel

@itsastronxmy @pricescigar @toukasbae @justasmolbard

@alypink @lacunabiscuit @dirtfullofwork @kaitaiga

@deeptrashwitch @welldonekhushi

[agentfinder]

Bumbleby Week for @bumblebyweek-blog

(A snippet from my post-Salem AU Damaged Good)

Day 2: Video Games

Wyatt’s birthday had been a hit. The shock that their nephew considered Neo a part of the family had made some waves. Especially with Winter being in attendance since Neo was, technically, still wanted by multiple authorities. But that shock had been overshadowed by the news from the doctor’s visit.

“TWINS!” Ghira bellowed. Kali hadn’t been able to speak a word just making an ear splitting, “SQUEEEE!”

Blake smiled lovingly at her parents antics. “So when I get home to Menagerie I will be on light duty for the rest of my pregnancy.” Her parents looks turned concerned. “I’m okay and the babies are both okay, but to be as safe as possible, I’m going to have to laze around with some good books and let Yang wait on me hand and foot for awhile.”

Her father guffawed before saying, “must be a hereditary thing then. Your mother did the same with me and she was only pregnant with you.”

Kali playfully slapped his chest. “Don’t listen to him. He INSISTED that he had to take care of me as soon as we learned you were coming. Wouldn’t hear any different from our parents OR my midwives.” Kali’s face turned serious again. “Are you sure even you won’t get bored reading that much?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that!” Yang piped up from the other side of the room, “our favorite nephew here has an idea.” When Blake turned to look she saw her wife with said nephew up on her shoulders walking over. Wyatt was holding a purple and yellow gift bag not much smaller than he was.

“Here,” he said simply as he handed the bag to her. “A gaming console that Uncle Corvus gave me. It will hopefully help fill in any extra time so you don’t get bored.”

“Wyatt! Why would you want to give away one of your birthday presents?” Kali asked over the scroll.

“Honestly, Maw-Maw Kali, I CAN’T use it. My sorcery semblance doesn’t react well to electronic devices. So until I get to New Beacon, and Professor Pine helps me get it under control, it would be safest on an island far, far away from me. Now Mama Ruby and I are due in the kitchens for baking duty. Maw-Maw Kali, Paw-Paw Ghira, good evening.” With that the tall white haired boy strolled out of the room, presumably towards the kitchen.

After a minute of stunned silence Ghira spoke up, “Kitten, didn’t you say this was his FIFTH birthday?”

************

Yang opened the door into the mud room, stepped in, and then immediately turned to go back out before emptying her stomach in the yard. She walked back in grumbling, “sympathetic morning sickness should only be in the mornings.”

Blake had left a portion of fish curry on the stove but Yang’s stomach rebelled at the sight of it. Instead she opened a pack of ginger snaps and munched on a few while walking to the library. Blake was napping on the couch, a pillow tucked under her belly, and a book on the floor. Yang smiled and quietly picked up the book. It was the latest from the ‘Ninjas of Love’ author.

“Knights of Passion,” Yang read the title to herself. The dustcover was fairly plain but the picture on the actual cover showed a shirtless, broad shouldered, slim waisted, blond man still in cuisses and greaves. Kneeling at his feet was a petite blanchette and busty red-head. Their peasant blouses showing a lot of…come to think about it he looked a lot like Jaune! And the white haired model could pass as a Schnee! “Cutie-cat, we are having a talk about this when you wake up.”

Nowhere near ready for bed, and not wanting to wake up the mother to be, Yang walked into the living room and turned on the television. Looking at Wyatt’s gift she decided to see how good the new games looked. She was slightly surprised to see a game already loaded. “Ancient Tablets, huh, why not?”

‘MEMORY INSUFFICIENT’

The message that flashed on the screen made zero sense. Was the console a dud? Yang quickly used the help screen to go into the settings menu and no, there were DOZENS of saved games. The Yang noticed something truly odd. Each game was saved at 1.9% completion. Out of curiosity Yang restarted one of the saved files. It was the very end of the ‘Character Creation’ part of the game. A blonde haired, purple eyed female cat faunus stared out at her. Trying another she sees a black haired, blue eyed male cat faunus. Yet another shows another combination. Yang didn’t know how many of the files she opened but she had eaten an entire box of cookies while doing so. Two files stood out, both girls, both at a whopping 2% completion. They had names. Luna and Summer.

“Okay, okay.” Yang spoke aloud. Something she did when she was especially missing her mom and dad, uncle Qrow, sometimes even Raven. “I won’t give her too much crap about the books.” Walking back to the library she kisses her wife’s cheek good night before stretching out on the second sofa. Gently grasping Blake’s hand with her flesh and blood one she had one last thought before sleep claimed her. ‘What if we have a boy?’

[acourtofladydeath]

SJM Villain Week '24 Day 4: Behind Closed Doors

When Adriana agreed to marry the youngest Vanserra brother, she had no idea what she was getting herself into... How will she and Beron survive the initiation when his family wants to break them?

In this fourth installment of "To Become A Vanserra," we see a glimpse of where it all began. How was Beron changed behind the closed doors of his own ritual? It's time to find out for @sjmvillainweek day 4.

Thank you to @secret-third-thing, @jules-writes-stories, and @climbthemountain2020 for being my hype women. Thank you to @pippsmcgee for being my beta!

This fic involves rape/non-con, coerced sexual acts, and descriptions of graphic violence. Read a snippet below, or the full fic on AO3!

Twisting her hands in the folds of her simple dress, Adriana stared down at the intricate gown laid before her, golden vines embroidered across the deep maroon velvet. The colors were gorgeous, if not slightly off-putting. Adriana hated wearing red of any shade. A trail of blood careened through her memories, never too far from her mind. She was often able to remove the murder of her father from her mind, but only if she could avoid the color red. This marriage was her chance to support her family, to take some of the load off her grieving mother and sisters. Pushing the memory aside, Adriana ran her hand across the smooth fabric, her fingers along the raised thread as it trailed delicately along the lines that most accentuated her body. She stopped at the high collar, feeling the cuff that would surround her throat like a restraint. “This seems a bit formal for lunch, does it not?” Adriana’s words were directed at no one in particular. There were so many servants in the room Mrs. Vanserra had directed her toward that she figured one would know the answer.  “Tis what the High Lord picked for you, m’lady,” the youngest girl said, her voice soft and slightly hesitant. But Adriana noticed a pair of older servants by the vanity share a look, one that sent apprehension shuddering down her spine.  One of the older servants, a stern woman with her apron tied tightly and an even tighter bun gestured for Adriana to come over. “Sit, girl, we haven’t got all day, and your hair just won’t do.”  Adriana’s hands tentatively touched her hair, the flowing curls she’d tirelessly done herself the night before still soft and voluminous. “What’s wrong with my hair?”  “The better question is what’s not wrong, dearie. No matter, you’ll learn the expectations in time,” the other servant by the vanity added, her hair braided and piled at the base of her neck. “Come sit so we can fix you.” 

Finish the fic on AO3.

Please let me know if you'd like on or off the taglist! @pippsmcgee, @born-to-riot, @chunkypossum, @bubybubsters, @queercontrarian, @yanny-77, @fieldofdaisiies, @iftheshoef1tz, @secret-third-thing, @jules-writes-stories, @the-darkestminds, @climbthemountain2020, @amalhe-kofee, @molcat07, @nocasdatsgay

[yander-city]

Loading resident information…

Yandere cult leader

Lazarus Seltzar

————————

Proceed…?

—————————————————————————————————————

Name:

Lazarus Seltzar

Appearance:

F9E0CE (HAIR)

61A994 (EYES)

FDECE5 (SKIN)

Occupation:

Cult Leader Mayor

Age:

23 years old

Known family:

Thomas Seltzar (FATHER)

Lyra Seltzar (MOTHER)

Edmond Seltzar (GRANDFATHER)

Dorothy Seltzar (GRANDMOTHER)

Personality [Host’s experience]:

“He certainly presents himself as normal to others, it can be quite difficult for people to tell if he really is crazy or not. Hell, I wouldn’t have known if no background check was executed before we admitted him. I have caught notice of Lazarus’ frequent grinning, nobody has ever seen him falter, leaving some residents disturbed. He’s quite the optimistic and extroverted sir, unfortunately you never know what’s below the surface…”

Found background:

Lazarus originates from the very same cult he presently leads. His parents, Lyra and Thomas Seltzar forcefully settled down together during the construction of the cult’s town, built by Edmond Seltzar.

Lazarus had a healthy childhood aside from the cult’s views being projected onto him, his father’s sudden disappearance, and Dorothy Seltzar’s passing. Once the bad passed for young Lazarus, Edmond took Lazarus under his wing, showing him how to be a leader for the town.

Unfortunately, Lazarus’s mother had also suddenly disappeared in his late teens, leaving him in the hands of his grandfather for good until his eventual passing. Presently leaving Lazarus as the cult’s mayor.

Trivia:

Lazarus’ little source of (now forgotten) morality was from his mother

A nickname Lazarus has earned from the elderly women in town is “Lonely Lazarus” as a result of his longing for romance.

Lazarus frequently gets visions, little snippets of the future. And you.

More information will be implemented…

Feel free to ask questions…

[seriouslysam8]

OKAY. LAST SNIPPET. I SWEAR. I COULDN'T CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT FOR THIS SCENE.

“Oi! Next in line!” someone shouted.

Ron looked to see the man was yelling at him. He shot McGonagall a lopsided smile before gesturing he had to go. He stepped up to the vendor, sitting James down on the counter and keeping his arms around him. 

“Sorry about that,” Ron greeted, looking up at the menu. “I’ll have a kiddie meal with nuggets, chips, and a pumpkin juice. Then, I’ll also have three slices of pepperoni pizza, loaded chips, and… fuck make it another pumpkin juice. I shouldn’t drink a beer while minding a kid, yeah?” he joked but the man didn’t find him funny at all. 

“That’ll be ten Galleons, three Sickles, and two Knuts,” the man said in an unamused tone.

“Merlin fuck, that’s a tad bit expensive, don’t you think?” Ron asked as he dug in his pocket for some money. “Do I get a discount if my sister is Ginny Weasley?”

The man did not look amused.

“Right, guess somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Ron grumbled as he tossed the money on the counter.

James leaned his head against Ron’s chest as they waited for their food to be ready. With a few well-placed sticking charms on the tray of food, Ron carried James on his left hip while he held the featherlight tray in his left. He was never happier to reach the family box where the twins and his parents were already seated. Tilting to the side, he eased James onto his feet so he could walk the rest of the way.

“Uncle George! Uncle Fred!” James called, running towards his family at the front of the box.

George rose from his chair before crouching down so he could catch James in his arms. Rising to his full height, George moved to sit him in an empty seat next to their mum.

“Grandmum! Granddad!” James chirped happily. “Uncle Ron got me nuggets and chips and pizza and pumpkin juice and more chips and more pumpkin juice!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, dear,” his mum cooed as she brushed James’ hair back, failing to make it look even a speck neater.

Ron took a seat next to his nephew, balancing the tray on his lap. James immediately reached for a chip and dunked it into the ketchup before shoving it in his mouth.

“Did you buy the entire bloody box lunch, Ronnie?” Fred asked, reaching over and snagging one of his loaded fries.

“Oi! Ron doesn’t share food!” he exclaimed, moving so his back was to Fred. “You bloody fucking gremlin.”

“Ronald!” his mother huffed.

“What? I don’t!” Ron replied, his head shaking. 

James plucked a piece of pepperoni off Ron’s pizza and popped it into his mouth. Ron sucked in a breath, glaring down at his grinning nephew. He bit down his annoyance because the kid was too damn cute. James was the only one he’d even think about sharing food with.

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday!

Tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley and @daffi-990, thanks my loves!!

So I've been informed that the snippets of zoo fic I've been sharing have made it seem like a cute, wholesome trip to the zoo, which it is in part. But it's also just a whole load of Eddie Feeling Things (8k of it so far) as he comes to terms with Christopher growing up and his feelings for Buck. So, having said that, please enjoy a slightly more angsty section of this.

Christopher is growing up. It’s a natural part of life, but a part Eddie has been dreading for years, probably since the day Christopher was born if he’s being honest with himself. His breathing is becoming more difficult, chest tightening as he tries to steady his inhales. “I-I’m gonna go down to the underwater area for a sec, be right back. Make sure Buck doesn’t get into trouble, Chris,” Eddie stammers as he gets up, pushing past Buck and Christopher, and he all but runs down the sloping path, stopping only when he’s in the cool, dark cave under the seating area. The water behind the big, glass windows cast an eerie light, rippling and dancing with the small wavelets of the pool, and it calms Eddie a little, away from the hustle and bustle of the above area. From where he’s standing, he can watch as the mama and baby hippos both wade into the water before the mama hippo tips herself forward, sinking gracefully to the bottom. The baby follows suit, her little legs kicking about as she gets used to the sensation of weightlessness, and she settles on her mother’s back, watching as a shoal of fish swirl around them. Eddie walks forwards and places a hand on the cool glass. Watching the mama and baby interact, the way the baby keeps looking back at her mother for reassurance and the way the mama hippo gazes at her child with a look that could only be love, Eddie flips through all his memories of Christopher, as though watching his past through a Viewfinder. He’s so busy reminiscing that he doesn’t hear the footsteps as someone else enters the cave, until a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around his middle. “You okay?” Buck’s voice murmurs in his ear, lips brushing against the shell and Eddie sinks back with a sigh, letting his whole body relax in Buck’s arms.

tagging @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @puppyboybuckley @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @tizniz @wikiangela @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rainbow-nerdss @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @epicbuddieficrecs @smilingbuckley @actuallyitsellie @thekristen999

[soliloquy-dawn]

Last Line(s) Tag

@joeyalohadream @london-cowboy thank you, my darlings!

Another wee snippet from the Atonement AU.

The draft sits at 25k. Made me very emotional today. I also cried twice making the playlist...

For context, Gale and John are seventeen here, and John's just put a golden locket around Gale's neck, cause that's what friends do.

“It’s a gift. I wanted you to have it.” 

“And what shall I do with it?” Gale asked. 

“Wear it,” John murmured. “I’m giving it to you, because you’re my friend, and it’s—a symbol of our friendship.” 

“Don’t be daft,” Gale said, fiddling with the clasp. “I can’t walk around the estate wearing your family heirlooms.” 

“It’s mine to give to the right person. Mama said—”

“Your mother gave this to you?” Gale raised his voice. “It’s a lover’s charm, Bucky. Did she get it from your father, perhaps?” 

Swallowing, John rasped out, “Yes.” 

“John.” His given name barrelled into him with a force of a calculated punch, the syllable heavy and stern, loaded with acerbity. “I cannot take it.” 

Tagging @air-exec @alienoresimagines @sleepr-agent420 @weimarweekly @anachilles as always, no pressure tags!

[lizpaige]

okokokok i was tagged to share some wip snippets by @harlotsforcinnamon @clotpolesonly @alter-adam days ago and i didn't have much to share BUT NOW I DO haha so here goes, some angst and some dumb fluff

🍃 next chapter of fare well

⚠️ tw for adam's childhood

Adam always wondered about his mother’s loyalty to his father. Despite Robert Parrish’s actions, his mother seemed unable to leave him or even function on her own without him there. When his father was out at work or down the street at the bar most nights, his mother seemed catatonic or perhaps frozen with fear, too afraid to make a move if it wasn’t explicitly dictated by her husband. When Adam asked for her to sign a permission slip or when he received a school supply list every summer before school, she wouldn’t take it. Wait for your dad to get home and we’ll discuss it. But they never did. Robert Parrish always took lead on every family discussion and his mother just sat beside him comatose. Logically Adam knew trauma was more nuanced than that, more layered. He read enough about the cycles of abuse and the effects it can have on people to know that, but to Adam, it seemed like she decided that she wouldn’t be able to survive without her husband. One night, when an eight year old Adam was sent to bed with no supper and a fresh bruise across his cheek, his mother came by with an ice pack. With tears in his eyes, Adam asked her why. The question was brief, but loaded. Why did his father hit him? Why did she not intervene? Why did his father get so angry? Why did she stay? Why didn’t she run away with Adam so they could both be safe? Instead of answering what he truly wanted to know, she just patted his unbruised cheek.  “I wish you wouldn’t make him so angry, Adam. He does an awful lot for us.” After that night, Adam wondered about the nature of relationships. Was there no limit to forgiveness?

🍟 that fic i might never finish

special delivery west lot if u want it Adam glanced out the library window toward the west parking lot and could see the familiar BMW idling. He hadn’t seen Ronan in two days, which wasn’t the longest time they spent apart. This was normally how he showed up again, unannounced, passive, leaving space for Adam to close the distance between them. A stark difference from when he used to barrel into the apartment above St. Agnes before they were dating.  He packed his things away in his messenger bag and dropped his empty coffee into the trash by the double doors out to the parking lot. His pulse raced, his palms sweaty. It was pavlovian at this point. Ronan leaned against the headrest, pale neck stretched, eyes closed, bass line radiating out through the frame down through the concrete and pulsing at Adam’s feet, taunting him. He swallowed and knocked on the window, watching Ronan grin, reach over to turn the volume down minimally, and roll down his window.  “Parrish,” he greeted, sizing him up.  “Lynch.” Adam leaned forward, resting a hand against the top of the open window. “Was ‘special delivery’ your version of a pickup line or…?” Ronan rolled his eyes, but his smile hadn’t faded. “Why don’t you get in and find out?” Adam hesitated. “I only have a half hour.” “You can last thirty minutes? News to me.”  “Look who’s talking.” Ronan raised his hands in feigned surrender and barked out a laugh. “Jesus, fuck, touché. Whatever, man, get in or not, it’s up to you.” Adam got in. It turns out special delivery wasn’t a come on. The car smelled like a mixture of leather, gasoline, and french fries. Ronan actually brought lunch, which, of course, Adam immediately protested.  “Just get mine next time,” Ronan shrugged, handing over the greasy takeout bag. “Or don’t fucking eat it, I don’t care.” Adam’s stomach growled nearly loud enough to be heard over the bass of Ronan’s stereo. When Adam leaned across the console to kiss him, he tasted like chocolate ice cream and ketchup. They got a little carried away on their reunion, the bag of fast food forgotten in Adam’s lap, until Ronan mumbled against his lips, “I thought you only had thirty minutes.” Regrettably, reluctantly, Adam pulled back and took a drink from Ronan’s milkshake. “Tell me about your day so I can eat.”

tagging @zephfair @mychemicalrachel and @iammistressofmyfate to share some wip snippets only if they wanna and if they weren't already tagged! also tagging anyone who wants to, let me reaaaaad 👀 no pressure 💖

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

Fic Writer End of Year Round-up!!

(belated but whatever) Answer and then tag 3 or more creators to keep the game going!!

I was tagged by @skyfallscotland and @littedidyouknow 🥰🥰🥰

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

365,883!

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

16!

3. How many in-progress or currently ongoing fics did you start this year?

Only one WIP for me as of right now, my baby In The Heat Of It All. This is a good time to announce that there won’t be any updates during January in all likelihood.

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

Show Me Yours. It feels the most mine of all my fics, and I absolutely wrote it for me.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I’m not super experimental overall, since I generally know what POV/tense I like, and I don’t stray from that, but I feel like the International Incident series was pretty experimental in that it was actually erotica, and I’d never done that before!

6. Did any of your fics surprise you, either while writing or with their reception?

To Hate And To Hold had an insane reception that I was not expecting at all. I think a general rule is that the fics *I* like the most are not the fics that everyone else seems to like the most, but it was crazy to see in real time, especially with a one shot.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

In The Heat Of It All has been consistently flying under the radar for whatever reason, which makes me so sad because it’s absolutely my best work. Foreign Affairs also definitely flew under the radar, but maybe this is an anti masturbation fandom, IDK.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I love @essjaywrites drawing of Rhi and Vi’s fridge here! I haven’t quite gotten around to reading this fic yet, but I love the representation of their friendship, and I think about it loads!!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

All my brainstorming over the last few months has involved the lovely miss @maethologies, and she inspires me so much. Genuinely, y’all would not have gryphon rider x without her, or the end of OTRA, or the latter half of kinktober.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

Literally all of you with when I joined the fandom, LOL, but special shout out to @justallihere. I’m so grateful for Storm In The Quiet and all the other wonderful writing she’s given us. SITQ was a really bright light last spring when I needed it ❤️

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Technically, no. However! @maethologies and I have been. pounding ideas back and forth for an AU we are co-writing via DM, and we both have written pieces of the full fic!! That counts, I think. I think I’ll keep how it started top secret for now, though…

12. What accomplishments are you most proud of?

I was re-reading my journal yesterday, from around the time I wrote Of Mothers and Storms, and I said there how happy I was to be writing something more stress free after dealing with some of my original stuff. I’m so proud that I found that happiness again, and I’ve been really working on figuring out how to make that feeling more sustainable.

13. What did you learn about writing and creating this year?

Writing and posting are SEPARATE activities!

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Get words on the page!! My most practical advice is that when whatever I’m writing scares me, I shut my eyes. Do it scared. Also, sprints! Also, finding friends who you can send snippets to!!

15. What are you creative goals for 2025?

Top secret! 🤫

I’m not tagging anyone because I am so very late, but if anyone still wants to jump in, do it!! and tag me!! It was so lovely seeing everyone’s contributions. Happy new year!!