#wip sampler

[vacantgodling]

sometimes summaries are great but other times a good passage that encapsulates the style, the prose, and major themes of the work is a good hook into if you should get invested into a work or not.

so, i’ve created a wip sampler, like an appetizer tray, in an effort to spark intrigue among my many wips. this goes hand in hand with my wip master list and as i write more for each, prose will appear here to give you a taste!

PARAMOUR (The Fall of Galeré Book I)

“Shall I invite you to a dance?” The stranger asked, sliding behind him. They were taller than Hyacinthus, their shoulders broad yet dwarfed by his own. Familiar black gloves crept like vines up Hyacinthus’s waist, featherlight and not truly grasping but the tease that they could was there. Hyacinthus was thankful that most by now seemed to have lost interest in trying to speak with him, leaving him to focus on what he truly came here for.

Hyacinthus wasn’t sure he cared who saw them at this point.

“The less we are seen the better.” Hyacinthus still said on principle, and he pressed back into the figure, his voice low like the rumble of the tide. “The drawing room in the South Wing I have instructed to be purposefully unoccupied. We rendezvous there.”

“Then consider this adieu,” The stranger breathed against his neck. “Until we soon meet again.”

CAGE

“Fuck. Off.” Cassidy growled so deep in the back of his throat that not only did he startle himself. but the glassy look in Hanzo’s eyes shattered. Suddenly he was staring into an abyss of deep brown-black eyes, near doe-like if it weren’t for their severe slant. His ears and nose were still red, red, red. And so was the blood beginning to form on the front of his too thin coat, which is what finally spurred Cassidy to take matters into his own hands.

“I ain’t havin’ yer goddamn blood on my hands Shimada. So you can shut tha fuck up with that self-sacrificin’ bullshit.”

DONUT WIP

It flashed by the mirror so quickly; but I remember seeing so vividly. In the mirror behind us, when I chanced a peek again, instead of our reflection I saw the looming walls of a darkened hallway. An exit sign leered over a steep drop of stairs, providing the only light source other than the lone sconces above each individual door. It wasn’t a hallway I recognized—nothing about it was familiar, and none of the doors looked distinct enough to tell me where it was, or why I should be seeing it. But if I continued to peer into that mirror, I saw a cream colored cat padding towards the exit sign. With each door it passed, the light above each door flickered off, until the only light left was the light of the exit sign. But the cat was wrong; everything was wrong. It’s tail was crooked and bent unnaturally to one side, and somehow I knew it was watching me.

When it finally reached those far off stairs, it stopped. It sat down on its haunches, its back facing me, but then its head slowly began to turn. All the way around. Until it was 180 degrees, like an owl, staring straight at me. Despite the distance, I could make out every detail of its swirling red and black eyes. The cat’s mouth began to move in a way too reminiscent of human speech, but its razor sharp teeth made it a horrifying image. Its voice slithered in my head, deep like the bowels of the Earth.

“Not now, Julissa. But soon.”

NOI, ALONE

“Do you… Know what happened?”

“I don’t.” Noi’s answer was the blunt edge of a knife, and they felt bad that they’d responded so quickly. The small shimmer of hope they saw in Juvia’s eyes fell. “I don’t think anyone knows, actually.” Noi continued, and Juvia just nodded. “I looked over the coroner’s report as many times as I could—”

“You’ve seen the coroner’s report?” Noi glanced up at Juvia and found the woman to be a bit abashed at her sudden outburst. Before she could get it out, Noi held up a hand. “No need to apologize. They haven’t released it to the public, yet.” Noi left out how they’d snuck into the police station to steal it, but Juvia could read through the lines, they were sure. “I can send it to you, if you’d like, but it doesn’t clear up much, I’m afraid.”

“Please.” Juvia’s voice once again fell to a whisper. “I have a burner email you can send it to. Even if it doesn’t help much I…”

“Still want to know. I understand.” Noi’s fingers flew across their keyboard. “What’s your email?”

JENNA THE REAPER

Jenna continued to stare straight ahead, but the way she pulled at the hem of her gray skirt didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t know too much about it myself. Mother says Reapers hate witches.”

“Huh. I don’t see how they’re too different.”

“Whenever I asked Mother before she got very… closed up. I stopped asking.” Well, that settled it then. If Kashmira didn’t tell Jenna, who she usually indulged in anything her curious heart desired, she either truly didn’t know… or Jenna wouldn’t like the answer— which is what Carlos suspected to be the real reason. It had to be, and Jenna didn’t tell him. Or couldn’t. She kept fidgeting in her seat— and usually Jenna was unnervingly still.

Whatever Reapers were… he hoped they never ran into them. But surely, they wouldn’t have an interest in a sleepy town like this… right?

VAMPIRES DON’T TAKE ROADTRIPS

I was lost in thought when a person appeared in my field of vision — the middle of the road — and I slammed on the brakes in a nick of time. Barely. It jolted Olice from her haze and I laid the horn on thick. I leaned my head out of the window.

“Hey! Watch it asshole!” I shouted. The person was a man, tall, broad, nearly cleared the car on foot alone. I couldn’t see his eyes, which were obscured by a wide brimmed hat, but I could see the wavy white hair that tumbled down his back like some untamed beast. In the middle of traffic he stood still as a statue, even when I laid on the horn again, he didn’t budge. The taxi in front of us jolted forward. “Hey fuck you kid!” The taxi driver leaned out of his window. “Ain’t nowhere to fucking go!”

“Dude, I’m not honking at you! I’m honking at this fucker who—“ I cut myself off; when I went to point the man was no longer there, seeming to have vanished into thin air. “—Where the fuck…?” I whipped my head left, right. The man that I nearly crashed into was nowhere to be seen.

[ditsyknits]

Now that the wedding is done (still feels crazy to be married!), I can focus on other projects. I’ve been getting back into the Art East Quilting Co Folk Sampler Quilt

[rosymothquilts]

part 1 here

added a thin border and now im ready to hand quilt!

[thackeroy]

Quarter 2 finished! For those that don't remember this piece, this is Stitch-O-Graphy from Fat Quarter Shop, me and my friend @chelystitch are doing it together as a SAL, we're doing 1/4 of the pattern each quarter and it's a fun little idea.

[spooky-the-evil-squeektoy]

WIP Maynia 2025 day 2. Pandemic from LDS

[breakslol]

quick lil breakcore-esque fun

[beechersnope]

WIP Game

tagged by @powerful-owl to share 7 or more lines of my WIPs

Perth

“When are you going to Perth?” Max asks flatly as she pushes through the entryway into Daniel’s flat, before he can piece together the flurry of thoughts in his brain into a coherent question, like ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ or ‘are you okay?’

Daniel knows she isn’t okay. That she can’t be. “You cut your hair,” he says instead, dumbly. It isn’t in the trademark braid she’s had since Daniel had first met her, before she’d even been signed to Toro Rosso. It’s shaved near the back of her neck, her fringe floppy and blonder than he remembers. It makes her look like a boy.

2. Welcome To My Island

“Everyone removes one article of clothing,” Luisa recites, and before she can finish reading the rest of the card, Daniel and Pierre are already on their feet, roaring and cheering like they’ve just won a championship while everyone else looks on, laughing.

Daniel pulls Pierre into a tight embrace, holding the other man’s face between his hands and planting his lips squarely on Pierre’s mouth. Pierre responds in kind, reaching up to keep Daniel’s face glued to his own as they both try to outdo each other with a garish display of French kissing, much to the delight of the girls watching.

“Okay, okay,” Lewis finally shouts over all the hullabaloo. “Let’s save it for the game, yeah?”

“Yeah, Pierre,” Daniel gasps out as he tears himself away with a light shove against Pierre’s chest. “Have a little dignity, will you?”

3. Summer Sun & Wildfire

There’s a woman named Susan who works at the gas station in Sula. Her husband comes in sometimes—his sunbaked wrinkles and grizzled beard belying the fact that he couldn’t have been more than twice Max’s age. His name is Gary. Max likes Gary, and Max doesn’t like anyone. But Gary’s grandparents had immigrated to the US from Holland (this is the way Gary tells it) when his mother was small, and consequently, he’d picked up on Max’s accent the very first time she’d come into the station after nearly running out of gas on her way north to Missoula (she never made it that far).

Now Gary speaks to Max in broken Dutch on the occasions that he comes in to restock at the same time that she comes in to resupply. Today, however, Max is procrastinating going inside the little roadside station with its kitschy log cabin façade. She doesn’t want to see Gary, to have him smile at her with tobacco-stained teeth and listen to him call her moppie in his trembling baritone voice.

Tagging @thetightwhiteshirt @hungriestheidi @rainbowslinkyy @titleleaf and anyone else who would like to post some of their WIPs and share with me. :)

[ravelingbolero]

Had to rip out and rework some areas due to issues with winter white vs snow white thread. I see one more spot I need to rework due to issues with using thread from different dye lots. I keep telling myself it’s worth the effort because it will hang on the wall of my house for the rest of my life, but it’s frustrating to have an eye for detail some times!

[annascraftsroom]

While I did my square with the "Diagonal rib lace" last week I did make a small mistake and had to rip back a few times, though since I liked the effect that mistake had, I'm now doing a square doing it that way.

Not sure what I should call this though, it is a kind of lacy pattern however.

White may not have been the best choice for being able to photograph and show though....

[cigfigsfan]

She’s done!!! (Mostly, still have to frame her)

Pattern I used:

Wip pics:

[vacantgodling]

wip sampler pt. i

sometimes summaries are great but other times a good passage that encapsulates the style, the prose, and major themes of the work is a good hook into if you should get invested into a work or not.

so, i’ve created a wip sampler, like an appetizer tray. not all of my wips are listed here; just the ones that i have a good passage i can use for this purpose. i hope as i write my other wips and flesh them out more with prose i can make a part 2 with those.

thanks for reading in advance :3c lemme know your faves!

paramour

Whenever there was an opening, like water, Amon slipped through—fluid and malleable. Hyacinthus however, shaped any opening to his own size. Water in a vase, as was water to a mountain. They pushed and shaped each other, in ways uncomfortable to dwell on.

donut wip

Instead of dreams, I felt a sort of sinking dread continuing to follow my every move like a shadow that I couldn’t escape. When I had happy dreams of being home for the holidays, just my sister and I, there was something sinister behind the taxi driver’s smile as he took us to our hotel from the airport. When I tried to dream of something else, swirls of red and umber clouded my vision. The moment I began to stir awake, small slits appeared in the middle of the haze, like two eyes staring straight down at me—

noi, alone

Noi frowned. In everything they’d read about what happened, very little detail was given about where things were located, or how the bodies had been found. Just that they had been. And even that information the police were reluctant to give up. Noi was already planning on breaking into the closed off dormitory at some point, hopefully after they found more evidence or a motive behind what was going on with, well, any of the victims of this confusing string of crimes. But Juvia Vaughn deserved answers— and Noi knew they wouldn’t get theirs about the her mother or whatever else could’ve lead to this if they didn’t offer up answers of their own.

A plan was beginning to brew in their mind, one that they unfortunately wouldn’t be able to do on their own. They’d need help, at least two others… ladders… a lock pick...

“Noi?” Juvia asked, quietly. Noi looked back up at the screen, meeting Juvia’s gaze. The gleam in their eyes was determined.

“I don’t know.” They admitted. “But I’ll find out.”

jenna the reaper

Jenna continued to stare straight ahead, but the way she pulled at the hem of her gray skirt didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t know too much about it myself. Mother says Reapers hate witches.”

“Huh. I don’t see how they’re too different.”

“Whenever I asked Mother before she got very… closed up. I stopped asking.” Well, that settled it then. If Kashmira didn’t tell Jenna, who she usually indulged in anything her curious heart desired, she either truly didn’t know… or Jenna wouldn’t like the answer— which is what Carlos suspected to be the real reason. It had to be, and Jenna didn’t tell him. Or couldn’t. She kept fidgeting in her seat— and usually Jenna was unnervingly still.

Whatever Reapers were… he hoped they never ran into them. But surely, they wouldn’t have an interest in a sleepy town like this… right?

jenna the witch king

“When I become a witch, I want Carlos to be my familiar.”

The definitiveness in her voice, like with everything she said, was unwavering. Jenna looked out towards the window, and Kashmira could’ve almost swore she saw more blonde creep up from the tips of her daughter’s hair even closer to her scalp… but only by a little.

The power of manifestation.

the graves we dug

Each booming step echoed like the click of a bullet in its chamber. Bodies parted around him, drawing back like the tide. The only person unphased was the stranger themself, and when Graves finally loomed over them, all he was met with was searing green eyes, and a smile that could destroy worlds.

“Dove.”

“Graves.” Dove’s voice aloud was music, an achingly familiar cadence in the comforting sea of unfamiliar. Drawing him in. Pulling him back. Back to a time long before now.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

vampires don’t take road trips

The most I knew of my mother was sequestered to fleeting memories of my elementary school years, when I realized I was the only kid in my class who didn’t have a ‘mommy’ around. I remembered coming home and demanding answers to a myriad of questions: What did she look like? Oh champ, she looks just like you! Same beauty mark and everything. Or, what kind of person she was? She was… fierce. Like a lion! Worst of all, where is she? And that question never got an answer. Sometimes part of me wondered if my mom was dead but… Every year Dave and I went to visit his grandmother’s grave, so I’d expect the same treatment for my mom. Did she just leave? Was she in jail? Did she hate me? If she was alive, why couldn’t I see her? It was something that, over time I came to accept.

It’s not as though I needed a mother anyway.

lukewarm rejection

All eyes were on Toph. The band. Their groupies. The crowd. Everyone was curious to how well this new singer would be able to fill the sudden Maverick shaped wound that left them—him—delirious and bleeding.

Toph stepped up to the mic. Grasped it roughly, like a demanding hand around the throat. Opened his mouth to sing that first, soul crushing note. The one that Maverick trained for months to hit.

And fuck.

Di was almost upset that Toph was better.

the virgin of mt. heredosa

“The Council of Elders has requested an audience with you. You are to be escorted there, immediately.”

“What if I refuse?” Nyoka asked, inching towards the courtyard once more. But, Mother seemed keen to this, for suddenly her hand was digging its claws into their shoulder. Nyoka winced, looking up at the elderly woman who was suddenly standing astride them.

“I said,” Her smile was chilling, like an eclipse. “You are to be escorted there. Immediately.”

gothica

“We’re horrible for each other.” Aurora pointed out and I laughed at him. Threw my head back and had a damn good guffaw. “Of course we are!” I said, utterly breathless. “You’re a psychotic son of a bitch and I just helped you beat that girl senseless. We’re horrible and it’s perfect!”

“That’s not a good thing, Len.” Aurora wasn’t looking at me and I sucked my teeth. I hated it when he did this—when he tried to do that serious voice to try and shut me up and make me listen to him. When he tried to tell me what was good and wasn’t good for me. Like he knew me better than I knew myself, like he had the fucking right to say that to me. I shoved him hard, and he stumbled into the wall. “Don’t you start with that!”

“I’m fucking serious!” Aurora got in my face again, shoving me back against the opposite end of the alley, hard enough so that I tripped. I hit the bricks, scraping my hands and my cheek, enough that I felt part of my tooth chip and I crumpled to a heap on the floor.

“Ow, you fuck!”

“This isn’t some fucking joke!”

red death and the oracle’s favor

“Then you would know…” She murmured so quietly than Hel almost couldn’t hear her. “You would know where Violetta is.” Hearing her words, and the drop of an unfamiliar name, Hel gave Red a small, crooked grin. She felt as though he’d been waiting all this time for that crumb of information but she couldn’t help it. He could be her only chance.

“Perhaps.” He said slowly. “But something like that I won’t tell you for free.”

peri & dandy

Dandy looked at him earnestly. With love. With devotion. Eyes half lidded in naked desire.

“I hope they never fix us.” He said seriously.

marvin & linda

“How many of the stories you’ve told me are true?”

“Hard to say,” Linda finally answered. Their eyes wandered back towards each other.

“How many of them do you want to believe?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Hi.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drift into that sort of sleep that makes your head hurt. Even as you detach from consciousness, you feel the tempo in your skull driven by the pulse of your fatigue. The void behind your eyelids is painted in dull hues in splotches and smears. 

The residue of stress from your waking hours remains. It coils your muscles and knots under your shoulder blade. Just behind the curtain of sleep, it waits for you. A flight, your family, all that mess. 

You groan as you wake slowly. You shift as the blankets lay heavily over you, almost holding you down as you try to stretch out the stiffness. You arch your back and stop as you feel a firm prodding against your ass. 

You slap your hand down on the arm hooked around your middle. No way. Lloyd squeezes you and draws himself flush until you know exactly what he’s pushing against you. Ew! 

You jar away from him, ripping his arm off as you bounce and sit up in disgust. As you do, the blankets slip off his torso and he grumbles. His naked arm and shoulder bulge.

You huff and clutch your head. “Jesus, Lloyd, what are you doing?” 

“Mmm,” he curls his arm over his head, “shhhhh.” 

“Are you drunk?” You accuses. 

He giggles, “a lil.” 

You roll your eyes and reach for your phone. Your hand hovers over the night table and you frown. It’s gone. 

“Where the hell is my phone?” You hiss. 

“I unno,” he babbles. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you poke him, “where the heck is my phone? It was right here, now--”  

Your eyes skim to his side of the bed and pinpoint on the digital clock. Your heart drops. What the hell? You leap out of bed in a panic and rush around to the table, grabbing the clock as you whine. 

“No, no, it’s-- I missed my flight! Lloyd,” you slam down the clock, “what did you do with my phone?” 

“If you must know, I plugged it in. For you.” He raises a hand groggily, his eyes still closed. “I was being nice.” 

“Nice?” You spin and search around. 

You spot the cord plugged in beside the television. You don’t fail to notice the empty samplers of whiskey either. You storm across the room and pick up your phone. You tap the home button and it stays black. You gnash your teeth and push the power button on the side. The boot screen flashes on. 

“What-- you shut it off! You made me miss my alarm and my trip out. Everything else is booked up!” 

“Family sucks,” he gurgles. “You’re not missing much.” 

“That’s not fair,” you snap. “You don’t know my family, okay? Not everyone came from a cult of spoiled rich kids.” 

“I’m not spoiled,” he argues and stretches, the blankets slipping further down. 

“Oh, because that’s what’s important right now,” your anger spikes and you shake. You aren’t emotional. You do your best to repress everything, for your own good as much as his, but you’re at the end of your rope. After last night and now this, how can you not be enraged? “Ugh, are you naked?” 

“Can’t sleep in clothes. Gotta let it breathe,” he spreads over the bed with a yawn. 

You stand speechless, staring at him, helpless to the flurry of emotions coursing through you. Disgust, rage, disappointment, frustration, every last stitch holding you together snaps. You drop your head and sigh. 

“Fine, I’m just going to go home.” You surrender, “I give up.” 

You shake your head and traipse away. You go into the bathroom and shut the door. Before you resign yourself to the long journey back, you just need a moment. 

You sit on the edge of the tub and stare at the tile. You feel foolish. You don’t know why you came all this way for such an ungrateful brat. He might be your boss, you might need your job, but you deserve better.

Well, you don’t always get what you want, do you? No, it's people like Lloyd and his clan that do.

The handle turns and before you can react, the door swings open slowly. You look up and gasp as you raise your hand to block out Lloyd’s lower half. He shamelessly stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame. 

“Hey, Pixie Puff, it’s okay. How about we drive up to see the family? Me and you? We could make a road trip of it.” 

“Drive? You mean me? You’re still tipsy. Plus, you are not invited,” you snarl and look down. You don’t know how you forgot, or how you managed to sleep in it, but the ring still clings to your finger. You tear it off as you stand. You stomp up to him and shove it into his chest. “It’s all just a joke. Or maybe I’m the joke.” 

“No, Pix, you saved me,” he slurs. “Really. Last night... was amazing. I’ve never seen you like that. Fiery.” He reaches to touch your cheek and you dodge him. You grab his hand instead and put the ring in it. 

“I wasted my time,” you let him go. 

He watches you silently, swaying on his feet as you turn to the sink. You unwrap the sample-sized toothbrush and uncap the mini tube of toothpaste. You try ignore him as he looms in the door. 

“Please don’t leave,” he says. “You can’t Pixie pie. Please,” he staggers forward and you turn your face away before you can see everything. “Look, there’s Christmas brunch today and I can’t go alone.” 

You spit a mouthful into the sink and rinse it away, “well, you’re going to.” 

“No way,” he argues. “Mom’s been blowing up my phone and dad left me a long voicemail. I’m in trouble.” 

“It’s not my problem.” 

“But, but—you're my assistant. I’m your boss.” 

“And I’m not your fiancee.” You counter. 

“I demand it, I—I--” he blusters as he braces the sink. “I’m in trouble, Pix. I’ve been a bad boy.” 

The words make your insides crawl. How can he be so pathetic in both the most revolting and most pitiable way? You've never seen him like this and you never really wanted to. It’s embarrassing. 

“Like I said--” 

“No, no,” he grabs your wrist and you flick foamy paste onto him. “I’m not asking. You do this or—or you’re fired!” 

You stare at him. You weigh the consequences. It might be nice to be free, yet then again, you’ve been applying for jobs since you started working for him and haven’t gotten anything better. Only jobs with lower pay and menial work. 

“You want me to beg? I can beg,” he says. 

“Can you put some pants on?” You tear away from him and grab a towel. You throw it at him and go back to brushing your teeth. 

“Pixie,” he pouts. 

“I want a raise.” 

“Fifty cents.” 

“Fifty-- Five dollars at least. And a Christmas bonus. And vacation days,” you rinse the brush then your mouth. You use the hand towel to dry off. “And I want it in writing.” 

“What? You don’t trust me?” He challenges. 

“You lied to get me here. Then you sabotaged my alarm.” 

“I was helping--” 

“You know what you did.” 

“Christ, Pix, when did you get so mouthy? It’s making my balls hurt.” 

“That’s gross,” you avert your eyes to the ceiling, “cover up. I can’t focus.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he wraps the towel around his waist. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before. Probably not any as big but--” 

“I want to know why you’re doing this.” 

“You met my family, you know they’re a handful,” he crosses his arms and shrugs. His chest bulges and the thick hair brushes against that on his arms. 

“There’s another reason.” 

“No,” he denies unconvincingly. 

“I’m not going to go along with this dumb play if you don’t tell me. Don’t you think I deserve to know? If you keep me ignorant, than how can I be convincing, huh?” 

“You’re smart. Sneaky even,” he unfolds one arm and points at you. “Alright, cards on the table.” He drops his other arms and adjusts the towel around his waist as he grimaces. “That inheritance my sister mentioned. It’s... substantial. And I want it.” 

“Okay, but... wouldn’t that mean someone needs to die?” 

“Nah, the old bat’s been dead forever,” he sneers. “I get it when I get married. Well, a portion of it. Then the rest is all mine once I pop out a mini Lloyd.” 

You squint as you take in his explanation. It still doesn’t make sense. 

“Right, but you’d have to present legal papers. And a child. That’ll be harder to fake.” 

“Yeah, almost impossible.” He agrees and flutters his fingers over his mustache. He stares at you. Intently. 

Heat creeps up your back and across your shoulders. It curls around your nap and crawls up your cheeks. He can’t mean-- 

“Absolutely not,” you yipe. “You really are out of your mind. We are not getting married and I’m definitely not.... not doing that other thing.” 

“It’s just a piece of paper,” he says. 

“Just-- no way. No!” You wave your arms vehemently. “Not in a million years.” 

“Ouch,” he frowns, “you know, that hurts my feelings.” 

“You’re my boss, alright? It's just... deranged.” 

“I can be,” he shrugs. 

“Lloyd! Mr. Hansen,” you have to calm yourself before you continue, “I’m not going to sell myself because you want some trust fund--” 

“I’ll give you a cut,” he says suddenly. “How about it? Then you won’t even need a raise because you’ll be rich.” 

You go quiet. It’s fishy. You know you can’t trust him. He already lied to you a dozen times over. Besides, giving you a fair share means cutting you loose. Is it that much money? 

“How much?” You ask. 

“Ten thousand.” 

“All this for ten thousand? Sure. It’s more. I know it. So you give me at least a million or I’m going to fill up my tank and go home, right now.” 

“A million--” he coughs. “You drive a hard bargain for someone making less than 100k.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort. “I want a million and I want that notarized.” 

“Notarized?” He whines. 

“Fine, can’t lose what I never had--” 

“Fine, fine, you can have it. I’ll get it notarized,” he nears and offers his hand, “but it’s Christmas and I think everything’s closed so... shake on it?” 

“I’m not having a kid. We’re going to a courthouse then I’m getting mine and going.” 

“We can do a surrogate--” 

“No kid.” 

“Adopt--” 

“Don’t push it,” you grab his hand and shake. “One million and I will suffer until the New Year.” 

He grins triumphantly, “you know, Pix, I always appreciated that about you. You always got my back.” 

“Go. You need to sleep off the Jack Daniels,” you retract your hand sharply. 

“And I’ll dream of all that money we’re going to get,” he giggles and rubs his palms together. “We’re going to be rich, baby.” 

“Lay down before I change my mind.” 

“Too late, we shook on it,” he winks and backs up. The towel catches on the rod next to the door and you quickly turn as it slackens. He lets out an oops as it falls off and you avoid looking back. “This show’s for free, baby, don’t worry.” 

“Get out,” you say. “I’m gonna need some coffee if I’m going to deal with you all day.” 

“Grab me some too, pookie? Pweez,” he taunts, “oh, and if they’re serving bacon, I’ll have at least a dozen strips. The grease is good for my hangover and once that hits, I’m gonna be a baby.” 

“That’s great,” you mutter dryly, “coffee and bacon. Now please, give me some space.” 

“It won’t be that bad, Pixie stick. Trust me. You got me.” 

“Not making it better,” you turn to the sink and lean on it. “Please.” 

“Right, okay, I’m going,” he picks up the towel and slowly pulls on the door. You sigh. “I’ll be in bed if you need me.” 

You shake your head. The door clicks and you look at your reflection. Are you really doing this? It feels like you’re selling your soul. You should’ve asked for more. 

You finally find your strength. You go out into the suite and grab your bag. You pull out your sweater and throw it over your head. You ignore Lloyd as he lays on the bed. 

You take your wallet and the room key. You don’t bother with your phone. You might just leave it there for the day because once your mother finds out you missed your flight, you’ll be in for an earful. You already feel rotten enough. 

As you find your way down to the dining hall, your anger returns. He did that on purpose. He spoiled your plans all for his stupid selfish ploy. The payout might be hefty but you’re already regretting this. Still, he as good as backed you into a corner...right? 

You get the coffee, two cups on a tray, and some muffins, and a greedy handful of bacon. You’re not hungry, you just need caffeine. You head back up to the room, basking in the silence of the mostly empty hotel. Everyone else did what you should have and hit the road by now. 

You make a sluggish return. The only thing you have to look forward to is the coffee and you’re sure that hotel fare is not gourmet roast. You balance the tray and slide the card in the lock. You enter the room, roiling in your thoughts. 

You’re too distracted to notice the noise before you get too far. You put the tray down as your ears prick at the dulcet groan. You glance over at Lloyd as something moves beneath the blankets. Is he-- 

“Oh god!” You exclaim and spin on your heel. “Jesus!” 

You race out of the room and slam the door as you enter the hall. You lean against and stifle a scream. What is wrong with him? Well, you know exactly what’s wrong with him. Daddy issues, mommy issues, sister issues, and maybe even uncle issues. He’s entirely corrupt and you just made a deal with him. 

This is going to be a nightmare. 

[rosymothquilts]

top is put together! now to get it prepped for hand quilting. if you have any ideas for what i should do i would love to hear it 😭

starting the fresh fruit sampler 🙏 it is already testing the upper limits of my piecing abilities...

watermelon done 🍉🍉

[thackeroy]

Soon we shall learn just why we don't hate Mondays!

[rockscanfly]

Sometimes I write things! Usually if there's a fandom I love and I don't see the specific kind of stuff I'm interested in reading that's when the writing bug will hit me. Hence, a lot of rarepairs or rare dynamics. Sampler of works I'm proud of below, sorted by fandom:

Red Dead Redemption 2 (currently most active fandom. i'm engaged in an ongoing campaign to bring more bottom!Charles Smith to the world)

the stars are not wanted now: Charles Smith, Sadie Adler, and the two deaths of Arthur Morgan.

Snow Bunny: Three years after the dissolution of the Van der Linde gang, Arthur and Charles pass a long winter together. Arthur calls Charles something new in bed, to rave reviews. Later, he earns a new nickname of his own. (or, Arthur Morgan-Smith's Guide To Surviving The Canadian Winter, Cowboy Style)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy: Running it alone for over a decade doesn't tend to make you very good at communication. When Arthur's un-buried ghosts darken the doorstep of the home he and Charles have built together, Charles’ instinct to pull away ignites a conflagration that threatens to burn that home to its foundations. (or, Arthur considers reconnecting with his former mentor. Charles loses his fucking mind)

Young Justice (pretty much every fic is about Kaldur, my forever girl. My oldest and most prolific fandom, have some WIPs but TBD on if they see the light of day. )

Recovery: No one's really been okay since the invasion ended. Artemis is back on the Team and back to school in Central City, M'gann and Connor are helping the Team stay afloat, Roy's quit the business to take care of Lian, and Dick has retreated back to Blüdhaven. With all this, everyone can't help but notice how Kaldur's reacting to the last year of trauma, and to it finally being over. (Or, in better words, how he's not reacting.)

Gallows Humor: Five jokes that only Artemis and Kaldur laughed at. (or: A Treatise On the Effects of Exposure to Organized Violence in Early Adolescence)

and four a.m. knows all my secrets: (five beds Kaldur has lied awake in and one where he found rest)

Atlantean Cryptanalysis For Beginners: Concept: the little eel faces on Kaldur's hands change their expression depending on his mood (or, Artemis is great at detail, and everyone else is a moron. Nothing is new)

I Saw The Harbor Lights (They Told Me We Were Parting): It’s Kaldur’s last night before he puts his and Dick’s plan into action. And he’s going to spend it with his boyfriend. (or, In Which Kaldur And Roy Go On A Date And Everything Is Beautiful And Nothing Hurts)

I have other fics that I've enjoyed writing, but these are the ones I want to pin for easy access.

[spooky-the-evil-squeektoy]

WIP Maynia day 28.