#WIP telephone

[gingerteaonthetardis]

WIP Telephone: "Spooky"

if you don't want to see what might become an increasingly long tumblr post, feel free to block the tag "WIP telephone." (i'll also be tagging it "long post," just in case. don't want to clog up people's dashes.)

when i logged on this morning and opined what to do with all the WIPs i know i'll never finish, it was brilliantly suggested that i offer some of them up to be collaboratively worked on by my pals here on tumblr. it's intended to be a tag game, of sorts, with each person adding maybe a hundred words (obviously, since my WIPs are all more than a hundred words, my starting excerpts are going to be… a bit longer than that, oops; and feel free to add more than that, if you feel like doing so) and then tagging someone else to add more, and so on, etc. etc.

if it's fun and anyone's interested, i'll do more, but i thought i'd start with something... 🍂 seasonally appropriate. 🍂 i'll be sharing additions as they come along!

also, tagging you for the next hundred words, because you're the one who started it all: dear @mrunmione (i'm not telling which doctor this is supposed to be; i'll let you pick!)

-

She hadn’t meant to say it.

“I’m not sleeping in here without you.”

In all honesty, she’s perfectly capable of sleeping on her own in a strange place; she’s done it plenty of times before. Living with the Doctor means getting used to sleeping in unusual spots. Hospital gurneys. Motel rooms in the far future where the beds float. Under ballroom tables, though that was just the once, and she’d had a lot to drink. The occasional jail cell.

Needless to say, she’s well acquainted with catnaps in odd places.

Only “odd” isn’t really the same as “haunted.”

And this place—wherever they are—is definitely haunted.

No matter what the Doctor says.

-

"Spooky," she decreed as they trudged up the damp path toward the house on the hill. "Think it's haunted?"

"There's no such thing," he insisted. The Doctor rolled his eyes in clear scepticism, but they both knew there was some reason the TARDIS landed them there. 

Entering through the unlocked door, they set about taking readings of the entrance hall and cramped lower rooms, all covered in dark wood and heavy tapestries. The decor was decidedly out of date, like something from a period film. No modern lighting, no electrical outlets to speak of. 

But though the place had something unsettling about it, it also seemed decidedly empty.

“This house is old,” the Doctor said, eyes intent, scanning over the low ceilings. “A few hundred years, I’d say. Maybe more."

When Rose wandered to the hearth, his supposition was confirmed by two small, framed sketches: two different women, their hair pulled back in artful ringlets and their faces set in gentle Mona Lisa smiles. One was dark and the other fair. And there were no names. 

They were both dated 1781. 

Before she could point them out, the Doctor was already running up the main staircase, rattling off jargon that she couldn’t even begin to understand—nonsense about atmospheric pressure and residual readings of… something—his voice too-loud in the stillness of the house. 

She trailed after him, only sort of half-listening. But as she turned the corner back into the hall, the whole place rumbled—and thumped, a sound like stones grinding against the bottom of a ship. The floorboards shook perilously under her feet, and she reached out on instinct, steadying herself against the base of the bannister.

“Doctor?"

The Doctor, of course, didn't so much as move. He remained stopped about halfway up the stairs, effortlessly balanced despite the unstable terrain. His head cocked and a half-smile on his lips, he said, "That wasn't a quake."

Of course not.

"What was it, then?"

His smile spread, becoming a full, face-overtaking, slightly manic sort of expression. "I have no idea."

To her very great alarm, he sounded delighted.

-

"Don't tell me you're scared, Rose," the Doctor laughs, sending the torchlight juddering through the darkness. "Look, it's cosy!"

"I'm not scared," she insists. "It's just—"

"Yes, spooky." It's a little too dim to tell, but she's pretty certain he's rolling his eyes. "So you've said." 

He'd picked her room for the night seemingly at random, nudging open doors until he found one with a suitable bed. And in the faint light, the bedroom does seem—nice. Less haunting, maybe, than the rest of the house. But still… off, somehow, in a way she can't quite put her finger on.

As she steps around him, careful not to cut off the wavering beam of the torch, she peers around, making note of all she can see: the crisp linens, the intricately carved wooden bed posts, the glint of polished glass—an oil lamp, she realises.

Something catches at the back of her mind, and she turns toward the Doctor with a frown already creeping over her face. "It's all sort of… clean, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not musty or anything in here." Gesturing at the bed, she waits for the torch to illuminate the bedspread; startlingly, the coverlet is tucked down, as if someone had only just recently got in or out. Though, perhaps not. Maybe the last occupant of the house just really went in for turn-down service.

But then, she sees it, on the pillow…

She ducks down, looking closer at the little shadow against the pale linens. A faint waft of something carries up to her nose, and it takes her a moment to register just what it is: floral, reminding her faintly of Mickey's Gran.

"Lavender," she murmurs, thumbing over the little bundle of flowers, held together by faded ribbon. "It's fresh."

With a click, the torch light blinks out, and for an instant, she is overtaken by unstoppable, irrational fear. The Doctor is in the room with her, and as he's reminded her several times tonight, they've swept the whole house, searched every nook and cranny: there's nobody here.

But the wind howling outside the window, the faint blueness of the night, and the whisper of dry, bare tree branches scraping together all press in around her, thick as shadow, making her skin crawl and her breath catch.

The prospect of passing a whole night like this, alone with the dark and whatever lurks inside it, is almost too much to bear.

So, fine. She is a little bit scared.

Then there's a rustle, a scrape, a hiss, and then a match blooms with fire, lighting the sharp lines of the Doctor's face from below. He's grinning as he lowers the match to light the oil lamp.

"You're right," he says pleasantly. "This is spooky."

[21st-century-ninja]

lol can u guys tell i like family friendship fic

blank board for anyone who wants to play!

[puppyeared]

valentines day pkmn wip ^_^

[littleblueberryartist]

“Ah. So nice to finally meet you, star from beyond.”

Don’t worry Venti’s fine Istaroth was feeling a little silly that’s all 😊

“Oh yes thank you for letting me borrow your body dear^^”

[ninjago-wip-telephone]

WIP asks!

If you’re the one asking and/or answering, feel free to specify which WIP(s) you’re interested in!

How many WIPS do you have right now?

What is your oldest WIP?

What is your newest WIP?

Do you have any WIPs that will never be finished?

What scene did you write first in your current WIP?

How long do you tend to spend on your WIPs?

What’s the longest time you’ve spent on a fic?

What’s the fastest time you’ve finished a fic?

Do you write your fic as you go, or finish it before publishing?

Do you outline a fic before you write it?

How close has your WIP stayed to its outline/original vision?

Do you have a title, working or otherwise, for your WIP?  How did you come up with it?

What’s been part of your WIP since the beginning?  What’s the newest idea that you’ve added to it?

Rewrite a scene from your WIP from another character’s perspective.

Rewrite a scene from your WIP in a different person (first, second, third.)

Rewrite a scene from your WIP in a different tense.

Rewrite a scene from your WIP without adverbs.

Rewrite a scene from your WIP without adjectives.

Rewrite a scene from your WIP like a screenplay or script.

Put on a timer for five minutes and write as many words as you can in your WIP, no backspacing or searching for the perfect word!  Share how many words you got and the funniest section from your result.

Share [x] words from your WIP!

Share your [x]th paragraph from your WIP!

Share a line from your WIP that has [x] word in it!

Do you have a WIP about [x] character?

Do you have a WIP with [x] trope?

Share an out-of-context part of your WIP.

Share the most devastating part of your WIP.

Share the happiest part of your WIP.

Share the funniest part of your WIP.

Share a fun fact you’ve learned while writing your WIP.

Share a cursed fact you’ve learned while writing your WIP.

What’s the funniest/strangest way that inspiration has struck you when writing fic?

If your WIP was a color, what would it be?

If your WIP was a texture, what would it be?

If your WIP was a taste, what would it be?

Title your WIP like an article headline.

Explain your WIP using only other media as reference.

[wild-battlebond]

telephone imagery zero

(variants under readmore)

[alienssstufff]

actually mad (/j) how quickly i made up the dress the design upon request -w-

[fabrowrites]

Fang-llo has never been like the other serpentine. They all tell him he's too much of a human, even if that's a blatant lie -- he knows his eyes are red like a Hypnobrai's and his fangs are as sharp as any other Fangpyre's. He's serpentine through and through and he hates humans just like the rest of them. They're all the worst, including the nice girl and her brother who just don't know how to leave him alone. The absolute worst, you hear him? or: Lloyd Garmadon, raised by the Fangpyre his entire life, never saw any good in humans beyond maybe their candy-making skills. Now, he finds himself struggling between balancing his loyalty to the serpentine and his growing fascination with the multi-colored humans who keep crashing into his life.

🐍 Lloyd & Kai & Nya, Lloyd & Nya 🐍 ns1 setting 🐍 friendship, enemies to friends, fluff and angst 🐍 9462 words, complete 🐍 written by @21st-century-ninja @dumbfandomdoodles and @blanket-ruler13 🐍 read on ao3 here

Heyo everyone! We can finally reveal one of our telephone fics for @ninjago-wip-telephone and we’re so excited for you to read it! I (Fabro) wrote the first part of this fic, dumbfandomdoodles the middle, and blanket-ruler13 took us to the finish line :D hope you enjoy!

excerpt:

They're still following him. At first it was funny, hearing them stumble behind him, his expert serpentine tracks invisible to them, especially with the after effects of the smoke bomb, but now he's tired.

They're just so fast. He presses his back against a tree, tail slipped out from its confines and wrapping around the branch underneath him.

"I'm sure he was kidnapped, Kai." Nya’s voice echoes below, "He might have lived in those houses."

"Kidnapped or not, he'll lead us to wherever they've taken over next." The boy responds, and Fang-llo’s breath hitches. Of course that's what they want. A tiny part of him hoped that maybe they were just trying to make sure he was okay, but that was well and truly quashed now.

He didn't even get his candy.

He reached into his bag, hoping for a net bomb, or even another venom bomb, really anything that would ensure the safety of the tribe. His fingers scraped around the bottom, scrambling in the emptiness. No luck.

"I can't find a trail, we should just get back to town. We know what the kid looks like now."

"But Kai- what if he's in danger?"

read the rest on ao3!

[angelfoodscake]

wip eehhee

[gingerteaonthetardis]

WIP Telephone: "Witch"

if you don't want to see what might become an increasingly long tumblr post, feel free to block the tag "WIP telephone." (i'll also be tagging it "long post," just in case. don't want to clog up people's dashes.)

tagging: @loupettes 👻 you can add a hundred words and pass it along, or keep it for yourself. your choice!

well, loup, this is one of my shortest docs, but i've had it for years and rewritten what little there is more times than i can count. i just could never bring myself to get rid of it. i like the concept too much. i hope you like it, too. (p.s. you might be able to guess which doctor i was thinking of when i started this; even so, you go wherever you like with it!)

-

She knows what they call her—The Witch of Bad Wolf Bay.

It's as good a title as any, and after so many, they all sort of bleed together, so she doesn't protest. She doesn't correct them.

She doesn't do anything at all, really.

Except—she waits.

By the water, she waits.

-

The shoreline has changed over the years. Once smooth and stretching in gentle slopes and rises, bits of beach are carved away now, leaving behind a landscape more jagged than it once was. Craggy. The waters sluice inward, ever-stretching with icy fingers toward land, a restless impulse that once guided the first creatures out from the sea and which now guides the sea itself: a craving toward change. Perpetual motion.

She knows this stretch of beach like nobody else, though that isn't a feat. There isn't anyone else who cares to know it—not now.

Maybe years ago. An unnamed number. She can't guess. 

It's been a long time since she's seen anyone.

-

"A girl is a dream once dreamed by Time," she murmurs to herself, sing-song, and it feels like half a memory and half a tune of her own invention. "And ever she weaves with threads that shine…" 

It is difficult to recall whether there is more to the song than that.

-

A man appears at her door with Time written all over his face. 

He’s pale with it. Washed out by it. His face and clothes are tired-looking, like he’s worn both for longer than he intended to.

She understands; she sometimes wonders at her own features in the shattered mirror that hangs beside her bed. Unchanging. Unrecognisable.

When he sees her, his eyes—which are blue, a blue she knows and yet doesn’t—do something rather soft and his face does something similar.

He is waiting. Expectant.

Which is funny, really, because she is the one who is—was—will be waiting. A long, long time ago. Or a long time from now. Waiting for something.

Waiting, waiting by the water.

But for what?

She tips her head to the washed up stranger, admiring his bravery to climb up here so late in the day, when the mists kiss the shore below. When night and the tide slink in over the stones, making them slick and treacherous. She can show a little kindness, she thinks, can show a little respect. From Being to Being.

After a long moment, his mouth opens.

“Hello, Rose,” he says.

And the witch says, “Who’s that?”

[21st-century-ninja]

WIP Telephone interest check!

yooo so this is kinda early to be doing an interest check given that I’m not planning to do this, if at all, until the new year, but would any ninjago fic writers be interested in doing a collaborative writing event together?  the main gist is that one person begins a WIP and passes it on to another person!  lemme know which (potential) timeframe works best for you, and weigh in on some more of the details too in this poll :D

Some rules I know right now:

SFW only

options for anonymity during the writing stage (the degree of which you can weigh in on in poll above)

no editing what someone else has written.  This means no grammar checking, rewording, or otherwise “fixing” what someone else has done without their express permission.  

you can’t write for the same piece twice

WIPS are first come, first serve when it comes to selection, which will be done via sign up genius and google doc probably

@ninjago-events

[simstoryu]

can’t decide whether or not to keep going with the telephone poles over there, or to run them down the same streets as the houses

[blanket-ruler13]

Unveil

“You know,“ Morro commented absentmindedly, “there is something deeply fucked up about her.“ Lloyd just barely avoided giving Morro the stink-eye, unable to hold back the strained smile on his face. He waited until Harumi left the room to snap at Morro, “She just became an orphan again, that isn’t polite to say.“ Morro raised his hands, attempting to look as innocent as possible. “Hey, all I’m saying is her mannerisms are as fake as the ungodly amount of makeup she wears.“ Lloyd decided not to deign Morro with a response, rolling his eyes and following Harumi out.

(But if he was a little warier around her, no one noticed.)

“Only an Oni can take the mask.“ Harumi said, beckoning Lloyd to take the mask. Morro felt the question: How’d she know that? arise. He furrowed his eyebrows as Lloyd thrust his hands into the purple flame, fingers curling around the mask, and watched as Lloyd came to the same realization as he did, backing away from Harumi’s grasping hands. They met eyes, and it was only through years of having been around each other that they were able to come to the same conclusion. 

“Don’t let her take it.“ Morro murmured, loud enough for Lloyd to hear his trepidation. 

“How’d you know that I was part Oni?“ Lloyd whispered, yet loud enough for the question to echo around the chamber. “You are related to the first Spinjitzu Master. He was part Oni.“ Morro and Lloyd’s eyes widened and Lloyd backed away further. “Only Jay and I were there when Mystake told us the story. There was no way for you to know.“ Morro could see Harumi falter, yet she quickly covered it with another excuse; “I must’ve heard it from Jay then.“ She made another grab for the mask, a pleasant smile still plastered on. Lloyd danced away once more, and Morro came to a sudden realization, allowing it to slip out.

“She’s the Quiet One.“

Lloyd’s eyes widened before hardening. “You’re the Quiet One.“ 

Harumi’s eyes widened comically, and all the signs seemed to click into place. “Yes, because I am the criminal mastermind. Do you hear yourself?“ She cornered Lloyd against the dais, before leaning in with an “I love you“. Morro watched as her hand reached for the mask of Hatred, but there was no need for a warning; Lloyd was smart enough to realize what was happening. He pushed her away in disgust, and Morro watched as her mask seemed to crack even more. 

The realization that the baby they had found was Master Wu only managed to throw them off even more, and neither of them were ready for the sudden kick from Harumi, sending Lloyd flying and the mask falling in the middle of the two of them. Morro cursed his inability to interact with objects for the thousandth time and could only watch as the kid he had grown attached to was forced to fight the one he had grown to trust.

[yanny-77]

Telephone Line

A Ruhnlidia one shot inspired by ELO’s song Telephone Line.

Part 2 of the SJM Jukebox series.

Word Count: 1,200

Summary: After finding out Lidia’s truth, Ruhn shuts her out as retold by the song: Telephone Line by ELO.

AU version of the events at the end of HOSAB/beginning of HOFAS.

Excerpt:

“Hello, how are you? Have you been all right? Through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely nights.” That's what she’d say. She’d tell him everything if he'd pick up that telephone.

Thanks to @poisonivy206 for looking this over after I wrote it in a hour yesterday.

Read now on AO3:

[sleepyowlwrites]

Dearest sleepy,

If your oc’s were to take on animal form, which creechur (real or fictional) would best represent them?

- ☎️

@oh-no-another-idea also asked me this, and maybe it's time I answered.

I'm answering for City Story.

Jet - he's a wolf. are we surprised? no. he thinks he's a loner but he needs his pack! and he's so good to them, actually!

Copper - he's a hedgehog, because he's friendly and chill, and totally cool for hanging out and cuddling, but you have to do it the right away or he gets prickly

Hawk - he's a duck. I don't have any evidence to back this up. he just is one.

Yarrow - he's a cockatoo or parakeet or some small, colorful, chattery bird. and boy does he chatter. but you love him

Moss - he's a black bear. not aggressive, just lumbering around, but is kinda scary in context, I guess.

Shadow - he's a salamander. life keeps cutting off his limbs but he grows them back. at what cost? he won't tell you

Rune - she's a hawk, or a falcon, or a sharp, lean bird of prey. she can be domesticated but she's at her most beautiful when she's feral

I dunno why I had to wait like a whole month to answer this but here you go

[ninjago-wip-telephone]

My Favorite Ninjago Fic Tropes!

[image id: 16 empty jars in a 4x4 square over a dark blue background.  Each one has a label beneath it, from top left to bottom right: fluff, whump, nonhuman ninja, canonverse, normal/powerless, angst, family/friendship, sad ending, evil ninja, romance, hurt/comfort, character death, crack, movie!verse, fix-it fic, fantasy.  At the top, “My Favorite Ninjago Fic Tropes!” is written over a piece of graph paper, with the blog name, @ninjago-wip-telephone, below it.  /end id]

there’s a lot of great fic out there, and there’s a lot of great Ninjago fic specifically out there!  writers, readers, and everyone in between, fill in the jars of the tropes you enjoy seeing or writing and then reblog this post or make your own with your favorite ninjago fic tropes :D