#and i've only got 5 excerpts to work with so

[gendervapor14]

who's ready for some 01746 snippets!!

alright so here's how this is gonna work. i'll post one snippet per day. we should land on the 30th, the birthday! and that will be the last snippet and i will probably cry in the tags or something. but yes, they will be chronological. i don't have all of them 100% planned yet...? trying to map out a few in the middle. these will all include potential spoilers, but nothing groundbreaking. it's difficult to define what's a "spoiler" since this is a biography of events that take place in the canon universe but, well, lemme stop rambling and kick things off.

01746 birthday bash ~ day one ~ chapter 12: discovery

content warnings: teenage angst, pre-canon spoilers word count: 633 words brief summary: several days after roger's execution. rosinante is stuck at Navy HQ, very bored, due to a broken leg. in his late-night wandering, he accidentally discovers something life-changing.

Then, he approached the thick stack of papers that were left neatly on the desk. They were interesting, that was for sure. The names some of these pirates came up with, the worth they carried with them. I wonder what determines whether they’re wanted dead or alive. He flipped through them with mild interest, snickering to himself at some of the rather unsightly or blurry photos. Imagine having your likeness represented like that. His eyes reluctantly took in the appearance of a man who had actual snot rockets dripping from his face. How the hell does a photo like that even happen?

And then he turned the page. Dead or Alive. He took in that garish expression. An almost frightening grin, tongue lolling out. Those pointed sunglasses, with goggles perched above them. An odd look, for sure. He almost flipped the page before his tired eyes urged his hand to pull away, towards the fine print. The fine print that he almost skimmed. Those capital letters, printed just beneath his photo.

DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO

Flesh turned to stone. A distant swirling sensation of painkillers mixed with the edge of a dehydration headache surrounded him. Otherwise, all was empty, still. These other pirates didn’t matter. The execution didn’t matter. The marines didn’t matter.

Doffy was still alive. Doffy was a pirate. Worth one-hundred-million berris.

There wasn’t a peep. No one was around. Still, Rosinante snagged the poster, folded it into quarters, and tucked it into his cast, as if he had only seconds before he was caught. Then he put all the other posters back, lined them up neatly, exactly the way they were left on the desk. He clanked the lamp off and staggered out of the room, holding onto the wall on his way back to his dorm, so as not to fall flat on his face.

Thankfully, the days of living with others in his rank were long gone. He flicked the light on, wincing as he tugged the poster from his boot and unfolded it. Smacked it down on his desk and stared at that horrid expression until his eyes pricked with hot, furious tears. He ripped the receiver from the shell of his transponder snail, pressing his knuckles to an eye to at least pretend to stop crying.

It rang. And rang. And rang. Then, the eyes drooped shut.

The teen gave a frustrated growl, knuckles white around the receiver as he tried again. Thirty seconds of ringing. Nothing. “Dammit!” He cried out, a moment of fury causing him to fling the receiver across the room. Unexpectedly, it bounced back on the wire and whacked him in the eye. “Ow! Shit!”

As he cradled the swelling eye, Rosinante limped across the room, scooping up his pillow and screaming into it without restraint. His care for any of his neighbors had been cast to the wind. Then, he whipped the pillow across the room. Achingly, he collapsed onto his knees, smushing his face into his mattress. That became his next victim, subjected to grueling strike after strike, blankets bunched up in a messed pile.

Then, a spell of coolness flooded over him. It was fleeting, temporary. He let it bring him to stillness, ribs trembling and shoulders aching from the intensity of his fit. Wearily, his dark eyes flicked over to the transponder snail. With a bit more composure, he limped over to it, dialing a different number.

A few rings. His grasp tightened on the receiver with each ring. Every second it became less likely that she’d pick up. And then the eyes drooped shut. Rosinante hung his head and screamed, loudly, wrathfully, raking fingers through his hair and pulling. “Dammit Roger!” He kicked his desk chair across the room with his good leg, “Damn you and your stupid execution!”

read the full story here ♥

[deadpresidents]

I'm always a fan of Caity Weaver's work, but this piece from the New York Times Magazine (these links are gift links from me past the NYT paywall to access the full article) about how the penny is not only a ridiculous zombie currency, but also a reflection of American dysfunction is one of the best articles I've read in a long time. It's really interesting, especially the parts about production, circulation, and the ultimate paralysis of throwing them in a coin jar for months or years before eventually taking them to a Coinstar machine.

Not only is the penny useless and more expensive to make than it is actually worth, but it's also relatively easy to eliminate. But it's not an imperative and eliminating it also wouldn't necessarily be something that the government or the citizens would actively profit from. And people don't like change -- and I don't mean "change" as in currency, but the act of doing something different or unusual from our accepted routines. So we just ignore them or discard them or hoard them needlessly, and the government keeps making billions of tons (literally) of them because they drop out of circulation. Nobody cares and nobody wants to have to do anything about it because America.

Here's a little excerpt of the piece from the New York Times Magazine, and again, just follow the links for a free gift pass behind the paywall for Caity's full article:

Americans accumulate pennies not because we desire them but because we are entitled to them. If we pay for something in cash with more than exact change, we expect to receive back the difference; if the difference ends in any number other than 0 or 5, we will receive at least one penny. We are entitled to pennies because they exist. But imagine a world where they didn't. Imagine a world where it was Canada. Many Americans will be surprised to learn that Canada eliminated its 1-cent coin more than a decade ago...Canada got rid of its penny in 2013 because it cost 1.6 cents to produce and had, like its American cousin, become essentially worthless. Here is the most important detail to understand: Canada eliminated only its physical coin, not the mathematical concept of 1 cent. Payment by credit card, debit card, mobile phone or check -- any kind of noncash transaction -- is calculated exactly as it was before the penny was abolished. If, after tax, a bill comes to, say, $20.11, a Canadian paying by credit card will be charged $20.11. A Canadian paying by cash can expect to pay $20.10. The final digit of Canadian cash transactions is rounded to the nearest nickel: 1 and 2, nearest to 0 nickels, round down to 0; 3 and 4 round up to a nickel -- 5; 6 and 7, also nearest to one nickel, round down -- 5 again; 8 and 9, nearest to 10 cents, round up. I admit that the thought I might be asked to pay, say $3.80 (cash) for something that, according to the laws of God and man, has been calculated to cost $3.79 (cash) is not only reflexively infuriating to me but a potential source of permanent confusion. The Canadian government mitigated one of those problems (no hope for the other) with an information campaign that included signs with simple charts dividing potential prices into two columns: "Round down" and "Round up." I asked Karl Littler from the Retail Council of Canada if there were still signs at cash registers explaining the rounding. "It's 10 years now, so even the most obtuse people have pretty much figured it out," he said, and laughed.

-- Caity Weaver: "America Must Free Itself from the Tyranny of the Penny", the New York Times Magazine

[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 10: Father's Daughter

hello hi yes more angsty hand holding in this chapter UR WELCOME I had to do a lil bit o' research for this one to make sure all my i's were dotted n' shit, so I am hopeful everything comes across in a way that tracks with reality as much as possible and it all makes sense and also that u love it and honestly if u don't that's really none of my business

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 10 // Father's Daughter

.................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, vague mentions of past trauma and recovery, descriptions of guns

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Chapter Excerpt:

"You won't find it anywhere. It doesn't exist."

Soap frowns. "What d'you mean?"

You stare at them -- these men you hardly know. They seem so earnest. You hate that. You hate that you only have one thing to offer them -- a measly supply of information relative to your crazed scientist father's end-of-life havoc-wreaking. 

You tighten your grip on Ghost's fingers, and he runs a comforting thumb along your pinky.

"Toward the end... My father...he got more and more erratic. His behaviors, his decisions. They didn't make sense. He wasn't himself."

Gaz leans forward on his elbows, nudging his bowl to the side. "In what way?"

"He stopped taking my calls--"

"Because you were discharged?"

You try not to feel the sting of that word on someone else's tongue, but it's hard. Even after all this time. 

"Partially, maybe," you ponder. "But he'd been deteriorating even before that. I'd thought he was just manic -- obsessed with the task at hand. That wasn't entirely out of the ordinary. But he was taking shortcuts he wouldn't normally. He told me one day that..." You trail off. The memory is like a bloodstain. 

"Dad...dad, slow down."

"It's the breakthrough of a century, Sunny," your father speaks to you through rough, choppy pants, as though he's got blades in his lungs. He's been chain-smoking again.

"This...this will be my legacy," he goes on. "Everything I've worked for, everything I've done. Nothing will top this. It's perfect -- it's the perfect specimen, I know it is."

"Dad, what about trials?"

"I don't fucking need trials! We'll go strai--"

"But, you're pre-clinical, you can't proceed on humans without testing the potential implicatio--"

"Who the fuck do you work for, the FDA? I don't have to do shit!"

"But the ethics of jumping straight to--"

Your father's voice is as cold as you've ever heard it when he cuts you off again. "Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, Sunny. You know this."

There's a momentary, bitter pause as you digest his words. Words you know, words he's recited to you a hundred times. "Dad," you plead. "There's anoth--"

"Goodbye, Sunny."

The line goes dead.

The sensation of Ghost squeezing your knee again brings you back to the present.

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

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

"Integrity without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is dangerous and dreadful." - Samuel Johnson (1709 - 1784), English Author, Poet, and Literary Critic and Writer

[eyesthatroll]

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

“Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened. 

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

[hooked-on-elvis]

MY EYES... MY TEARY EYES! 🥹

ABOUT ELVIS AND GLADYS' BOND. ♥

"Watching the snow reminded me of Elvis' mother. She used to say that if snowed in Memphis when Elvis was gone, she always went outside and gathered up enough in a pan to make snowballs for Elvis to see when he came back. She put them in the freezer of the refrigerator to keep. Elvis loved to see it snow at Graceland." Excerpts from "Elvis: This One's For You" by Arlene Cogan.

No wonder why EP missed his mother dearly. There's many types of moms but the Gladys type of mommy is a true blessing - the ones which heart's that almost burst while trying to make you feel their love for you. It's almost a physical need to pour love in their children every way they can. Towards their children, they have all love languages at once: words of encouragement, sound advice, physical touch/cuddles, actions… It's suffocating, but in a wonderful way. Gladys Love Presley was the sweetest mom anyone could wish for. EP was fortunate in many ways - starting from his family - but what a misfortune was to lose Gladys so early in his life. Love is a dangerous splendid thing anyway. It's best to have it and lose it than never being touched by it. Gladys' love for her son was bigger than life anyway. ♥ -- Note: The excerpt from that book reminded me this footage below, where Gladys is playing with the snow with Vernon (C. January, 1958). There's also another book that mentions her saving some snow so that Elvis could see it later when he came back home (i don't remember what book, unfortunately, but I've read this before).

Above, pictures takes in 1957, during "Loving You" movie production. Gladys actually appears on the big screen for a few seconds in this Presley early movie. EP dances next to her while singing "Got A Lot O' Livin' To Do" by the end of the movie… It's so cute!

Photo 5-13: March 23-24th, 1958

Elvis was about to be inducted in the US Army. The photos showing the Presley's alone were taken March 23rd, a day before Elvis' army induction day. On the actual induction day, on March 24th (pictures 11-13), there's footage where EP's hopping a bus together with other fellow guys, heading to the army camp to the beginning of the basic trainning and his 2-year epic journey as Private Presley in the U.S. Army. Gladys was visibly shaken and heartbroken to see her beloved son go away and the reason why. Some family members and friends said Gladys was terrified thinking about the horrors of World War II that she seriously feared for Elvis' life and well-being as a soldier. She never got over it, even though Elvis and everybody else tried to convince her nothing was going to happen, after all they were living at the Cold War period, therefore there wasn't reasonable reasons in being anxiously alarmed. Nothing seemed to comfort Gladys. We know she sadly passed away on August, 1958, a few months after Elvis was inducted in the army. Years later, EP would say to one of his intimate acquaintances "my mommy really worried to death." It's so sad... in a poetic way. IDK what I'm talking about right now… It's like she couldn't live without her little boy, literally. Gladys was so close to her son! The reciprocity is true. She was the only person EP trusted blindfolded, with all his heart, body, mind and soul. Gladys only had the best intentions for her son. She didn't care about the money or fame. She actually asked him many time if it wouldn't be better/safer if he gave up his career and just became a business man, a owner of some local company in Memphis/TN, got married, had his own family, and lived a nice, calm, Southern life. EP used to get upset with that "nonsense" talk, because he loved his career greatly and everything was working out just fine for him... he was in love with his music and his fans. He was born to be the King of Rock and Roll and he worked very hard for it every single day. It wasn't right to chicken up. He wouldn't give it up his career, even for his beloved mommy. Yet, Gladys couldn't help herself but to worry something bad could happen if she was not by his side 24/7. A typical loving mom behavior. Even when she acted overprotective like that and drove Elvis insane sometimes, it was all out of the purest heavenly true love... and he knew it.

Although she was uneasy most of the time, thinking about Elvis' well being, the constant travelling on the road all the time, having tabloids badmouthing him, a portion of American society threatening to put him in jail, crazy passionate fans scratching the hell out of him, trying to touch him to the point they'd tear his clothes off his body, even so Gladys supported Elvis' career and was by his side whatever he decided to do. He knew how blessed he was having her for his mother, and Elvis did his best to protect his mommy's heart - even by hiding some of the bad happenings in his life from her. He wouldn't let anything break her heart... even himself.

Yet, so soon the day came when she was gone. Elvis never ceased missing his mommy.

Shantay Perrish, a dedicated fan shared the following story: "We arrived about 7:00 pm that following evening and were shocked to see Elvis leaving on his Harley with a blue flower arrangement strapped to the rear. I quickly went to the guard house shack and asked Harold Lloyd, "Is that who I think it was?" Harold said, "Yes that was Elvis, but don't follow him." We waited there and he returned to Graceland within the hour. Earlier that day we had gone to pay our respect to his mother at Forest Hill, never thinking of Elvis possibly showing up. The next morning we again went to Forest Hill Cemetery and there on Gladys grave was the arrangement of blue flowers we had seen the night before on the motorcycle. Elvis had been to visit his mother in a quiet personal moment."

Photos and excerpt from the book "Elvis Behind the Image."

This event possibly took place circa August 11th, 1977. A few days before Elvis Presley sadly passed away on August 16th. The photo 1 shows Elvis leaving Graceland that day and the photo 2 is Gladys' grave site with the blue flower arrangement he placed there for his mommy for one last time. Elvis assured to send flowers there often over the years since Gladys' passing, but this time he delivered it there himself. Isn't intriguing, to say the least?

Oh, mama liked the roses but most of all she cared About the way we learned to live And if we said our prayers Oh, mama liked the roses in such a special way We bring them every Mother's Day And put them on her grave Oh, mama liked the roses Mmmm Mama liked the roses

In loving memory of Gladys Love Presley ♥

[storyspinner91]

Twenty Fanfic Writer Questions

Tagged by @littleblackraincloudofcourse

Tagging @lowkeyed1 @evodevo-geekmonkey @dianels @bisexualshakespeare @spybrarian @blackdalek

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

7 (3 are WiP)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

186,452

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Willow! ...Technically other things too but really it's just Willow with playful skins.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Red Embers: dark alternate future AU, resistance fighters against the Wyrm's tyranny, grim & gritty

Like Constellations, a Million Years Away: sprawling mecha sci-fi AU set in the world of the Lancer tabletop roleplaying game. The Questies all pilot giant mechs; four books (2 done), one focused on each of Jade, Kit, Graydon, and Elora (in that order). Posthumanism, anticolonial to the extent a fanfic can be, utopian, dramatic.

Soft Blazing Crowns: Tanthamoretober one-shot. Modern AU. Elora helps Jade with a sexy photoshoot for a gift for Kit.

Full: (E-rated) Tanthamoretober one-shot. Modern AU. Straight-up smut drabble, 100 words on the dot. Extremely funny to me that this is in the top 5. :P

The Loving Hurt: Canon-set one-shot digging into the violence implied by the canon against the Bone Reavers, Scorpia's backstory, how Jade got her name. Dark, grim, not pleasant to write and in some ways probably not to read TBH. I was in A Mood!

5. Do you respond to comments?

Religiously! Sometimes it takes me a while, but I do.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 

Hmmm. I mean I think it's gotta be The Loving Hurt. Like I said. Dark. Blame the show's writers, I do. :P

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

Gonna resist the temptation to say Full and instead say I think that it'll probably be Flawless Five vol. 1 when it's finished in a few weeks!

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Not so far!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

The only thing I'd consider smut is Full. Otherwise, not anywhere that you can see. ;)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? 

No true crossovers, though Like Constellations is set (loosely) in the Lancer Universe.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so! They're too weird!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

No but I'd be so honored.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

Nope!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am a Tanthamore diehard, what can I say.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? 

If you'd asked me recently I'd probably have said "all of them." Fortunately I'm feeling a little better lately! I hope to finish all of the current ones; Constellations is a slow, weighty project, F5 I hope to have done very shortly, Embers...we'll figure that out after F5.

16. What are your writing strengths? 

I think I'm pretty good at dialogue, and I'm decent though not incredible at humor (especially character-based humor). I'm also a decent mimic - though this can feel a little clunky sometimes, I think I'm able to adjust my voice pretty easily to suit a situation, genre, or style. My unhinged and unpopular fic Excerpts from a new translation... is a pretty good example of that, lol. And on that note: I have a lot of fun with wacky metatextual stuff.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Taking the wacky meta stuff too far; not being bold enough in straying from the established character arcs/plots in canon; I don't think I'm great at writing really juicy interiority. Starting very large projects that will take forever to finish. ':)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I'm comfortable enough in Spanish to write simple dialogue in that language. I've done one line in Latin (which I'm comfortable with since it's functionally a dead language) and made up some words in a conlang for Constellations. Wouldn't try anything via Google Translate though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Willow! At least if we count conscious fanfiction. If we're going back to the Days of Yore probably Animorphs when I was a wee one.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? 

Difficult to pick...but Like Constellations is the baby, the one I'll finish come hell or high water (I hope). On the other hand, Flawless Five is probably the most fun (to write, and maybe to read if you like that sort of thing) and Red Embers is the one that in many ways I find most exciting. Like I said - hard to choose!

[writerwhowritesao3]

What Is And What Should Never Be Chapter 5: June, 1985

Excerpt:

A crack of lightning lit up the sky. The accompanying thunder rumbled immediately after.

"Billy. Can you just get in the car, please?" 

Billy pressed his lips together, like he was about to keep arguing. But then, thank God, he opened the passenger door and got in. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Billy shivered in his seat; he was completely soaked, from his head to his shoes. Jim wished he had a towel or a blanket or something to give him, but he didn't. Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled and flat pack of cigarettes. It was, predictably, also wet. Billy opened it anyway. When he saw that the cigarettes inside were ruined, he sighed and let his head fall back on the headrest. 

Jim pulled out his own pack of smokes from the center console and held it out to Billy. He mumbled a thanks and accepted one. Jim handed him a matchbook and took a cigarette for himself. 

In the grand scheme of things, was giving a teenager a cig really that bad?

"You know how stupid it is to be out here like this, right?" Jim asked. 

Billy kept his eyes on the windshield, watching the rain hit the glass. 

"Coulda gotten hit by a car," Jim continued. "Coulda slipped and broken your ankle or something."

Billy still gave no response. He kept puffing away at his smoke.

"What if something from the Upside Down came through and attacked you? Did you even think about that? What was the plan if that happened?"

"Run fast," Billy finally said with a shrug. 

Jim sighed and started the car. 

"So," he said. "Just decided to take a walk, huh?"

"Mmhm."

Jim knew in his gut that that was a load of horseshit. He wanted to ask Billy directly if something had happened at home. Something that made him run out, even in the middle of a storm. He didn't have any bruises, at least. Not visible ones anyway. But that didn't mean anything. 

"Haven't seen you in a while," Jim said casually. "Been keeping busy?"

"Yeah. I've been taking a lot of shifts at the pool," Billy said. "Need to save up for college and stuff."

"That's great! How are things at the pool? You like it?"

"It's alright. I mean, it's a job, you know?"

"Sure, I get that," Jim nodded. 

"My coworkers are total dicks. Except for this one girl. She's pretty cool."

"Oh yeah?" Jim asked. He decided to tease him a little. "You gonna ask her out?"

Billy snorted. 

"Aren't you not supposed to shit where you eat?" he said.

Jim laughed. 

"Smart," he said. "That little life lesson usually takes a few years to learn."

Billy didn't respond. He took a final drag of his cig, stubbed it on the inside of the top flap of his ruined pack, and slipped the butt inside. Jim remembered that he didn't just toss the butt like most people did.

"How's everything otherwise?" Jim said, desperate to keep a conversation going. 

"It's fine."

"You get to hang out with your friends more now that school's out?"

"Not really," Billy said. "I'm scheduled during the day and weekends a lot. And Nancy and Jonathan are at the Post every day. And Steve's been scheduled for a bunch of evening shifts. So. We've only been able to hang out a couple times, like, as a group. Sometimes Steve and I have the same day off though. But, like, sometimes there's family shit we have to do."

Jim nodded. He didn't want to tell Billy that finding the time to see your friends only got harder as an adult. The kid seemed glum enough already.

"How is your family?" Jim asked.

"Fine."

"Max?"

"Annoying. But fine. Isn't she, like, always at your house?"

"Yeah, but I'm usually at the station when she's over," Jim said. "Your stepmom? She's doing okay?"

"Mmhm."

"And your dad?"

"He's fine."

"I think I overheard Max mention to El that his hours were cut?" Jim asked with a carefully casual tone.

"Oh...yeah," Billy said. "It was a union thing. It's done now, though, so he's working regular hours again."

Security guards had unions. Labor unions had disputes all the time. It was certainly plausible that Neil Hargrove's hours had been cut because of a union thing. Logically, Jim had no reason to not believe Billy. 

"Gotta stick with the union, right?"

"My dad isn't a scab," Billy said.

Billy was defending his father's honor. It was entirely possible that Neil Hargrove was the type of parent who taught his son about labor unions and fair wages, and who imparted values like 'don't be a dirty scab'. It was possible that Neil Hargrove wasn't the type of parent who beat his son—or if he was, it was possible that he didn't cross the line between legal corporal punishment and abuse.

But it was also possible that Neil Hargrove was abusive. It was possible that Jim's gut feeling about him was spot-on. 

[magpiefngrl]

Fic author self-rec

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Thank you for the tag @tenthousandyearsx a few weeks ago! I wanted to wait and get a couple of my WIPs ready and posted before doing it, but I'm now back to full time work so it's unlikely I'll finish those WIPs any time soon. 😢 So, here's 5 old fics of mine that I'm fond of. It's hard to choose a favourite, so I chose rather randomly, whatever popped in my head first tbh.

They're all drarry.

The Unquiet Grave (E, 21,5k, gothic vibes)

Quote: ‘What will happen is this. You’ll drag me to a poncy restaurant one evening soon, and I’ll complain about the number of forks and the size of the portions. Then I’ll drag you to my local and you’ll complain about the wine list and the clientele. This will be a recurring theme. But every time, every single time, we’ll end up in my bed — or yours — and I’ll make you forget your own name.’

My thoughts: I reread this yesterday after years, and I ended up really enjoying it. I particularly liked the dialogue in this read. I'm pretty happy with how this fic turned out. It's got a gothic mood and fits an autumnal mood; I often rec it for Halloween.

Sometimes a man needs (E, 5.5k, Flower Shop)

Quote: Harry knew what a huge mistake the whole thing was, but he’d already fallen for Malfoy, so what harm would a few more nights do? What harm would it do to kiss Malfoy some more and inhale his intoxicating smell? What harm was it that Malfoy spent almost every evening with Harry and whispered things in the dark that he never alluded to in the day? Harry was in love and in pain, but he might as well get what he could while he could.

My thoughts: I love the magical flower shop I created here, the types of flowers I came up with, and, craft-wise, I love Harry's voice. I remember I'd struggled with this fic, starting and deleting, starting and deleting, until I got a handle on Harry's voice and then it flowed in a morning.

The Gift (E, 29,5k, Captive Prince references)

Quote:  Draco’s desires — at least where Potter is concerned — are a tangle, messed up like he is. A war of contradictions: Draco wants to please Potter, and he wants to hurt him. He wants to see Potter in ecstasy, but he can’t allow himself to be the one to do it. So, he’s chosen another way, a way that gives and takes at the same time. ‘You’ve been such a good boy so far,’ Draco tells Potter and watches with pleasure his instant reaction, the blood colouring his face. ‘I think you deserve a treat for being so good. So… obedient. Which is why Adam here will give you a… gift.’

My thoughts: Used to have complicated feelings about this one. I'd hidden it for years and only revealed it a couple of months ago. Draco is a writer here and channels many of my doubts and insecurities. It's not a fic that has a wide appeal, not cute or fluffy at all, but I love my prose here and I had fun with inserting CaPri nods and writing excerpts of a magical CaPri story.

The Boy Who Died (E, 26.8k, Voldemort Wins AU)

Quote: At times he thought he noticed his own lust mirrored in Malfoy’s gaze, like when he cooked and Harry sat on the kitchen table, mouth and fingers sticky with treacle syrup or brown sugar, or when Harry left the shower in his pyjama bottoms, his hair soft like a waterfall down his bare shoulders. Harry had taken to sleeping topless; he couldn’t get used to Malfoy’s fancy pyjamas, and although Malfoy had looked extremely put out the first time, he didn’t object.

My thoughts: I'm just so fond of this one! I thought of the reincarnation plot because of wangxian and I peppered some wangxian Easter eggs in this fic, but I didn't expect to fall in love with this dystopian, Voldemort Wins 'verse. It's a bleak world but somehow this fic has become one of my comfort reads and I've reread it often since posting it.

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There (E, 17.4k, Mirror of Erised alternate dimension)

Quote: Getting to know Harry was to love him: hearing him laugh at Weasley’s jokes, watching him sleep, witnessing his passionate devotion to what was right and the ardor with which he supported his friends. He had butterflies in his stomach just at the sight of him; a sentiment he attempted to hide under a mask of cool detachment, because if anyone found out, Draco would be kicked out of Slytherin for incurable soppiness.

My thoughts: I love the Mirror universe I came up with, and am proud of the treatment of the Shrieking Shack in this fic, which I haven't seen elsewhere. It's one of my works I'm most proud of. I didn't expect it'd be emotional, but I've received a bunch of comments, some of them very recently, saying it made readers cry. oops?

I'm guessing many of you have done the latest round of this author game. So, tagging everyone who hasn't done it and wants to! Would love to see the fics you rec and why xx

[justhere4thevibez]

annual writing self-evaluation

thank you @pipergirl17 and @erythromanc3r for tagging me!

1. List of works published this year (in no particular order):

oh gosh, I've been busy-busy this year with fanfic, so here goes!

Complete works:

... And a Hellcheer New Year 

Galentines and Valentines

Hold Onto Me

Devil in the Woods

Every Time I Run, I Run to You

Eddie and Chrissy Go to a Wedding 

Knocking Me Out With Those American Thighs

Cooking Up Something Sweet

Please Don't Say You Love Me

Let Me Start Over Again

You Got Me Good

Be My Breath (Through the Deep, Deep Water)

This Old Man

Do You Wanna Touch Me

My Words Will Be Your Light

She'll See I'm Not So Tough 

She Knows What She Wants

Give Me a Taste

The Right Kind of Sinner

Release My Inner Fantasy

Hooked on a Feeling

Whiskey & Wine

The Graveyard Smash

Long Is the Road Out of Hell 

In a Sentimental Mood

Set My Soul On Fire

Burnin' Out of Control

WIPs:

Looking For Something Dumb To Do

I Can't Get Rid of You 

If You Fall, I Will Catch You 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

hmmmmm, that's a tough one! I love them all for different reasons, but I will say I'm very proud of Long Is the Road Out of Hell because it's my longest fanfic to date (almost 60k!) and at one point I really wasn't sure if I'd be able to finish it. but I did!

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

tbh if I'm not proud of something, I won't publish it. but I think the work that frustrated me the most was Whiskey & Wine, my kinktober fic. I pushed myself too hard with too big of a goal and burnt myself out halfway through. but I did learn the importance of setting boundaries for myself (and why I need to be careful committing to challenges 😅)

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

not gonna lie, once I publish something, the words tend to leave my brain, so I don't always remember what I write lol. I should probably keep a doc of good lines from my fics so I have something to present when people ask me 😂 but here are two excerpts that I'm pretty proud of.

Devil in the Woods: He had loved her since the first time he opened his eyes to find her snuggled up on his chest. He had loved her longer, since the moment he’d held her in his arms on that endlessly rainy night. And longer still, he’d loved the little girl who played jacks with him on May Day and laughed at his wild antics.

Hooked on a Feeling: He knew he could be… a lot, as kinder people said. A goddamn nuisance, according to everyone else. He didn’t mean to be, he just tended to… latch on to things. Kind of like a bulldog (but in a nice and lovable way, thank you, Jeff). And right now he had ChrissyChrissyChrissy clamped tight between his jaws, and he hoped to god she didn’t ask him to let go.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

I have a few regular commenters who give me the longest, loveliest comments where they literally analyze each chapter section by section 😭 it makes me feel so loved. but as for one individual comment, I distinctly remember a commenter from one of my early fics commenting on a really tough scene I did re: chrissy's eating disorder. they said that they also had an eating disorder, and that chapter was very healing for them. I don't think I'll ever get another comment as powerful as that.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

I go in and out of mild anxious/depressive episodes, mostly due to outside stressors, and that makes it really hard to write. writing is the one constant joy in my life, and when I don't even feel like doing that, I know something is very, very wrong. but luckily, they don't usually last too long!

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

mike's redemption arc in Long Is the Road! that one was a total curveball to me, and it only came about because it was the closest place I could think of to have Chrissy walk to after her mom kicked her out. total accident, but it spawned on of my favorite sibling-ships for chrissy that I've ever written!

also writing wayne's pov! i never intended to do that, but once I started, his voice just kind of stuck in my head 😂

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I wrote a lot. like over 300k of fanfic. and i even got back into writing some original fiction, which I'm so excited about!

I also started writing smut for the first time in 2023, which was something I never anticipated doing, let alone enjoying! but it's been super fun

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I'd like to work more on my original fiction, maybe get a short story published. I'd also like to get better at world-building! I tend to get so focused on the characters that I forget they exist in a place I should spend some time creating lol

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction all the way! she's been such a wonderful beta reader, cheerleader, and overall positive influence on my writing. I Can't Get Rid of You wouldn't ever have happened without her support and feedback!

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

ooh, buddy! pieces of myself get sprinkled all over the damn place 😂 but as for specifics...

Galentines and Valentines opening scene was reminiscent of the girls' nights me and my college friends used to have (and still have sometimes)

Hooked on a Feeling had elements of my own past experiences of being laid up in a hospital (and being very annoyed about it)

This Old Man was absolutely inspired by my love of Columbo

You Got Me Good definitely included some of my own thoughts and feelings about when I get a little too high 😂

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

give your writing time.

it's so tempting when you have a new idea to jump on it and then get frustrated when it doesn't immediately turn out the way you want, but I've found that if I give myself time to think over a piece before I write it, and let it sit for a little while after I write it, I'm much happier with the end results!

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

finishing my three WIPs! and hopefully a little christmas fic 😂 I don't have anything else immediately in the works, thank god!

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@1lostsoul0fishbowl @pearlypairings @rose-n-gunses and anybody else!!!

[slashingdisneypasta]

OK EVER SINCE YOU ANSWERED THE SAD SMARTY-POP EXCERPT, I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT DRAGON!TOON PATROL (and princess Poppy *cough*). Now that asks are open, I need to vent these thoughts.

I'm not entirely sure how they'd work in this AU. But all five of these dragons somehow found each other, and have decided its best to stay together. I can't decide if they hang around an abandoned, dilapidated castle or they've got a big cave in the mountains (maybe they could be the reason the castle was abandoned? 👀)

Smartass is the smallest dragon, but that only gives him more incentive to be as tough and viscious possible. It's how he can be the leader of these insane overgrown lizards.

Greasy is a sort of secondary leader, when for whatever reason Smartass isn't available to keep everyone in check. And even has been the mastermind behind some of their raids. One thing is for certain though; His tastes in the fairer sex go beyond scales (ladies? 👀)

Wheezy is the silent, scary one of the group with the best fire breather of them all. Dirty, kind of torn up, and smoke billowing from his mouth all times, this dragon's favorite places to terrorize/raid are tobacco farms (no cigarettes, but he can chew the stuff)

Psycho is the one who gets the most kicks out of striking fear in humans the most. While the others may be busy finding whatever goods that interest them in a village, Psycho can easily be found chasing the villagers.

Stupid, although the strongest and biggest, is the most easily swayed dragon out of them all. You could offer this big lug food, and he'll gladly take the bribe.

To keep with the gang theme, maybe these guys keep a few villages in line? If the people give them what they want, they'll be mostly left alone. (I'm not quite sure. I haven't though of much lore behind this AU 😅)

I'm not sure how Doom could come into play here. Maybe he could be a corrupt king that pays them to do his dirty work like in the Fairytale AU?

I don't have tid-bits for all the dragon boys, but here's one for Wheezy. I imagine that he can do some pretty neat tricks with his fire. Like blowing out certain shapes, or knowing how to control it where it won't burn you, but just leave a very hot tickle. Imagine him showing them off to you 👀

Alright, I wasn't sure if I should have included Poppy in this, but I feel obligated to share my thoughts XD Poppy is a princess who got married off to a prince who treats her coldly (Ben). When the dragons attacked her home, by some circumstance or another, she got taken (I'm not quite sure how yet. Maybe she was trying to be diplomatic and it all went wrong. Maybe it was Smartass just being cruel to the royals. Or maybe it was Greasy's idea because- you know why 🙄 or Psycho felt enamored with her). Either this can go in a classic Beauty and the Beast style, or a angsty/darker route.

Anyways, those are my thoughts! I hope dragon weasels bring you as much joy as they've been bringing me lately XD

DRAGONS!!

Sorry for the late reply, I am finished with Placement but I still have assignments to finish and get before... well, the end of today 😅 Its okay though, I only have 2 left. I am very very excited to hear about dragons!!

First of all- YES to the idea of them causing a castle to be abandoned!! I can only imagine the chaos, but its glorious. These 5 terrifying, mean dragons deciding this place is their new place, and they have some fun with the humans there for a while (By which i mean Psycho and Greasy had fun with them... ) ... but when they escaped, that was fine, now they have the place to themselves! XD

Ahhhh! I love them!! || Smartass being kind of feral?? Like, I bet he's bigger then a human but he's smaller then the other dragons so he's so vicious-- that would be terrifying. I love that! || Greasy... Greasy lemme just quickly remind you I am a Certified monster fucker- || WHEEZY! Okay he is definitely my favourite. I'm imagining gassy, fumy smoke just slipping and rolling uncontrollably outta the corners of his mouth at all times, so he looks monstrous and gross. And just, the fact that you mentioned he'll chew the tobacco!! (Cowboy!!) and also the tricks! XD Yesssss, that's so cool XDD || OF COURSE you are the gremlin dragon, Psycho, of course XD I love this, its so perfect for him. I kindof imagine him to be a more lithe, lizard-like dragon. Creepy to be around, freaky to look at. Genuinely makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. || Awwww Stupid!! He is my next favourite after Wheezy XDD I wanna feed him so bad!! I wanna make him my huge terrifying dragon friend XD I will take a leaf out of Mrs Bickermans book XD Not Sadie's... though- maybe if I could get Ben- XD

And yes!! Always include Poppy! When in doubt, include her ^^ You knowwww she's canon to me XD And ahhhh! I love all those ideas, I honestly dunno which I like more <3

[pearlypairings]

annual writing self-evaluation

Thank you @justhere4thevibez for tagging! I woke up so early bc I'm still not adjusted well to the time difference on my vacation so I figure I could work on this to kill some time💕

1. List of works published this year (in no particular order):

Meet Me At Our Spot

Coffee and Contemplation *

Dear Donna,

painting (a masterpiece)

not a sound, but the wind

In the Shade of Aurelias *

all good dates begin at the cemetery

so much (for) stardust

there is a light that never goes out *

* = WIP

(I have a few more anon works too which were fun to try some new things with😄)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

OH this is tough… I think I have to choose two. I'm so proud of not a sound, but the wind for many reasons. I tried a lot of new writing techniques within that story, which honestly the first images came to me at 2am fever dream of Chrissy with short hair and distraught pushing her way through the woods in a blizzard. I didn't know where the story was going but once I got started I had so much fun. And right now I'm also very proud of there is a light! It's my rarepair fic that I've fallen in love with for chrissy x jonathan and it's been a true delight to meet other people in the fandom from that fic alone!

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Hmm I think painting (a masterpiece) is one that I would probably revisit to edit and change if given the option. I don't think it's terrible by any means, but it was really a self indulgent fic for me inspired by the song of the same name. I think I published it very quickly without letting it simmer for edits, so I would change some of the beats for pacing.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

From not a sound, but the wind

“Do you comfort all your crying customers?” She let her fingers graze his palm as she accepted his makeshift tissue with a sad smile.

“Only the ones I like.”

Chrissy dabbed her eyes, praying that none of the mascara smeared beyond recognition. “You’re not gonna sell me anything, are you?”

“Who said that? If there’s any time you need pot, it’s now!”

A small laugh shook her fragile frame, warmth spreading across her chest from within. She folded the bandana into a small square and tucked it into her pocket with a sheepish grin. The last of her tears iced over the corners of her eyes.

“Coming from my dealer, that sounds a little like a sales pitch.”

Eddie fell back, miming an arrow through his heart and rigorously pulling the invisible weapon out from his chest. “You wound me. How about half off and twice as much?”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

ALL of my comments on there is a light are my favorites. People really enjoying my take on jonathan (a character that even I slept on and didn't really connect with until I saw things from his pov) and being really supportive of my WIP that's ending soon! It's really been such a joy to read all the lines each reader loved and the plot twists they had guessed right or wrong. It's been the best!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

2023 was a……year. Yeah, I think the fall was very hard because of some family hospitalizations that were very scary and exhausting. So I didn't have the energy nor the will for quite a bit after that to write much. I'm hoping 2024 is all for good health and better headspace.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

At the risk of sounding really cheesy, I really loved the scene in not a sound when Chrissy and Eddie are about to kiss. The two chapters with back to back pov were so much fun to write bc we get little glimpses into both perspectives of the situation and how wrong they interpret the other person's reactions. It's so cute and I didn't intend to write an eddie pov chapter when I started that fic, it just happened (and we got more Wayne which is always a plus).

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I have a long way to go with this, but I think I'm finally shedding parts of my past where for work I had to write scientifically and directly. It's so hard for me to break that frame of mind, so I'm constantly going back in edits to add in more details and worldbuilding and mood setting beyond action and dialogue. In 2024, one of my goals is to do enough exercises where that flows more naturally in the drafting process.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

LOL oops! I sort of just answered that question, but another goal of mine is to continue to finish my beloved WIP Aurelias AND write a ton more for rarepairs to stretch my imagination.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Losty, @1lostsoul0fishbowl you are all of the above. So glad we found each other on this site and via Dear Donna,. It's been lovely getting to know you and I appreciate all the times you've read through drafts and ideas and insanity on my part. You da bomb diggitty 💣

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

Definitely…. The break up in there is a light is loosely based on a real break up between me and my first high school boyfriend. The AUDACITY. But definitely many, many other little bits of dialogue or scene set ups are from moments in my life :) the life of a writer.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Write it down. WHEREVER you are (unless driving lol). Whatever the idea is, the dialogue you thought of, the plot puzzle piece. Just write it down somewhere on your phone, in a notebook etc. Because you will forget it and it will frustrate you lol.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

2024 is when I'll be finishing Aurelias! Slow and steady because it's my baby and very setting/period heavy. And there's a few tricks up my sleeves for future fun projects that I'll be writing mostly for me (and maybe losty lol). AND I CAN'T WAIT! Rarepairs galore ✨

What a fabulous evaluation and deep look at the past year! Can't wait to see what 2024 brings 💞 happy new year!

[surrealisticduvet]

Album Review: Pretty Much Your Standard Ranch Stash (1973)

I’d like to start this review with another excerpt from liner notes - please indulge me. It will become relevant in a few paragraphs. 

“Mine has been built on logic, which is probably one of the subtlest traps going... that whole 2+2 trip... the logical development that leads to fear of anything outside itself... ... Music was always the gum in those works... All that thinking went to hell when the music came. I'd be sitting around, immersed in this bubble-bath serenity of having figured something out... put right into its nice little orderly spot, and then - WHAMO - I've got to deal with music... no reason... no basis other than just its purest expression…”

Pretty Much Your Standard Ranch Stash (the one where he’s doing the George Harrison wink on the cover, next to the words “Buy This Record / Compact Disc”) was the last album for Michael’s RCA contract, and it did about as well as the first five did (guess the subliminal messaging didn't work...) What makes this record stand out from the others is that it was recorded with a group of artists from his own Countryside label - which was somewhat by chance in terms of the timing - as opposed to with a dedicated band, or in a duo.

(pretty much your standard rambly review... below the cut!)

Favorite parts of the album:

I think recording with the Countryside group was a great call and very fortunate - the musicality of this record is really iconic, and if you weren’t familiar with the track listing, you could still instantly pick out these songs as parts of the Ranch Stash sound. It’s made up of a rather simple but effective steely guitar strum, in uncomplicated keys, and it suits the songs on this record perfectly. This is not his most technically complicated, his most ambitious, or his most poetic album – but it does have a fantastic, self-sufficient sound, and if I wanted to put on something of his to listen to casually without having to worry about lyrics or themes, I might reach for this one. Another quote from the liner notes:

“The music was just the music. Not really earthshattering, mind- blowing, brilliant... none of that. Just music. This whole album was one of those conversations me and the music had. Don't get fooled by the lyrics... Lyrics aren't really the communicative part... Lyrics are just the logical part for people who are into that…”

The lyrics on this album are good, albeit a little simple at times. There’s nothing really experimental here, except for “The Back Porch and a Fruit Jar Full of Iced Tea” and the words (a medley of a poem and a song written by someone else) are not what makes it a fantastic song – it is the music and presentation. 

Other hits from the record (well, to me – not to the charts) include “Some of Shelly’s Blues," a well-deserved staple for live performances, and “Prairie Lullaby,” where he sweetly yodels a loved one to sleep. There’s an alternate version of “Marie’s Theme” on the extended release as well, which is pretty good if you’re not up for the cinematically trailing original edition on The Prison. “Born to Love You” is perennial, albeit simple, and “Winonah” is apparently hailed by critics as one of his most true-to-form country-style songs, although it’s rather low on my own personal favorites list.

Critiques:

Only three and a half of the seven songs were written by Michael (he co-wrote “Winonah”), although I suppose at exactly 50% that’s not bad, but it feels less substantial than usual. His line about the lyrics being set by the wayside for this one does kind of ring true. 

Conclusion:

Can I first of all just say, it is amazing that his records so far are so highly rated – rateyourmusic is certainly NOT the end-all-be-all of music journalism, and the ratings are highly subjective (but it's where I'm at, lol) -- but for a secondary-career solo artist’s first six albums to average at over 3.5/5 stars is very impressive, in my opinion. I really can’t say enough how good and inspired I think his music is. That being said- 

With Ranch Stash, I think he was really nearing a point where he needed to try something new and invigorating, and he certainly achieved that (spoiler) on his next record-slash-project. He was branching out into many directions, struggling with some personal things, and not doing great financially – I don’t want to say that this album suffered because of any of this, but it makes sense why it didn’t try to be more ambitious. It “kept it simple, stupid” in a very modest and effective way, and it’s still great to listen to. In fact I’m very glad that he had a set of studio musicians who could support him in this way, which is something he always longed for. He seemed self-aware of these external influences and, once again with those liner notes, sort of sums up the philosophy behind the album with this:

“And if I come to a fork in the road, I don't panic anymore, I just assume that one is the road and the other is a road off to the side.”

[splendsay]

Chapter Drop // Callsign: Sunshine

Chapter 6: Diamond Ace

CWs: Gun(s), Potentially triggering food/body language Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Reader (You) Story Summary: You're a renowned expert marksman in the U.S. military. Or -- you were. Before everything went to hell. Now, you live in hiding, relying on your deadly, albeit limited, skillset for survival. Until one day, you get a call. Chapter Excerpt:

The silent tension that settled over the kitchen upon Ghost's arrival has grown so thick you can practically cut through it.

To your surprise, it's Captain Price that finally breaks it, by addressing you. 

"So, er -- these two," he gestures to Soap and Gaz. "Will be off after tomorrow on a couple private missions of their own. Chief Laswell and I've got some business to attend to a few hours south, so I er -- I'm leaving you in -- Ghost's care for a couple weeks."

You struggle to swallow the bit of grilled cheese currently lodged in your throat. Even Ghost seems surprised by this information, because his arm freezes mid-air. He'd been spooning soup to his mouth, the only part of his face currently exposed to air besides his eyes. He silently slides those eyes to Price, an unspoken question there. 

Price merely gives him a look that says, "Not up for discussion," and Ghost is moving again, slurping with unrepentant apathy. 

"He'll work on training you," Price continues. "Get you--"

"I don't need training," you cut in. 

Soap and Gaz exchange another pointed glance. Price brings his hands to the table, offering them to you in a placating manner. 

"I understand you might feel that way, Sunshine, but the fact is, you've been inactive for more than a year. To say nothing of your physic--"

"I'll be fine. I am fine."

Price sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, shuttering his eyes. "Be that as it may -- you're staying here. And Ghost with you. How you two choose to spend that time I suppose is less of a concern to me than whether or not you eat. Rest. Regain your strength."

You snort and cross your arms over your chest. 

"Fine."

You maintain a glare at Price, though there isn't a ton of power behind it. You're exhausted. And you've about had your fill of strangers for one day. Or two days. However fucking many days it's been. With a huff, you shove yourself back from the table, your sandwich half-eaten, your bowl of soup still full. 

It was too much, anyway, you tell yourself. Your stomach is probably the size of a walnut. 

"I'm going to bed."

Nobody stops you as you stalk out the door into the crisp hallway beyond. 

----------------------------------------------------------- Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

[linaket]

Monthly Update (Feb 6, 2024)

It has definitely been... a January. This year, I had a lot of plans and goals relating to my writing, but a lot of them are already not going through. One was to do weekly or monthly updates, kind of like when I did weekly updates while working on TS. But, it's still early in the year, so I figure its better late than never. Also still early in the month even if I didn't manage to get this out there at the end of January...

My personal life has been a bit hectic. First thing was that some major projects in the house I planned to have completed last year were finally finished this month--I have all new windows installed in my house now, and a new door, and while I didn't personally do the windows (I did install the door, though) it takes a lot of time to prep before and clean up after reno projects and get the house back in order, so I've spent the last two weeks on this. Additionally, I'd applied for a promotion at work, and then was coated in stress waiting for the results... (which I received a few days ago... and I got it! Been a long time coming, really.)

So this is the first one of these... just gonna throw things out here and decide on a format as they go.

Books Read

Finally completed The Fifth Season trilogy by N. K. Jemison. I wanted to finish this one last year, but the last book lingered into the new year.

All the Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows

The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

The Dead Take The A Train by Cassandra Khaw & Richard Kadrey

Important Posts

I shared a summary of my 2024 writing goals/wips on instagram. I meant to bring this over to tumblr and do a bit more on it but... didn't. Maybe this month?

Shadow's Prey: Act 1 wip intro here on tumblr

Writing

30k on Mortal Teeth. 15 chapters done of.. ?? a lot probably. 40 something, at least, if not 50-60 range. This completed the second major arc/goalpost (there are about 5 of these at the moment)

Shadow's Prey: Act 1 formatting is moving along well, and so it's still on time for a March release. I may aim more for mid March, depends on how quickly I'm able to finish up the extras and get some promo in. I really wish I could figure out exactly what size image it takes to make a full-page image in ebooks, but I think I'm going to have to settle for the title page not being... perfect. Which. Does not make me happy. But there really isn't a way to appease every e-reader, as they are all different sizes, so I am finding there is only so much I can control here.

Favorite Excerpt

I wrote a lot of things in Mortal Teeth that I was proud of this past month, but one of my favorite things I ran across when writing was realizing that my writing has improved... massively. It's been a while since I've had a leap of growth that I can easily pinpoint, but the extra I planned for SP Act 1 was partially written, and I needed to work on it. I kept getting stuck on continuing because something about it felt off/forced when I tried, so I did the classic open a new doc and retype/rework as I go... and quickly realized why I was having trouble working on it. My style had shifted dramatically....

This isn't a major point in the short, but I wrote the beginning of this around the middle of last year and it went from this:

Whereas Kanna actively ignored Masao’s approach, Ira glared at him in challenge. “Here,” Kanna said, drawing Ira’s attention by offering Amon’s reins as a lead. “Find someone to tend him, and get me a count of the survivors.” Masao’s voice at her back carried a smirk she could feel between her shoulder blades. “What about the casualties?”

to this:

While Ira glared at Masao in challenge, Kanna actively ignored him. Though she was coated with the blood of those she’d killed, her hands to her wrists to her elbows with it, Masao delighted in his stain. Even here, with the smell of death in the air and the unholy silence that followed battle, he smiled. The joy he radiated amidst destruction unsettled her, something deep inside of her flinching from it. Kanna gathered Amon’s reins, drawing Ira’s attention by offering them. “Find someone to tend him, and get me a count of the survivors.” Masao’s voice at her back carried a smirk she could feel between her shoulder blades. “What about the casualties?”

Final Thoughts

I was excited to get through another phase of MT in writing, but I don't think the time I've allotted to finish the draft is going to be enough. This stresses me out a bit, because I gave myself a pretty tight schedule for the year with all the releases (there are 4 ebooks, and I was considering restarting Act 4 in the serial which would be 5 releases total....)

I'm actually... thinking once again that I won't go back to serial posting for SP. Tapas was/is my primary platform for it, and I am simply... no longer a fan of the platform, and not really interested in others, either. So that might be one of the things in the "coming this year" that ends up pushed to next year or later this year, depending, as it will likely be an ebook release instead of serial and... I'm still working on drafting the teeth wip and I don't see it taking a backseat for a while, until I'm truly stuck.

I've been trying not to beat myself up about not doing the things I said I'd do at the start of the year (daily journaling, more updates here and other platforms, etc) because it's simply... not great for me. And really, I'm not sure I would have had the aforementioned improvement in my writing if I'd continued to stress myself out about writing itself, on top of doing all these other things that I'm supposed to do. I took it pretty easy last year after a massive disappointment, shutting down a lot of my online presence and focusing on reading and writing for myself, and I think that's what allowed me to become comfortable again and led to growth. I don't want to feel as defeated as I had that time, because its the kind of thing that would have led to me completely giving up in my younger years, and I also don't want to get stagnant because I'm trying to do too much that isn't... the actual writing. So... I guess we'll see how this goes?

[uss-genderprise]

You should read AOSR because it's really good and also free

I can't stick to my usual titling scheme because this zine is genuinely good and I want you to read it.

AOS Renaissance (or AOSR for short) is a digital zine published earlier this week (8.3.2023) (there goes my plan to do these reviews chronologically) to celebrate the 14th anniversary of Star Trek (2009) and is free to download here. Some of the works are also available on AO3, and I'll link to those individually so you can leave nice comments, but I do recommend reading the zine as a whole. The art in it is stunning, and I personally really like that zines are collected and curated in a way that works online generally aren't.

Disclaimer: as usual, this review is entirely my opinion.

We Hold Each Other Tonight, Eyes Full of Constellations

by spidey_kirk

Jim thinks he and Spock are dating but taking it slow, but Spock is beating himself up pining for Jim, thinking he only wants to be friends. What a great premise, I love fics like these! My only gripe is a lack of breaks between time skips which made it a little confusing at times. 4/5

Whiteout

by Bradley Martin

A little weird to see a Christmas fic published in the middle of May but I'm not complaining because it is CUTE. Considering the usual contents on this blog you might be surprised to hear how much I love McKirk, since I tend to keep it on the DL, but I'm so so soft for them, and this fic perfectly encapsulates why. I love it. 5/5

The Way Their Fingers Touch

by remylebae

Leonard says he's over Jim, only to ask Spock out, find out Spock and Jim are together, and realise he never actually got over Jim in the first place. Where do I even start? I love this fic so much. The pining! The way they all care so much about each other! Great fun. 5/5

Forget-me-nots

by Maria

Spock's life flashes before his eyes and we get the shortest memory loss fic I have ever read. The visuals are beautifully described and very sweet. 4.5/5

Kiss Her You Fool

by captainkaseykirk

I think this might be the first Scotty/Uhura fic I've ever read, and I don't regret that at all. I love Jim and Scotty's friendship, I love how awkward Scotty is about his crush, I love how sweet he is about Uhura and I love their first kiss. Great introduction to the ship. 5/5

Cornflowers and Peach Blossoms

by USS-Genderprise

Disclaimer: I'm biased about this one, for obvious reasons (I wrote it). A hanahaki fic in the year of our lord 2023? (That's what everybody keeps asking me) Yes. It's also major character death, but personally I think it's one of my best works. Compared to the rest of the fics in this zine, it's incredibly depressing. I do like it, though.

A Brief History of Family and Domestic Life on Starships

by spocko

I don't usually like miscommunication in fics, but this one was fun. All the different character interactions were on point, and I do love seeing Spock with a cat. 5/5

Binary Stars

by asoulofstars

How do Kirk and McCoy fall in love? Everyone's favourite oh moment, one for each of them. Very cute. 4/5

Shine A Little Brighter

by KnightAniNaberrie

I love seeing Spock grow as a person, grow in his relationships. I also love some good Spock and McCoy banter, especially when it's clearly a sign of affection. Wonderful fic. 5/5

Unwritten Rules and Regulations Excerpt

by asoulofstars

Saavik in AOS? It's more likely than you think. She keeps a running list of all the things that should not be done on the Enterprise, and shares two of her points with us. Great fun, though clearly incomplete. 4.5/5

Restorations

by stanzas

Absolutely adorable. Everyone but Jim is good with children and I am here for it. 5/5

Jealousy is a Green Blooded Alien

by QUEERTASTIC

Spock? Jealous? No way! /s. I love a good jealous Spock fic. The descriptions of his emotions were great. A little disappointed by the ending, though. 4/5

Final thoughts

Honestly, I think this might be the best zine I have read to date. Every fic was a joy to read and each piece of art was stunning. I can honestly recommend each and every story in this zine, even if I do have my favourites. You should read it! It costs you nothing! Literally!

[heartofstanding]

150-word meme

It's been over four years since I've done one of these and my creativity has been on fire lately (lots of ideas, not much writing, alas) so I figured it was time to bring this back and since we've now got the ability to option to add polls, I added a poll option.

Behind the cut is a list of current WIP projects (with excerpts). You can vote for one fic in the poll at the bottom and/or send me an ask with at least one number (you can send more than one number if you want) and I will write 150 words in the equivalent fic.

1. The Birth (Henry and baby Hal, modern AU).

‘Hal?’ Henry said. ‘Our baby,’ Mary said, looking a little hurt. ‘I thought we were going to call him Harry?’ he said. ‘He looked more like a Hal than a Harry to me,’ Mary said as if that solved everything. Henry didn’t know how that worked. Their son looked like a gremlin, not like a Harry or a Hal or like anything that should have a name that wasn’t Uglik the Wailing One.

2. this single knife in my heart (Hal’s perspective of his dagger incident/’but it is my knife and my heart too’)

‘Do you have any idea what you will say to him?’ ‘Well, I won’t make the mistake of asking him to abdicate, if that’s what you mean.’ Beaufort coloured dully and bent over his plate. ‘I thought it was the best thing to do – you know he hadn’t been well for years. I did not realise how poorly he would take it, how could I? It was the same logic he himself used with Richard. He was unfit as king, he could not carry on – why not give the throne away and enjoy one’s final years without the troubles? It was reasonable, wasn’t it?’ ‘The unreasonable part was saying any of that to my father’s face.’

3. untitled sodomy fic (Hal finds out Courtenay is gay)

‘Beaufort says you are a sodomite,’ he said. ‘It is a clerical vice, Hal.’ ‘It’s still a sin.’ ‘What, a vice a sin? I never knew that,’ said Courtenay. ‘I thought all vices were virtues. Indeed, in acting on my vice, I might have performed many a good deed for others and so be said to be virtuous…’

4. the wellspring (Joan of Kent/The Black Prince proposal)

‘Come out with me tomorrow,’ he says. ‘What?’ ‘We could go riding,’ he says. ‘Pass through the forest and the fields, go up to the moors. Or else have a hunt.’ She drinks deeply from her cup. She thinks, this is madness. She thinks, it would be good to leave the silent, still walls behind her and go through the world, breathe the free air. ‘It’s raining.’ ‘It’ll clear.’

5. she’s not coming home tonight (Philippa leaves England)

‘Will you tell me,’ Philippa said, ‘about our mother?’ Harry was silent for a long moment, his face still. ‘Why do you want to know?’ She bit her lip. ‘No one talks about her or when they do, they just say she was lovely as if that means anything.’

6. some rift, a hollow (Henry meets his son again after Bradmore's cure)

Henry thinks: O God, I am ill. I will die and Harry will be king and everyone will see his face. The longer he lies there and nothing changes, he understands it is only the relief of seeing Harry alive and well that has made him collapse. Then, he thinks: my son is here! My son will be well again! My son lives! I will keep my children safe. I will love Harry better. I will be a good man! I will learn mercy and forgiveness, I will take the penance the Almighty gives me meekly, whatever form it takes. I will go barefoot to Jerusalem to give thanks! Then, Richard’s voice: will you? You promise and promise and promise and then forget or find excuses. Do you forget I have the measure of your soul? You will do none of these things.

7. night's sister (Philippa of England gets visited by her sister's ghost)

It’s one of those strange kind of nights where Philippa’s skin prickles and she cannot lie peaceably in bed. After the winter solstice, day is fleeting and night stretches on seemingly forever. They go to bed early and wake late but in the midst of night, Philippa wakes and cannot go back to sleep. Her body feels heavy and strange, her hands slipping over it. At seventeen, she is almost a woman; she has carelessly shucked off the body she left England with and found herself in a different one, one with breasts and a body that wants some days and bleeds others.  At seventeen, she is as old as Blanche was when she died. She still feels too young to lie beneath her husband or to grow a child within her body, though Blanche, at seventeen, had done both and died with a second child half-grown within her belly. Philippa rolls over in her bed.

8. the silver blessing (Blanche's birth)

Mary takes her penance as meekly as a lamb and when her confessor leaves her, she moves, standing up and striding towards the window. Her fingers curl into fists, she straightens them and smooths out her skirts. He said, it is a mother’s duty to render up her child so that they may be all they can be. Think of the Virgin, giving up her Son to the Lord’s will. But the Virgin was special, chosen for God to carry her Son and give him, and she had borne what no mother should be made to bear and grieved most sorrowfully, even though she was specially chosen. Mary, at least, does not have to bear the Virgin’s sorrows. Not truly. She is giving her eldest son up but only to her own mother to raise for a time. Six months, perhaps, a year at most. And throughout that time, she will visit her mother and her mother will visit her. It will be bearable. It will be good for Harry too. He will have time on his own, Maman will help him grow in confidence and learning. But Mary will still miss him.

9. should've come with a warning (modern AU, set in a "everybody lives" fix-it verse. In the aftermath of her relationship with Louis Pfalz, Blanche has lunch with Joan of Kent.)

‘Is there anything you’d like to do?’ said Mum. ‘We don’t have to go to Richard’s for lunch, I can text him with an excuse.’ ‘Like what?’ ‘Traffic’s bad, we got away late—’ ‘He’d only invite us for afternoon tea.’ Mum’s lips pressed together. ‘We don’t have to accept.’ ‘He’ll just think I’m “damaged” then,’ Blanche said.

10. in the time of storms (Eleanor Cobham and no-good, very-bad year of 1441)

The little bottles tinkled as she ran her fingers over them. She hadn’t used them in so long. There hadn’t seemed to be much point. As Margery had told her, as delicately as possible, she was getting rather too old for there much hope left. As Southwell had told her, there was little they could do but hope that God, in His infinite mercy, would take pity on her. But why should she hope? She had done everything she could to carry a child but God’s infinite mercy had never let her birth more than blood and moles. She would tell Bolingbroke to take them away. He would look at her with his pale eyes that always seemed too compassionate, too knowing, and know she had given up. If had someone had come looking through this box, what had they hoped to find? Some foolish, superstitious child who sought love-charms or gossip? A chance to claim they had been brave enough to go through the witch’s box of spells, perhaps to take one and use it as a trophy – if that was the case, it was a weakness. They should be gotten rid of.

11. the king is dead (Eleanor Cobham and the death of Henry V)

‘Will you not go to him, your grace?’ Eleanor said. Jacqueline looked at her strangely. ‘The Duke of Gloucester?’ Eleanor said. Jacqueline shook her head. ‘No. I cannot go. I need to think, to speak with my people and take counsel. Prepare. Make plans. I cannot go.’ She paused for a moment, her mouth twisting and hands wringing the cloth of her dress. ‘You go,’ she said.

12. The Bargain (Eleanor's POV of 'some hope', documenting one pregnancy and miscarriage)

Also God said to the woman, I shall multiply thy wretchednesses and thy conceivings; in sorrow thou shalt bear thy children; and thou shalt be under the power of thine husband, and he shall be lord of thee. O God, if only it was true. If she had to go through this, there must be some reward, some reason. Her eyes streamed. It was not enough listening to Hume extol the duties of a loyal, patient wife or the promise that God’s will was done and done alone or his scolding that one must not put the Lord to the test. But there had to be some hope, didn’t there? There had to be some reason. She was allowed to be impatient; she was getting older and her prayers to both St. Anne and St. Margaret had thus yielded nothing.

You can send me an ask with one or more numbers (anon is on) and/or vote in the poll below! You can totally do both, too.