#*looks at mountain of WIPs and half baked ideas*

[keydekyie]

Unrestrained Summer Fun

Ruyak and Kaelin go swimming.

Excerpt from Book III (WIP) 1650 words, no content warnings

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Midsummer days were often roasting from the start. Even in the morning, as soon as the sun was up the heat was almost unbearable, with the landscape and everything in it baking under an unrelenting summer sun.

As they continued navigating through the Gautok mountains, Ruyak took long paths through higher elevations, trying to avoid as much heat as he could. Kaelin’s pocket became a sweaty broiler on such hot days, so whenever they seemed to be between territories, she rode on Ruyak’s back instead. In the bright sun she kept her eyes up, watching the mountains rise up before and fall behind them one after another, pine-covered and craggy. Riding up there had its benefits, and the view was only one of them. As the summer sun beat down from above, the only relief, and precious little of it there was, came from the breeze.

Ruyak’s movements, though lumbering, were usually fluid and intentional. On this particularly hot morning, as the sun advanced higher, his steps were beginning to feel oddly jarring. He was moving up a hill, through low brush and across bare rock, but seemed to find the terrain more difficult than usual.

“Are you feeling alright?” Kaelin asked.

“Yeah, why?” he answered lightly, unbothered, though a little more out of breath than usual. “Something wrong?”

“No, just… would you like to stop and take a break?”

“We just started,” Ruyak scoffed. “Do you need to pee already?”

“No, no. Nevermind.”

Kaelin kept quiet for a bit, worrying silently as the sun climbed. Ruyak’s strides were growing more erratic by the minute. Every step shook Kaelin on her perch, to the point her arms and legs were growing fatigued from the effort it took not to fall.

They had just crested the top of the hill and were descending into a valley when Kaelin reached forward and plunged her hand deep into the thick, wiry fur in front of her. She really had to dig down to get past all the layers and reach what she was looking for.

When she did, Kaelin was reminded of touching a hot workpiece with her fingers. Ruyak’s skin was burning.

He staggered to a stop on the hillside and craned his head back to glare at her out of the corner of his eye. “What are you doing?”

Kaelin pulled her hand out of his fur. “Let’s stop somewhere and rest.”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

Ruyak looked around. “Here? Why here?”

“I see a lake down there, in this valley. We could get some water.”

Ruyak didn’t have any qualms with this. He adjusted his course and made his way down into the valley towards the dark shape of the lake.

It wasn’t large, but it was almost perfectly round, half in shadow under the tree-crested cliff it was framed by. Small creeks trickled into it over the rocks from several directions, and the foliage all around reveled in the coolness of the mountain water. It even smelled nice, Kaelin noticed as they approached. Stoney and clean, like the river that had run by her village back home.

After letting Kaelin slide off his back to the ground, Ruyak took off his pack and staggered over to the water to lean down and drink greedily. Kaelin came over to stand close beside him. 

“Augh,” he gasped after a while, leaning back. Water dripped from his chin like a waterfall. “I was thirstier than I thought. It was a good idea to stop.”

Kaelin knelt down on a rock by the shore to scoop water into her hands and splash the sweat from her face and neck. It was cold, but not icy. Refreshing, like a shadow. She looked down into the water, expecting to see minnows darting around in the dimness, but instead only saw mirror-like reflections. She froze, staring. She could see herself perfectly, but it wasn’t the sight of her own face that had so caught her attention, it was Ruyak’s.

She could see him over her own reflection’s shoulder, looking around with an airy grin, taking in the scenery. At the distance and angle, with her own reflection beside him, he looked…

Kaelin raised her hand, watching her reflection reach for Ruyak’s face.

Of course he was occupied with whatever he was looking at and didn’t notice what Kaelin was doing, so his expression remained humorously oblivious. It only served to strengthen the effect.

He looked… so human.

Ruyak sighed contentedly, then turned to grin down at Kaelin. “You’re learning to swim today.”

Kaelin scowled at his reflection. “No, I’m not.”

Throwing her a mischievous smirk, Ruyak suddenly lunged over her into the water with a heavy splash. Kaelin scrambled back just in time to avoid getting soaked, but her shoes and skirts didn’t manage to escape entirely.

“Ruyak!” she scolded. 

He chuckled at her as he waded out into the water. “The best way to learn is to try it.”

Kaelin sat herself down on a boulder, grumbling under her breath as she yanked off her wet shoes and socks and threw them towards Ruyak’s pack in the sunshine. As she inched towards the water Ruyak pricked his ears hopefully, only to pout as she merely dipped her toes in.

“Come on,” Ruyak pleaded, drifting into the deep lake water until it was up to his chin. “I can’t always be rescuing you every time you fall in a river.”

“I’m not planning on falling into any more rivers.”

“You say that as though you were planning on falling in the first time.”

Kaelin crossed her arms. “Well maybe I was. You don’t know.”

“You nearly died, if I recall correctly.”

“So you understand why I’m not particularly interested in doing it again.”

“Please?” Ruyak came swimming back over to the shore, keeping low in the water, then tilted his head at her, imploring. “Humor me?”

Kaelin pretended to ignore him, idly splashing her feet in the water as Ruyak sat there watching her with his giant eyes. Finally she tired of his expression and splashed at his face, but he just blinked and returned to staring at her, undeterred.

Kaelin was beginning to fear he could persuade her to do just about anything by looking at her like that. “Fine. But I’m not going in deeper than I can stand.”

Ruyak grinned. “That’s fair. We have to start somewhere.”

Kaelin stood up and pulled her sarafan off over her head while keeping on her underdress, the skirt of which she tied up around her legs and waist in a puffy sort of bundle. As she cautiously waded into the water, she couldn’t help but cringe as it soaked her clothes.

The lake bottom was made up of large boulders, smooth and slippery, but steady. There were plenty of places for Kaelin to put her feet, as long as she was careful.

“You’re planning on getting in deeper than that, right?” Ruyak asked.

As Kaelin tottered around in the shallows, she waved him off and made noises of dissent. 

Ruyak sighed. “You’re not going to learn anything wading around like that. You need to swim.”

“I’m getting to that.”

“Well get to it before I start growing water weeds in my fur, please.”

Kaelin stopped, frowning down at the dark water. It was almost up to her stomach now, and feeling icier for it. She’d waded like this before, as a child playing with her friends in Motylek’s shallow creek, but it felt different now. 

She was trying very hard not to think about what the Tubru’s icy grip had felt like.

“It’s just cold,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, a little bit. But once you get in you’ll get used to it. Why don’t you try swimming over to me? It’s not deep right here.”

Kaelin regarded him shrewdly, the way she would a rickety bridge. He was holding his hand out, just below the water’s surface so his claws were the only parts visible, watching her with rapt attention.

It didn’t look too far, and the calm lake was no roiling Tobru. There was no current to sweep her away. Kaelin took a deep breath, then lunged forward into the chilly water with a splash.

“Kick your legs!” Ruyak barked.

“How?”

“Just kick, silly. You’ll figure it out.”

She did, or tried, at least. It was such an awkward and exhausting thing. Her uncoordinated flailing barely pulled her through the water at all, and she grasped desperately for Ruyak’s claws where they poked above the water’s surface, just out of reach. 

Just to get an extra push, Kaelin tried to touch the bottom with her toes, only to find nothing beneath her feet. She plunged underwater for a terrifying heartbeat and managed to kick off a rock, but panicked as she crested the surface again, snorting out a noseful of water. She splashed and gasped, and suddenly Ruyak’s hand was under her legs, lifting her halfway out of the water.

“That was so good!”

“Shut up,” Kaelin wheezed, steadying herself in his hand. He chuckled at her, making the water all around jostle erratically like a drink in the hands of a drunkard. The movement was so strange Kaelin almost laughed too, but was feeling too indignant about the whole thing.

“I think losing your head makes it a lot worse,” Ruyak offered.

“I know,” Kaelin snarked, then splashed Ruyak in the face again.

He flinched and shook his head at her, snickering, “Bold, for someone so far from shore.”

“Drown me about it, then.” Kaelin braced herself on one of his claws, gauging the distance back to the shallows, then launched herself off his hand and kicked like mad. Pure determination soon brought her to a place she could stand. Pleased with her progress, Kaelin looked back at Ruyak and rubbed her hands together. “Stay there. I’m swimming to you again.”

[fushiglow]

Here's my Ao3 wrapped for 2023!

Although it's nowhere near as impressive as some people's, I'm really proud of my writing achievements this year, both on and off my Ao3 account. This is just for my own motivation, so I've collaged together a few different templates I've seen online. Feel free to use it for your own if you like!

Words written this year: 45,705 words published over six months! Now where was this motivation to write during my degrees...?

Works published this year: Five published works for Jujutsu Kaisen, four of which are complete.

Work I'm most proud of: Over the Threshold — for a million different reasons! I've never approached a work with this level of attention to themes and motifs before. I lose perspective sometimes, but it's very fulfilling to write, especially because the setting is personally important to me.

Work that readers enjoyed most: Rivers Crossed, Mountains Scaled — at least judging from kudos and bookmarks. That was a surprise to me considering it's only around a week old! However, the investment readers have shown in the comments on Over the Threshold means *everything* to me.

Fastest work to write: Dream a Little Dream — I wrote it over a few hours at work because of a prompt that captured my imagination. This is *wildly* fast for me!

Slowest work to write: I would say Over the Threshold because it's still a WIP, but let's go with Rivers Crossed, Mountains Scaled because it was in my drafts for six months before I did anything with it.

Number of WIPs I'm taking into 2024: Including Over the Threshold, I think 10 or 11? Most of them are part of a series about Megumi and Gojō's relationship that I've been working on for ages, and there are tons more half-baked ideas flying around that I hope I can flesh out eventually. I wish I was a faster writer!

Favourite character to write: Basic of me, but it's Gojō. No matter how much I write him or study his character, I still never know whether I'm getting it quite right. I find that really addictive!

Favourite line/passage I wrote this year: I feel spoilt for choice which is a pretty nice feeling to have about myself! I'm really proud of the celestial imagery in chapter five of Over the Threshold. It's woven throughout the whole chapter, but if I had to pick one passage, it would probably be this one:

It was simply the truth of the universe that some stars burned brighter than others, and Satoru’s was among the brightest. He shone so brilliantly that the rabble were forced to avert their eyes, bowing their heads in worship of his lonely light. Suguru didn’t want to be part of the rabble. [...] If it was the price he had to pay for really seeing Satoru, Suguru would rather let his retinas burn than look away.

Honourable mention to this description from Dream a Little Dream:

Her eyes instantly found his — wide pools of endless blue in motion peering at her from across the room. He was silhouetted against the window frame, shōji pulled open to reveal the clear and colourless dawn that was breaking beyond. It was still too early for the sun to paint the sky in daubs of orange and rouge, but the monochrome world outside cast the Six Eyes into even sharper relief.

Thank you to everyone who has supported my work this year, whether through leaving wonderful comments that light up my entire week or simply following along. I appreciate every single one of you!

Honestly, I'd love to talk more about my fics but it feels like a vain thing to do unless invited. So, if you ever have any questions or anything, ping them my way and I would *love* to chat with you!

Happy New Year, everyone!

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

WIP Tag Game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

I was tagged by @juliannos

Considering the absolutely mind-boggling amount of WIPs, I’m probably going to just post a selection of them rather than every single one. They’re also scattered between my PC and Google Drive and in sore need of reorganizing- oof. 

Final Fantasy 15 - 

Fate and Entropy: Shameless self-indulgent retelling of Final Fantasy XV where a lot of folks who died in canon get to live this time around because my self-insert decides to use their knowledge of events to give a big middle finger to the Astrals (particularly Bahamut). Although she manages to save a few folks, she doesn’t manage to save everyone. Was planned to include a lot of fun lore building and my own version of a possible ‘Episode Lunafreya’. Intended to have Gladio/Self-Insert and Noctis/Lunafreya be the main pairings. 

Has a couple of chapters out on AO3 but I trailed off in the process of writing the next chapter.

The Heir of Rusted Gears: A fanfic that was meant to expand on Nifleheim, including adding more backstory to the Emperor and giving more of a view on the empires culture and day to day life leading up to and through the events of FFXV. It was meant to be from the perspective of an OC, Katerina Aldercapt, who is an imperial princess and child of Iedolas Aldercapt and his wife Leocadia (also an OC). She is actually the second eldest of five children, with one older sister (Leonora), two younger brothers (Iosif and Gavril), and a younger sister (Polina). She eventually becomes romantically involved with Aranea Highwind. 

Sadly never got to finishing and post the first chapter.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses - 

The Raven of Leicester: A Claude/F!OC fic. Oswald von Riegan is faced with a dilemma on who should inherit his position after he dies- either the daughter of a minor house who inexplicably has a major crest of Riegan despite no record of a relation between his house and hers, or his grandson Khalid (who goes by Claude in Fodlan). He eventually strikes a compromise and arrange for the two of them to be wed after both complete training at the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach monastery. Plays with the idea of someone with no crest originally surviving having a crest forced on them by TWSITD and what sort of consequences that might have, as well as a closer look into the Leicester Alliance and characters from the Golden Deer House in general. 

Not yet completed chapter 1 or published. 

Fire Emblem: Heroes - 

Sensible Selfishness: Seth (Sacred Stones)/F!Summoner fic I keep meaning to pick back up and never do. It was meant to have everything- slow burn, mutual pining, characters interacting who really should, an examination of Seth’s character, the summoner has a dog. What more could you ask for?

Smithing Courtesy: A Leo (Fates)/F!Summoner oneshot where the Askran royals host a party to get donations and support from Askran nobility. Leo teaches the summoner a few things about political maneuvering and the two of them enjoy a dance together. Not complete or published. 

Persona 5 -

Hearts and Hubris: A personal pet project of mine, centering around an OC, Mary Shaw. The narrative involves her developing a friendship and eventual romantic relationship with Goro Akechi. While they’re initial friendship seems like a perfectly good thing, Akechi pushes things towards romantic far more quickly than one might expect. And a few other odd interactions are missed red flags that things may not be heading in a good direction. The relationship quickly becomes destructive and abusive, and eventually the relationship ends in tatters. Another big part of the fic is her friendship with Futaba Sakura, and how they support each other in dealing with their respective traumas. 

The fic deals with heavy subject matter such as gaslighting and emotional abuse, how abuse victims can turn around and abuse others or do destructive or hurtful things themselves and draws heavily from my own personal experience of being gaslighted and emotionally abused. I made it five chapters but got stuck on Chapter 6. I’m planning a major overhaul of said chapter to try and get back on the horse. 

Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All - 

A Little Selfishness Won’t Hurt: Oneshot where Lucifer and my Obey me Self-Insert Kiss for the first time. Not really much more to say about it.

Omen of the Reaper:  Oneshot. Not really more than idea at this point, but involves my Obey Me self-insert having a sort of ‘mishap’ during an attempt to use her copy of Nightmare. Instead of an aspect of one of the seven demon brothers, she instead summons an aspect of the Grim Reaper, which turns out to be an omen of Joey’s fate in the coming year. Diavolo attempts to try and devise a way to save Joey from her fate, but Barbatos tries to tell his master, without really telling him, that it may be in their best interest to let things play out as they will. 

Breaking Point: Oneshot. Lucifer and Joey get into a big argument that ends with Joey storming off and the two of them not speaking to each other for days. Eventually Lucifer is confronted with a harsh truth and a difficult choice: whether or not he may need to swallow his pride for once. 

I’m going to tag @radiantbard​ and whoever else wants to do this. 

[somuchcolour]

WIP fic rec list

So I have a shit ton of important things to do so I was like, so what better time to make a WIP rec list of fics that are currently (hopefully) updating.

I know wips get a bad rap but I personally enjoy feeling like I’m in 1830s paris waiting for the next chapter of illusions perdues to drop. Also these authors are giving us sweet sweet entertainment and they deserve the hype. All stories deserve love no matter their completion status.

In no particular order:

A Brief History of Sex by Letzi

Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man. He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.

He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.

He has to make do with what he has.

--

ABO AU based on the TV Show Masters of Sex and the life and work of Virginia Johnson and William Masters, the pioneers of sex therapy.

A Priori by K_K_TiBal, whelvenwings   

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are headed to Hogwarts.

Castiel, as a member of the old Novak wizarding family, is fully expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, like all of his ancestors before him. Dean, as a Muggle-born, has no idea what the Houses even are. With a surprise sorting and classes starting soon afterwards, they're both pitched headfirst into the unknown - and they find themselves in competition with each other almost at once, both of them needing to prove themselves to the people they left at home, and the people with them at Hogwarts.

Over the course of their seven years at Hogwarts, Dean and Cas learn what it means to prove yourself, what it takes to discover who you are, what it feels like to fall in love, and what it is they'll fight for - what matters most of all.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion by ForeverShippingJohnlock    

Castiel Novak is a zombie. Or rather, a "partially deceased syndrome sufferer." Treated and on medication, Castiel is deemed fit to return to living society. Whether society is ready to accept him or not is another matter entirely.

Dean Winchester is an active member of the Human Volunteer Force, a group determined to eliminate the undead. With his father as the leader of the HVF, Dean has spent years learning that PDS sufferers are scum, treated or not, and Dean wants nothing more than to make his dad proud.

Against all odds, the two boys form an unlikely friendship that makes Dean question everything he knows and believes, while Castiel thinks that maybe his second life isn't such a curse after all.

A story of love and loss, life and death, and everything in between.

Beyond Our Waking Eyes by abbythebollix    

Dean Winchester is troubled, Sam Winchester is growing up and Castiel Milton is too fucking hot for his own good.

Cupid's Fiery Shaft by ChasingRabbits               

When Gabriel Milton is forced into working on the school's annual Shakespeare play, he finds himself drawn to one person in particular--a techie named Sam Winchester.

While waiting on numerous universities to dictate the next major step in his life, Sam has been blowing off steam with his friend, lab partner, and (unknowingly) Gabriel's stepbrother, Castiel Novak.

Castiel Novak: a swimmer and one of the school's resident oddballs, who finds himself in a quandary upon meeting Sam's older brother, Dean.

Dean Winchester: gruff-voiced automechanic by day and culinary genius/MegaNerd by night, who might not be as heterosexual as he lets everybody believe.

If it sounds complicated, that's only because it is.

Now That's Comedy by CaptainMercy42     

Comedy. It's what Winchester's did. Winchester's, and about a million other dumb fucks with an iPhone and 140 character witticisms about their first world problems. It was not supposed to bug him when no-talent "wordsmiths" got highlighted in a bit on Ellen or Bob and Tom. But it did.

His dad, well he was great at it. It was dark comedy. It came from a dark place; the loss of a wife and the life of a morally bankrupt single dad, almost innocent in how thoroughly unprepared he was for fatherhood.  Substance abuse in itself provided jokes for days. The material actually outlasted his dear old dad. This surprised no one. What was surprising was Sam's decision to ditch college and do his own act, despite his lingering bitterness.

The first night Dean saw Sam perform was also the first night Dean saw Castiel perform.

Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by linoresearch   

The year is 1722 and across the oceans merchant ships are hounded by pirates. Killing and stealing their way to infamy, the Winchesters plague the trade-routes to the New World, leaving a trail of death and devastation across the Spanish Main. They are villains, and every ship that sails under the colours of the Royal Navy has been tasked with bringing them to justice; sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.

When the lookout of the navy frigate, the Lady Mary, calls ship-ahoy from the crow’s nest, first-mate Lieutenant Castiel Novak has no idea how his life is about to change. In a swash-buckling adventure across the high-seas, Castiel faces sea-monsters, ghost-ships, and much more, in the race to secure a valuable and dangerous prize. Thrown in among the pirates aboard the Black Impala, he also learns that Captain Dean Winchester can be hard to resist.

Number 1 Crush by Duckyboos                

Dean, Benny, Charlie, Garth, and Cas are old college buddies. In their thirties now, they meet up once a year to shed their adult responsibilities for a week. This year it's Garth's turn to choose where they go and he's still as obsessed with horror and weird shit as he was back in college. He ends up picking a supposedly deserted hotel in the friggin' mountains. The place is creepy as hell and as night falls, two things become increasingly apparent. One: the place isn’t as deserted as they first thought, and two: Dean’s college stalker is back from the dead.

Dial 'M' For Monster by Duckyboos    

By day, Dean Winchester bakes cupcakes. He owns his own bakery (Stairway to Leaven) and people come from all over state to try his delicious vegan red velvet. By night, he’s a fighter of supernatural evil.

Castiel Novak owns the small town's only motel (The Resting Place). He has a problem; he thinks rooms 6 & 11 are haunted.  It’s not like he can just look up a local ghost hunter in the phone book though, now is it?

Oh, he can? Sweet.

All The Other Places by Englandwouldfall                

As is usually the way with this crap, nothing is that simple. Part 4 of Beach House       

Shades of Mediocrity by Englandwouldfall               

Dean needs to rearrange his life all over again, regroup, restart and work out what the hell to do next.Castiel needs to learn where to channel his heart break, among other things.   Part 4 of Home            

The Taming of the Dudes by Englandwouldfall  

They've been doing this long enough and successfully enough that Dean kind of feels they shouldn't be arguing over something as serious as the mortgage. Part 5 of As you like it       

Two and a Half Sheets to the Wind by Englandwouldfall        

The whole point of working on a cruise ship was to escape everything, so the last thing he needs is to run into a guy who makes him a little too honest on the first day of a month long stint around Europe.

With Interest by everandanon     

In which sought-after bad boy Castiel Novak agrees to make awkward, nerdy sophomore Dean Winchester fall in love with him for a bet, and quickly finds himself in over his head — but by the time he realizes his mistake, it’s too little, too late . . .

Fast-forward 11 years, and as guilty as Cas still feels, he has bigger problems to deal with. Grieving his twin brother and struggling to provide the care his niece deserves, Cas finally sucks it up and moves back home in an effort to hold things together.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before he runs into Dean - Dean, who's all grown up and even more beautiful than Cas always suspected he'd be. Dean, who says he wants to be friends, and is clearly much better at a game Cas hasn't played since he broke Dean's heart.

Dean, who might not be the forgive-and-forget type, after all . . .

Quarantension by everandanon  

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.** *Really not platonic **Spoiler: They need a lot.

Fortress by imogenbynight         

Five years ago, a malignant mass removed from John Winchester's temporal lobe left behind a quietly ticking bomb that nobody noticed until it decimated everything. Five years ago, John dragged Dean away from everything he'd ever known, hellbent on rescuing him from an imagined threat that felt more real to him than the blood on his hands. Five years ago, Castiel let Dean's hand slip through his fingers as he rescued Sam from what he'd thought was a more immediate threat.

For five years, Castiel has wondered if there was some way he could have saved Dean, too.

Now, with a phone call that he'd all but given up hoping for, Castiel has a chance to try again.

It's Kind of a Funny Story by deathsteel    

After an aborted suicide attempt lands Castiel Shurley in the hospital, he meets Dean Winchester, a charming damaged young man who is much more than first meets the eye.  Not being able to deal with the stress of growing up may have gotten him here and being hopelessly in love with his best friend's girlfriend probably didn't help, but Castiel soon learns that sometimes it takes  going a little crazy to find the path you were always meant to be on.

Loosely based on the movie/book by Ned Vizzini 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'.

Just A Schoolboy Crush by Zombiecat    

Castiel has a cliche crush on the highschool football all-star, Michael Ashton. Even though he's fully aware he's doomed to longing looks and pining in silence, it wouldn't be so bad if his best friend, Charlie, hadn't told Dean. Dean Winchester never seemed to miss a chance to get under his skin but for some reason he starts acting odd when he hears about Castiel's big secret.

God, Make Small by komodobits               

The last plane into McMurdo before the six-month winter brings a new face, an astronomer on transfer from one of the inland observatories. Truthfully, Dean doesn't know shit about neutrino particles; he's just the guy who gets paid to move the equipment from A to B and tries to keep it from getting broken and/or frozen solid. Castiel Novak's awkward, endearing smile is an additional bonus. However, the relentless blue night is brewing coldly for a storm, and it's starting to look like Dean and Castiel might be the only ones left out on the ice.\

Legacies by vanishingact    

Castiel Milton's uneventful life as a Massachusetts lawyer gets a little strange in the fall of 1887 when he is assigned to handle the late Henry Winchester's estate and his client's distractingly handsome grandson arrives to take up residence in the old manor house. As an unlikely friendship (with a side of pining) develops, the house slowly coughs up its secrets and reveals a whole world of trouble that Dean never knew his grandfather kept hidden.

The Game of God by seperis           

You can't win a war for humanity by sacrificing all of your own. Part 4 of Down to Agincourt        

Sequins and Spirals by euphemology  

Dean Winchester is a world-renowned figure skater who hails from the “good old U.S. of A.” He is well on his way to the 2014 Winter Olympics, but there’s one small problem: so is his arch-rival, Polish skater Castiel Novak. Competition is definitely not going to be easy, but it gets even harder when the two men get assigned to the same room in the Olympic Village.

Show Me How To Love by universalromance    

A new family of kids at Lawrence High School brings a new perspective to Dean's life, especially when he becomes inexplicably drawn to the youngest of the siblings, a severely autistic boy who has never spoken or touched anybody in his entire life. Rating will possibly go up later. Possibly upsetting psychological subject matter.

The Process by Soupernabturel           

“Dean, hands to yourself please.”

The man in question straightens up in his chair, turns his flirty smile from the man two seats from him and onto officer Novak. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Cas?” Hannah asks.

“We get some regulars. They come to know a few of the officers, the patrol officers, especially.” Novak explains, the look on his face, almost slightly bored, slips a little. “As you know, I’m usually the one monitoring the Strip.”

 Police!Officer Cas is being filmed at work (A-la: Jail Las Vegas) for a reality TV show. Meanwhile Dean is a sex worker, not only familiar with the Strip’s booking process, but with a certain blue-eyed officer.

Start With a Name by cumberbellins, frickenapplepie (cumberbellins)    

Waking up in a stranger's living room with a blue eyed man staring down at you isn't the most pleasant experience ever. Dean Winchester can tell you that. Another thing Dean Winchester can tell you is that whenever you have to break into your brother's apartment, you should make sure that you got the right window.

starving in your gravity by alullabytoleaveby   

Dean has enough on his plate. Really.

There's his job as a paramedic for the local hospital and, while he loves it, loves getting to help people, the hours are long and the pay leaves much to be desired. There's his definitely-not-a-relationship with Castiel, the hot ER doctor, where's he's completely out of his depth emotionally. And then there's his brother, who's just dropped out of law school and has no idea what he's going to do now.

So what he definitely does not need is his alcoholic deadbeat dad stumbling back into his life.

Make Damn Sure by SurlyCat      

Dean Winchester is not thrilled about taking an office job at one the most powerful media corporations in the country. His work has always been hands on, but when Charlie tells him about the job opening and its comfortable salary, the temptation is just too great to turn down. And really, it wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the blue-eyed man that also works there.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have crossed paths far too often over the last 12 years, with an unsavory outcome nearly every time. This time though, walking away is just not an option as they're forced to collaborate on a project and learn to navigate each other like civilized human beings. For Dean and Cas though, nothing ever goes quite according to plan.

...In Bed by SurlyCat                

Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton met on a rainy summer day over a broken down car. Even though Castiel is nosy and seems to have no filter, Dean still finds himself drawn to the man. Over time they become friends, and over time, Dean falls for Cas, certain that Cas is uninterested. What Dean doesn't know is that his friend hasn't always been quite so tame, and Cas is careful to keep it that way. Who would've thought that a fortune cookie and a childish game would be responsible for bringing out the truth?

Tag, You're It! by Kitmistry   

Five months after the case that almost claimed their lives, what started as blowing off some steam during a high-pressure situation and continued as a mutually-beneficial arrangement is getting out of Special Agent Castiel Novak’s control. Falling in love with his partner is doomed to end in disaster, especially when said partner is Special Agent Dean Winchester—cocky, infuriating, and the biggest playboy Castiel has ever met.

Still on medical leave, Dean is bored out of his mind, and worst of all - once Castiel gets sucked into the investigation of a new case - without enough distractions from his inner demons. When he stumbles upon a small, seemingly risk-free case, Dean jumps at the chance to get involved, but the lies he has to tell could be catastrophic for the already shaky foundations of his relationship with Castiel.

With a new threat trying to take over the underworld of DC, Castiel and Dean have to find a way to work past their problems or risk losing each other forever.

Part 2 of The H Files       

The Supernatural Edification of Dean Winchester by OverlordoftheBees   

Based on TV Series “Afterlife”. Professor Castiel Novak (MA Berkeley, PhD Harvard) is an academic who has staked his credibility upon his ability to decompress and deconstruct the mythology surrounding mediums, clairvoyants and all things "new age spiritualist". That is, until a routine trip with a graduate class brings him into contact with medium Dean Winchester: uniquely gifted, supremely abrasive and desperate for a way out. When Dean touches on the tragedy marring Castiel’s past, his neatly constructed worldview is decimated. There is only a veil between life and death, as both well know. And as Castiel finds himself increasingly drawn to Dean, the fragility of that barrier is strained to its limit.

These Are the Nights by vintagenoise         

After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.In the Winter of 2008, Castiel visits his boyfriend, Dean, for Christmas. Despite all the big issues he and Dean have dealt with in the past, they've never had the chance to sort through the little things. Castiel is sure that their plans, from embarking on a road trip together, to spending time with the Winchesters, can only be good for their relationship. There's just one little problem that needs to finally be confronted: sex, and Castiel's difficulty with it.In the Summer of 2009, Dean and Sam visit their estranged father and his new family, who reluctantly allow Castiel to visit through Independence Day. All Dean wants is for his family and his boyfriend to get along, but between John's struggle to accept his son's sexuality, and his wife Kate's strange attitude towards Castiel, he's not sure he'll be able to make it work. Part 7 of Young Volcanoes                

[calltomuster]

3, 4, and 5

Hello, my friend! Thanks so much for the ask!

From these fic asks:

3: Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

I do indeed have a few uncompleted WIPs! I'm working on a few things for the Kenobi Gen Exchange (@kenobi-gen-exchange) -- a fic for my assigned person, and a few treats for some other people! Can't give any details about those because I don't want to ruin the surprise.

I've also got another WIP cooking that has me super excited. It's an AU where Maul reappears much earlier and, completely out of nowhere, kills thirteen(?) year-old Padawan Anakin Skywalker right in front of his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Seeing his Padawan killed right in front of him by the same man who killed his Master + the strain of two broken bonds in his mind leaves Obi-Wan pretty shattered mentally.

4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

Hmmm... I had a lot of half-baked ideas for Whumptober 2020 that I never got very far in, mainly because of time. I am a full-time college student with two part-time jobs, so whenever I get anything written fanfic-wise in the school year, I count it as a win. But yeah, there were lots of Whumptober prompts that I wanted to write that I just didn't have time for. Like I had an idea for Day 3 (prompt: "Forced To Their Knees") where Obi-Wan was enslaved on Bandomeer and spent a while there and then was rescued and taken in by the Mandalorians. I didn't really consciously abandon it, tbh I had forgotten about it until now, so maybe some day I'll return.

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

Sure! Here's something from the next chapter of The Moments That Time Remembered:

He looked up at the massive mountain of ice in front of him. This was where Padawan Bulo had led them? It seemed to be a dead end...

“Close your eyes, younglings, and direct your focus on the Force,” Padawan Bulo’s face was inscrutable under her mask, but her Force presence was bright. “Only together can we enter.”

She turned and outstretched both her hand and Force presence towards the ice. Hesitantly, Obi-Wan and his clanmates did the same.

A great rumbling noise could be heard over the shrieking wind, loud like the engine of a starship. The ground shook beneath them, almost as if the sky was falling down around them. Obi-Wan looked up to find this wasn’t far from the truth. The great sheet of ice was crumbling to reveal a door. Amazed, Obi-Wan looked at Garen, who was staring just as wide-eyed at him. Padawan Bulo calmly led them inside, where Master Yoda sat in the center of a beautiful temple hall.

You can see another snippet that someone asked for here!

Thanks so much for the questions!

fic ask game

[nappyfreesince2003-blog]

WIP as a cake

@ps-nippets​, thanks for tagging me, not sure I really fall into any of them yet, but I’ll give it a shot :)

Grocery shopping (you have the basic idea, a general sense for the main characters & a few jumbled scenes which you’ll have to sift through)

Scattered Ingredients (You have nailed down the setting, the plot direction, the names of the main characters and an outline)

Raw Batter (You’ve combined the  ingredients. You’re steadily working on the first draft and have a few thousand words on it.)

Half Baked (Halfway or mostly done. Struggling with how to wrap things up or just feeling unmotivated. At the stage where you are doubting your ‘cake’)

Frosting (Done with the first draft, editing in progress or if you’re like me and you edit as you go along then you’re on 5th draft)

Taste testing (Looking for betas and feedback)

Packaging (You’ve followed the general formatting guidelines and your book baby is ready to be set out to publishers, editors and agents)

The Mountains of Garda  (0. Grabbing my coat and bag before I head to the shops)

Genre: Fantasy, Astrological, Magic Form: Novel POV: Third Person  Main characters: unknown

Synopsis: So far all I have is a rough sketch of the world, and it looks like this: humans have their personality and fate set for them at their moment of birth. It is not decided by genetics or social class (well, partially) but mostly by the position of the stars in the instant they are born. Their exact personality and the energy they bring can be read on their star chart from the instant they come into life. This determines what they will be good at, who they will marry and how they will live. In this world humans rely heavily on the use of cosmic energy for medicine, politics and as a grounding for society on almost every level. It’s been this was for over 4000 years. However, following a sudden boost in technology (war, what else?) things are starting to shift. The world is changing fast, and old war heroes are starting to look less heroic...

Please ask questions if you have them, it would really help me at this stage in my writing

I’m tagging my three newest followers @morenerdthanperson, @the-corner-girl and @enchanted001

[wolveswithhats]

For WIP Week

Abandoned idea from a few years ago, a melding of two of my favorite things, Buffy and Portal! Of the idea that the Initiative ships off some of its demons to Aperture. Because....reasons. Spike-centric (or, well, Spike-exclusive ). Very sloppy. Outline-quality, lots of meandering, unfinished, unpolished concepts. Riddled with editing notes. I didn’t even bother with capitalization. Still, there’s some fun stuff in here.

(I don’t care if anyone reblogs, just don’t put it on any of the aggregators, please. This is too rough drafty and embarrassing to be filed away as Content Worth Looking At.)

(captured by initiative again. s4 – s5. initiative shutting down, cementing off. exterminate all demons. riley pulls some strings to have spike shipped off instead of staked. the smallest of favors. i'm still on team riley-isn't-a-total-douchebag. he's aight.)

an hour later, spike and three of his ugliest friends are caged and carted into the back of a semi for a cross country drive across america's finest bypasses. through a hole in the wall watches steel and mortar slowly give off to rolling green-gold fields. teeny tiny farmsteads, clarkston and robin glen and with some disgust, notes the turnoff for a lake angelus, some thirty miles north of detroit.

(his initiative vamp neighbor, 90s grunge clothes, grunge name – trevor – fledge too young to drop game face.)

“christ, i heard about this place. some science lab in a salt mine underground. they say this place does weird experiments.”

met with deadpan, disbelieving stares, and a disgusted tsk from the blond lady-vamp, what's-her-face, something with calendars. april or may or half-past-eleven, day day day, sunday, right, that was it.

“they took my appendix, trevor.” sunday lifts her shirt, revealing a line of stitches, “for their mix-and-match potato head monster. what the hell is a frankenzombie going to do with a shriveled, century old organ? it doesn't even do anything. how is that not weird.”

“no man, I mean really, really weird. cross-dimensional travel, like stargate. bug people. turning your blood into gasoline.”

spike snorts. “I drive a '59 fireflite. gorgeous piece of machinery, but bollocks for mileage. single digits. could due for some petrol on tap.” sad, longing, separation anxiety. his desoto was 2200 miles away baking in the california sun. once he made his way back to the west coast, he'd find those military wankers for a dechipping, kill the whole lot of them, and piss on their corpses for good measure. then he'd book it to south america, away from scalpel-wielding lab jockeys, bouncy-haired slayers and the root of every major humiliation of his unlife over the past three years. bon-fucking-voyage.

ugly demon: “that's why you should switch to a hybrid. my prius gets great fuel economy.” how does a demon that big fit into a mid-size?

(ugly demon = horned, beastly. “your primitive human anatomy lacks the necessary mouthparts to vocalize my true name. what sort of creature only has one tongue? you may call me henrietta.”)

trevor is oblivious. “they were some respected science lab back in the sixties. now? when they're not making you test out their weird experimental products, they make you run through test courses, solve puzzles. and it's all orchestrated by this giant murderous robot. like HAL from space odyssey. once people go in, they're never heard from again. it's true. my cousin knew a guy who was there, he told me all about it.”

“if no one ever gets out, how the hell does your cousin know a guy, you stupid sod.”

trevor's fangs close with an audible click, and he sits sullen for the rest of the commute.

as it turns out, stupid sod and cousin-of-sod actually did know what they were talking about.

housed on the outskirts of a wheatfield, through a gated parking lot, innocuous brick building. on the loading dock, a hispanic man in blue work coveralls wheels a dolly into the back of the mac truck. looks at his living cargo with what spike considers to be an appalling lack of concern, considering the very blatant human trafficking unfolding before him.

“you're not the parts I ordered.” gruff texan drawl. yells to the front, “where are my chamber parts?”

driver swings around front, clutching a clipboard, hands it off. “friday, likely. this is your wednesday shipment.”

“these are people.” texas squints at array of annoyed, tired faces, takes in the gnarled brows, the shackles, and the powder blue scrubs, eyes finally settling on the barbed, hulking form of henrietta. “theoretically. why do I have a shipment of mangled faces, billy idol--”

“hey!”

“--and one-fifth of gwar? are we making a music video?”

the driver shrugs. “i just deliver. sign the thing.”

texas reads off the clipboard: “subject donation from sunnydale university. volunteers?”

“experimental lab rats,” trevor offers.

“prisoners,” spike corrects, growling. “this has got to be in violation of the...what's it? geneva convention. I feel unduly treated. I want an attorney. actual, not one of those 800-number infomercial suits. due my civil rights.”

texas blinks owlishly. “what civil rights? you're not even american.”

“i'm sorry, I didn't realize I needed to shit red, white and blue to not be accosted against my will.”

ignores bitching. “are you even human?” points at henrietta. “i don't think that's human.”

(“what multiverse are you lot from?”

“california.”

“huh. always had my suspicions.”)

he was hoping for an upgrade to trousers, denim, in a dark blue or black. maybe a pale wash if it had a grunge-enough look to it. what they gave him was a pair of coveralls in sunshiny bright incarceration orange, with lines of white piping tracing the seams and a stitching of black lettering across the breast pocket labeling him as HST0017. for fuck's sake.

“i'm not wearing this.”

“as soon as you pass through that emancipation grill, any unapproved paraphernalia is forfeit.”

“meaning what?”

“your current clothes will be emancipated. pffft! you could go naked, wouldn't be the first test streaker, but I gotta warn you, there's the acid pits, the gun turrets, and oh, the lasers. burns like a bitch, and that's not even touching the potential crotch-rotting radiation--”

“just give me the fucking jumpsuit.”

they surgically grafted a band of white metal to the back of his shins, where a long curved spring of steel could be notched, lifting his feet into a painful arch, weight balanced on his toes. he was suddenly that much more impressed with the slayer and her preference for fighting evil in teetering heels, which did wonders for making her teeny weeny hobbit legs look elegant but offered only a promise of scuffed heels and snapping ankles in grave dirt. angelus-grade torture, he decided, hobbling awkward and bird-like from one side of his little glass prison to the other.

he found the entire affair ludicrous, demeaning, and oh, stupid, until he witnessed another test subject slip on a slick of orange goo and nosedive off a platform, pancaking wetly across the tile in a display of hilarious cartoon physics. it was admittedly very, very funny, and funnier still watching jaded custodians squeegee up the red smear that used to be a person, but not something he was looking to experience himself first hand.

“you know, I can see the upside of not doing my best wile e. coyote impression,” he groused, “but you should really have these things in boot form.” shifting uncomfortably as the screws in his knees creaked, puckered and itched.

rick looks at him, surprised. “that's.....that's an idea. we'll take that into consideration.”

(aaaaaaand a jump to the P2 section. slightly better quality, a little less outline-ish. tho very stream-of-consciousness)

waking up with a dry mouth, mouth full of cotton, mouth full of fluffy biker beard, and where had that image come from? like all the moisture had been sucked from the room, stale recycled air like new car smell and musk. where is here? bed, desk, dinged up dresser, ceiling-mounted tv, blacked out and coated in dust. walls decorated with murals of snowy mountains and ski lodges, tacky thrift store oil paintings. the bed he's laying on has a threadbare blue hospital blanket, and a man-shaped crater pressed into the mattress, like a police chalk outline with serious gravity. motel room? UGLY motel room. there's no windows in the room, just slated blinds stretching the length of one wall.

can't move, groggy, wet limp noodle muscles, the dead waking. stares down the length of his body. dressed like a petrol station attendant, orange jumpsuit rolled mid-shin, legs bony and corpse-white. wow, seriously overdue for a date with mr. sunshine.

figure out the who the what and the why after he quenched this sahara on his tongue. room to the left of the bed, loo, good, yes. force himself to move, up and over, muscles clenching in rebellion, stumble over with white white legs buckling like a newborn deer. sink, yes, water churned and choked god why is it taking so long finally sputters out, drinks and drinks tinny tap water until he feels like he's going to burst. sates the fire in his mouth but not the thirst, the hunger, god what is that?

looks up in the dark of the bathroom into the mirror, and sees nothing, just dingy white tile where his face should be. huh. well that's just... different. it's unnatural, he knows, because hello, does still remember how a mirror works, even if he can't remember much of anything else. experiments, lifts the crusty dry slab of soap and watches its reflection bob phantom-like in mid-air. right, so, the mirror isn't broken, just him. but it doesn't feel wrong, like somehow he's just used to staring at empty space in the mirror.

what the hell is he?

sits back on the bed, hands clenching knees.

beyond the doorway, he expects a hallway, maybe, decked out in the same mottled 70s look his room is themed, or a carpark dotted with out of state license plates and neglected marquee signage. but there's no cars, no buildings, no outside. just a massive storehouse, stretching up and out beyond what he can see, dimly lit by flickering yellow halogen. snaking lines of track above his head following the catwalk he's standing on, weaving between towers of grafted metal and grey-green storage units stacked like legos. huge. massive. his own room was in a storage box, labeled next to the door.

test subject packed on 11/17/1999 EXP: indefinite ADT SLM M SHRT

short? was he short? well sure maybe by comparison of the super humongous warehouse he was stored in. not a very helpful selection of information, most of which he had already established. a picture would be helpful. a name. a passport. a blockbuster rewards card. literally any brand of identity.

goes back in, shuffling about, looking for something he's not aware of yet. there's a pad of paper in the desk and a cheap ballpoint pen. picks up the pen, but it feels awkward and childish gripped in his hand. moment of panic that he's illiterate, until he swaps the pen to his left. it feels much more natural.

--mirror challenged. am a ghost? --left-handed. evil ghost? --posh penmanship though --orange is not my color --i could do for a tan

pauses thoughtfully.

--who the fuck am i

sound of screeching metal and cracking drywall, urban destruction at its finest. implied shortness a sudden and unexpected gift as something ghosts over his head, ruffling his hair, clipped english accent as a storage crate cranes above him: “--ten thousand flippin' vegetables--” carves a winding trail of destruction as it tears through crates and cables and catwalks before finally coming to an explosive stop, half buried in the far wall.

his own crate tips, agonizingly slow with groaning whale song of careening metal, before momentum and gravity takes it for its own. crash bang boom, gaudy motel mountain ski lodge avalanches into another stack of crates, creating a domino effect. check-out achieved, in more ways than one. leaves him stranded on a creaking catwalk with no more than an ugly jumpsuit, a pad of paper, and more questions then before. he left the pen on the bed. bugger.

picks a direction and walks. periodically checks crates. like his own, all decked out like vintage motels, oil crusted murals and tacky faux-wood paneling. and on every bed is a person. all coated in a fine layer of dust, gray-skin, perfectly preserved but very, very dead. room after room. men, women, children. old young tall short fat skinny. a varied collection of corpses lined up like sleeping porcelain dolls. flippin' vegetables, indeed.

turns a corner and comes face-to-cornea with a massive metal eyeball. yells in surprise. the eyeball screams, then rears back on the rail suspending it. in its backwards attempt at escape, cracks into a closed door where the rail vanishes, and stirs woozily on its axis.

“what's that then. you alright?” he asks, cringing even as he speaks. it feels more obligate social politeness than actual concern; he honestly could not give one flying fuck about its condition. beyond that, asking a metal eyeball of its well-being seems ridiculous, even in light of this entire weird situation, but it—he—chuckles nervously, looking all at once embarrassed and grateful for the inquiry. an impressive emotive feat, considering he's lacking the other 95% of his face.

“sorry, sorry! you startled me! wasn't expecting a human to come waltzing out of nowhere, considering all of them are dead. corpses usually aren't so ambulatory.” the glowing iris slits to a suspicious blue line. “though in your particular case--”

“you're bristonian,” he says, realization dawning.

“no,” the eyeball chided slowly, with a patronizing squint, “i'm a robot.”

“your accent. you talk like you're from bristol. bristonian.” stubbornly. not getting into an argument with a fucking metal orb. “i heard you speak before, back in that warehouse. you're the one who almost ran me down with a crane. who taught you to drive, mr. magoo?”

“hey now! how about some leeway? bit of a limb deficiency here.” the robot waggles its handlebars in demonstration. “i haven't exactly mastered the art of ten-and-two.” sudden realization: “say, you talk like me! i'd say we came from the same development wing, but that's unlikely, you being organic and all that.”

did he now? that hadn't even occurred to him.

he weighs the language on his tongue, the thoughts in his head, parsing through words, foods, spellings, culture. carparks and car boots, wheatabix, man-u, european craft beers, and a strange smug superiority over chirpy, obnoxious californian twang. and of course, a beautiful array of curse words rolling fluid off his tongue. “bloody hell, sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bollocks – oh god, you're right, i'm english too.”

he was a londoner, his accent said as much, though with a sort of languid, unpolished quality that came from excessive travel and extended exile from the mother country. he hadn't been home for a long time. expat? study abroad? he didn't feel like a student, well past adolescence, but he didn't feel like much at all, beyond hopelessly confused.

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

Me, Seeing People Liking My Posts About Supports Yuri Should have gotten and how Yuri and Mercedes would have been a great support chain: