#but if I have to write this fic wip wednesday by wip wednesday‚ then by god I will. it's gonna get fucking finished

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday

“I can’t believe you fucked that old man.”

Bill’s head snaps up so quickly from where it was inside of the air duct that he smacks it on the metal internals. When he reappears cursing and rubbing at his head, there’s dust bunnies in his hair and clinging to his eyelashes.

“You can’t believe I what?”

“You fucked that old man,” Red repeats, feet up on the counter as she lazily reads something called “Lumberjack Layabouts Weekly.”

“I—“ And Bill lets out a grunt as he comes down from the ladder to slam his hands on the counter and lean into her space. The action does little to phase her other than make her look up.

“Neither of those things are right!”

Red takes a second to turn the page of her magazine, but doesn’t look away from Bill.

“That’s not what I heard.”

Bill’s eyes roll back into his skull for a second. He thinks of what he was told to do both by the therapium and Question Mark’s fiancée: deep breaths in and deep breaths out, count to ten, don’t visualize throttling them no matter how fucking annoying these fleshbags are.

“First of all, I’m older than him,” he begins, like that’s the important part.

“You don’t look it.”

“That’s because I take good care of myself.” Which is only partially true.

When the Axolotl and the entire therapism decided Bill’s methods of rehabilitation weren’t working, they’d sent him here. To hell.

…to earth.

Stripped of his powers, they’d shoved him into a meat suit that was an “appropriate approximation of his natural form” (Bill resents that statement entirely, but the appearance has grow on him). The dark skin and golden eyes are quite a contrast coupled with the golden hair offset by strays strands of grey or white hair. Melody has helped him figure out how to wash and maintain it, which is far more maintenance than he was expecting after watching Ford for years barely do anything more than occasionally wash it and wake up. Bill’s currently picking dust bunnies out of an individual lock, throwing them into the trashcan by the counter (like hell is he sweeping up in this damned place more than he has to).

He has it on good authority that this is a desirable fleshbag form, both from the open way that people compliment him and the way people stared. …he’s getting used to the staring and has stopped threatening to flay people alive who let their eyes linger too long.

Question Mark calls it progress; Bill calls it not wanting to see that haunted, barely contained disappointment on Melody’s face again. She is simultaneously the kindest and cruelest person he’s met on this plane. In spite of literally everyone’s reservations about Bill being on the same plane as the rest of these humans, she’d been willing to hear him out, offer him accommodations here at the Mystery Shack, and even provide a job if he could behave.

She also detailed to him with a sunshiney smile and no insignificant amount of knife waving that if Bill started anything, anything looking like world domination under her roof, not even the Axolotl would be able to save him.

If nothing else, she’s done more than a little to earn his respect and compliance than anyone else in this entire reality.

So, he’d gotten used to people staring and it doesn’t bother him.

At least, until one particular person started staring.

“Second of all, I didn’t—“ And he looks around, makes sure no hide or hair of thirteen year-old menace can be seen before he continues, “—fuck Sixer.”

Red closes the magazine entirely and shifts to take her feet off the counter and lean on it with her arms folded—this is what she’d wanted to hear.

“I heard Stan caught you two in the bathroom.”

Bill clears his throat and starts back up the ladder to avoid having to look at Red even as he feels something warm in his face.

“Stan doesn’t know what he saw.”

Red lets out a raucous laugh that makes Bill wince and wrinkle his nose as he sticks his head back in the vent to continue clearing it out.

“I heard that you two also got into a fistfight at dinner before that. Weird foreplay, but I can respect it.”

Everyone, mostly Question Mark and Shooting Star, have insisted on family dinners since both sets of Pines twins returned to Gravity Falls. And, somehow, Bill gets lumped into that because he sleeps in the Shack (specifically, the sofa in the living room because everywhere else is off-limits). It’s been three weeks and most everything has been simpatico, Shooting Star was the fastest to warm up after her initial talk too of “unspeakable horrors” she’ll unleash on him if he steps a toe out of line. The fact that he’s powerless seems to make her willing to humor him.

…also something about him looking like a wet rat? And it was a good thing? Bill didn’t ask. Or, rather, he had asked and she brushed him off and because he knew Stanley will flay him alive if he lays a finger on either niece or nephew, he let it go.

Pine Tree has been a lot more hesitant in his behavior, sure, but he’s recently started being in the same room with Bill and musing aloud in ways that Bill knows are directed at him without talking to him. Pine Tree will state something stupid about the state of the town and when Bill corrects him, he’ll scribble it down, go silent, then rinse and repeat.

Stan has been… well, they were avoiding each other without problem. The closest they get to a conversation is when they’re both sitting in the living room after everyone else has gone to bed and before Stan goes to his bed and Bill passes out on the sofa. Their talk is a roundabout back and forth about complaining about what’s on the television and saying there’s “never anything good on”. Occasionally Bill will liken something on the screen to something he’s seen on television in other dimensions, Stan will grunted, and then they go back to silence.

They’ve also worked out a system where they’re allies in their silent agreement to watch The Duchess Approves as long as no one else finds out about it.

…and then there’s Ford.

They haven’t been in the same room as each other outside of dinner even remotely. Bill doesn’t look at him, Ford doesn’t acknowledge him, and it’s fine.

It’s fine.

It doesn’t bother him even a little that Ford won’t even look at him, won’t talk to him. Doesn’t bother him that when Bill does talk, he rolls his eyes. It doesn’t bother him either that Ford gets up every time Bill enters the room even for a moment. It’s not like he cares about the asshole or wants to see him. It’s fine for Bill.

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

And because it is so fine, he’s not sure what exactly caused him to get mouthy with Sixer the night before.

Ford had made some inane comment and Bill couldn’t help but correct him. Over a trillion years in the multiverse, he knows when he’s right about something.

Ford bit back.

And Bill argued against.

It’d devolved into a petty back-and-forth, both of them digging their claws in places it shouldn’t go without caring for the carnage it spread.

It ended when Bill called Ford “my shining star” like this was just a philosophical disagreement thirty-one years prior.

He shouldn’t have done that.

The next thing Bill knew, he and Ford were rolling on the ground, fists flying and snarling at one another. Ford caught him in the nose, Bill punched him in the mouth, both of them scratching and pulling hair like a pair of animals.

It took Stanley and Soos both to pull them apart, both of them still swinging until they were forced to calm down.

After that, Bill had left his unfinished dinner to sit on the roof and wait out everyone else’s dinner. It was only because the blood wouldn’t stop flowing from his nose while the blood on his knuckles had dried uncomfortably to the point he kept accidentally ripping it when he flexed his hand that convinced him to go downstairs.

He’s still figuring out this whole human thing and, yeah, he was fumbling with the tape and his nose was dripping all over everything and he was fighting not to get it on the stupid sweater he got from Shooting Star and—

That’s how Ford found him.

There were no words as he crowded into the small bathroom with him, took off his gloves, and started to doctor Bill.

Neither of them say that there’s something familiar about this, them being together while cleaning up blood and puss and setting bones, usually injuries inflicted on Ford by Bill. There’s probably something funny about the idea of it being the other way around now.

They’re both too tired or embarrassed to say anything for awhile, but then Ford makes an innocuous statement that raises Bill’s hackles and there goes the peace. Then they’re shoving and pushing into a wall, Bill effectively having Ford cornered against it, chest-to-chest, spitting in each other’s faces, and then—

Then they were decidedly not fighting.

“Yeah, well, Fordsy is a know-it-all prick who doesn’t actually know everything,” Bill defends. “He started the fight.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Red replies in a singsong voice.

“And who’s telling you this?!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Red goes quiet for a moment, but he knows she’s still staring at him. “Did you two really make out though?”

Bill is quiet, can’t quite find the words he wants to say about this. Was his tongue in Ford’s mouth? Yes. Were Ford’s hands in his hair? Also yes. Did Stan walk in while Bill’s hand was halfway down the front of Ford’s pants? Regrettably.

“It was a… heat of the moment thing.”

“Wow. I mean, I knew you two were something back then, but I figured you two had, you know, moved past that.”

Bill doesn’t respond for awhile, leaning back to sweep the dust into the garbage bag he’s holding.

“So did I.”

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Wednesday

Well, the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge deadline is fast approaching, and I’m 6 chapters and 18k words into what has turned into something waaay lengthier than it started out! So sorry, teacher, I think I’m gonna need an extension on my homework deadline.

Meanwhile, throughout September, I’ve been tagged in various WIP posts by @the-mandawhor1an, @burntheedges, @nerdieforpedro, and @for-a-longlongtime (thank you all 💚), so under the cut, you’ll find a little midweek offering of my now somewhat out-of-control Secret Relationship trope fic...

***If you haven’t already, you may wish to read my first WIP post before the one below, as this one references the earlier one.***

“He raised you?” Mando sounds incredulous. “Why is that weird?” He sighs. “It’s not. Well… it might be. Sleeping with the guy’s niece was one thing, but you’re like his kid—” “Stop there,” you demand with steely ferocity. “First, I am not a kid in any sense. I don’t need to see your face to guess you’re not that much older than me. And, like you, I’m an adult and can make my own decisions, so no kid references, please. Second, whatever his reasons are for keeping us apart, they don’t matter because once I leave here, none of this ever happened. Right?” Your mini tirade is met first with silence, then a chuckle. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” His amusement diffuses your mock indignation, and you smirk. “You kind of have to be when you grow up here. You don’t think you can handle me?” You shift a little closer to him on the couch. “Oh, mesh’la,” he drawls, his voice casual but with a fiendish edge. “I’m a bounty hunter by trade. You think I haven’t dealt with people far wilder than you?” Kriff, yeah. There’s that confidence you saw last night when he indirectly requested an orgasm before you went to bed. Sure, it’s nice to know that there’s a sweet and awkward guy beneath the warrior exterior, but this is what you find attractive in him. The confident, intimidating hunter. You visibly shiver and press your thighs together at the thought, and he chuckles darkly. Yeah, you just gave away your desires. Still, he doesn’t move yet. You feel like he’s waiting to pounce… emphasis on the waiting. “Okay then, Mandalorian,” you goad with your head held high, almost daring him. “Show me what you’ve got.” There’s a pause as he tilts his helmet slightly, and it lingers for long enough that you start to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. You were just keeping up the banter. Why has he suddenly gone silent? A few more moments pass, and your second-guessing becomes mildly frantic. But as you bite your lip and furrow your brow, Mando releases a deep hum and rumbles, “Mm… better.” Suddenly, you realise. This is not a contest of wits, and he’s not in the mood for sexual banter. He wants to be in charge this time. Well, you were in control last night, and he did say he would pay you back. Plus, he’s spent a whole cycle being unable to control anything due to his injuries. It’s becoming clearer how he sees this going. And you’re very much on board. Now that you understand, you try again. Tucking your chin down, you look up at him through your lashes and soften your tone. “Please, Mando…” “Mm, good girl,” he praises, and heat sparks to life in both your chest and your cunt. “Please, what? What do you want?” You think back to the dialogue that led to the blow job. “Please, will you make me come?” At last, he moves, reaching for your lower thigh and running his palm slowly upward, leaving flames in its wake. “My helmet stays on at all times, non-negotiable. If you touch it, this stops, understand?” “I understand.” Apparently, lifting it to help him drink last night was a one-time deal. “Good. Then, yes, cyar’ika, I’ll make you come.”

Tagging the folks who showed interest in my first snippet as well as those on my permanent tag list. Those of you who write/create and would like to share something with the class, please feel free to do any type of WIP post (Wednesday, weekend, weekday, whatever) if the mood takes you, no pressure 💚

@5oh5 @604to647 @almostfoxglove @ashleyfilm @burntheedges

@captainredspade @cheekychaos28 @chiyo13 @cw80831 @dindjarins-big-tiddy-goth-gf

@djarin-desires @djarinmuse @drewharrisonwriter @ella-whyte @evolnoomym

@fhatbhabiee @fromthedeskoftheraven @grogusmum @here-briefly @hillarymurray4

@itsjuststardust @jessthebaker @joelalorian @j-p3g @lahooozaherr

@lark-of-mirkwood @latenightswithmiller @lilac-boo @magpiepills @mandoloriancookie

@mosssbawls @nebulanibbles @nerdieforpedro @newpathwrites @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

@prolix-yuy @roughdaysandart @secretelephanttattoo @sidoniyablackwood @sixhours

@syd-djarin @the-blind-assassin-12 @theetherealbloom @the-mandawhor1an @thundermartini

@toomanytookas @vikingqueen28 @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @whocaresstillthelouvre @whxtedreams

@wrathkitty @yopossum @you-give-aspirin-headaches

[novasillies]

wip (not) wednesday

in honour of hitting 100k words (WHAT THE FUCK) of this fic I am gonna drop a wee little snippet I suppoossseeeeeeAAAAAAAAAGAGHG

This is from the beginning (ish) of the 6th and final chapter of Third Time's The Charm season 1: 'Promises, Fools'. i only have a handful of scenes left in this chapter and then I'm DONE!!! (she says as if it's not already like 20k words long (FREE MEEEE))

“I need you,” were the first words he whispered into the soft rustling of sheets as Derek began to stir behind him. A real answer to the question he’d asked earlier. Derek probably didn’t hear. Or maybe he was too close to asleep to answer properly. Or to understand. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. He could almost hear the bullshit answer Derek would give him back if he gave one at all. ‘I’m right here,’ he’d say. ‘You already have me.’ “I don’t wanna be Him,” were the next words he said, an eternity of silence later. Derek’s hand stopped where it had been tracing back and forth right beside the concave scar tissue left over from that night at the mall. It was the only one of his scars that made him nauseous to touch. It had hurt, when the grimoire was out of his skin. It ached and burned if he strained too much. It itched. But then he’d touch it and that phantom sensation of touching his own internal organs made his stomach lurch. That and couldn’t sleep on his front or back anymore.  “Who?”  “Him,” Stiles answered, “Me. The Other Me.” After a moment, Derek answered into his skin, “I know.” Stiles took in a shaky breath, “I don’t want to. I don’t… I…” His brows met in the middle. Derek’s fingertips started to move again, more conscious in their comfort. “I don’t understand you.” He could feel the way Derek’s brows moved, just as his did, against the back of his neck, “What do you mean?” “I burned your house down,” Stiles answered mildly.  Derek’s breath caught against him, “You didn’t–” “I did,” Stiles said, “I burned it down with you and Peter inside. And you carried me to the hospital.” He turned around, unflinching with the unwanted power of his spark muting any pain from his scars once again, to stare straight into Derek’s eyes. Into the horribly familiar way his jaw tightened and his green eyes sharpened. He waited for Derek to adjust his arms around his waist before he went on, “And when I left to try and go back in time, you even went to Scott to help find me.” He blinked slowly at the just as slow downturn of Derek’s brows, “I don’t understand how you could react like that.” Those green eyes darted down for just a fraction of a second before they rose again, “It’s complicated.” “Well,” Stiles said, “I didn’t think it would be simple.” Derek’s left eye twitched, and he licked his lips, “It’s not–” He huffed a little, shifting where he lay, “It felt like it was my fault you lost control like that.” Stiles said nothing.  “The Other Stiles didn’t…” Derek’s eyes shifted away slightly, “He didn’t have to say much to convince me to keep you busy at the formal. I…” He frowned, “I guess I felt like I was…”  Stiles got sick of waiting for him to finish that sentence awfully fast, “You know He’s not gonna be better than what we saw of Him just because you love me, right?” Derek met his gaze, steadfast, “You know he’s not another you, right?” Stiles’ stomach turned.  “I said last night you don’t have a choice,” Derek nodded, “and I meant it. I love you, Stiles. And that means I love you even when you think you’re at your worst.” “You shouldn’t,” Stiles spat with narrowed eyes, “My worst is deadly, Derek. My worst is getting possessed and stringing together elaborate plots to kill and terrorise as many as possible. It’s wrecking my car. It’s shattering mirrors and vomiting and snapping necks and burning down houses.” The words flowed out of him like molten lava, “Blind faith is the killer of devotion, you remember that?”

Oh boy, oh boy. what a joyful conversation. yikes!! anyway. i am having a whale of a time writing this (how in the world is that actually a saying. are whales well known for their recreational fun???) and cannot wait for the like two people that r gonna read it wowowww

ofc no-pressure tag to the og gangster @patolemus (and anyone else who so wishes to share. please do!! love love love)

read the prequel (or the original fic i guess?), Twice And For All, here <3

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

thanks for all the tags for sunday and tuesday! <3

started yet another wip 🙈 I was watching oth and heard one line and got inspired lol so here's some bucktommy morning cuddles, and istg this one will be short and fluffy and hopefully done soon 🤞 haha

___

“Where are you going?” Tommy mumbles sleepily, eyes still closed, a small frown creasing his forehead. Buck chuckles quietly and can’t resist leaving another kiss on Tommy’s lips. It’s honestly adorable how his big, strong, hot firefighter boyfriend, who’s always so cool and collected, can get so grumpy in the morning without cuddles. He’s sure no one would believe him if he told them, but he likes that – he’s the only person who gets Tommy like this, who knows him like this. The thought makes his heart race and stomach flip, feeling as excited as at the very beginning of their relationship.

“Well, I was gonna go make you breakfast and then wake you up.” Buck says, fingers running through Tommy’s tangled curls. “You can go back to sleep, baby, and I’ll be right back.” he whispers, one of his hands starts drawing mindless shapes on Tommy’s back.

“Mm, no.” Tommy just responds, burying his face in Buck’s neck.

“You don’t want breakfast in bed?”

“I want you in bed.” Tommy says stubbornly, punctuated by a soft kiss to Buck’s neck and his arm around Buck’s waist tightening.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @your-catfish-friend @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @loveyouanyway @neverevan

[wiseatom]

and if i said i had something non-acswy related dropping with the vague timeline of “soon,” then what.

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends :) thank you to everyone for the tags over the last few weeks (i will tag back under the cut). <3 appreciate the shouts!

here is a snip from the doc i have affectionately named nolan!alex / murphy!henry fuck around and find out, the actor au...collaborators to friends to lovers to exes to enemies to grudging partners to friends to lovers YEEHAW! pls forgive any editing errors <3

Alex's eyes are hot as he blinks back tears, Henry's profile blurring and distorting. “Tu me manques, remember? You kept saying that and I kept going ‘Oh, he's so hot when he's speaking French’ like the idiot I am. But I looked it up and it's not just ‘I miss you’, is it? It’s fucking ‘you are absent from me’, like a piece of me belongs to you, a part of you that’s mine. Why would you—why the fuck would you whisper this to me so earnestly every time you think I can’t hear you, and then turn around and pull this shit? Are you embarrassed by us, by me? Is the piece of me you have not enough?” Henry stands in front of him, eyes a little distant and haunted, fingers flexing at his sides. His silence cuts Alex to the fucking core, lances through him and gets him square in his traitorous little heart. A fickle thing, love is. Will he ever be enough for someone? Alex steels himself to say the words he’s been holding back, the words that have been pushing up behind his teeth for months, making his gums ache and jaw tingle.  “I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, Henry. I deserve better. And I think you do, too. You just won’t allow yourself to see that, and it’s killing me.”

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags under the cut and open tag as usual <3

@ninzied @priincebutt @suseagull04 @rmd-writes @leaves-of-laurelin

@eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @magicandarchery @getmehighonmagic @violetbaudelaire-quagmire

@cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @dumbpeachjuice

@anchoredarchangel @sparklepocalypse @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew

@tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @onward--upward

@celeritas2997 @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @littlemisskittentoes

@14carrotghoul @cultofsappho @alasse9 @nontoxic-writes @kiwiana-writes

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @ships-to-sail @indestructibleheart @mikibwrites

@porcelainmortal @captainjunglegym @itsmaybitheway @tailsbeth-writes @welcometololaland

@adreamareads @duchessdepolignaca03 @sophie1973 @onthewaytosomewhere @theprinceandagcd

[hedwig221b]

WIP Whenever + Seven Sentence Sunday

So I was tagged several times by amazing people: @patolemus and @endwersed, thank you for tagging me! 💗

Here's a lil thingie from my bone witch!Stiles AU

💀

At last, he stopped and pinned Stiles down with a stare. “You thought I wouldn’t come, didn’t you?”

Stiles’ heart plummeted. “Derek…”

“You thought I would abandon you? How low do you think of me?”

He couldn’t bear to hear this voice, so dear to him, tremble with the poorly hidden anger and hurt. Unable to stay still, Stiles stepped towards the wolf.

“I think of you as an alpha loyal to his bones,” he said with heat. “Loyal to his pack first. Priorities, Derek.”

“You—” Derek snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes.

Stiles’ heart melted just a bit. His bones were filled with warmth once more.

Slowly, he walked up to the wolf and placed his hand on his tense shoulder. Derek didn’t react apart from shifting his gaze to him.

“I am not your pack,” Stiles said as gently as he could, even though the words felt like nettle against his tender throat. “And I do not expect you to come running to my defense every time another idiot stumbles upon my home. I appreciate it, but I do not expect. Especially not when you have two newly turned pups running around…”

“They are grown adults,” Derek noticed in a low voice.

Stiles arched his eyebrow. “Then why are there shadows under your eyes?”

Derek looked at him for some time before the corner of his lips tugged up.

Stiles grinned. “Sit down, alpha.” He patted Derek on the shoulder and pushed him towards the chair. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

💀

Not tagging anyone cause I missed all the deadlines lmao, it's not Wednesday, Sunday, and not even seven sentences. Either way, if you read this, I wish for the inspiration to bonk you on the forehead like bonk-bonk and bam! 💥 the writer's block is gone

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

What a weekend. Between traveling to Omaha for SSCoNE and posting the final chapters of Eternal Life, I am all in my feelings. Instead of expounding on that...art!

I finished a new set of dolls for @cutestkilla. It's Baz and Sid from What's Left. New skills acquired this round: removable clothing and helmets. Yes, these dolls can be dressed and undressed like Barbies. (All the others have been sewn into their clothing...or naked.)

My kids have been pestering me to make them dolls too (they specifically requested Ariel from The Little Mermaid and Link from Zelda), so there likely won't be any progress on fanfic dolls for a bit while I attempt to be a good mom. (Especially since Camp Mom started on Tuesday and the gremlins will be at home all day, every day until real camp starts!)

With that said, I got a few good suggestions at SSCoNE for new dolls to tackle, including my first set that will not be Baz and Simon... *cue evil laughter and a perfect Pitch eyebrow raise* (In all seriousness, I am actually very excited about this set because it is my other favorite ship in the fandom and the inspiring WIP is glorious.)

Thanks for the tags @rimeswithpurple and @mooncello.

Hellos and high-fives: @thewholelemon, @raenestee, @roomwithanopenfire, @bookish-bogwitch, @hushed-chorus

@talentpiper11, @drowninginships, @valeffelees, @larkral, @iamamythologicalcreature

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @emeryhall, @artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@beastmonstertitan, @best--dress, @shrekgogurt, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

@run-for-chamo-miles, @blackberrysummerblog, @ic3-que3n, @skeedelvee, @facewithoutheart

@messofthejess, @theearlgreymage, @supercutedinosaurs, @rbkzz, @fiend-for-culture

@onepintobean, @palimpsessed, @moodandmist, @ileadacharmedlife, @theimpossibledemon

@fatalfangirl, @technetiumai, @katatsumuli, @stitchyqueer, @comesitintheclover

[bookinit02]

in honor of my s5 announcement this week, here’s one of the scenes from the first episode! hope you all like it🫶🏻

[cappulcino]

I guess this post is kind of a cry for help(?)

I love writing and have severe ADHD that has been hindering my passion for months on end now, which makes me feel profoundly depressed

I absolutely need to find the strength to write again and thought that if I shared my WIPs and fic ideas with a short explanation, and found people who would be interested in reading them, I might find that strength because, you know, accountability and all that (am I delulu?)

So here is the list so far (all titles are temporary):

Broken Souls and Apple Pies (WIP): Devil Wears Prada, Mirandy, +70k words planned, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, slow burn, idiots in love, family reunion – Miranda reunites with an unexpected element from her past thanks to Andy, that element then reunites them

The Eveningstar (WIP): The Sandman, Dreamingstar (Morpheus/Lucifer), canon non-compliant, slow burn, slight angst, exes to ennemies to lovers, family reunion – Lucifer convinces Morpheus to help them with personal matters; Morpheus discovers a secret that the Ruler of Hell has kept from him for over a century

Animi Metamorphosis (idea): Wednesday, Larissa/Shapeshifter!OC, canon-non-compliant (Larissa is alive) and post-canon, hurt/comfort, slow burn, repressed feelings, found family, self-acceptance – There is a new music teacher at Nevermore; Larissa gets a bit too involved

Redemption (WIP) with @magnoliamei: Okja, Lucy/Male!OC, canon non-compliant (Mija is replaced by an OC), family reunion, exes to ennemies to lovers

The Balancing Act (idea): Good Omens, Crowley/Aziraphale, canon divergence, slight angst, Ineffable Family – After Aziraphale returns to Heaven, Crowley discovers a celestial being apparently born from their love, a neutral force embodying balance. As Crowley navigates the challenges of single parenthood, Aziraphale’s visit to Earth leads him to reconsider his allegiance to Heaven and rekindle his feelings for Crowley

I shall take away thy heart of stone (idea): The Personal History of David Copperfield, Jane Murdstone/Maid!OC, secret relationship, escape to freedom, angst – A young maid falls in love with her stern mistress, Jane Murdstone, leading to a forbidden and hidden affair. When Jane's brother intervenes, Jane must risk everything to rescue her beloved and escape to a new life together

Apart from those, I also wanted to open my requests for people to send prompts (I suppose writing short one-shots/ficlets would also help me get back into writing).

So feel free to comment about the list or send prompts, any help is welcome!

[roomwithanopenfire]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @monbons and @rimeswithpurple!

I've been having the best week creatively so far and I'm going to have Friday off. Which means I've the time free needed to both to write fanfiction and read the last chapters of @monbons's fic right when they drop. (Which if you haven't started reading yet, you really really should!!) Anyways, I figured I'd keep these good vibes going and share something I've written this week.

I'm starting on the fifth chapter of my COBB and I'm feeling pretty good about it. I've written every scene for this fic like two times—like I've written whole chapters and then just completely rewritten the entire thing. Which is Insane Behavior but the second versions have been so much better. But this fifth chapter is actually getting a decent start! I don't think I'll have to completely rewrite it. (Then again I've only written one scene of it so far, so there's still room for failure.)

Enjoy this little snip from the aforementioned Chapter 5. This was written on my first try! (and is probably more than I should share but like 🤷‍♀️)

“Simon!” Penelope shouts. “Open this door before I magic it open.” “Nghhh,” I groan. She can magickally open it if she wants to.  This blanket cocoon keeps me safe. Outside of it are the consequences of my own actions.  “Simon,” Penny continues. “You’ve been in there for four days! I’m coming in.” I hear a muttered Open sesame, and the creak of an open door. Footsteps sound across the floor and the blanket is ripped away from my head, exposing me to both cool air and consequences. “Hey!” I cry, reaching for the blanket. I must look a wreck because Penny’s face instantly softens. She releases her hold and lets me hide away again.  “Budge up.” She pokes my side until I make room for her on the bed. I don’t say anything as Penny’s face appears under the blanket with me. I don’t even look over at her. A ball of guilt pokes me in the chest. Penelope has let consequences into the blanket.

Tags and Hellos!

@alexalexinii @angelsfalling16 @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy @beastmonstertitan

@blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @brendughh @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla

@drowninginships @emeryhall @facewithoutheart @fiend-for-culture @hertragedyconnoisseur

@horsesarenotdeer @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @larkral

@m1ndwinder @nausikaaa @noblecorgi @onepintobean @prettygoododds

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@supercutedinosaurs @talentpiper11 @thewholelemon @valeffelees @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

happy WIP wednesday ,,,,,

She eventually spots the exact shade of yellow she wants, and naturally it’s on a shelf too high for her to reach. “Jane!”

Jane turns and sees her pointing upward with an exaggeratedly pouty lower lip. Immediately, that contagious smirk is back. “Oh, you poor thing. Whatever are you going to do?”

Nymphia lets her head fall all the way back, a visual aid to her dramatic helplessness. “Ugh. Help me, please?” she groans, and she probably doesn’t even have to add the ‘please’ because Jane is walking over before she’s even finished her sentence.

“This one?” Jane checks before she grabs one. Nymphia nods quickly, the loose pieces of hair framing her face bouncing.

Jane hands her the yarn, which she hugs to her chest with a squeal, and it’s out of her mouth before she can take it back, before she can even consider not saying it.

“Thank you! I love you.”

…Oh.

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard 💖

had two more days off after my vacation, and somehow I had less time for shit than usual and did no writing lmao (didn't even have time to watch the boys finale like??? wtf?) but here's a tiny little bit more of the tommy calls evan buck fic, and hopefully I'll find time to write after work tomorrow haha

prev snippet

___

“Well, you did.” Buck does not pout.

“Is that… wrong?” Tommy frowns. “Everyone calls you Buck.”

“Everyone but you.” He crosses his arms. He knows he’s making it into a bigger deal than necessary, but he can’t help it. 

“And you mind if I do?” Tommy asks, sounding unsure and a little incredulous. “Are we having our first argument right now? What’s happening?”

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @hoodie-buck @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @reformedplayerbibuck @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @bucked-it-up @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @drcloyd

[wiseatom]

happy miwip wednesday! from a prompt fill i asked for a few days ago 🤸

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello :) thank you to @duchessdepolignaca03 and @suseagull04 for the early tags! i am scheduling this post early af bc i have Plans all week with FANDOM FRIENDSSSSS IRL so i will hopefully be off grid for a bit. yeehaw!

i have no new words bc i word vomited a whole fic out this week and posted it...so here's a snip from it instead <3

fic: and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life

He turns to head to the kitchen when he nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. There’s a man in his kitchen. There’s a man in his kitchen just watching him with the saddest eyes Alex has ever seen on a person. He’s wearing a long, calf-length blue overcoat, the color of his sad fucking eyes. His hair is blonde and soft-looking, resting in a light wave above a face that could rival that of the best Renaissance statues, all angles and cheekbones and sharp jawlines and sloped noses. He’s otherworldly, untouchable, stunning. And he’s also in Alex’s flat, where he definitely shouldn’t be. His body kicks into gear, catching up with his runaway brain. He grabs the nearest blunt object—a candle sitting on his coffee table—and brandishes it like a weapon. Fucking useful it’ll be, if he wants to kill the intruder with a damn Jo Malone candle. But it’s heavy and he can knock out his new friend with the smell of wood sage and sea salt.

xoxo roop

+ tags under the cut <3 and open tag as always! tag me if you use, i would love to read :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @bigassbowlingballhead @wordsofhoneydew @sparklepocalypse @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @eusuntgratie @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @kiwiana-writes @getmehighonmagic @magicandarchery @oxfordslutphase @myheartalivewrites @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @leaves-of-laurelin @piratefalls @itsmaybitheway @priincebutt @onthewaytosomewhere @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @dumbpeachjuice @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @littlemisskittentoes @tailsbeth-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @affectionatelyrs @tinyarmedtrex @14carrotghoul @rmd-writes @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @whimsymanaged @ships-to-sail @zwiazdziarka @captainjunglegym @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indestructibleheart @adreamareads @nontoxic-writes @alasse9

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I am full fucking steam ahead with the arranged marriage fic this week and having a blast. It's an absolute anachronism stew of, like: fantasy geography! but also a default assumption of sexuality in this world being bi/pan/mspec rather than straight! but also arranged marriages! but also internet!—world-building is my nemesis so we are one hundred percent just rolling with it, okay? Okay.

“Good afternoon, Queen Mary,” he says, rehearsed and careful. There’s a time and a place for his usual brand of irreverence, and even Alex knows this isn’t it. “Your kingdom has offered me such a warm welcome.” “Yes, they have.” Mary doesn’t exactly seem thrilled about that, which is rude. Alex is a fucking catch, actually. “It would appear that my people are excited for this wedding to go ahead. But are you? Does the prospect of finally being married to my grandson please you?” And how the fuck is Alex meant to answer such a direct question without kicking off a whole international incident? He can’t tell the truth, but neither can he bring himself to say what he knows she wants to hear. After a long, terrifying pause in which Alex is sure the entirety of both their families are staring at him, waiting for a response, he finally manages: “Our betrothal has been overlong, Your Majesty. I will be pleased to make Windsor my new home.” Mary purses her lips. “Indeed,” is all she says in reply, a clear dismissal and a sign for the receiving line to keep moving.

Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to so tagging @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @beautifulhigh @celaestis1 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @hypnostheory @iboatedhere @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @myheartalivewrites @orchidscript @rmd-writes @roseapothecary @sherryvalli @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @suseagull04 @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)