#just a lil snippet

[vulcanette]

🎥: @ bonnybonesknits

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

"When we win," Jason got on his knees, "I'll make sure every minor god is represented on the Temple Hill. I swear it on my patron."

Oopsies daisies Jason🤭 You better keep that oath if you don't want the narrative to come at you

Well, at least it wasn't a marriage vow like the OG Jason? Ahahaha

River? Starting another wip? More likely than you'd expect. Which is saying lots tbh

[apocalypsewriters]

I ran a zine making event and I'm super proud of what I made! I put together lil thematically congruent collection of snippets my work

[whatsuptyler]

I hear we like snippets? Maybe?

Here’s a line from the first chapter of PRAY FOR HIM, my debut queer religious horror romance novel, out October 1! That’s so soon and that alarms me but I’m excited!

This is a book about both love and fear.

The book is available for preorder now! Full description of the book below the cut

PRAY FOR HIM - a LGTBQ+ possession horror novel, coming October 1

A psychic priest is thrown headfirst into a battle of faith and love against the forces of Hell when his dearest friend becomes possessed.

Father Isaias Flores may not have much, but he has his faith—and his dear friend Hector to keep him anchored when he is mired in self-doubt. But when Hector’s daughter, Violet, comes to Isaias with concerns that her father is acting strangely, Isaias’s doubts only increase, now with no one to keep him steadfast. For Hector seems to be possessed by something darker than even the traumas of the past, and Violet has nowhere else to turn to save her only family.

This is a problem that may require divine intervention—the rites of exorcism.

Unsure of his place in the church, doubting his gifts from God, and struggling to make sense of his feelings for the man he had thought was only a friend, Isaias isn’t sure if he is strong enough to save anyone’s soul from damnation.

For what can one man do against the torments of Hell?

[coruscantrhapsody]

As we in the Anidala fandom commiserate about the dearth of fic and the absolute state of the Ao3 tag, I've gone back and read through my ample cache of WIPs. Gah - I want to finish these! ADHD is hard.

But anyway, I really like this one which is going to be smutty, so here's a snippet for anyone interested.

--He stretches his head back, adjusting himself on the pillow, when he realizes that he’s in Padme’s arms. She must have wrapped herself around him in her sleep, pulled him closer as she does sometimes, unconsciously, as if now that he’s home for good she’ll never let him go. He freezes, relishing the feel of her arm around his chest, her legs intertwined with his. Her head is behind him on his pillow, her nose nuzzled somewhere in his hair. He finds himself worrying that she might wake up with a sore neck in the morning. He moves his head up slightly so she has more of the pillow to roll onto when she next shifts in her sleep. He doesn’t want to move her himself, doesn’t want to risk waking her, not when she’s just started to be able to sleep soundly.

He sighs, moving his back ever so slightly deeper against her chest. The soft fabric of her nightgown tickles his bare skin, and all at once he feels her short, steady breaths at the nape of his neck, takes in the light, fruity aroma of her shampoo, her body wash. He inhales her scent and, without really meaning to, exhales her name. --

[honeyedmiller]

very much excited for part 3 of firefighter joel going up this weekend 🤠

[chaoticgeminate]

HI YES HELLO I AM LOSING MY MIND OVER THESE TAGS

AAAAAAAAAA

"Come here, Nerys."

In response to the command a bark of defiance sounded from the pool, making you giggle behind your hand as Adelia sat beside you in the lounger with Oscar in her arms. The pair of werewolves had put you on bed rest following the birth of the twins, your mate and his daughter -and his pack- tending to nearly everything so you could recover.

It had been pretty damn traumatic, and you were still going through therapy because post partum depression was an ugly reality, but you had the support you needed to keep going and that was what mattered.

"Just pick her up, it's a kiddie pool."

"That's her territory, amor, I won't enter it without her express permission. Just like the big pool is yours. Werewolf thing."

"I'll get her then."

"You will not, I can do this, she needs to learn pack hierarchy."

"I don't take my seal skin off for three weeks, Frankie, my mother had to Change to feed me."

His brows shot up at the mention, it wasn't often you discussed your parents and even less after everything that happened once you'd learned your own history. But you knew it was important since this was your daughter, and he had no idea how to raise a selkie.

"Nerys, mija, come here please."

Another bark and the sound of claws scraping at plastic made you roll your eyes skyward, it was honestly just too cute. But you got up anyway, walking over to the pool, and crouched down beside your mate.

Your little one was rolling around the dry portion of the pool, trying to get to one of her toys, and her big eyes honed in on you the moment you waved.

"Nerys, do you want to swim with Mama?"

You extended your hands and smiled as she scrambled to come closer, the kiddie pool was shallow and barely let her swim properly per Frankie's paranoia. But she was a selkie, your little one, and you knew she could handle the pool.

Frankie shot you a jealous look but you knew that Nerys would bond with you more, just like Oscar would bond with his papa and half sister more since he was a werewolf. Frankie kissed your cheek and took your place on the lounger but his eyes were alert, trained on you and Nerys.

Your little pack was going to be fine.

[breitweisergallery]

“The Dread Wolf’s first romantic get-away,” she teased as a door opened and closed behind them. 

“A romantic get-away? Our Wolf? Never.” 

“Does no one knock?” Fen’Harel asked the empty air in front of him. Felassan tossed a stack of papers down onto his desk and leaned against it, smirk pulling at his lips. “What’s that?”

“Business you can take care of. After your romantic get-away. Who–”

“There is no romantic get-away!”

“–is it with anyways?”

Tarasahl snorted. “One of the Evanuris. He’s wearing fancy robes.”

“Definitely not Mythal. She likes him in green.” 

“Mm, definitely not. And he’d throw himself off one of the outlooks if Elgar’nan asked him to lunch.”

“Most certainly. Which did he choose? The black robes? With the gold?”

“Mhm.”

“Almost certainly one of the tw–”

“Get out. Both of you.” Fen’Harel threw the door open with a flick of his wrist and pushed Tarasahl with the other hand. Felassan laughed and followed behind her. He paused only to brush down the front of Fen’Harel’s robes, fixing his belt. 

“Very handsome. I’d bed you,” Felassan said. 

“Go.” 

[thechaoticcherub]

Inspired and given the balls to post this by @strang3lov3

Tw: incest kink, dubcon

Could you imagine the feeling of realizing your dad, Joel Miller, was checking you out?

That creeping sensation of his eyes on you, first your legs, then noticing how short your skirt was. You hadnt thought it was too short but now you felt the need to pull it down.

At first you told yourself he just thought your skirt was too short and he was going to chastise you for it.

But then his eyes linger on the spot where your thighs press together, his eyes crawl around to your ass, his expression blatantly admiring of it.

Joel and you had always been close but lately he’s been sitting close to you on the couch, commenting on your dresses and shirts. Little things like,

“I like gingham on you, babygirl.”

“You look nice in lace,”

It makes your tummy crawl both with a strange satisfaction and an uneasiness.

It isnt until you catch him peering through your cracked open door while you changed out of your pajamas that you realize how serious your dad’s looks are.

You catch his eyes on your breasts as you lift your tank top off, your arms going over your head. He doesnt turn away when he sees you catching him though, he openly looks at your hardening nipples.

“Daddy?” You ask, your voice small, unsure. The creeping feeling in your spine shivering lower, making your core tighten slightly.

“Just admiring how pretty my little girl is, peanut.” He says, unashamed of his wandering gaze. You had shame enough for the both of you. You lift your arms to cover your chest and Joel tuts in response,

“Nuh uh honey,” he pushes your door open, ans walks up to you. He takes your arms and pulls them away from your chest, “I made you, babygirl, i get to look at what i made.”

Your thighs clench together as your eyes widen in horror.

[yuugen-xvii]

I need to see more memories from rick sanchez’s childhood please

[beskars]

once more; vander x reader

"One more?" Vander suggested when the kitchen was clean, nodding toward the bottle of tequila and the remaining limes on the counter. "Seems a shame to waste it." You hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Why not?" He reached for the bottle, pouring a single shot with practiced precision. From a small bowl, he selected a lime wedge, his large fingers handling the delicate fruit with surprising dexterity. "Have you ever done it properly?" he asked, his voice dropping to that lower register that never failed to send heat spreading through your body.

"Properly?" you repeated, watching as he reached for the salt shaker.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Salt, tequila, lime. In that order."

"I know the basic concept," you replied, though the truth was your experience with tequila had been limited to mixed drinks and the occasional hurried shot at overcrowded bars.

Vander seemed to read your uncertainty. "Let me show you," he offered, extending his left hand palm up, then turning it slightly to expose the space between his thumb and forefinger. With deliberate movements, he sprinkled salt onto the tender skin there.

"First, salt," he explained, his eyes never leaving yours as he lifted the shot glass with his right hand. "Then tequila." He gestured toward the lime wedge on the counter. "Then lime. Cuts the burn."

Your throat felt suddenly dry as you watched him demonstrate, licking the salt from his hand with a swift motion before downing the shot and immediately biting into the lime wedge. The entire sequence was efficient, practiced, and somehow the most intensely sensual thing you'd ever witnessed.

"Your turn," he said, his voice rougher than usual as he poured another shot.

With slightly unsteady hands, you accepted the glass, then extended your left hand as he had done. Vander took your wrist gently, turning your hand to the proper position. The heat of his fingers against your skin made your pulse jump.

"Hold still," he murmured, reaching for the salt shaker.

The gentle cascade of salt crystals against the sensitive skin between your thumb and forefinger sent a shiver up your arm that had nothing to do with temperature. Vander's eyes met yours as he set the shaker aside, something darker than usual in their depths.

"Salt first," he reminded you, his voice so low it was almost a physical sensation.

You brought your hand to your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you licked the salt from your skin, the sharp taste dissolving on your tongue. Without breaking his gaze, you downed the shot, the tequila burning a path down your throat.

Before you could reach for the lime, Vander was there, holding the wedge between his fingers, offering it to you with an intensity that made your breath catch. You leaned forward, taking the lime directly from his hand, your lips brushing against his fingertips in a contact so brief it might have been imagined.

The tart juice flooded your mouth, cutting through the burn of the tequila as promised. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with unspoken possibility.

"Again," you said finally, breaking the silence. "But this time, I'll hold the salt for you."

Something flashed in Vander's eyes—surprise, desire, a momentary hesitation quickly overcome. He nodded once, pouring another shot with a hand that wasn't quite as steady as before.

You took the salt shaker, suddenly bold as you reached for his left hand. His palm dwarfed yours as you turned it slightly, exposing that same tender space between thumb and forefinger. The skin there was rougher than yours, marked by years of work and training, yet somehow vulnerable in its exposure.

With careful precision, you sprinkled salt onto his skin, hyper-aware of how his pulse had quickened beneath your touch. When you finished, you didn't immediately release him, instead running your thumb lightly over his wrist where his heartbeat was visible.

"Your turn," you echoed his earlier words, reaching for a fresh lime wedge.

Vander's eyes remained locked with yours as he brought his hand to his mouth, the motion somehow more deliberate than before. You watched, transfixed, as his tongue swept across his skin, collecting the salt in one fluid movement before he downed the shot with practiced ease.

When you offered the lime, you held it differently than he had—between your thumb and forefinger, but close enough to your own lips that he would have to draw very near to take it. The invitation was clear, even if unspoken.

For one breathless moment, Vander hesitated, his eyes darkening as they dropped to your lips, so close to the lime you offered. Then, with careful restraint, he took the lime from your fingers without letting his lips brush yours, though his fingertips lingered against your hand longer than strictly necessary.

The almost-contact hung in the air between you, vibrating with possibility even as he maintained that final, crucial distance.

"Once more," he suggested, his voice a rough whisper as he reached for the bottle. "Together this time."

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

hiii, I haven't done one of these in a whiiile omg

i was very focused on winterfest but im back to my regular wips now, and there's a few 8x11 fics in the works - first, bucktommy 8x11 phone call lol

___

“God, Evan, you’re so adorable.”

[...]

"You still think so?" Buck asks teasingly, but his voice wavers and he bites his lip hard. He wants to thread carefully, this conversation feels big, like if he messes this up, he might never get another opportunity to fix it. And damn it, he wants to fix it.

"Yeah, of course. Why would that change?" Tommy asks so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, a lot changed. I just assumed." Buck shrugs, even though Tommy can't see him.

"Hm." Tommy hums. "Maybe we both should stop assuming so much," he mutters quietly, almost under his breath, so quiet that if they weren't in silent rooms and his voice wasn't directly in Buck's ear, he might've missed it.

"Is that our problem? Assuming?" Buck flips onto his side, his phone between his cheek and his pillow. He feels restless. He wishes he could curl up under Tommy's arm, press his cheek to Tommy's chest, feel his heartbeat. He misses that so much.

___

no pressure tags (copying from the last one I did, if you want to be added or removed, pls lmk):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @pirrusstuff @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @gaytommykinard @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @quillvice @doctorkinney @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @girlwonder-writes @dadbodbucky @loullaby @aringofsalt @actuallyitsellie @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @hyperfocusthusly @talktonytome @cornerofspace @tommybuckleys @kinard-buckley and anyone who wants to idk <3

[phdmama]

Early returns are promising. Ala @timbitshockey I figured I could do a few words... Also, this is like, literally straight out of my brain, almost NO editing etc etc (pls be gentle)

The gala goes exactly as Draco thinks it will. It’s hot and stuffy in the ballroom, crowded with people in their most ostentatious jewels, eager to be seen chatting with the Saviour of the Wizarding World. The food is mediocre, the alcohol less so. There’s a string quartet playing what Draco is fairly sure are instrumental covers of Muggle pop hit songs from the early 1980s, and some people are even dancing?

Not Draco though. 

Draco’s not dancing because one, instrumental covers of Muggle pop hit songs from the early 1980s aren’t really his thing, and two, Potter hasn’t let go of his hand since they checked their coats and walked into the ballroom.

It turns out, when Potter had said “I need you to pretend to be my soulmate and go to the gala with me tonight,” he really hadn’t been joking. 

Of course, the word soulmate hasn’t passed his lips, but it really hasn’t needed to. Potter is charming and attentive, guiding Draco through the crowd with a hand gently pressed to his lower back. He brings Draco drinks, handed over with a low “I think you’ll like this one,” that is somehow both intimate and also pitched so that the people around them can hear him perfectly. He’s been snagging Draco those little sausage in pastry appetizers that Draco just really loves. Draco has no idea how Potter knew that they’re Draco’s favorites. Potter had flagged down the waiter and said with a charming grin, “Feel free to hover around my… date here. He loves these.”

Basically, everything he’s done has been expertly crafted to convey Potter’s deep appreciation of, and intimacy with, one Draco Malfoy, while simultaneously maintaining plausible deniability. Draco is reluctantly impressed.

also should I go write the next scene in that little Drarry fake dating soulmates thing? I have an idea.

Spoiler alert: it’s porn

[pespillo]

fifth date with this guy n he pulls this

[tracle0]

hey writerblr

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

[imfinereallyy]

Steve likes to sleep on Eddie’s chest. He likes to be touching every sliver of skin without being overwhelmed by another body. Eddie’s love feels open like this, stretched out for him to hold, giving him a place of safety. Steve’s grateful the man is a weirdo who likes to sleep on his back. Most sane people sleep on their sides or stomach but no—Eddie Munson enjoys his hair pulled up and cold feeling of a pillow on the back of his neck.

But Steve never complains. He likes that Eddie is strange. He has never been much for tradition cuddling. It always feels. suffocating, wrapped up with nowhere to go. A battle of power of some sorts. But this right here, with Steve’s ear pressed against Eddie’s slow heartbeat, lulling him softly to sleep as he curls into Eddie’s side…Steve’s pretty sure he has to thank a god he doesn’t believe in for letting him this close to a place—a person he can finally call home.