#// no more haunting my wips folder

[kheimerios]

downtime

[goodintentionswipfest]

Good Intentions WIPFest 2024

HELLO! Halloween is less than three weeks away, and what could possibly be spookier than abandoned WIPs? Here at Good Intentions WIPFest, we invite you to let your ghosts come out to play!

Good Intentions WIPFest is a celebration for the dead and abandoned, but never unloved. The skeletons in your WIP folder, the vampires that you just couldn't finish lest you be drained dry, the ghosts that haunt you with the promise of what might have been. We believe those fics deserve to see the light of day - even if they are of the kind that can only come out at night - and Good Intentions WIPFest is a space for you to share them.

If you would like to join us in the spooky celebrations, it's very simple! On October 31st, post your unfinished stories or artwork to the Good Intentions AO3 collection. Lift the burden off your shoulders. Free yourself from those fics you are never going to finish. Give them a space in the world to come out to play!

There are only a few main rules:

Use the "Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued" tag on AO3 so that your readers know what to expect.

If you're posting on Tumblr, please mention this blog and/or tag "good intentions wipfest" and "good intentions 2024" so that I can find it to reblog.

No harassing other authors to finish!

Don't beat yourself up about not finishing! This fest is not a challenge to finish anything, it's an opportunity to let go guilt-free.

If you want more details, feel free to read through the FAQ, or to send me an ask here or on my main blog @roselightfairy. And please spread the word far and wide!

[searchingforserendipity25]

currently suffering from too-many-ideas disease (let's hope it's curable, the number of growing wips on my DS9 folder does not offer a promising prognosis).

but one of the concepts that's been haunting me is the possibility of kira and bashir spending a far longer time in the mirrorverse. i mean a long time, an year or three even.

an au where gul garak's plan to install kira in place of the intendant, as well as his rather transparent ploy to keep julian (move him to a safe place, lmao) as a bargaining chip to get kira's cooperation on whatever he's plotting.

mostly this would be tied up in their return, without flashbacks, and focused on the possibility of an augment resistance, poking julian bashir into a corner until the claws come off, kira's undercover journey in this new bajor and and julian's new codependent closeness, but --

there is no version of garak who does not desire any useful information he can grab a hold of. his weakness for sentiment and pleasure in dealing harm may vary in a spectrum across the universes, but he is always very curious.

this goes - rather less well than he'd hoped for. his bargaining chip is fierce and arrogant, brash beyond sense and dangerously clever, and more than the usual dim terran cunning.

without any sense of his station at all, quick to speak out of turn, and always, always asking the most impertinent questions, about garak and the alliance and garak and the terran subjugation and garak.

and he is fearless. enough to smile at times in that detestable way, as if he knew his weaknesses and the lines of his thinking already, guessed at his gestures.

as if he found him - the gul, the military man, the oppressor - rather an amusing but generally disappointing repetition of a better original performance.

there is only so much information about the other world he can manage to get out of him with blackmail, threats of violence and coercion. he can only do so much, when kira insists on visiting his hostage often enough to ascertain his well-being.

luckily, terrans are terribly fragile, even if this one is particularly resistant to most persuasion techniques. they all, for one thing, need to eat quite regularly. starvation is a crude tool, but everything ccan be a reward and a punishment is one has the sense for it.

what kind of host would gul garak be, if he did not make certain he ate enough, and well, and in good company?

lunch, conversation, garak's eyes glittering at him over the same steel tables. really, in many ways it is as if julian hasn't left home at all.

[faketrex]

2024 Writing Roundup

Tagged by the wonderful @cha-melodius and @eusuntgratie, both of whom wrote stories I loved this year!

After 2023, a year in which I didn't write a single word until... December 28th or thereabouts, I decided to set myself a little writing goal for 2024. The goal, as recorded in my phone's notes: "Write more."

With 21 stories–a total of 86,318 words–posted in 2024, I suppose it's safe to say I did, in fact, meet that incredibly vague goal.

I'm hoping to post one more story yet this year, but in the meantime, here's my recap!

JANUARY

Right on Time (RWRB, T, 6.9k) First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz has a massive crush on Prince Henry. They meet at a chaotic wedding. Not that wedding, though.

Study (RWRB, G, 100 words) Alex supporting Henry in all circumstances, in 100 words.

FEBRUARY

Justifiable Cause (RWRB, E, 1.4k) Bathroom blowjobs at a fancy gala; Alex would say it's on-brand and totally justified.

Just Deserts (RWRB, E, 1.3k) Henry expresses his appreciation for Alex... physically, in a limo.

Heart-shaped (RWRB, G, 300 words) Alex loves sunglasses. Henry loves Alex (and his sunglasses).

Common Misconceptions of Ghosting (RWRB, M, 26.9k) It's a fine emotional line between haunting and ghosting, particularly when Henry is a literal ghost and he's literally haunting Alex. AKA: it's a 5+1 times ghost love story, baby, just say yes.

Matter of Fact (RWRB, E, 1.9k) Hot weather, hot outfits, and hot, sticky thoughts in the kitchen.

MARCH

No Love Lost (RWRB, T, 1.6k) Fake hating: Alex and Henry absolutely can't stand each other, not one bit, except for the fact that it's actually the complete opposite.

Syntax (RWRB, G, 300 words) The words they use while building a home.

APRIL

Beach Weather (RWRB, M, 400 words) Alex has a Baywatch moment at the lake house.

On A Technicality (RWRB, E, 2.6k) Good boyfriend behavior, flirting, and cannoli in a snowstorm. It escalates quickly

MAY

All Routes Lead to Love (RWRB, M, 19.2k) Three times public transit plays Cupid between Alex and Henry, and one time it's no help whatsoever. A public transit romcom!

JUNE

Moonlighting (RWRB, T, 13.3k) Henry has a surreal week, including but not limited to: witnessing a car crash, finding himself in the middle of a bank robbery, and having a strange reaction to pharmaceuticals. Possibly the most unexpected part of all of it is running into his ex, Alex.

JULY

SHARING A SLICE (RWRB, T, 4.1k) Cakegate bodyswap!

AUGUST

Nothing posted. I wrote a fair bit for one story in particular, but those words are still languishing in my WIP folder.

SEPTEMBER

Listen to This (RWRB, G, 500 words) Henry and Alex are in love and taking a road trip. Americana ensues.

Sugar Chemistry (RWRB, T, 975 words) A celebrity meet-cute, but sideways.

Retrouvailles (RWRB, T, 500 words) A faux-noir ambiance for two spies coming back together after a time apart.

A Sea Cure (RWRB, G, 916 words) Maybe Henry is in mourning, but he's still got a puppy who needs exercise.

OCTOBER

Soft Skills (RWRB, T, 900 words) Leaving the monarchy: a slightly more proactive–and punchy–approach.

NOVEMBER

BOLD STATEMENT (RWRB, M, 929 words) The t-shirt says "SPIT TEQUILA IN MY MOUTH." Henry obliges.

DECEMBER

No Strangers to Convention (Future Perfect) (RWRB, T, 920 words) Romance and reassurance in an empty parking lot.

...

I found looking back at my writing this year really fun! No-pressure tagging a few folks to do the same, if you feel so inclined: @myheartalivewrites @sparklepocalypse @alasse9 @anincompletelist @ninzied

@caterpills @writes-in-space @cactusdragon517 @theprinceandagcd @schweetheart

[cleo-fox]

I intended to post this earlier, but life happened and now it’s much later.

You might be wondering: what am I working on? The answer: a lot of things! It’s been kind of a crazy couple weeks (months?) and I have been a little scattershot for a variety of reasons (including my ADHD being like “it’s my time to shine!”) So here’s what’s going on in the active fire that is my WIP folder:

Part 3 of Conquer. This is going to be a longer chapter and I want to be sure that I’m getting it right because it’s a little more complex. But it’s progressing.

Remember that time I was like “what if I wrote another fic where James Conrad is your friend from university, but it’s different than Wildest Dreams?” That has turned into a one shot. It’s set at a wedding and is kind of more on the rom com side of things than Wildest Dreams is.

A followup to Movie Night because I apparently don’t understand what one shots are supposed to be.

A Close Quarters idea that has been haunting me for several months. It involves a cabana.

Something in the Overtime universe that snuck up on me and hit me in the head with a two by four the other day.

James Conrad is Very Disappointed in You. But like, in a sexy way.

What will be posted next? Your guess is as good as mine—I tend to bop around between a couple different fics before my hyperfixation kicks in. So we’ll see!

[machiroads]

For the WIP folder game, The Way of the House Hero?

Since my last post on this WIP, the series has actually ended, and I have drawn my line in the sand that The Way of the House Hero will be A) post-canon divergent and B) probably a hydra with many heads. More of a miniseries than a single fic. Predominantly because I refuse to believe that Aizawa would continue teaching high school full time once his current batch of problem children graduates.

Regrettably I don't have any of my latest brainrot written down yet, but my own headcanon now is that in this particular version of the universe, Midoriya is not Aizawa's colleague, but his replacement. Aizawa still subs from time to time, which is arguably a much funnier role for him because the student population gradually forgets he exists and he gets to haunt them anew every time.

Post-canon-finale, I am also having brainrot about Eri's grandfather coming back to try to rebuild a relationship with her and it leads to the most tense conversation of all time between him, Aizawa, and Nezu because the grandfather is still in touch with Overhaul, and ultimately ends up with Nezu planting the seed that Aizawa could petition the court to legally adopt Eri.

neither of those are WIPs so have a conciliatory WIP with a loose scene after Nezu tells Aizawa to adopt Eri

[raelly-writing]

Safe and Solid (Wolcred, 6.0 MSQ)

In from the Cold follow up fic. :') It's haunted my WIP folder for over a year and I'd really like to call it done so I don't have to deal with this headspace anymore.

----

“Are you quite certain you are feeling alright?”

The question was expected - even when her visitor was just about to leave her room.

Before Viana even had a chance to think of it, the well-worn excuse slipped off her tongue. “Of course, Y’shtola,” she replied with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m just a little tired after the journey from Garlemald. Airships don’t exactly make for comfortable sleeping arrangements after all.”

Something jagged, cold and ugly stirred in her chest. The urge to scratch at the itch crawling over her skin was maddening, but she fought it down by crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

A week had passed, dammit.

Y’shtola’s pale eyes narrowed, as though by peering into her aether, the lie would be laid as bare as the ground after spring’s thaw. The sudden pang of guilt was sharp. It wasn’t a lie. Not really. Her unease wasn’t related to the events at the moon, anyhow.

She’d explained what happened. She’d talked about it. Told them.

She should be fine. Needed to be fine. There was no time for-

Clearing her throat, Viana ignored the rolling nausea in her stomach. “And if I were to feel anything that could be ill effects from being soaked in Zodiark’s aether,” she continued, “you are my first stop.”

A tension filled moment of silence followed as Y’shtola regarded her thoughtfully. “Fine,” she finally responded, but the unhappy way she pressed her lips together made it obvious she wasn’t convinced. “I’ll have no more foolish heroics on my watch.”

Despite the rancid taste at the back of her throat, Viana huffed out a short laugh. “Only if you promise not to do something that requires tossing yourself into the Lifestream again.”

“Hah!” Y’shtola tossed her head back, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Cheeky as always. Perhaps I have naught to worry about after all.”

Inclining her head, Viana offered her a smile that wasn’t entirely forced. “Thank you for checking on me Y’shtola, but I think I just need to sleep in a proper bed for once.”

Y’shtola hummed and put her hands on her hips. “Alright then. I’ll leave you to get your rest.”

The unspoken command was all too clear.

With a low chuckle, Viana nodded obediently. “Good night, Y’shtola.”

For a moment, she watched Y’shtola walk towards her own room, before she let the door close with a soft thud of finality.

Exhaling wearily, Viana turned around and leaned back against the sturdy wood as she regarded the room. In the wake of Y’shtola’s departure, the stillness settled over the space like a suffocating blanket that pressed down on her from every angle. A jittery energy prickled at her fingers, the churning sensation in her chest too strong to ignore.

It wasn’t the first time she found herself missing Ardbert’s ghostly presence.

Some things he’d just understood without her needing to explain.

Suddenly a shiver crawled over her skin and Viana’s eyes shot to the large window and the night beyond. Was that snowflakes that fluttered in the red gloom of the dying day? The sudden lump in her throat stole her breath away, and before she knew it, she’d crossed the room and yanked the curtains into place. The phantom ghost of winter nipped at her bare arms, prompting her to rub her hands over them.

Hells, when did her fingers get so cold?

The thought, as fleeting and innocent as it’d been, summoned uninvited memories from the corner of her mind that she’d done her best to shove them into for the past several days. Staring at her hands, she flexed them.

They were hers, weren’t they?

‘Borrowed flesh’.

Blinking, she struggled to draw breath.

Borrowed.

Polished black steel covered the arms before her. Pain stabbed at the side of her chest - sharp and piercing.

Burning ceruleum fumes stung in her nose, and the thick, iron taste of congealed blood in her mouth made her choke and tear up.

Borrowed.

But when she blinked again, the black steel was gone and no fatal gunshot was staining her white shirt with red.

Viana stared, doubt nagging at her mind as she traced the familiar latticework of pale scars covering the knuckles and fingers with her eyes.

Borrowed.

Fandaniel’s voice was like ice cold claws digging into the very fabric of her soul, poison bile eating away at her mind.

Borrowed.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Viana shut her eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of her hands on her own skin, the scratch of her blunt nails digging into her flesh. It was fine. Borrowed. She was herself. She had stopped him. Borrowed. She was in Sharlayan. In her room. Borrowed. Not struggling through the snow, stumbling over frozen stiff bodies amidst smoldering wreckages and crumbling ruins.

Borrowed. Borrowed.

She. Was. Fine.

Borrowed.

“Viana?”

Snapping ramrod straight, she whipped around, every muscle in her body coiled tight and heart racing from a surge of adrenaline. “Seven Hells Thancred!”

“You didn’t hear me the first two times.” Without taking his eyes off her, Thancred took off his dark overcoat, having evidently stood there halfway through the action, while trying to get her attention. She hadn’t even heard him entering in the first place. “Are you feeling ill?”

Despite his casual tone and relaxed body language, she could detect the undercurrent of concern in his voice. Even more so, the careful way he kept his attention on her, as though she was a particularly flighty animal. Hells, she certainly felt like one.

No answer came to her, not even the one she’d repeated so often. “I…” Viana shifted her weight onto her foot, her searching eyes falling on the empty tea cups left on the table. Turning away from him and his damned perceptive gaze, she walked over to collect them. “Sorry, I was deep in thought,” she responded firmly while walking over to the sink.

“Anything particular?”

Snorting, she flipped on the water with a little more force than was perhaps necessary and began to rinse out the cups. The heat of the water brought some warmth back to her numb fingers, and with it the world back a little more into focus, allowing her to gather a few scattered threads of her thoughts. “Oh you know, the end of the world as we know it.”

“Viana…”

Tension settled into her shoulders at the low, concerned rumble of his voice. A few quiet steps was all she heard before she felt the careful press of his fingertips against her lower back.

Inhaling sharply, she froze beneath his touch.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to unease you.”

Her skin burned where he’d touched her, but the moment he withdrew his hand she felt herself tremble like she was seconds from crumbling entirely. Was he leaving? Her whirlwind of thoughts and feelings refused to assemble into a coherent explanation, her plea for him to not leave getting caught and tangled in her throat.

The sharp clatter of porcelain against stone jerked her attention back to what she was doing.

“Shit,” she hissed and quickly picked up the cup and snapped off ear. Did she have any adhesive around?

“Viana…”

“I need to fix this,” she muttered. It was a clean break. The market should have something strong enough for it to hold. Was less she could do about the chipped edge but…

“Viana, stop.” A hand on her arm kept her from walking away from the sink. Immediately, she tensed up, breath caught in her throat and shoulders stiff, but Thancred didn’t jerk his hand back as before.

“I'm sorry,” he continued, “but you're obviously not alright.”

Clenching her jaw, Viana stared down unseeing at the pieces in her hands as she struggled to find the well-worn excuse. ‘I’m fine.’

She was.

She had to be. Too much was going on. But it felt like the words had turned to stone and settled in her chest, the weight of them making it hard to draw breath.

Dimly, she was aware of Thancred moving into her field of vision. His touch was a light whisper down along her arm, until he cradled her hands in his.

“Remember what we agreed on?” He spoke with a firm but gentle tone as he took the mug pieces from her trembling fingers and carefully set them down on the counter. “Don’t hide.”

His hands were warm against hers, steady and reassuring. She could sense him searching for her eyes, but she couldn’t make herself meet his gaze. Guilt tugged at her at the reminder of their hushed argument and subsequent promise in those final days they’d spent on the First. Hells, she’d been none too happy about him hiding the condition of his soul back then, and here she was doing the same thing.

It’d been so easy to avoid his concerned looks while they’d been traveling back from Garlemald - to just keep moving out of pure momentum and not let him, or any of them, catch her. Always keep busy with something, anything, to be the unbreakable figure the Alliance soldiers expected her to be.

“I’m sorry Thancred, I…“ She wet her lips as she clenched her hands, searching for the dull pain of her nails against her palms to jolt her back to reality. “I don’t know what to say.”

The quiet whisper felt like an admission of defeat. Drawing a shuddering breath, her shoulders slumped. She hadn’t felt this helpless since their desperate venture down beneath the sea to save the Exarch and face Emet-Selch. That time there’d been a goal, something to push towards even when she had felt her own body betray her more and more with every step.

Now… Now there was no such thing. Just an oppressive yet infuriatingly intangible threat of doom looming on the horizon.

A tremble shook her. Nevermind the sensation that she was losing the grip on what was real or not. The feeling of hot tears burning in her eyes was unfamiliar and all the more frustrating for it, driving her to turn her head away from Thancred.

But calloused fingers brushing against her jaw stopped her. “It's alright,” Thancred murmured as he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve got you.”

Viana swallowed around the lump in her throat and reached out to grasp at his shirt. Borrowed. Why did she suddenly feel like a child afraid of being left alone in the dark? Without thinking, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his.

Thancred’s surprised huff was muffled, but he swiftly recovered with practiced ease. The comforting weight of his arm settled around her waist, pulling her closer into the warmth of his embrace. The familiarity of it, of his fingertips skimming up her neck, the tickle of his hair against her cheekbones, the way his thumb rubbed small circles into her back, it all made her chest feel just a little bit lighter.

Peace. Safety. Trust.

Urged on by a sudden jolt of desperation for more she deepened the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip in a hollow display of playfulness while letting her fingers trace the edge of his choker. The low groan it earned her was immediately lost in the space between them as he rose to her goading and chased after her lips. She knew him, just as he knew her. The way his hands grasped at her hips betrayed his own need for contact, urging her to curve herself against his hard frame as she buried her fingers in his soft hair. Perhaps it was the time they’d spent in military encampments where privacy was as rare to come by as natural ice in the middle of a desert that led Thancred to so readily indulge her despite their tense conversation. She was barely aware of the press of the kitchen bench against her back when they stumbled against it, her thoughts too muddled and scattered.

“Viana…” With the rough utterance of her name, Thancred froze but didn’t pull away. His body radiated restrained energy even as his fingers flexed into the soft flesh of her thighs, his breath a warm tickle against her lips.

Like glass shattering under water pressure, Viana felt reality slam back into her as she gulped down a lungful of air. “I’m sorry. I just…” Borrowed. A cold sneer plastered onto a dead man’s stolen face flickered in her memory. Pressing her forehead against Thancred’s, she cupped his face as she tried to find the right words. “I’m not injured, love,” she finally choked out, trying to not think of the memory of congealed blood in her mouth. “But I don’t… it’s… I don’t want to think right now. I just want to…”

Feel.

Thancred pulled back enough to meet her gaze, the concern all too evident in his hazel eyes. Concern and something… else. Guilt churned in her stomach, but before she could say anything, his eyes softened with understanding and a lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s alright my dear,” he spoke softly. “I’m more than familiar with that desire.” Despite his reassuring rumble, there was an undercurrent of something rueful and bitter in his voice that made her heart ache with memories of long past horrors.

“Thancred…-”, Viana began to respond, instinctively wishing to soothe those scars he carried, but without warning he hoisted her up. Gripping at his shoulders for balance, her legs settled around his waist out of reflex.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured once more and brushed a kiss to her jaw, before giving her pulse a teasing nip with his teeth. “Always do.”

Even as a pleasant shiver raced down her spine, a little bit of the turmoil raging in her head settled then, anchored by his earnest words, and she managed a small, crooked smile. “I know you do,” she breathed.

Thancred looked up at her, his expression soft and loving. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”

Hells, how she loved him. Viana caressed his cheek and gave a small nod. “Of course, love.”

They met in a slow brush of lips, something tender and reaffirming, but in the short distance to the bed the kiss had grown hungry and desperate, with no room to spare for their usual quips and teasing remarks as they tugged at each other’s clothes.

Not that Thancred remained quiet for long once his hands were free to sweep over her bare skin, his touch firm and grounding as he pressed his fingers into every dip and curve like he was remapping her body in his mind. He stole the dark thoughts from her head with clever touches and heated whispers, and in return branded her body with marks of his love that’d remain in the morning, emblazing her skin with his words of endearments as though they were part of a prayer.

She’d always found it easy to lose herself in him, but Twelve, it felt like he was a wildfire - fierce and scorching, determined to seep into every fiber of her being and set her aflame in turn and give the shadows that had taken root in her heart nowhere to hide.

The haze of pleasure was welcome - to only be aware of him and his touches, too far gone to do anything else but surrender to instinct and tug and pull him to wherever she wanted - needed - him. And gods, he went willingly to wherever she bid, eager to be rewarded for his efforts by her voice breaking upon the syllables of his name over and over again.

She was adrift, lost to the concerns and worries of the world.

It was a fog that lingered even once he eased her down from the high with soft touches and quiet words that she struggled to really register the meaning of. But it was his voice, and she felt safe and looked after, even as the exhaustion started to creep into its place.

—

Viana woke with a sharp inhale, her entire body tensing in preparation for a phantom danger. Immediately, a warm hand stilled on her back.

“Didn’t wake you, did I?”

Thancred’s soft voice made her look up, only to have to blink against the low light of the bedside lamp. “No,” she exhaled as she relaxed and let her head slump back against his chest. Despite the restless end to her sleep, the sweet aches that lingered in her limbs coupled with the familiar warmth of his body against hers swiftly lulled her back to a drowsy state. “Merely a bad dream.”

There was a slight rustle as Thancred put down the book he’d been reading and his hand brushed through her hair and down her back. Sensing the question before he could utter it, she tilted her head enough to press a kiss to his skin. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t too bad.”

“‘I’ve had worse’, is it?”

The ever so disarming teaseful lilt to his voice that concealed the concern in his words made her huff out a tired laugh at being called out on her half-truth. “I suppose it is.” His fingers caressed the back of her neck, coaxing a satisfied hum from her. “How long was I asleep?”

“An hour, give or take.”

“And you are awake because your book was too captivating to put down?”

Thancred was silent for a short moment, before sighing. “Wanted to make sure you slept,” he admitted.

Blinking her eyes open, Viana craned her neck to look up at him. “You lovable foolish man,” she mused fondly and reached up to caress his cheek. “You need your sleep as well.” Thancred smiled softly and tilted his head into the touch, before discarding his book onto the nightstand.

“Then consider me sufficiently guilted by your disapproving look, my dear,” he rumbled and turned down the light.

Viana smiled to herself while waiting for him to shuffle fully beneath the covers. “Quite gracious of you.”

“I have my moments.”

Laughing under her breath, she managed to press a kiss to his cheek in the gloom. “More than a few, love.” There was a comforting familiarity to the teasing exchange, his little huffed laugh warm and precious - like she’d managed to reclaim a fragile piece of normalcy.

It was a feeling she held onto as Thancred pulled her back into his safe and solid embrace. With the warmth of his arms around her, sleep weighed on her mind, but she pushed it away for just a little while longer. Her hand found his jaw in the gloom and he immediately stilled, waiting. With no light, she couldn’t make out much of his expression, but he tilted his head into her touch as she caressed his cheek with her thumb. “I’m sorry for not speaking to you before,” she said quietly.

Thancred didn’t respond immediately, but his fingers flexed against her waist. “I know I’m the last person in our merry little group who should chide anyone for that,” he replied. “But you should, to someone.”

“I know. I will.” Leaning over, she brushed her lips to his. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

She felt him relax as he exhaled. “... just your poor luck that it’s Estinien and I who have the closest experience.”

The jest was spoken softly as he bumped his forehead against hers, their noses colliding, and in the dark, she found herself laughing quietly, feeling warm and safe for the first time in weeks.

[new-revenant]

Didn’t get directly tagged in anything, but I still wanna do it. Also there’s no way I can tag many people, so y’all can do this too if you want. Did this on my main account, but I know you guys are much more likely to give me asks haha. RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

The ones I’m not currently working on(and might never go back to) but still have some stuff I haven’t shared-it’s all dpxdc:

A so Called Tamaranean

Only God is my Judge in Wayne Manor

A Haunted Watchtower

Ghost-ish

Revenant Repairman

Phantom Hero

Café Apparition

Stick like Ecto-Glue

Untitled(seriously I don’t have a title for this)

Mainly Danny Phantom and 1 Crossover:

Mirror World of Mine

Urban Decay

Phantom Hunter - DP Vampire AU

Afterlife as a Superhero

Power Filled Lives(MHA Crossover)

[frequentlysecondo]

New Face Paint

Secondo x Reader || Halloween Ficlet

no beta we die like men, SFW :) I chose a new theme for my Fall Festival with the Papas collection and just thought this was too nice to rot in my WIP folder

A trail of crimson trickled from a razor edged canine perched atop an even row of teeth, fixed together in a menacing snarl. One piercingly white eye stared back at you in the dull light with a gaze that intended to bore its way into your own soul, at least until the beast rolled its eyes in irritation that is.

“Is this really necessary?”

“The silence is not scary anymore! You need to practice!” An exasperated sigh heaves its way from your chest. Weeks had already been spent begging Secondo to consider playing a more active role in the haunted house; to trade in his traditional silent scare tactics in favor of a more active approach. There was no time for him to chicken out now.

“Need I remind you, most of the Siblings already find me quite terrifying. I could stand stock still, staring, and they would turn tail and run. Which is what I do best.” His objections were quickly dismissed with a wave of your hand followed by a gentle push on his shoulders to lead him back to sitting in front of the mirrored vanity so you could adjust his make up once more.

“You are not terrifying, amore mío. But you do stare. A lot.” You reminded him with a playful squeeze of the apple of his cheek which only earned a groan underneath his breath. Your lips pursed together as you stared down at him in search of what aspect was still amiss from his costume make up. Already you had been pretty proud of what you had applied to his face. Larger faux canines affixed to his own, dribbling over his chin with fake blood, along with a stitching affect crossing over his face, opening over the top left side of his skull to expose spiraling sections of brain matter you had painted on painstakingly over the course of two hours.

“You are simply easy to stare at.” The purred flirtation combined with Secondo’s arms creeping around to encircle your torso was nearly enough to distract you from the task at hand. Credit where credit is due, the man was relentless and had almost gotten his way. Almost.

[ineedmyknightcommander]

Hi, for the WIP folder game:

7. Olivier Ingellvar - My Favourite Mistake

That one I would love to hear more about

Hello! Firstly tagging @nerdanel01 because she also asked about this fic. I've briefly mentioned Olivier here as a character I was excited to write about this year because I want to dig more into writing OCs. Basically, he's the father of Rook Ingellvar, and he and Emmrich dated back before Rook (Klara) was born. Anyway, I've done more outlining of this fic since the last time I've talked about it, including something approximating a loose outline but with some significant changes to Emmrich's personal story line, because given Olivier's existence, Emmrich is now relegated to Nevarra's second-most eminent meddler 😌 Cases in point: 1) Johanna and Olivier are the first living people to find Klara, and Olivier is highly suspicious that Johanna Hezenkoss--not known for her maternal instincts--wants anything to do with an infant. Emmrich can't help but feel like Olivier's putting the baby above their own relationship, which is already strained because of how Olivier's basically tenured and Emmrich is still at the point where he's pumping out research. 2) Olivier advocated so fervently for his daughter post War of the Banners he actually got himself exiled from the country (hence Rook also needing to get out of dodge). Feeling awful for getting his daughter kicked out of the only home she's ever known, he... arranges for her to adventure with Varric while himself laying low in Orlais with his mother, trying to reason that it's because Klara is an elf and would thus be mistreated in Orlais. (His mother has some choice words for him.) But for the better or the worse, the entire story is planned to be told from tight Emmrich POV, so despite Olivier's name being in the document title, he spends a lot of time just haunting the narrative through his daughter who bears such a striking resemblance to a man she cannot possibly be biologically related to. According to my planning doc, core themes are: nature vs nurture, The Eternal Question (in the Mourn Watch sense of whether some shade of the departed returns when a spirit possesses the dead), intersectionality, and finally: getting Nevarra's Most Indecisive Man to Make His Own Goddamn Decision About Something Important in His Life For Once (a mission Klara intends to pursue with as much intensity as destroying the elven gods 🫡)

Anyway, given that this will most likely be the fic I actually write should I actually genuinely attempt a multi-chapter this year, I am incredibly amused to find myself returning to my fandom roots of exploring dysfunctional Family of Choice dynamics incited by a father's bad choices that he made out of love. (WIP Folder Game)

[mamawasatesttube]

3, 4, 6, 14, 18, and 19 for the fanfic writer asks!

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

the courage of stars!!!! it marinated in my head for a WHILE before i was even able to put it into words. im pretty happy with how it turned out!!! kon is in the microwave <3 rotating <3

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

11 total in my wip folder, which is honestly... a way smaller number than it could be/has been sdkfh

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

lately ive been going back to meg's single dad clark au 🥺 lois bonding with baby kon save me.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

OOOHH i think midnight sun would make a really fun comic or animation... you could really get the kon scary alien creaturisms visualized, esp like the tapeta lucida when he first shows up, or the kontrast of when he's kneeling and being all soft with tim while there are four (4) immobilized and terrified rando goons behind him. hehe.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

oh god. what lines have i ever written in any fic, ever. uhhh... OH i do still like this passage from "the courage of stars":

It’s kind of funny. He came here, running away from Earth to escape his problems, and yet they followed him. What’s a guy to do when he’s haunted by his own ghost?

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

WELL i've been picking at the timkon red sun projector one, so... snippet under the cut!!! note that it IS an explicit fic (although this part isnt exactly there yet bc im like 4k in and theyre not even fully nakey yet akjsdhf) (but. yknow. highly suggestive themes)!!

Fanfic Writer Asks!

Tim presses an open-mouthed kiss to his back as he eases the straps of the dress down Kon’s arms. He trails his mouth along the curve of Kon’s shoulder as he pushes one strap down his arm, and a pleasurable shiver runs down Kon’s spine. The dress slips down, lower.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Tim murmurs. He kisses one, two, three spots that feel random, but Kon knows (from many kisses before) that they’re where he has the most visible freckles on his back. One is just below his shoulder, another further down near his spine, and a third and fourth close together on his other shoulder blade.

Kon lets out a pleased hum, breathless. Tim’s hands wander, and Kon leans back into him a little. Tim doesn’t want him touching him back, yet, so—all he can really do is stand here and focus on Tim’s touch. “Mm.”

Tim nuzzles the back of his shoulder as he keeps sliding the dress down Kon’s body. It’s at his hips now, and Tim abandons it for a moment to slide his hands around Kon’s bare waist. He skims his palms along Kon’s ribs, traces the undersides of his pecs, and runs his fingers lightly over Kon’s nipples.

Kon sucks in a breath. He normally doesn’t notice, but—the air in their bedroom is slightly cool against his bare skin, and Tim’s teasing little touches only make the heat of his skin that much more striking. Sparks shoot through him as Tim feels up his chest, his chest warm against Kon’s bare back. Kon can feel the buttons on Tim’s shirt pressing into his bare, tender skin, can feel the barest touch of Tim’s nails as he skims them across his chest.

“Tim,” he murmurs, his heart pounding.

Tim’s lips brush his neck. “My clone boy.”

He lightly pinches one of Kon’s nipples, harder than usual—or maybe it’s that it just feels harder than usual. Sparks fly straight from Kon’s chest to his core, and Kon squeaks. “Ah!”

Tim’s breath tickles against his neck as Tim chuckles, his voice low and warm. “You’re extra sensitive here now, huh?”

“I—I guess,” Kon manages, squirming a little as Tim toys with his chest, both hands warm against him. “Nnh…”

Tim pinches his nipples again, rolls his thumbs over them, and hums. It’s a flirty, teasing touch that doesn’t linger; he moves on, caresses Kon’s collarbones and rubs down his sternum, and kisses his shoulder some more.

Then, abruptly, he pushes the dress down over Kon’s hips. It falls to the floor, pooling around his feet; Kon can feel the press of Tim’s belt buckle into his back, the metal cool against his skin, and it hits him: Kon is here, in his hands, at his mercy, vulnerable in more ways than one. Tim is fully clothed, in control, while Kon’s standing here in just a pair of black, lacy panties, with a red sun projector pressed against his throat.

[snickerdoodlles]

WIP game

i was tagged by @doyou000me and @the-cookie-of-doom to do this, so let's gooo. please send in asks, i love these games, but i will also be answering these during breaks as i catch up on work, so it might take me a bit to respond (but i will respond to all of them!)

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

*as i said, i'm doing this as i catch up on work and so i will be breaking both rules myself, but for whoever else i tag that wants them! 😂 i will also be breaking the third unofficial rule because i have more WIPs than just kinnporsche, but. idk. i might put a few at the end, but some require a lot of context to explain and meh

ANYWAYS:

idiots & idioms (series): --[pot stirring] (vegas youtube) --[worms???] (series finale)

talk shit, get hit (series): --porsche coda --kimchay joongle --[king's knight]

fake omegaverse

heart burdened

Insatiable (*cw: incest)

Single Star Review

The Lives of Mr. Gold (*gone fishing fic off-shoot)

timeloop

Your Presence Surrounds

i also have more story ideas for Vampire Thrall (vampire!kim) and Hoarding for Beginners (dragon!chay). mostly horny stuff tho.

as for non-kp stuff uhh. jeff cinematic universe is like...too much to explain lol, but i have a WIP for wuju bakery (yes, the one that's STILL NOT OUT) you can ask about! i also have a lot of bad buddy stuff that's been haunting me, waiting for the right mood to strike. i dont want to list those out here, but you can ask about any incomplete fic/series from my AO3 or [grasshoppers and elephants] fic! ^^b

uhhh gonna tag some writing friends i recognize from my recent notifications. i am so sorry if i accidentally tag someone who isn't a writer here lol, but tagging: @iworshipsappho @faillen @semantics-error @moondal514 @kumeko @fawndlyvenus @lori0018 @alanblackthrone @sweet-william-writes @technicallyburninggarden @okaybutlikemakeitgay @vyther16 and anyone else who's been waiting for a tag to do this ❤

[howlingmoonrise]

AO3 Wrapped 2024 (Writer's Edition)

"tagged" by @sunriseverse! more under the cut for length, you know the drill

1. How many words have you written this year?

38,937 posted, and 59,646 written overall - some of those i'll never finish, one is waiting to be published in a zine, and a couple of others i'm still working on!

2. How many works did you publish this year?

4 so far! assuming 5 once yuletide rolls around. that's way more than i expected considering my last 3-4 years of writer's block!

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

for this year probably the clonefucking threesome fic for spirealm/kaleidoscope of death 😂😂 it was also the fic that got me writing again!

4. What work of yours has the most hits? 

i like it when that lightning comes (the aforementioned clonefucking jealousy threesome fic) is the winner amongst this year's fics at 1 313 hits!

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

look, let's be real, we're not exactly swimming in comments here. that being said, i was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the comments i got for i'll paint you mornings of gold (labyrinth, sarah/jareth), which i wrote for battleship exchange 2024!

6. Favorite title you used? 

i'll paint you mornings of gold once again because david bowie's as the world falls down is THEE love song of all time and haunts me forever, don't try to argue with me on this.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? 

i used song titles for three of the four fics i posted, but none of them were repeats. we got david bowie (song: as the world falls down), the cure (song: hot! hot! hot!), and the kinks (song: lola)

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year? 

nanqiu from the spirealm/kaleidoscope of death! blowing sunny a kiss for getting me writing again after a metric fuckton of squeeing over this ship in the dms

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? 

also nanqiu! though i was also very happy at completing my goal of writing at least one jareth/sarah labyrinth fic in my lifetime!

10. What work was the quickest to write? 

oh gods. *war flashbacks to battleship exchange*

i wrote the entirety of it’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world (6.5k+, nanqiu, spirealm/kod, crossdressing exhibitionism rimming fic) in like...... 8 hours in a row i think? iirc i stayed up until like 6-7am feverishly writing the entirety of it because i KNEW i could blow the squares we needed to finish board 1 if i finished this thing in time. and i was right!! but my fingers weren't even typing straight anymore by the end of it though, the next day they were actually sore 💀

11. What work took you the longest to write? 

i'm STILL writing it bestie. it's a short-term amnesia thing also for nanqiu which sits at 15k+ so far, and which i've been writing since... june? july? but in terms of posted fics, then from here one's hand could pluck the stars (mysterious lotus casebook, difang sex pollen fic) which probably wouldn't have survived the end of battleship if it weren't for @a-memory-a-distant-echo pushing me through it

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? 

😬😬😬...let's be real, i have no clue which ones will survive until then. there's the ones i listed on question 15, and i always have an endless amount of prompts/plot bunnies to work with, but i very much only work on a "when the muse strikes" basis unless it's a fic exchange.

13. What’s your longest work of the year? 

from among my posted works, then from here one's hand could pluck the stars sitting at 11 479 words

14. What’s your shortest work of the year? 

until i post my yuletide fic, it's it’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world at 6584 words

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

*side-eyes dozens of years-old fics in my folder* ...anyway.

hoping to bring in at least my corpse bride ot3 fic, the nanqiu short-term amnesia fic, and the frozen elsa&elsa long timeloop circular narrative thingie i was working on. i'm NOT looking even remotely in the direction of my 50k+ barbie/dracula pride and prejudice au fic. i do not see it, i don't know.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? 

...................explicit sexual content, apparently. which is WILD because i hadn't written actual smut in years, even before my writer's block hiatus.

17. Your favorite character to write this year? 

lin-gege ✊😔 who is lin-gege, you ask? *puts tinfoil hat on* so you know how there's the original timeline in kaleidoscope of death and in that timeline there's the rnz-equivalent obsidian leader lin qiushi--

i fear he kinda grew into his own character in the sunnyhowl dms despite barely being mentioned in the novel rip

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

DI FUCKING FEISHENG!!!!!!!!!! i had to go into people's dms and ask for essays on how they viewed the character and shit because i was NOT being able to get into his fucking mindset. that fic was SUCH a mcfucking pain to write i swear. once again a million thank yous to @a-memory-a-distant-echo!!!!!

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

i want!!!!!!! to write!!!!!!!! my crackships!!!!!!!!!!! -> has been saying this for like a decade and written actually very few, alas

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

you guys are rereading your works????? couldn't be me. at most i'll give it a reread when i can't remember the fic in like 5-10 years or so and a comment points to a specific part i've forgotten

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year? 

433 on words posted this year, idk how to check kudos amount per year on previously posted fics

22. Which work has the most comments?

i like it when that lightning comes with 16 comments for works posted this year

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

i don't usually do collaborative works so no

24. Did you write any gifts this year? 

i only wrote gifts this year 😂 ...wait, no, that's a lie, there is the fic i did for a zine that remains hidden from the general interwebz

25. Did you receive any gifts this year? 

ye! got three entire nanqiu fics from sunny (blowing you a kissie) and.... two and a half? gift art pieces for battleship exchange

26. What’s your most common category? 

m/m because nanqiu got me in a deathgrip

27. What do you listen to while writing? 

a speech-blocker white noise generator to block out the living room tv :') alternatively, if it's a fic where the setting is very important to get the readers in the world (like riddick and similar 'verses) i'll listen to the corresponding ost if applicable to get a feeling for it

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

the clonefucking threes-- *gets shot* i mean, i like it when that lightning comes (nanqiu, spirealm/kod)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? 

you're asking me to go look back on my writing? hell the fuck no, sorry. once it's posted i'm not laying my eyes on it anytime soon 😂

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? 

that i wrote at all 😂😂😂

--

no-pressure tagging! @a-memory-a-distant-echo @junemermaid @momosandlemonsoda @acernor @nemainofthewater and whoever else feels like doing this! ("but howl, i only wrote one fic this year!" some of you might say, to which i say "neener neener, i KNOW you have unposted fics, write about those as well!!!")

[beyourownanchor6]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thanks for the tags beloveds @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @bi-buckrights @hippolotamus 🩵

How many works do you have on ao3?

—246

What's your total ao3 word count?

—1,469,436

What fandoms do you write for?

— 911, teen wolf, animal kingdom (not actively but still counting it)

Top five fics by kudos:

if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world)

nobody can do everything

i want to love you (but i don't know how)

five + 1 (idk who allowed me to name a fic this 💀)

someone to stay

Do you respond to comments?

—always! even if it takes me a few weeks, i always respond to them. i'm so so appreciative of anyone who takes the time to leave them 🥹

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

—come back home (version 2) i just had to get it out of my system, sorry 🥲

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mmm, idk besides the one listed above and one other, they're all really sappy and fluffy endings 😅 it'll probably end up being whatever sappy ass ending i write for the chris doesn't come back au after everything i've put them through 😂

Do you get hate on fics?

—not really, more like just annoying people nitpicking stupid things

Do you write smut?

—i do indeed 😏 can't say if it's good, but i've got lots of it posted 😂

Craziest crossover:

—umm i write tons of au's but idk if this refers to that or doing an actual crossover with another fandom?? i wish not to talk about the one that still haunts me, but i did use characters from the step up movie for my au: let me lose myself

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

—not that i know of...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

—somebody asked once but idk what ever happened with that

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

i have! 3 different times with my wife @loserdiaz 🫶🏻

—no body, no crime

—this is my idea of fun (playing video games)

—i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you

All time favourite ship?

—buddie! the brainrot for them has been unmatched jsiodj

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

—uhhh probably my divergent au...i've had the placeholder for insurgent with like 3 sentences sitting in my wip folder for forever 😬

What are your writing strengths?

—i'll just list the things people have told me because i have no idea sjwioe. i always get compliments on my characterization, descriptions, and metaphors <3

What are your writing weaknesses?

—shutting the fuck up and writing anything short 🫠

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

—i've done it in the past but not really anymore

First fandom you wrote in?

—teen wolf

Favorite fic you've written?

—that's like asking me to pick between my nonexistent children 😭

i'm picking 3 idc

coastlines

if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world)

the ducking of evan buckley

tagging: @redlightsandicedtea @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @onward--upward @daffi-990 @wildlife4life @underwaterninja13 @bigfootsmom @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @zainclaw @watchyourbuck @ronordmann @queerbuckleys @spaceprincessem @jacksadventuresinwriting

[rauchendesgnu]

Gnu writes!

To start things off, I thought I'd share all the wips/ideas I have in bad summaries (yay!)

These are the wips that are partially published: a. At Thy Will - D/s AU, inspired by medieval marriage laws in the area that would later become Germany. I've talked a bit about it here before, it includes abusive relationships and fantasy sexism and also religious trauma b. The Tower Must Fall - unfortunately a bit neglected (but I plan on picking it back up, I promise), including assassin!Martin and witch!Jon slowburn enemies to lovers (Gerry is there, too!) c. A Treatise In Balance - basically just Jon getting snatched and turned into an avatar by each of the Fears. Includes art d. The Crackling Sound Of Magic - these are small fics where Jon is a mage in training under his cruel father Elias Bouchard and Martin is a kitchen hand in their household. also technically slowburn and lots of hurt/comfort because Jon keeps getting hurt

wips in my wip folder a. faerie!Jon - he's a faerie, Martin is human, he gets lost in the Otherworld's fog, Jon saves him. Oh, and soulmate AU, too :) b. Nothing But The City - inspired by UDAD, where Jonah (while wearing Elias like a suit) performs a series of cyborg-like surgeries on Jon to use him to take control over the City that once had a name that is now long lost to time c. another fantasy au with magic, inspired by occudo's art (that I still want to eat. so pretty). including apprentice!Jon, reluctant bodyguard!Martin, and exasperated and probably evil (but hot) long haired Elias d. Archive AU - Jon is a fully developed Eye monster, way beyond human. Nobody but Elias knows. Martin joins the Archive crew, accidentally makes friends with the monster via tea, and falls in love e. teacher!Jon in Scotland - you've read it before, you love it as much as I do: Scotland Safehouse Period forever, nothing bad happens and Jon gets adopted by a bunch of nosy teenagers f. nurse!Martin AU - Martin is a nurse who deals with Jon's worm wounds (gets section 31-ed) and keeps meeting him while Jon is injured. Features the good ol' anonymous online kinky relationship (and so much research because i don't even know how German hospitals work let alone British ones) g. Magnus Academy - more teacher!Jon, but in dark, with magic, murder, abuse, blackmail, discrimination, etc. h. The Fourteen Hauntings of Jonathan Sims, Librarian - more AUs! this time it's medium!Jon time (and medium!Martin). There's ghosts, and the town is called Nevermore :) i. Vampire Stuff - loosely based on The Fearless Vampire Killers (but the German musical, not necessarily the film), featuring vampire!Jon, vampire!Elias, human Martin, Tim, Sasha (yes, Jon is Herbert) j. Martin Knife Blackwood - established jonmartin, Jon wants to propose, Martin used to be in organised crime and the mob boss Peter Lukas comes for him, drama, blood, guns, etc. k. magical bookshop - more magic. including season 4 levels of sad Jon, a traumatised mute teenage kid who is accidentally adopted by said sad Jon. Jon has a bookshop that shows up at random. like the tardis but with less control even than the Doctor has l. toxic JonElias with endgame JonMartin - this one's not fleshed out at all, but basically Jon gets to make friends and escape Elias' clutches (no Fears AU)

I have more plot bunnies, but they're just that, so I won't list them here or I'd be here for hours. Feel free to ask questions about the wips above if you like, I'd be more than happy to elaborate (it will contain spoilers tho)

[library-ghoulette]

day 5 // dom/sub & lingerie

Prompt list thanks to @kroas-adtam 💜

Pairing: Terzo (Papa Emeritus III) x reader

Rating: Explicit, minors DNI

Words: 1728

Tags: second person POV, female reader, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM, maid kink, lingerie, clothed man and naked woman, boss/employee relationship, demeaning language, punishment, impact play

Summary: Your job as Terzo's personal maid comes with a beautiful uniform and exacting standards.

A/N: Through some kinktober miracle I've managed to finish a fic with Terzo! The poor guy has been trying to escape from my WIPs folder for months now.

Read beneath the cut or on ao3!

You take care as you dress for work. As in so many things, an outfit all depends on a solid foundation. In this case, that foundation is black lace: a plunge bra that emphasizes your cleavage and matching panties, both sparingly adorned with black floral appliques that just barely conceal your nipples and your mound. The transparent back panel leaves your ass on full display, framed by the straps of the matching garter belt that completes the set and holds up your thigh-high stockings. They're old-fashioned, beautifully made, with solid silk panels at the toe, and seams that run up the backs of your legs.

After all, your boss has a taste for the old-fashioned, the classic. He likes to be surrounded by beautiful things, and you, his personal maid, are no exception to that rule.

You slip into a plain black dress and high heels—shining patent leather with crimson soles that match the lipstick you check in the mirror before grabbing your purse—and head out.

There are consequences for tardiness.

At first, you weren't sure about taking the job at the big old church perched on the hill at the edge of town. There were rumors about what went on there, dark whisperings about human sacrifices and Satanic orgies. But when you accepted the position, you were mostly shocked by how normal everything was. Your days were spent lulled by monotony, letting your mind wander as you polished the dark wood of the pews in the chapel or mopped the floors of long hallways lined by stained glass windows.

Just a regular job, at times a bit boring, even if all the crosses were inverted and the haunting sounds of infernal psalms echoed down the corridors and strange sounds emanated from time to time behind closed doors.

Regular, that is, until you were offered the opportunity to apply for a different, more specialized, position. You would only work two days per week, but the salary was double what you were already making. Requirements included attention to detail, discretion, and ability to follow orders. Uniforms would be provided.

The benefits were enticing, although a thrill ran through you when you got to the part of the application that asked for a safeword.

It's amazing how quickly one can adapt to new situations, you think sometimes—how quickly the outre becomes routine.

You arrive at the papal suite precisely on time and unlock the door with the key you were given, under express guidance to only use it on the days you were to report to work and for the purposes of completing your duties. You open the little cupboard by the door, set your purse on a little shelf inside. Then you unzip your dress, slide it down off your shoulders and hips and step out of it, stow it neatly on the hanger provided. Your heels stay on, although you are expected to wipe the soles thoroughly with the cloth that waits on the shelf where you set your bag, and you do so dutifully. Finally, you take the short, white apron down from its hook and slip it over your head, careful not to muss your hair, and loop the ties into a neat, secure bow that rests at the small of your back.

You're not sure if he's here. Sometimes he's out when you come to clean, and you don't see him at all, but you carry out your work and the money appears in your bank account, just the same. Other times he is at home, but working on something in another room, and you barely see him. And sometimes… Well, sometimes you are called upon for the proverbial job description caveat of "other duties as required."

You do not call out or announce your presence. He knows when you are to arrive, and you are expressly forbidden from making a nuisance of yourself. Instead, you walk over to the coffee table in the living room to find your list of assignments for the day, printed in his careful hand on thick linen paper.

It's all simple enough—vacuum the carpets, clean the bathroom and the kitchen, dust all surfaces… and press his shirts. You blanch a bit at the last, knowing how particular he is about his clothing, how many opportunities for error exist in this one task.

You decide to put it off until the last.

You'll get the bathroom out of the way first, pulling on thick, elbow-length rubber gloves that protect your hands from the chemicals. You work more slowly, more methodically than you would in your own home. Sloppiness or inadequacy are punishable offenses, as is carelessly getting cleaner on your uniform and ruining the fine lingerie that your boss has so generously provided for you to wear.

You're on all fours, straining to wipe down the very back of the base of the toilet, when you hear his footsteps on the tile behind you. You start to turn around, to assume a proper pose of receptive attention—kneeling, hands folded in your lap, eyes cast down unless he demands eye contact—but he stops you.

"Keep working."

"Yes, Papa."

As he stands behind you, you become aware of how exposed you are through the transparent material of your panties, how your ass bobs back and forth with the motion of your scrubbing. Your cheeks flame from the shame and arousal that surges through you, and you wonder if he knows that you're getting wet.

He steps closer, but he doesn't touch you. Just inspects you, your work. You can feel his cold gaze rake over your skin.

Cold, like his voice when he says, "Do my shirts next. I'm going out tonight, and I need options."

"Yes, Papa."

"They're in a pile on my bed."

"Yes, Papa."

He pauses, as though considering giving you another order, but all he says before striding back out is, "Very good."

You don't want to do his shirts next. You want to work according to the order you decided for yourself. But you are not getting paid to make decisions. You are getting paid to listen. To obey. To be silent until spoken to. To respond promptly and politely to all questions—"Yes, Papa," "No, Papa."

And right now, you're getting paid to do his shirts.

When you've stowed your cleaning supplies away and washed your hands and made sure that your lipstick is unsmudged, not a hair out of place, you teeter on your heels to his bedroom. Walking into this room always feels charged, the air scented with his cologne, the lighting dim. It is decorated in dark colors, black and deep purple, and you're always aware of the huge bed, and the cabinet tucked against one wall. Of what is inside.

You turn away from the cabinet now, crossing to his closet and pulling down the ironing board that hangs from the door. You set the iron to warm and regard the pile of shirts he's laid out for you. There are so many of them. This is going to take ages.

You've managed to finish three when he comes in to check your progress. He says nothing to you, doesn't even acknowledge your presence, but you watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks up first one shirt and then another.

"This won't do." You set the iron aside and turn to face him, hands folded and eyes down as always, as he strides up to you, brandishing a black button-down. "See these wrinkles you missed?"

There are no wrinkles in the fabric, but you respond as you're supposed to: "Yes, Papa."

He shoves the shirt at you. "Do it again."

"Yes, Papa."

You set aside the shirt you were working on and return to the one he's handed you, trying to press the nonexistent wrinkles from the collar. He comes to stand close behind you, close enough to peer over your shoulder and supervise your work. His proximity feels like electricity against your back, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder.

"Eyes on your work, schiava."

"Y-yes, Papa."

No sooner than you look away, you feel his hands against your skin, fingers tracing your bra straps. You swallow hard, and try to keep working, even when he cups your ass, even when one hand snakes around, under your apron, between your legs.

He slips his hand down the front of your panties, and if you wondered whether he knew you were wet earlier, there's no doubt that he does now.

You're not supposed to respond. You're supposed to keep quiet, to keep working. But his fingers are clever, and distracting, and your eyes slide shut, and you forget yourself for just a second…

A second that's long enough for the smell of singeing fabric to permeate the air, and for him to shove you away from the ironing board. You lose your balance on your heels and go down hard on one hip, the carpet scraping your skin painfully.

"Stupida troietta!" He bunches the shirt up in his hands and throws it in your face. "Is this the quality of work I pay you for? Huh?"

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you stammer out a quiet, "No, Papa."

"No," he agrees. "It's not. So what am I to do with you?"

It's a rhetorical question. Answering would be a mistake, and besides, he already knows what he wants to do with you. You watch as he goes over to the cabinet and opens the lacquered black door, your heart racing, your veins thrumming with an inextricable mixture of desire and fear, each strengthening the other.

When he turns back to you, he's holding a glossy black riding crop. You're intimately familiar with every grain of the leather, every tiny stitch holding it together. After all, you were the one who polished it to a shine just last week.

He smacks it lightly against his palm, and you can't help but think how good it looks in his hand, how it matches his black hair and the cruelty in his eyes.

"Up," he commands. "Bend over the bed."

And so you stand on shaky legs, and you bend over with your forearms braced against the silky purple comforter, and you say, though your voice shakes, "Y-yes, Papa."