#untitled wip

[thatswife]

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

"You smell like shit," Steve informed him, handing him some towels and a change of clothes. Billy swayed where he stood, only steadied by Steve's strong hands gripping his shoulders. Head. Spinning. Floor. Blurry. Everything. Hurt. This is not how I imagined him touching me. But then again, I just came back from the dead, so I guess beggars can't be choosy.

[27dragons]

An arranged marriage fic I hear? 👀👀👀👀👀

lol yes. One of my very favorite tropes, tbh.

It's an omegaverse fantasy historical AU, meljayvik endgame, with alpha King Jayce, omega Prince Viktor, beta Mage Mel; the whole thing (at least so far) is Viktor's POV. Also includes some background Zaundads who have a very messy history that might become a prequel at some point.

It is currently sitting at about 16,500 words, and I still have at least a third (probably more) of the plot to go. 😂 (How do I do this to myself. It was supposed to be uncomplicated angsty hurt/comfort and PWP!)

.

Quick summary:

Piltover's king was overthrown six months ago in a coup led by Jayce and Mel, who immediately put a stop to the hostilities between Piltover and Zaun. To seal that deal, it has been arranged that Viktor will marry Jayce. He finds out on the trip there that Jayce and Mel are already lovers, and concludes that he's going into a loveless marriage of state... but we all know better than that, I should hope...

.

Check under the cut for a snippet! (With the caveat that this is first rough draft and things are almost entirely unedited.)

.

"And how expensive am I?" Viktor wondered. What would the king of Piltover give to Zaun, in exchange for one omega prince to sit at his side and warm his bed? "Greater vigilance in maintaining the peace. Mining rights along the border hills will come to Zaun after you give him an heir, and the child will be fostered here, in our court. And if you should produce an omega, they will be betrothed to a House of Zaun." Viktor didn't look, but he could hear the smile in his father's voice. "It is a generous concession; you may be justly proud." "Only if I manage to bear his whelps," Viktor muttered. There had been some disagreement among the royal physicians as to whether Viktor's twisted leg would impede his ability to survive a pregnancy. "That remains a question no matter who you mate," Silco said in his forthright way. Viktor was glad that it was Silco who had come to break the news, calm and matter-of-fact and unapologetic. Vander would have tried to be sympathetic, and Viktor would have reacted... poorly, to sympathy from the king who'd signed a treaty that included Viktor in its terms and concessions. "When?" "You will leave here in ten days," Silco said. "Your sisters and I will accompany you as far as the border, where a Piltovian honor guard will be waiting to escort you the rest of the way." Viktor fixed his eyes on the tree at the center of the garden, counting the tiny swells at the barren tips of its branches until the tears in his eyes subsided. "If you are thinking of following in my footsteps," Silco said softly, "I should remind you that my attempt at escape did not work." He held his chin high, as always, not hiding the scars he'd given himself, so long ago. Viktor shuddered. He could not even fathom it. It would be easier -- and far less painful -- to simply die. "No," he said. "No, I will not try to escape. You were very clear, when you offered to adopt me, how our relationship would end." "Viktor." Narrow fingers gripped his shoulder. "You are leaving our home, but our relationship is eternal. You are my son, and I will raise an army against Piltover myself if he mistreats you." Something small and broken in Viktor's chest shifted and cut at him until the tears spilled over, and he found himself tucked against his father's chest, weeping, as if he were a boy of eight again, newly orphaned and faced with an impossible decision.

[persevereforahappyending]

WIP Wednesday Last Sentence You Wrote

As always thank you for the tag @uncleasad. Kind of kept forgetting to do this all night.

Make a new post with the last sentence* you wrote on your current WIP* (and tag some friends if you want)

She knew what would happen if she did, she would cave, they would talk, then, she didn’t know what, but she knew she wasn’t ready for that, not yet.

From Untitled WIP (aka idea #4), Chapter 2

[r0b0tb0y]

btw Skeleton Crew had me rent asunder in such a specific way

[marzielovesbooks]

detailed post with more info about my wip coming tomorrow!

[littedidyouknow]

*sigh*. I’m very tired of my own brain. So I just had a discussion with someone at work (and it really, literally lasted no more than 5 minutes). And then i got the urge to write this thing when I really (really) shouldn’t be starting anything right now. And certainly shouldn’t be writing at work, either lol.

But anyways here we are so have an unedited snippet of this untitled wip that was just born and for which I already have 800 words apparently 🤷‍♀️

Happy WIP Wednesday!

“I’m sorry, M’am. But if there are no further signs than this, we can’t—“

“I’m telling you there are,” the voice was desperate.

And Rhys hated anyone being desperate, but this voice especially.

He was moving before he realized.

“I’m very sorry Mrs—“

“Miss,” the woman corrected with a rougher voice than before. “It’s Miss—“

“Archeron,” Rhys filled in as he finally stepped in near them.

All three heads turned towards him.

Nuala and her apologetic face.

Miss Archeron—Feyre—and her alarmed one.

And—

“Hey there, Missy Juliet,” Rhys said softly at the child in her mother’s arms. “What’s wrong with you?”

There was a silence, during which the small set of eyes only blinked at him.

And then, it was Nuala who said,

“I already told them we can’t—“

“We’re just leaving,” Feyre sighed—a painful sigh Rhys would have preferred not hearing. “We’re just—“

“What’s wrong?” He repeated softly, for her this time, as he met her blue-grey eyes. “What’s going on with her?”

Feyre swallowed. As if on instinct, she tightened her arms around Juliet and said, very slowly, “she’s… she’s just not—“ she shook her head, glancing at Nuala for a second before her eyes turned back to Rhys. “I know it’s nothing. But she’s absolutely exhausted. She’s never been like this, I—“

And Rhys knew it, too. He’d first met the pair of them a couple of months ago, when they’d been admitted in the hospital for chest pains on Juliet’s part. And Rhys had worked with worried parents—the ones who looked up the internet for any symptoms they thought their children had and ended up somehow convinced they were the doctor here. He knew overbearing. He knew overconfident.

Feyre wasn’t.

Feyre was always quiet in her worry, always careful.

If she had made the trip, it was because something was wrong.

“Let’s get you checked up,” Rhys said reassuringly with a small smile to the child—who, indeed, seemed absolutely out of strength. “Alright? Let’s get you—“

“Should I call for a nurse, Dr. Knight?”

Nuala’s voice was gentle, her hand was already on the phone when she asked.

And Rhys couldn’t blame her, either—with anyone else, he would have nodded, and gone back to his friends waiting behind him.

But…

“No, I’ll take care of it, Nuala,” he flashed her an easy smile. “No worries. Will you tell Cass to go ahead without me?”

[porcelainseashore]

Ohhh, I'm really curious, but I'll try to keep to a manageable amount of questions! I would like to ask 3, 8, 9, 11 for Lola and 1, 3, 5, 9 for Sage, please! *w*

Flower Themed OC Questions

Thanks Medea for all your questions, which helps me to flesh out some new characters I've been busy playing or working on! Your enthusiasm about them is infectious. Feel free to ask more if you want later 💫

Lola

3. Pink Azalea: Does your character value family?

Short answer = yes! Although Lola’s parents are incredibly strict and demanding of her, they're still her rock and an influential part of her life growing up. That isn't to say that she won’t rebel and act out any chance she gets. But if someone lays a finger on them, she'll hunt that person down to the ends of the earth.

8. Aster: Is your character considered charming or lacking in social tact?

Absolutely lacking in social tact! Lola was raised in a very sheltered environment where intellect and athletics were prioritized over "frivolous" social engagements. Basically, she has no filter and EQ. For example, when her cellmate, Björn, asked if he was the only stupid one who didn't get a particular quote, she replied rather matter-of-factly, "Yes, I guess it's just you."

With research or deciphering hidden meanings, she obsesses over details, retreating into her own world to the point where it caused her other cellmate, Carl, to worry about whether she had been "possessed." As you can see, her social skills, or lack thereof, aren't doing her any favors.

9. Cosmos: Does your character value order and structure, or prefer a life of chaos?

Lola has known a life of order and structure under the hierarchical Lucifuge conspiracy, but tends to steer in the opposite direction these days, due to disillusionment and the desire to push boundaries. I also built her up as a hunter who knows the Castigation rituals of Calling Forth the Pit and Hellfire, but with no follow-up rituals to contain the demon or flames she has summoned. Imagine Carrie on steroids. That's Lola.

11. Gardenia: Does your character enjoy having crushes, if they have any at all?

Completely off-limits under her parents' house! If Lola has time to think about a boy it means she's not studying hard enough. Someone called to ask her on a date? She's grounded. (And the suitor gets a good scolding and tirade of threats on the phone).

This affected her, so she doesn't usually realize she has a crush until it’s too late. The only time it worked out was when Lola saw Aidan zooming along the street on his motorized scooter, chav music blasting on his portable speaker, shouting a bunch of obscenities at passersby. She thought, "That's the guy I want to take home to meet my parents."

Sage

1. Lotus: What is or what will be the darkest place your character will save themselves from?

Literally, the Dark Place. Even though Sage doesn’t know it yet. How far will she go to get her friend back and will something break in the process? She can have the tendency to spiral, which might explain why she prefers staying in the office to returning to an empty apartment.

3. Pink Azalea: Does your character value family?

There’s a sense of distance and ambivalence when it comes to Sage’s feelings on family. They weren’t exactly close. After her father passed away, her mother’s mental state deteriorated. One day, Sage received a phone call from her incoherently rambling about the “Odessa Room” and visiting her father in it. Then, her mother went missing, the house left as if the life in it had been abruptly interrupted. Sage’s estranged twin didn’t seem to care. Eventually, Sage moved on with her cat, Belle, as her surrogate family.

5. Tansy: Is your character a fighter, or do they flee from conflict?

Sage is a fighter, even if she’s not physically trained like an investigator or ranger. She’ll fight through words, intellect, and cunning. Never one to shy away from unorthodox methods, nor is she the type to give up so easily.

9. Cosmos: Does your character value order and structure, or prefer a life of chaos?

I think she walks a fine line between the two. On the surface, she appears as if she's got it together, but everything outside of her job is a mess, which may be part of the reason she clings onto it so tightly. Also, working in the Oldest House requires some capacity for chaos and being comfortable with it.

[theothermaidoftarth]

My new moodboard for my as-yet unnamed Nettles x Cregan Fire and Blood au oneshot. The premise of which is basically, what if Rhaenyra sent Nettles north to ensure Cregan Stark’s support. And get her away from a certain someone who is a little too intrigued by her. Two birds, one stone. Or even, two dragons, one (very lucky) scorpion-shot.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

WIP Wednesday

Never in [Tony's] life had he ever seen a breakfast sandwich disappear so quickly. His kid was acting as though he’d not eaten in weeks and was convinced he’d never have the opportunity to do so again. It was like watching a feral cat with a stolen hotdog. “Did you even taste that?”

[klywrites]

I've been tagged in a lot of writeblr games over the past 371 years, I hope this kinda makes up for it.

Untitled WIP. Don't have details yet, mostly just vibes.

Also, thanks to @revenantlore for helping me decide on Eli's name (Elijah Ian Porter). Mason doesn't have a last name yet, if anyone wants to throw some at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The last boots had echoed down the corridor twenty minutes ago. Laughter gone, doors slammed shut, silence swallowing the space whole. Only the buzz of the fluorescent lights remained, jittery and uneven.

Eli stayed behind. He always did. There was something comforting in the quiet. Predictable. The only other sound was the soft beep of the scanner, the dull scrape of boxes shifting on concrete.

Then he caught the smell—smoke. Faint. Then, languid footsteps across the floor.

“Christ, Porter. You always hang around after hours,” Mason called from the loading bay, voice casual, “or are you secretly part of some smuggling ring?”

Eli kept his head down. Scanned another box.

Mason’s boots echoed as he stepped further inside, lazy, unbothered. He had a cigarette in his mouth, half-lit, and a lighter in his hand that he flicked open and shut.

“You really don’t talk much, huh?” he said. “Starting to think it’s one of two things. Either you’re hiding something... or you’re scared of saying too much.”

Still no answer.

Mason made a low noise in his throat, half amusement, half challenge. “I’m betting on the first. Guys like you don’t stay quiet unless there’s something worth hiding.”

Eli slid a crate into place a little harder than necessary. “You’re off shift.”

“So are you,” Mason shot back, grinning around the cigarette.

Eli turned just enough to glance at him, his jaw set, eyes hard. “I’m working. You’re loitering.”

“Loitering,” Mason repeated, chewing the word. “Damn. Big word for a guy who doesn't say much.”

Eli didn’t bite. He went back to the boxes.

“You always this charming at parties?” Mason asked.

“I don’t go to parties.”

“Colour me shocked,” Mason muttered. “You’ve got that whole tortured loner vibe going on. Real brooding and mysterious. Real sexy, if you’re into repressed types.”

That got Eli to stop.

Mason caught it—the hesitation in his movement, the faint shift of weight like he was about to say something and thought better of it.

Then Eli dropped the scanner onto the crate, a little too hard. The thud echoed like a warning.

“I’m not here to flirt.”

Mason raised a brow. “Didn’t say you were.” He took a slow drag, eyes on Eli like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. “But if you were,” he added, mouth curling into a smirk, “you’d be terrible at it.”

Eli turned then, fully. “You get off on pushing people?”

Mason stepped closer, unbothered. Close enough that the smoke hit sharp in Eli’s face.

“Only the ones who push back,” Mason said, voice low and smooth. Then, with that smirk twisting into something else, he added, “You look like you’d be worth it.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. His whole body seemed stiller than before. Tighter. Controlled. But inside, he could feel his heart pressing against his ribcage, pressure building like a dam about to break.

“Careful,” he said lowly. “Don't act like you know me.”

Mason leaned in, just slightly. Enough to tip the tension forward, just past the edge of harmless.

“You're right, I don't,” he said. “Not yet.” And then—because he couldn’t help himself—he leaned in further, and in the same low, smooth voice: “Bet you've thought about it though, getting to know each other.”

Eli didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. But something flickered. A spark behind the eyes. A shift in the air between them. It was enough to make Mason’s grin twitch, a flash of satisfaction, because he'd lit a match and saw it land. Just for a second before the latch closed. It ignited something in Eli, he was sure of it.

Mason stepped back then, slow and deliberate, like he was proud of himself.

The silence dragged as he made his way toward the door, cigarette trailing smoke behind him like a taunt.

“See you tomorrow, sunshine,” he tossed over his shoulder.

The door creaked open. Then slammed shut.

Eli stood still. The low hum of the fluorescent lights could not distract him from the pounding in his chest. Not this time. Maybe not ever again, as long as Mason was around. Now that the air between them could fuel a fire.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

🌹

Before BBF, there was BWE (brother's worst enemy 😆). It's a Rooster x Seresin!Reader wip that has yet to see the light of day. Enjoy!

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley is mesmerized and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

[deans-baby-momma]

Posting this to see if there is any interest.....it's pre- and post 15x20 SPN.

As soon as he was done chopping the head off of the last vampire, Dean knew what he needed to do.

He and his brother had just obliterated a nest of 15 vampires, but it hadn't been easy. He had narrowly avoided getting shoved into a piece of rebar sticking out of a support beam in the seedy and dilapidated barn. Something that would've been fatal.

Dropping Sam back at the Bunker, Dean pointed the Impala northeast. It would take him eight hours, but he needed to go. He needed her.

Never in his life had he felt this way, this pull to another person. Even with Lisa, he’d never felt this way; the need, the want, the desire to be in their presence.

It is an, as of yet, untitled WIP of roughly 7,500 words.

If there is interest, I'll finish-yes, FINISH-it and post.

Just send me an ask, message or reply.

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam   @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70

[youmaycallmeyourhighness]

Wip Wednesday - Untitled

Caitlyn is a pretty good shot. She's polite and not repulsive looking. She tries Zaunite food and quit her job at the precinct. She even helped Ekko out when his car broke down.  It doesn't matter.  Jinx does not like Caitlyn, Jinx will probably never like Caitlyn. Everytime Vi calls, Jinx crosses her fingers hoping Vi's woken up and dumped her. But. Caitlyn makes Vi happy. Very, stupidly, completely, happy. It's mushy and gushy and almost enviable if Jinx can muscle through the disgust that this giraffe of a woman spurrs in her. 

[bastetwastaken]

A deal with the devil

A snippet from my untitled Demon/Human romance WIP~

"Can I ask you something?" The human said, he nodded. "Um… Why did you help me?" Good fucking question. He had no idea how to answer it, but he had to say something…he shrugged. "Because I think we can help each other out." "Really?" The human laughed weakly. "How's that?" "Well, I'm a demon." He pointed at himself. "You're a human." He pointed at the other. "I can offer you things which no other human could possibly provide you with. I could give you the world, bring people to their knees, make power yours for the taking." The human hummed, he seemed unimpressed. "And what if I don't want power, or the world." "Then I can make you feel things which no other human would be able to." He said with a smile. "You can feel it, can't you? What my presence does to your body? To your mind? I can give you anything you like, fulfill any desire you might have. Is that not appealing to you?" "I doubt there are many it wouldn't be appealing to." The human said with another quiet laugh. He caught the way the human looked down at his body, he'd done that a few times since they'd started talking, and he knew what those looks meant. "If I were to ask you what you want, right now, what would you ask for?" He said, watching the human closely. He could practically hear his mind working, searching for an answer to his question. His brow creased, lips set in a hard line and he stayed silent until eventually he seemed to find something. "I…want to feel alive again. I want to experience something real." The human said quietly, voice just above a whisper. His lips curled into a smile. "What if I told you that I can give you that?" He moved closer, inches between them now. "And much more too, but I have to warn you that such desires come with a price. Are you willing to pay?" The human frowned but didn't move away, he was silent for a moment but then his face relaxed and he sighed. "Am I allowed to ask what that price is before I agree?" He laughed, many never thought of asking him that question, just another curiosity of the human in front of him he supposed. "You are." He said. "Your essence is the price. Each time we meet I will take a small part of your essence with me when I return to Hell. The more you indulge, the more you lose." The human looked back at him in silence for a while, seemingly weighing up his options but then he smiled. "So you get my essence, and I get…anything I want?" The human asked, eyes moving down to his lips which pulled into a smile. "That's right." He said. "And you take my essence when you leave… so the more I take from you, the more you take from me?" "When I leave this plane, yes." He nodded. "You're right." He waited patiently whilst the human looked back into his eyes, it was getting harder for him to hold back the temptation to use his power on him, to just speed the whole process up but no, he had to do this right. He’d already made enough mistakes with this one human, he wouldn’t make any more. "Sure, why not." "So be it." He smirked, reaching out to caress the humans cheek softly. It was so close now, he could practically taste it. "Tell me your name, and I’ll give you mine. Then, we’ll be bound.”

[persevereforahappyending]

WIP Wednesday Last Sentence You Wrote

Appreciate the tag as always @uncleasad. This is always now officially a WIP. This is also the very start of the scene I was telling you I was really excited to get to @uncleasad.

Make a new post with the last sentence you wrote on your current WIP (and tag some friends if you want)

“Sit the fuck down,” you snapped, your tone completely changing from what it had been mere seconds again.

From Untitled WIP (aka idea #4), Chapter 2

[porcelainseashore]

Cosmos and daisy for anyone who you haven't done yet

Flower Themed OC Questions

Hi Dov, thanks for the questions! I've allocated them to the OCs that haven't been asked those juicy ones yet :)

René

9. Cosmos: Does your character value order and structure, or prefer a life of chaos?

This is a tough one, but I'd say René leans more towards chaos. As a circus artist, I think he's quite comfortable with spontaneity and improvisation when things don't work out quite the way as planned. Chaos can overwhelm him, but at the same time he sees patterns in it that he can focus on. That said, he and his co-founders do pull their weight when it comes to running the collective they've created.

Sage

15. Daisy: Is your character aware of any evil around them or are they ignorant to any misdeeds or people's true intentions?

Sage's job is a natural hazard, so she's no stranger to such occurrences, which seem to happen more frequently if she's hanging out in the Containment Sector. Sometimes, it can feel like the Oldest House is out to get her, but she knows what she's signed up for and has maneuvered her way around pretty well so far. Lately though, her colleagues have mentioned seeing her in places around the bureau that she doesn't recall being at...