#i should title which WIP each snippet is from

[words-with-wren]

Snippet of a Fic I might Finish

They made their way through the trees, and even the Brigadier was now picking up on the unnatural silence, stepping lightly. 

But the silence was a little too unbearable and eventually Jamie had to break it, voicing a thought he’d been trying to figure out.

“If you’re from 1972,” he began. “And I’m from 1746. How did I end up in your time?” 

“Hell if I know,” the Brigadier answered, shaking his head. “On an ordinary day, I’d say the Doctor was messing with time. But we’ve all been a little too preoccupied lately.” 

“Aye well,” Jamie said. Again, the mention of this Doctor person. Again, the strange heartache of something lost. Something forgotten. Something just out of reach. He shook the feeling away and kept talking. “D’we know what year this is?” 

The Brigadier stopped in his tracks for a moment, staring at Jamie. 

“Well that is an unsettling thought,” he said finally.

[xxnashiraxx]

Sunday Snippet

Okay!! I haven't done one of these in FOREVER and I'm finally gonna do it!! I am so sorry if I've missed people's wips and tags, I was out of town last weekend and catching up was a lot harder than I thought it would be ���� I love you all so much, so please keep tagging me and I promise I have no more trips for another month so I'm ready to read!!!!

Here's a snippet from Chapter 21 of With Stars to Fill My Dream! I haven't decided on a title song just yet, which is crazy, but I have a list I've narrowed it down to, so we'll see!

A vicious ache thrums behind his eyelids, senses returning to him in fragments. He’s sure there’s a voice spliced beneath the stream of his consciousness- an eerie melody that wraps each muscle in soothing warmth. He tries to move, but everything hurts- barely mustering the strength to blink his eyes open. “Now here you go again, You say, you want your freedom. Well, who am I to keep you down?” Dark eyes reflect flickering wisps of teal, swirling within those pools of ink like trailing stars. He can do nothing but submit to them and the reprieve they offer, every pang dulling beneath the otherworldly song Ofelia whispers to him. “It’s only right that you should, Play the way you feel it. But listen carefully to the sound, Of your loneliness… Like a heartbeat drives you mad, In the stillness of remembering, What you had… And what you lost… And what had… And what you lost.” There is no instrument accompanying the gentle hum passing through her lips. She casts her healing magic over him with little else but the power in her voice. Even as the ability to comprehend such a vision returns, he can’t help but lie there and absorb every word, eyes trained on her like she’s a lifeline lifting him out of the black.

Fleetwood Mac time! 😊

Okay, this is no pressure, but I'm tagging literally everyone I can think of since I've missed so many of these. Please feel free to completely ignore my ass 😘 @pinkberrytea @khywren @bby-bel-art @caffeinatedmunchkin @preciouslittlebhaalbae @verbenaa @elinorbard @badbloodwitch @justabiteofspite @inkymoonbunny @bloodinwine @emmg @aldisobey @nerdalmighty @vividiana @lanafofana @obsessedwhyyes @andromedaancunin @heylittleriotact @deadly-diminuendo @roguishcat @alwaysmauriaa @bhaal-battle-beer-bard @coyote-mint @marlowethebard @bardic-inspo @hellethil @larvasmoon @bum-dragon @bitterprincipality @arzen9 @dramatiquechipmunk @anacdoce

[zara2148]

Tag game, thanks @reingkings

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

I don't have time for asks so I'll just talk about them here. Sooooo for my newest beloved 457/Inhun, there's these ones:

Squid game labyrinth draft, which I've published a first chapter for

I have an idea for a NSFW oneshot that I'm hoping to do for the 457 zine *fingers crossed I'm accepted*

Severance squid game, my severance fusion AU where Front Man is Inho's severed self and this innie falls for Gihun

His first memory is waking up sprawled flat in a sandy arena, a loudspeaker voice droning from above, “Good morning, would you mind taking a brief survey?” “... what?” He manages to rasp out as he just raises his head, blinking in the sunlight pouring in from overhead. It’s a question that somehow seems so incongruous with waking up like he’s just lost a fight. Not that any time he’s lost a fight is coming to mind or, before he could even hope to begin to feel proud about that, any time he’s been in a fight. Yet there’s an ache of muscle memory, a certainty that what he’s never experienced feels like this. The body knowing what the mind cannot. The voice continues undeterred. “There will be five questions, and then we can proceed with your orientation. A pause. “We value your consent here, so it’s important for you to agree to this. If you wish to say no, you will be escorted out, and your employment status with us terminated.” Right now, it’s overwhelming to think of anything else but going along with what the voice suggests. (He has no idea what he’d be leaving for.) “I agree.” “First question, who are you?” He blinks at that, expecting an answer to immediately come to him, but it doesn’t. He has no answer to give, nothing to say, even as he moves stiff limbs to push himself up to a kneeling position. “Who are you?” the voice repeats, and he shakes his head. Is he supposed to be someone? He’s not entirely sure if he is, not on his own. Accepting his silence, the voice presses on. “What Seoul neighborhood did you grow up in?” He draws another blank there, the idea of a childhood too alien right now for him to even potentially guess a neighborhood he might have lived in. The voice doesn’t allow his hesitancy to linger. “Name any neighborhood in Seoul.” That one, he can answer, “Itaewon.” “What is Oh Il-nam’s favorite childhood game?” He doesn’t know the name, it’s unfamiliar, should he guess a game? Possibilities flit through his mind, ddakji, yunnori, gonggi, biseokchagi, jegichagi… there’s too many, and none of them jump out at him as the one to choose. Again, the voice leaves little room for anything but immediate action. “What was the color of your mother’s eyes?” Mother, he knows that word, what the relationship is, but he can’t think of anyone to tie a name to that title. Would her eyes look like his or not? What do his eyes look like? He’s silent again, and the voice finishes “Thank you for taking our survey, this concludes our preliminary assessment.” He feels a sense of shame, knowing he’s only answered one of the actual questions. Perhaps, even though he cooperated, his employment will be terminated anyway. Pink-clad guards enter through large double doors, each of their arms forming a circle that mimics the one on their face. The voice above excitedly declares “And you, Soldier 132, received a perfect score!” and it’s almost like a god praised him as he’s ushered up by the guards and led away.

Cat cafe Inhun, where 2015 winner In-ho stumbles upon a failing cat cafe run by Gihun, who's trying desperately to adopt the kitties out before he has to close down. In-ho, for lack of anything better to do with his time and money, decides to help save the cats and falls for Gi-hun.

The cat fur beneath him is grounding. “Aaaah,” Inho looks up sharply at the man’s expressed unease. “Sir, just a bit more gently. You can’t pet her like she’s a dog, cats are more delicate than that.” Gentle… has it been so long since he’s had anything to be gentle with. “You wouldn’t happen to want to take her home, would you?” Inho looks at him again for that bit of idiocy that just came out of nowhere. “Why would I? I’ve just met her.” The other man shrugs. “Some people bond quickly with cats, they just know when they’ve met the right one.” “Why are you so uneager to unload her?” Inho is no longer in the habit of trusting a shady salesman, he never will again.

One just titled Inho gihun that was my first idea I scribbled down, the idea being that Inho being convinced to burn the games down doesn't mean he's like, rediscovered the joy of life or anything... basically him and Gihun end up trying to assassinate VIPs, with Inho fully expecting that one day they'll be killed by a greater show of force and indifferent to it.

“The games won’t stop until the world changes.” “… fine. Then change the world with me. Unless you’d rather keep using that mask as a barrier against it, a shield for those above us.” “Your way with words still astounds me.” “And you’re still an ass. But I think you might be the best person for me to form a team with. Even after everything.”

I also woke up at 2 a.m. on In-ho's birthday (February 2) to scribble down the barest thoughts of an idea of these two with couple's dice, ya'know the kind where you get actions like "Kiss" "Lick" "Massage" etc.

And we could go back to Midnight Mass and Obimaul WIPs, which haunt my steps like my personal Sang-woo and Sae-byeok.... but lets not.

Might as well tag @zabrak-show and @aftergloom and @gran-maul-seizure

[chairofchaos]

Evening friend!

You bring chaos to my life so here is a little chaos for you

2, 3, 5, 8, 19, 26

And just for fun because I know it will probably hurt me 40

Feel free to answer what you want and ignore the rest 🤍

GOOD EVENING.

Thank you for letting me bring chaos to your life, and for bringing me some in return. In your honor, I will answer all. Seemed like the most chaotic thing to do. I considered making separate posts for each question but then again that was a lot of work so just... bear with me. This is a long read, but hopefully, you will find it worth it.

2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

Yes. I am currently bouncing around multiple Greek/Roman tragedy adaptations of our beloved ACOTAR and TOG characters. I do not feel prepared to write these yet. I want to do them justice. That semester of studying tragic plays of the ancients has stuck with me.

3. How would you describe your writing style?

I don't even know how to answer this, but my best shot is this:

The vibe must be chaotic.

It must be written as fast as possible.

It should be entirely unplanned.

If it is planned, it should be entirely overwhelming and likely a bigger project than I should ever take on *cough cough* LETTERS *cough cough*

It's not a style as much as it is entirely based on my whims. And that's not always great. In fact, it's something I don't really enjoy about myself (comment on this and I will edit it out of this post so fast I SWEAR).

But I enjoy the product. I think there are at least a couple of you that do, too, so hopefully we can all enjoy that little piece of chaos together. If not, I'll just enjoy the pain I create on my own like a good little fanfic writer.

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

I don't think such a thing exists. I don't like surprises? Idk, this doesn't really make sense to me. Clearly I have no problem tagging things Dead Dove so we all know what I'm up to lol

8. How slow is a slow burn?

Somewhere between 100 and 100k words. I genuinely do not care. Depends on the medium? The pacing? A slow burn described in a poem is going to look very different than a slow burn in a fic the length of The Iliad and the Odyssey. Or Wheel of Time (that's a long series, right?). I don't care. It's all great. I love slow burns. Haven't written one because I think those characters should be enjoying each other romantically on page 1, but I LOVE reading them.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

UNANSWERED STARS YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN. Is this what you expect to hurt (I haven't looked ahead at the other questions I'm doing this straight through, no edits, no takebacks. Welcome to Chaos- you get two.).

Eris was no saint, either. Cauldron knew he kept his mate up some nights. But the Cauldron also knew Azriel would get out of bed in the middle of the night and take off into flight, not returning until he knew Eris would also be awake. After the first time, they would rarely talk about where Azriel went or what he did. Instead, Eris would press a mug of overly sweet coffee into his hands and they would sit together in silence on the front porch, Azriel’s head on Eris’ shoulder and their hands clasped together. - {Working Title is Coffee and Psychotherapy. THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY FLUFF YOU CAN THANK DUSK-MUSE AND NINTHCIRCLEOFPRYTHIAN}

And maybe more along the lines of what you were expecting:

Azriel found the most enjoyment in the training and teaching of others. In his time as spymaster, he regularly found time to work with young soldiers, for which many have since thanked him, crediting him with saving their lives by instructing them in his limited spare time. In the years since the war, Azriel enjoyed collecting books from all over the world. The collection he amassed was the instigator for a library to honor his mate. - Death, and All That Follows (This may or may not be a sort of extended epilogue to something I wrote recently.)

26. What would you describe as OOC?

This is possibly a wild take: I don't think I care what is out of character for characters I write. It depends on the fic, sure. But I think perspective forms our understanding of characters, and seeing them in a new light can often bring a different, even "OOC" type attitude to fics which I often enjoy. I am very much an advocate for "Don't Like, Don't Read" not only for plot points but for characterization as well. If you don't enjoy the way someone writes your favorite (or your least-favorite!) character, don't read it. The beautiful thing about being a part of a fandom is the diversity of experiences within it.

I did not read Nesta's journey the same way you did, or the way your friend did, or the way my best friend did. I brought my own perspectives, my own experiences, to my interpretation of her actions, words, and thoughts. I came out of the other side loving her, and loving the way she loves. I recognize myself in her. I know I'm not alone in that. I know that there are a great many who do not like her in the slightest.

ACOSF Nesta was presented very differently to ACOTAR Nesta. (For the purposes of this argument, we are removing the debate about The Author Herself because I simply don't care at the moment and that's a much larger topic.) I don't think that anyone's interpretation of Nesta is "wrong" or "bad" because we all bring a pair of glasses to reading, and that glass is made of our experiences. That's the filter through which you consume the work. My glasses are different from yours. That's okay.

Little tangent while we're on the topic: I don't care if your glasses are different. But if you break those glasses to use the shards of glass for the purpose of hurting other people, that's a problem. I have a problem now, and so do you. Because of the inclusion of the argument above, it needed to be said, and so here it is: Don't hurt others because of your glasses. Theirs are different. Please learn to recognize that, and that it is okay to view pieces of media differently. Tangent over.

So TLDR on OOC: I don't care. If you want to write a piece where character canonically named Bubblegum Sunshine Princess because of her (in-canon) overwhelming joy and love of the outdoors and her kingdom's candy trees is a murderous assassin filled with rage and the destructive flame of a thousand suns, go right ahead. There's a very good chance I would love to read it.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

Title: This is a Thing [REDACTED] Learned. The title will be longer than the fic itself, and that's the beauty of The Thing [REDACTED] Learned. Thanks.

A/N: (Stars. My dearest friend. You expect pain here? Now I want to prove you wrong...)

Pairing: Your OTP. Or my OCs. Or is this about my life? Or yours? Who knows. I'm not currently well lol

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

Knowledge came with no promises, no love, no you.

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

All the love, Stars. You're the best. <3<3<3<3<3

[ace-writer-lani]

Violence: The Question (WIP)

Or, a series centering around Reyna pre-canon/pre-TLH

(This is only a snippet of Ch.1)

-

Was it morally okay to want to stab your sister in the jugular? Probably not but Reyna thought Hylla deserved it, considering it also wasn’t morally okay to literally throw your younger sibling to the wolves because they "needed to become stronger".

However, before Reyna could even move, her dagger was swiped from her hand in a flash.

“No weapons allowed, hermanita.”

“Excuse me?” Reyna glared, crossing her arms to hide her shaking fists. Maybe she should try to strangle Hylla instead.

Hylla shrugged. “One of the rules. You have to earn it or something through tests. So, I’ll be keeping this for now.”

That’s when Reyna lunged. She kicked the back of Hylla’s knee, causing it to buckle as she reached for her dagger because there was a good chance that Hylla was lying just so she could make things harder for Reyna because she was the worst. Unfortunately though, Hylla barely even flinched, and in a few seconds, she had Reyna in a headlock.

“I…hate…you,” Reyna wheezed, trying to break free.

“You’ll thank me in the future.”

“I…will not.”

She could feel Hylla roll her eyes. “This is for your own good.” Then she released her.

Reyna inhaled sharply, finally able to fully breathe. “Seriously?” she scoffed. “What makes you think you know anything about what’s ‘good for me’? Just because you’re older doesn’t mean—”

“This is what our mother wished.”

“…what?” Since when did Hylla talk to their mother?

“Yes,” Hylla placed a hand on her shoulder. There was the instinctive urge to brush it off, but Reyna held back from doing so after examining her sister’s expression. There was a weight of seriousness that laced her brows. “She informed me that your role is meant to be here, not with the Amazons.”

“She told you, but not me?”

A bitter feeling coiled in her gut as she fidgeted with the silver ring around her finger. Yes, Reyna knew Hylla was strong. She was a warrior. A leader. She had gained the fear and respect of their pirate captors with her skills. She had earned her title as the Queen of Amazons. She was practically everything their mother represented, and while it was the reason Reyna admired her greatly, she also couldn’t help but feel stuck in her shadow, forgotten. Their mother talking to Hylla only made that feeling grow.

Bellona, goddess of war, was known for her elusivity. She only acknowledged those she thought were worthy, which apparently, was something Reyna wasn’t.

Although she had learned to craft her poker face well, there was still a chance that some bitterness bled onto her face. If there was, Hylla didn’t comment on it. Instead, she reached into the pocket of her leather jumpsuit and pulled out a slip of paper and a pair of metal bangles. One was silver and one was gold with two studded rubies embedded in each. She held them out to Reyna.

“Here. Take these.”

Obviously, Reyna did not take them. “Why? Did our mother tell you to give them to me too?”

Hylla pursed her lips. “The letter? Yes. The bracelets? No. I stole them from Blackbeard’s crew.” She smirked. “For pirates, they were surprisingly easy to rob.”

Reyna only grabbed the paper, tucking it into her jeans. With the bangles, she simply glared at them. “I don’t need accessories,” she hissed. “I need an actual weapon.”

“Trust me, these are more than weapons. You’ll see.”

It didn’t seem like Hylla was going to back down so grudgingly, Reyna snatched them from her and slid them on. They were large, and would probably fall right off, but before she could point out their terrible functionality, they started to shrink. They became smaller and smaller until they were snug around Reyna’s wrists, not too tight, but not too loose.

Reyna opened her mouth to ask Hylla to clarify what exactly they were, because she could sense that it was blessed with some type of magic, except, she was interrupted by a howl that suddenly echoed through the air. Whipping around, Reyna spotted the red and gray structure behind them, where a large, nonhumanoid silhouette was stepping out from. It had shinning red fur, glowing silver eyes, and radiated an aura so strong that Reyna instantly dropped to a kneel.

“Lupa.”

The wolf goddess gave a single nod. “Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. I’ve been expecting you.” She tilted her muzzle. “Follow me.”

Reyna hesitated. This wouldn’t be the last time she saw Hylla, right? Despite her current resentment towards her, she was still her sister and she had been the one to look after Reyna for basically her whole life. Making up her mind, Reyna sighed and turned to say goodbye.

Except, Hylla had already left.

Dios mío. Hylla may be her sister, but she was still a fucking bitch.

-

(Full chapter will probably be posted on my ao3 like,,,sometime in August)

( @glitchymaciofficial @chriscrosswallflower-blog @lavenderfairiez @nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx @poppitron360 @keefessketchbook )

[wheneverfeasible]

I already sent one ask, but if you'll indulge me with another, babysitter Steve Adams please for the WIP Titles game?

Let us indulge together in this game!

So for this one, Steve finds himself becoming the accidental babysitter to the two Addams children after accidentally kidnapping them. Look, he has a bunch of kids to look after, okay? He just assumed there was two more suddenly 😂 (also made me realize that I made a typo in the game!)

I’ve given snippets of this fic before in other games so some of these lines might be familiar. And it is also definitely eventually going to be Steddie.

Annoyingly enough, Nancy and Eddie somehow won best “couple’s” costume, which Steve was certain had to do with some of the town feeling guilty for the manhunt they had put Eddie under before his name was cleared. Then again, it could have also been done with the ridiculousness of seeing Eddie Munson of all people wearing a frilly pink princess gown.

Steve, well, he huffed at the two surprisingly close friends, but he had been pleased with the day as Eddie’s eyes had shone with happiness after they won, and seeing Nancy let loose again? Watching Eddie spin a squealing Nancy around, for once like the young adult she actually was instead of the war weary soldier, well, it was worth everything.

And…okay. Maybe he liked seeing Eddie in that dress more than he should have.

“Jesus,” he grumbled lightly to himself, sitting back in his seat as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He shook his head, letting out a breath as he glanced in his rear view mirror to prepare to pull away from the curb…

…and promptly screamed.

Two pairs of eyes slowly blinked at him from pale faces in the mirror, expressions otherwise emotionless.

Steve clutched his chest, his heart hammering a mile a minute, as he twisted around in his seat to stare back at the two unfamiliar young teenagers in his backseat. “What the hell?” he asked himself, his voice trailing off at the end, before he cleared his throat and spoke in a clearer voice. “Uh…who are you?”

The eyes stared at him, then the two kids turned their heads to face each other for a moment before looking back at him. The girl, dressed in a black dress with a white collar and buttons with braided pigtails, was the one to speak up. “Is this not a kidnapping?” she asked, her voice flat.

I need to get back to this honestly. It’s one of a few Halloween themed ones that I will probably end up posting after Halloween at this point.

[kuwdora]

Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

Here is a messy witcher snippet from 2021 which was part of a longer plotty story that never went anywhere. But this mostly was me embracing Jaskier as a Disney Princess and finding my way to Jaskier and Geralt's netflix dynamic and voices. Only remembered this because @littlestsnicket and I were talking about jaskier and geralt and music recently.

the original fic title was actually called Counterpoint of Disaster and got too big and messy for me to deal with. but this snippet should whet your appetite!

jaskier & geralt. case fic vibes. 850w. rated T.

Jaskier ambled along the stretch of road beside a fence, strumming his lute and humming. The sun was easing itself behind the peaks of the Mahakams and the shadow was creeping along the meadow. At the top of a sloping hill, Jaskier noticed a dot that resembled a cow. 

He perched himself on the fence and he resumed his song, uncertain he could project his voice enough for the cow to hear him.

But it did. The cow moseyed down the hill towards him. By the time it was half-way to Jaskier on the fence two more cows appeared at the top of the hill.

Amused, Jaskier sang louder. The ambling cow continued its approach with its companions making their way to Jaskier’s little stage. His fingers danced along the strings. Swing that scythe dawn to dusk with weary shoulders, to home and hearth your wife… All variations on a satisfying theme. A hard day's work followed by ale and love at home only to wake up and do it all over again. Music to rejuvenate oneself for the next day’s work.  

The cows mooed upon their approach and Jaskier played on. Three more cows appeared on the horizon and they herded each other down the hill towards him.

“Not my usual audience,” Jaskier said and laughed. He tilted his head and adjusted his posture, a smile tugging at his lips. “I wonder…” he murmured. He began playing a lighthearted song of a young maiden’s carefree day. 

He was halfway through the chorus and was deeply amused by the nearly dozen cows standing in front of him. By the time Jaskier was on the final verse another three cows had joined them, shouldering their way closer.

Jaskier continued to hum and sing, plucking a cute little melody for the attentive audience. He received some lowing in return and he laughed. “Happy cows indeed. Who knew I had fans afield. Will a good song produce sweet milk?” he asked them.

His fingers danced along the strings, improvising nonsense and one of the soft-eyed cows wandered right up to the fence and offered him an insistent moo before nudging his knee with its snout.

“I would definitely consider tips in the form of cheese,” Jaskier said and gave the cow a gentle pat on the side of her face. 

His hand came away wet and he was about to wipe the cow snot away when he saw his hand was crimson.

Jaskier gagged and nearly wiped the blood on his clean trousers. He stopped himself just in time and wobbled on the fence.

“Uh, Geralt?” Jaskier called. “There’s some bloody cows over here.”

“There’s a farm nearby,” Geralt said, sounding like he replied without looking up.

“No, I mean they look like they rolled around in a pool of blood,” Jaskier said.

Two of the cows pushed forward as if to ask why he’d stopped playing. They crowded Jaskier enough and pushed at his knees with soft blood-covered snouts. Jaksier unwound his legs from the fence to lean forward for a closer look. Then they were all at his knees at once.

Jaskier wobbled.

The cows mooed.

Jaskier flailed and threw up his arms with his lute, instinctively protecting it as he fell.

He landed hard.

Jaskier wheezed. Pulled the lute close to his chest, cradling it amidst the pain.

He opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them. Geralt leaned on the fence, looking at the assembled cows.

“I think they were going to take a bite out of me,” Jaskier rasped. Geralt held out an arm and when Jaskier grabbed it he was heaved upward like it was nothing, again reminding him of Geralt’s effortless strength. He spread his feet and tried to gain his bearings but he’d fallen harder than he realized because the ache persisted in his chest and back. He rubbed the back of his neck and the back of his head and took a step backwards from the fence. 

“Wouldn’t be the first creature to try,” Geralt said and climbed over the fence for a closer look. The frown on the witcher’s face worried Jaskier. The eager brown cow, hungry for more song didn’t appear blood-thirsty in the slightest despite the blood-matted fur indicating otherwise.

“Did they make a grand escape from the butcher? One last dinner before they became dinner?” Jaskier said. 

“I doubt it,” Geralt said. He was reaching out to the animal and touching the side of her face, peering at her eyes and ears before doing a cursory check of her mouth before moving on to the rest of her body. She paid Geralt little heed and when she mooed it started a chain reaction from the others.

“The blood is human. At least a day old,” Geralt said and moved on to examine the other eager cow who hung her head over the fence like she was waiting for Jaskier to resume his song.

“So they were trying to take a bite out of me. This is definitely a mystery in the making: The Mystery of the Bloody Cows,” Jaskier said.

[hey-august]

WIP TITLE GAME

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

TY for the tags here @galaxycunt and here @rorywritesjunk!!

I def don't have enough people to tag for each WIP 🥴 No pressure tags for: @discordantwritings @turtletaubwrites @be-not-afraid-gg

WIP Reading Buddies - A Line from Me to You

WIP Fake Dating Fanfic

Reader Humiliation Kink

AMAB Performer Pt 2

Ficlet

Angsty Breakup

WIP Pirate Therapist

(Besides the ones with WIP, which are either multi-chapter or needed to be outlined, I write everything in one chaotic doc like an abomination. I originally used "Tumblr Bits," now it's "March Focus Writing." I should probably rename it...)

[thegremlininyourcloset]

so

which fic idea/wip should i write a snippet of?

as always, a description of each is under the cut!

@fictfrenzy @asagewitch05

recognition of the self

Starring: Dick Grayson and Wally West

When Wally West was ten years old, he recreated the experiment that granted Barry Allen—the Flash—his speed. Intentionally.

What the Wally West of ten years hadn’t known was that—just like the Flash—he hadn’t just developed superpowers.

He had traded his humanity for something…beyond. Greater. Other.

When Dick Grayson was ten years old, he was violently torn from his old life—for the second time.

And the Dick Grayson of ten years quickly realized that this time might not bring hope for any future at all.

And the Dick Grayson of ten years quickly realized was that this time might not bring hope for any future at all.

This is how they meet. This is what happens after.

Notes: Yuppers, it’s a birdflash fic!

Angst: yeah this one hurts a little (more than a little)

a shape all your own

Starring: Damian Wayne and Stephanie Brown (maybe with Cass and Tim appearances?)

Son of the Bat

Grandson of the Demon’s Head

These titles have defined Damian for as long as he can remember. And yet…

And yet recently, they have started to feel…wrong. 

Incorrect, at the very least. Damian is most certainly not the only son Father has.

And…Damian has…noticed something. Because sometimes Damian feels wrong. Like his skin doesn’t quite fit over his bones.

He wonders how long it’s been there.

H̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶s̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶a̶n̶s̶ ̶h̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶b̶r̶o̶k̶e̶n̶.̶

Notes: oh hmmm…wonder if you can guess what this is gonna be…hehe ;) 

Angst: definitely some.

Step Left For A Better Future

Starring: Stephanie Brown and Jason Todd, with a fair bit of background bats

Inspired By: the handful of Steph in Titans-Tower fics in existence

Stephanie Brown knows she was never meant to be Robin. She knows she’s just a stand-in till Tim’s dad pulls his head out of his ass. She doesn’t even mind it! (Mostly) But she is getting pretty fucking tired of literally EVERY SINGLE asshole in the entirety of Gotham City waving that fact directly in her face. So when the Red Hood shows up in Titans Tower, yammering about her being the “wrong Robin”, Steph is at her limit. And when the Red Hood reveals himself to be Jason Todd? She snaps.

Notes: You’re kidding yourself if you think Jason wasn’t Steph’s Robin. Also, no batcest here or ever

Angst Level: This one is significantly less humorous than all of the Steph-in-Titans-Tower fics I’ve read. Steph’s going through it, Jason’s going through it…everyone suffers before we get any joy. May evolve into a series (who am i kidding, it probably will)

This has two snippets already out!

it gets better

Starring: Stephanie Brown and Wally West

Being a teenage vigilante is hard. Being a teenage vigilante without any kind of backup or support is harder. Being a teenage vigilante without any kind of backup or support, with a supervillian dad and a civilian name nobody in the whole damn world even knows is impossible. Now, Steph has been…managing it, because “impossible” isn’t a concept she subscribes to—but even Steph can’t go it alone forever. And look, it’s not like she can just acquire vigilante backup, and she’s already attempting to handle the whole “my dad is a supervillian” bit (see teenage vigilantism), but she CAN do something about her name. So, that’s why Steph makes an account on itgetsbetter.com, a website connecting young trans people with older members of their community. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

Notes: yeah, this is a bit of a wild one. If not in plot then in idea. But yeah, transfem Steph and transmasc Wally digital friendship. (Also, don’t worry, Steph and Wally are gonna remain platonic, this is NOT a ship-centric fic)

Angst: I will be touching on the canonical child abuse in both Steph and Wally’s backstories, as well as the transphobia both of them have to deal with. Plus normal sad vigilante activities, so yeah, angst is very much here.

Girl Meets Bird

Starring: Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Kate Kane, with some Jim Gordon

Look, Babs didn’t mean to become a dark creature of the night…at least, not at first. At first, she just wanted to fight crime. In Gotham. At night. Whilst being twelve and mostly untrained.

Notes: cryptid batfam, but it’s early batfam, and follows Babs in her feral teenager era

Angst: Currently the least angsty idea on here.

[threerattsinatrenchcoat]

Snippet Swedsnesday!

I was tagged by @graysparrowao3 .

No pressure tags: @aviatorasharak @beesht

Today I'll bring snippets from a fic that I think should have way more love and a WIP

I'll Write to You in Flowers

Lae'zel quietly watched him tie individual bundles of clippings and arrange them in the larger one. "Which is me?"

"This." He pointed to it. One long stalk of proud red plumes, several inverted stalks of compact buds, and a collection of delicate, star-shaped flowers. Lae'zel's assessment was correct; they only suited each other in meaning.

Lae'zel's lip curled into a sneer. "Showy. I am not showy."

"That is a gladiolus. A noble flower. It symbolizes integrity, strength, victory and loyalty."

Her face softened. "Accurate. What of the rest?"

"Borage. Symbolizes bluntness. Directness."

The sneer was definitely a smile now. "And the one that is upside down?"

"Lavender."

"It smells… acceptable."

"Lavender, upside down, means trust. And tied with the ribbon on this side, it signifies that this spray represents my feelings towards you."

"You feel you can trust me."

He nodded.

"You will tie it both ways, then," she harrumphed. "What of the rest?"

(You can read more on AO3)

The Moth and the Wasp

(WIP, working title, coming out... one day..?)

A total value of 635g in collectable spoons (to the right bidder) balanced on Mattis's face. Silfy offered another spoon, but just as he got it to catch on his cheek, the door slammed open. A skinny, short tiefling stormed in, mouth twisted into a scowl. One he hadn't seen in months. Ever since she ditched him, Silfy had been the one to handle talking to her.

"Mol!" he grinned, mostly out of habit.

"I've got work for you," she said.

"Oh, now we're good enough to work with?"

"Don't tell me you're still sore about that."

In a fantastic impression of Mol he said, "We're a crew! You're my ride and dies!" Back in his normal he added, "Then you ditched us in Baldur's Gate. Yeah, I'm a little miffed. Perturbed, even."

"It was temporary. I was setting things up in the city. I got you in, didn't I?"

"Alfira got us in. She made me cut my hair! I'd had some of those mats since Elturel! They was my friends, wasn't they?"

Silfy nodded.

"Well, both of you and me, we're friends!" Mol said. "Hells, Mattis, never thought I'd argue with you so much over giving you gold. Triple your current rates, too."

His eyes lit up. The only thing he loved more than gold was Silfy, and some days that was debatable. Gold was power. Gold greased their way into Baldur's Gate and was going to grease their way to legitimacy.

"What's the work?" Silfy asked, notepad ready. Ever since she started hawking papers she got real into writing things down. It was a little scary sometimes.

"Theft. Right up your alley."

"Of what?"

"Need to know if you're in or out, first."

"Theft," Mattis mused. He and Silfy were a whole thieving package, sure, but they hadn't done a theft without Mirkon and Meli. Neither were going to come; Mirkon because he was studying now, and Meli because… because…

Still couldn't think about Meli. Right. Fine. Meli wasn't coming, either, that was the point.

"Need you to do a smaller job, before I bring you on," Mol said. "To be sure you still have skills."

"How much is this paying?"

"Nothing. You get the whole payout at the end. That's why it's three times your rates."

Silfy tore off a sheet of paper and passed it to Mattis, who glanced over it, sucked his teeth and said, "Bad news, Mol. Current rates just went up."

"Mattis—"

Riiip. Silfy passed over another sheet.

"Market's wild right now. Current rates are now double."

"Fine! I'll do your old rates for this job and your new ones for the next. Gods, you two are colossal pains in my arse."

"If you could get anyone else, you would've, we know."

[solsticelosthermind]

Bc you have so so many wips, do you have a favorite rn? Or one that haunts you the most?

Ooooh this is such a good question in that my initial answer was akin to a pterodactyl screech. All of them? The amount of effort I’m expending to not just start word-vomiting right now— scratch that, I need you to know that I had to talk myself out of making this post unbearably long by adding chunks of each wip. I’m chewing on the bars of my self-made enclosure. Ace, I adore you. I’m going to be unbearable for this ask I’m so sorry.

That being said, I’ll stick to SSKK since that’s what the other post became, which does narrow it down. Um. Slightly.

The brainrot today is focused on the self-cest aku thing because of a certain someone’s tag last night and the discovery that?? It’s?? Not even really a tag on ao3?? Except. I’m not so slowly turning that into porn with not only feelings but like, plot, so someone should save me from myself

Sad fic- thusly titled since I was not doing well when I threw that scene together, and I just. Need to fix it now. Except I made it worse the last time I went in there and now I’m that one drowning in my feels gif every time I open it.

Soul/mates and Ability share are probably on par with each other for how often I think about them, but Ability Share is much closer to actual writing while Soul/Mates is long stream of conscious run on sentence style outlining for a fic that’ll be so much longer than I originally intended. (Who’s surprised. No one.) Ability share began life as literally just a scene where Akutagawa’s injured and Atsushi forces him to take the tiger to heal, and then I went, “how the fuck would he do that actually,” and now it’s basically soulmates part 2. Soul/mates itself is. Well. Soulmates. Actual mates because tiger, possibly omegaverse, I haven’t decided. But most of the notes there are about how they could come to terms with it, develop as individuals and a partnership, and how Atsushi would ruin it mid-mission-going-sideways by screaming something horrendous and how Akutagawa shuts right the fuck down because he’s just. Kind of been waiting for it to blow up in his face. And how I want them to be able to share power by the end. is this literally the same fic twice? Maybe so. Two cakes meme goes here, except it’s just me, cackling maniacally, while being buried under 5000x wips

Touch is what I was toying with finishing next because it’s. Well. There’s a lot there, honestly, and the idea of exploring/developing intimacy tickles me. It’s literally just, “He’s never known a touch that doesn’t hurt. I can fix that,” while simultaneously ignoring that maybe you need something to touch that isn’t you doing the hurt for once. Which he? Yes. Everybody’s touch-starved. I love the initial snippet for this so much. Atsushi’s so tired and Akutagawa’s so weird but he’s still trying already and Dazai’s a little shit.

Tiger and his Hounds, though. That’s probably my baby, now that I’m thinking about it. I go back to that terribly regularly and just re-read what I’ve got written and scribble more notes for how I could progress. It’s a re-write. Ish? It’s. Oh how do I even?? The file is about 9k right now, but the only two scenes actually written are what if Atsushi stayed after Akutagawa collapsed post-Moby-Dick, and then Dazai and Atsushi running into a very pissed off Chuuya and Akutagawa. I want to work my way through the entire series, but kind of sideways? The opening scene is Atsushi at an unconscious Akutagawa’s side going, what changed? Why did he save me? And then deciding it doesn’t matter, but it does. And it does change things, because Atsushi’s looking at him differently. And then I want him to run into Akutagawa and Chuuya and dazai in situations between the big scenes. I want Chuuya to adopt him the same way I believe he did Akutagawa. I want Chuuya to be angry and Dazai to miss him. I want Akutagawa to be able to be seen. I want Atsushi to be the terrible little gremlin he is while also accidentally pulling all four of them out of the mud they’ve been drowning in through sheer force of will. I just. I love this. So much. My bullshit summary in this wip is: One sided enemies to frenemies to friends to lovers plus found family like woah. And it’s just—What if Atsushi realized everyone around him is also fucked up? What if he loved them anyway? What if. He realized he’s loved anyway? What if—what if I just posted a snippet because I do not have any self control at all.

The need to post the entire wip is strong y’all. I love this fic so much actually? how am I just realizing this.

“Hey, Ryuunosuke, how long d’you think before this one’s mine too?”

Atsushi scrunches his face up as whatever was brewing on Akutagawa’s face instantly wiped clean. He darts a glance at Dazai, and then focuses on Chuuya. “Preferably never. I am made to deal with the jinko entirely too often as it is.”

“And why, exactly, would the lad end up ‘yours’” Dazai asks with a brightness Atsushi could’ve pegged as fake even without his extra senses.

When Chuuya laughs this time, it’s an ugly sound. Akutagawa swears under his breath, which is all Atsushi needs to brace for whatever’s next.

“‘Cause he will,” Chuuya drawls. “That’s the fun part of your new stray being a kitten this time.”

Dazai matches his tone as he asks, “Oh?”

“See, dogs are loyal. Can’t help it, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Takes a lot for a good dog to bite back. No matter how much you deserve it.” Chuuya’s smirk goes cruel as he put his back to the corner and watches Dazai watch him. A knee migrates up onto the bench, and Chuuya rests his elbow over it. He flicks his opposite hand at Atsushi.

“Cats, though? Cats ain’t built like that. They’re picky little shits. How long d’you think that shine in his eyes is going to last when you have to earn it? How long before your tiger boy decides to come run with the dogs you beat to shit and ditched? How long before you’re all alone again?”

Dazai opens his mouth, but Atsushi beats him to it. “I won’t,” he says quietly.

“That so?”

Atsushi curls his belt around his fingers as he meets Chuuya’s hard gaze. “I may not know why you’re so upset with him, but I know he’s trying to be different. That’s enough for me.”

Chuuya makes a face, wry and full of pity. “When he breaks you, kid, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Atsushi can’t help but huff a humorless laugh. “Can’t break what’s already broken.”

[sunfl0w3rmel0n]

Monday Snippet (Late)

A huge thank you to the amazing @soliblomst for the tag on this! Your writing is so inspiring and I’m so grateful for the inspiration you’ve given me to write my newest fic after such a long hiatus!

Anyways, here is a snippet of my current WIP, which will be posted on my AO3 with the title, “When We’re Older.” It is a fic about how Harry and Draco had been friends as children, but Harry did not remember it because he had been obliviated to forget his childhood best friend. The spell, however, was not overly effective, and when the two boys are forced into talking to each other, trying to settle their differences, Draco begins to say things that Harry can’t help but feel he’s heard before. The fic starts immediately after eighth year and continues throughout the course of Auror and Healer training, while looking back on memories of his eight years at Hogwarts. The childhood friendship comes back to Harry with a series of visions and dreams that all seem to feature a blond boy with a snobby attitude. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Here is a snippet from Chapter 2 (which has not been looked over by my lovely beta yet, so don’t mind any errors!):

“Oh finally. This show was starting to get a little bit boring, if you ask me,” a drawling, cold voice resounded through the booth.

Everyone looked around to locate the voice, but Harry knew even before they made eye contact who had made the snide remark.

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“What do you want?” Harry asked.

“To change the channel on this show, of course. It was getting depressing. There wasn’t even any snogging,” Draco Malfoy groaned.

“Change the channel?” Harry was confused.

“What? Don’t you have a television at home? Oh, of course you wouldn’t. Saint Potter doesn’t have time to watch the telly, what with all the worlds he’s saving. He’s lucky if he gets a fifteen minute break for lunchtime,” Draco jeered.

“I don’t see a television in the room, Malfoy, so you must be mistaken.”

“Why, your little lover’s reunion with Thomas, of course. I must admit, your acting was rather poor during this scene, Potter. Maybe you should take some extra lessons? Everybody knows that those scenes are accompanied by a fierce snogging sesh- except, perhaps, for you.”

“As I said, you must be mistaken. I’m not dating Dean Thomas,” Harry insisted.

“Ah, well no wonder your acting was so flat. There’s no.. what’s the word? Ah, chemistratum. There’s no chemistratum between the two of you,” Malfoy remarked.

“The word is chemistry. And of course you wouldn’t even know how to even say it properly, considering that you don’t, and never will, have it,” retorted Harry.

Malfoy looked furious. He scoffed.

“I do too have chemistry! I have so much chemistry that actors from the top productions around the country are asking me for lessons with it. You’re the one without chemistry. Maybe I should teach you.”

Harry paused. “Wait a minute. I just realized something,” Harry said.

Malfoy pretended to look shocked.

“Wow! It’s taken seventeen years of your life to have a coherent thought? I’m impressed.”

Harry could feel his blood rising. His rivalry with Draco Malfoy had always given Harry a rush that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Harry straightened his back.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“On the contrary, I believe you should speak what’s on your mind, Potter.”

“Well, I was just going to say that you seem to have a great understanding of gay shows on the telly. Anything you want to admit?” Harry sneered.

It was Malfoy’s turn to gape. His pearly complexion became tinted with blobs of splotchy pink up the back of his neck and on his cheeks.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” Malfoy stammered.

“Are you sure? Because it sounded to me like you were waiting for the snogging on your ‘show’ so that you could join in.”

Draco’s blue-grey eyes turned dark.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco whispered.

“I’m sure you’d love that, Malfoy,” Harry stated flatly.

[stars-of-kyber]

From the Ask List:

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Helloooo and thank you for playing!

That's a very good question actually. I have a hard time with writing angst and only recently people managed to somewhat convince me I'm not rubbish at it.

I've been stalling with the next chapter of You Belong With Me and Of Noble Blood bc they're both tense ones for different reasons. You Belong With Me because it will be sad and Of Noble Blood... Well, I've always struggled with writing confrontation but it's necessary for Anthony to face the family he left behind almost a decade ago.

A snippet of each then!

You Belong With Me - Chapter 9 Snippet

"Yes, son, I do." Arjun Sharma sat a bit higher on the bed, assessing Anthony with a sad little curve of his lips that could barely be categorized as a smile. "You see, lad, for the past couple of weeks, I have been plagued by this very annoying condition in my lungs that had put me abed and drained quite a bit of my energy. I am sure my Katie has told you about it "  

"She did, Sir." The past three letters Kate had sent him contained some sort of mention of Mr Sharma's ailment, first in the form of a simple 'Papa has been feeling under the weather these days', which morphed into several expressions of concern in the following letters as the illness did not seem to resolve itself.

Of Noble Blood - Chapter 4 Snippet

"I must not be caught unaware." Anthony shrugged, his hand resting at the metal hilt more on instinct than anything else. "It is part of my job." 

"Your job." The disdainful sneer in his brother's words was too clear to miss. "Enlighten me about what that ‘job’ of your entails, would you, Brother? I seem to be a bit confused because I was under the foolish impression that, as the eldest son of the eldest son nine times over, your job was to take over the Viscountcy and care for the family and the estate."

"This has not been my job for almost a decade, Benedict.""Right, right... How silly of me." Sarcasm dripped from his words, the twirl of his hand mocking Anthony. "I  was not aware you could abdicate from your title. Perhaps I should look into it. Maybe Colin would like to play Viscount for a bit now while I go around galavanting only God knows where for a while with a sword on my hip until I am ready to come back."

[runninriot]

FrankenWIP game

thank you so much for the tag @sidekick-hero!! 🖤

this is something i could never participate in because i've never worked on more than one wip before. but something possessed me to start three fics simultaneously, so i can finally give it a go

rules: post 3-6 sentences of your most recent WIP's, with titles, and people can send you asks for more 3-6 sentence snippets! tag as many people as you want or just use this as a reason to add a few new sentences to your projects!

snippets under the cut

Unlovable

   “You sure you need another one?”

   “You’re not my dad, are you?” Steve scoffs, pulls his mouth into a crooked grin, and tries to sit up a little straighter to demonstrate that he's still sober enough to keep himself upright.

   “Nah, man. Just lookin’ out for you, ‘s all.”

   “Well, thank you, Jeff. Appreciate it. But I’m fine. And I’m paying for it, so hand that glass over.”

They’ve been doing this dance almost every night for weeks now – Jeff acting concerned about Steve’s well-being, Steve convincing him he’s fine. Which he’s not, obviously. The fact that he even is on first name basis with the guy working the bar is evidence enough for how unarguably not-fine he is.

Because Steve’s been coming here a lot since the first time he stumbled upon this place. Since that night that messed it all up.

untitled (ProDom Steve)

Eddie’s skin is beautifully flushed from his face down to his chest, his nipples bright pink and probably sore from the clamps still biting harshly into the sensitive buds.

He’s littered with red streaks and blotches. Pinprick marks, leftovers from the neurowheel he'd used on him earlier, are running from his chest down to his thighs. His whole body is a gorgeous work of art.

The picture is perfected by the sight of Eddie’s hard cock straining against his stomach, purple at the tip, leaking, desperate to be touched.

Not yet, though. They’ve basically only started – Eddie is Steve’s to play with for a little while longer.

TBYET (part 13)

   „I wanna take you out on a date,“ Eddie says through a mouthful of pancakes. „We haven’t done that in a while.“

   „Yeah, because you two are always too busy making out and groping each other indecently.“ Robin snorts, sends Eddie a knowing look and a teasing grin.

   „Fuck off, Buckley! You act like we can’t keep our hands to ourselves for one minute.“

   „Because it’s true. You two are the worst.“

   „We are not! And it’s not my fault your best friend is making me lose my damn mind. I mean look at him! Standing there all cute and pretty with his tiny shorts and tousled hair.“

   „Steve, Eddie is drooling again! Maybe you should get him a bib so he doesn’t ruin your shirt.“

Eddie’s eyes drift over to where Steve is standing at the stove preparing another stack of pancakes. Robin laughs self-satisfied because Eddie has just proven her point.

[maebird-melody]

WIP Wednesday

Oop it's that time again!! I nearly missed it, but it's still technically Wednesday.

This time tagging @imakemywings specifically to ask if there are any Solavellan WIPs :3

Anyone who sees can participate of course~

(I often forget that this is tumblr, you can just do things, and not wait for someone else to start it.)

SO in honor of the like 8,000 messages shared on Discord about my original work ("Gasp! You have original work?" Yes, I know, it's a shocker), I'm gonna share a snippet from "Inkbound" (working title).

It's an epic fantasy space opera story set in a future where humans have colonized a loose collection of planets called The Consortium. Though the seven Ruling Houses still hold the throne, most of the power lies with the Bibliosanctum, a pseudo-religious institution which controls the portals, called "turnings," that connect the planets. However, the turnings are being slowly corrupted, and entire planets are in danger of being cut off from the rest of the Consortium. This is Bad because they are interdependent on each other for resources and trade. It is one girl's quest to restore the Books which control these turnings, and hopefully prevent their entire society from collapsing. Also, there's political intrigue, thieves, investigators, runaway princesses, and a boy who just can't catch a break.

Hopefully that is enough background to understand the bit I'm sharing.

“There is a job.” His thin lips formed a thin smile. “But I do not think you will be interested in it. You’re no bounty hunter, after all.” “The job is a bounty?” Wren gaped openly. The Baron did not deal with bounties. Moving people was so much riskier than moving objects. Objects could be replaced, and even the priceless ones would be mourned and eventually forgotten. People, however, could hold grudges. “It is not exactly a bounty, but the target is a person. This request comes from someone I could not deny.” His fingers tightened on the frame of the picture as he hid the safe again. “If you take this job, understand that I disavow any connection with you should you get caught.” “Should I be so lucky,” Wren muttered. By ‘disavow’ he probably meant he’d send his assassins after her before she could talk. Then to the Baron she asked, “So? How much?” “Enough to repay your father’s debt, if that’s what you’re asking.” The Baron arched a brow. “I can’t say I’m eager to be rid of you.” He looked at her in a possessive sort of way and Wren suppressed the urge to use the Scrawl and pull the Cloak around herself. “But then again, I don’t think you can complete this job before our contract becomes binding.” Wren shuddered. The contract—her father’s parting gift, and the Baron’s favorite bargaining chip. “We’ll see about that. I’ll take the job.” “So unlike you to promise your services before knowing the details.” The Baron pulled a scroll from his desk. “Here. You know the rules. If you fail—” “Have I ever?” Wren interrupted him. “If you fail,” the Baron reiterated with emphasis, “your debt will be for life.” “What else is new?” Wren glared at the Baron as she pulled a quill from her sleeve, drew ink from her skin, and held it aloft. “Where do I sign?” The Baron broke the seal on the scroll and passed it her way. “On the dotted line, my dear.” She penned her name in the Scrawl ink and felt the contract take hold. She rolled up the scroll and tucked it in her sleeve with the quill. The Baron raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. She would wait to read the details of her death warrant later. She had just bet all her hopes on some very long odds. Desperation does strange things to a person. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll be on my way. Once you’ve paid me for this last job.” She held out her palm. “Yes, of course, my girl. I have your payment here.” He retrieved a purse from his desk and tossed it at Wren. She caught it midair and hefted it, feeling the weight. “Minus the cost of the ink you wasted last time, of course.” Wren shrugged and tucked the purse up under her blouse where she had been keeping the vials. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure doing business, but I would never lie to you, Baron.” Wren donned her cloak and let herself out.

[figbian]

Tell Me of the dunmeshi wip 👀 that title bangs. also tell me about frat au and how much of it is based on The Frat.

dungeon meshi wip CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS so putting it under a readmore. everyone else has to suffer thru frat au info.

frat au is only Sort Of based on The Frat (dear readers, this fanfiction author joined a fraternity and is a brother of [loud car horn]). due to the like ways fe3h works narratively, it felt a lot more true to a Good AU to be honest to an all-male fraternity, so it draws on The Frat's past (as we didnt haze, but hazing definitely used to occur) as well as info from other fraternities or fraternity-like structures (and a handful of How Do College-Age Boys Behave anecdotes coming directly from my real life college-age brother who is Not a frat boy).

sylvain, dimitri, and others are in a frat. their fathers (plus rodrigue lol) were in this frat. etc. not exactly explored but crucial to the narrative: how traditional fraternities uphold like lineage and legacies in college settings and why that creates bad gatekeeping etc etc etc. basically the ways fraternities suck on an individual level (hazing, unhealthy relationship to substances, pressure to conform to a certain set of standards, etc) AND the ways they operate on a structural level in a shitty way.

the plot however is: sylvain returns from some time off at university. in his time off, he's effectively ghosted his friends and no one knows what happened/why he vanished. felix is recovering from an injury that delayed his journey to become a professional tennis star (<- lol). they've known each other for so long, they both have dead brothers, but also how much do they really know about each other?

posting this snippet SPECIFICALLY for brothers of [siren wail]. i think youll all recognize the inspo for 'the green room.'

“maybe we should shift to explosions,” raphael said as he came back into the room, looking over at the car crumpling into a tree playing on the television. “for the vibe.” “the vibe,” agreed sylvain, privately wondering if there was that much of a difference between crashes and explosions. he figured that any kind of disaster suited the green room. the windowless room in the phi ep basement––named for the carpeting, which had, once, allegedly, been green (sylvain’s efforts to deep clean last spring had failed to prove anything except that one should always wear shoes in the green room)––was less of a vibe and more…well. the couches were all leather––easier to clean if someone puked on them; the ceiling had suspicious stains; the walls were covered in bad murals painted over several years of pledging––and sylvain would know they were bad, being an art history major; the tv sat on a pile of wooden crates. at least the sound system wasn’t terrible. when sylvain wanted to impress girls, he never brought them to the green room. he sat back on the couch and spread his legs. “yeah, fuck it,” he heard himself say. “explosions.”

dungeon meshi fic is suuuper rough rn. its Probably a 5+1 of 5 times marcille's friends died and 1 time they didnt (hahaha) but what i have written so far is all about chilchuck going senile and dying. the fic is very obviously tackling like "what happens when the people you love and remember as young and full of life grow old, and how is preparing for someone's death as painful as their death itself" BUT ALSO is about "what if the dragon part of falin makes her age at the same rate as marcille...and how is that, in some ways, worse than if she just lived as a human did?" bcs As You Know im always interested in the question "when is it true that living beyond when the narrative expects you to is worse than dying?" that part just doesnt have a lot written.

there is NOT a lot written that i posted for wip wednesday but here:

chilchuck has lost most of his teeth, so he has to eat porridge and other soft foods. “at least it’s not monsters,” he says to marcille every morning, which was funny the first few times and now is depressing. “yeah,” says marcille, pouring some sugar into his tea. it’s unclear to marcille––who, despite having half a century to prepare for this, feels unprepared––exactly when chilchuck seems to think it is. he keeps asking about his wife, his shop, his daughters, whether or not they could resurrect falin.  “have i reached out to her?” he asks. his wife, he means. mostly he seems to think they’ve just defeated the winged lion. marcille has not gained much patience in last fifty eight years; having to admit to mistakes she made fifty eight years ago every day for the last couple of years has been––hard. it’s been hard. “no,” she says, gritting her teeth. chilchuck’s ex-wife died fourteen years ago. marcille learned many mornings ago it’s best to convince chilchuck to write her a letter that cannot be sent rather than make him relive his grief every day.