#word game wednesday

[ficwip]

This week’s word is…

✨ MOTION ✨

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[jamiesfootball]

Word Game Wednesday:

Alive

Low and somber but with a voice light enough to sit on a feather, Jan informs Jamie, "I respect you, but you did not owe him the decency of being buried. Please do not think you owe him anything else just because you are still alive with more to give. You have given enough."

[nativestarwrites]

'Pour' is the Ficwip word this week. This is from the first chapter of Maybe This Trophy isn't Real Love (I'm Good Enough) where Jamie visits his dad in rehab.

It's a welcome reprieve from the awkwardness for both of them as his dad goes to the kettle on a unit in the corner and busies himself with making tea for two. Neither of them say anything while they wait for the kettle to boil but as his dad pours the water into two mugs he freezes. “Um.. I don’t- how’d you like your tea, son?” He asks, hesitantly and without looking at Jamie, eyes fixed on the mugs in front of him. Because that was something you were supposed to know, right? How your family members took their tea? You shouldn’t need to ask them, like they’re strangers, or guests that come over so infrequently that you can’t remember their preferences.

I want to do a bit more planning and plotting on this one, but I'm thinking I might start posting it next month.

[abubblingcandle]

@ficwip word of the day is Sick. I am 2.5k into my RoyJamie sick fic so I gotta

“Ah Jamie Tartt, I woke you. Is this bench more comfortable than your mattress. My mattress is padded with the down of a specific type of goose only found in Columbia. It allows me to continue to look this rested unlike you currently look,” Zava commented, staring at Jamie like an eagle with a mouse in its sights. “Fuck you.” Jamie’s voice made all of the coaches hum in realisation. The two hostile words croaked out of Jamie’s mouth with such a crack that they sounded painful. His tongue twitched out to moisten his lips, dry from just that level of action, and his breathing now had a whistling wheeze accompanying each breath. Jamie was sick as a dog.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For the @ficwip Word Game Wednesday - outside.

Jamie sat on the floor shoved in the space between the toilet and the tub. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his hands were in his hair. The bruise on his cheek was barely visible, but one look at the sink told Roy why. Makeup. Different colors. Sticks and liquids. Things Roy had seen with Keeley but never paid attention to.

Had Jamie brought this all with him? Had Jamie known he was seeing his father and realised James might leave his mark on his son’s skin in a way he would need to hide? Had Jamie spent his whole life covering himself up in one way or another so no one saw the bruise, the cut, the ugly imperfections on both the inside and the outside?

[ramonaflow]

Word Game Wednesday

@ficwip 💛

He stands and pulls them all the way up, letting the elastic waist snap against himself. They feel tight, tighter than he's used to, but they feel good. He feels good, confident. He looks in the mirror to check how he looks. Oh! That's… he wasn't expecting that.

No pressure tags @flowertrigger @a-noble-dragon @smblmn @beaiola @trickiwooao3 @demora00 @goodiecornbread @jamilas-pen @wordthieve @smallumbrella369 @wearpersistencewell @stereopticons @apothecarose @chelle-68 @alienajackson @mammameesh @characterassassination-at-9am @jettestar @obsessedwithdavrick @statueinthestone @bl-anche73 @russolaw @carolrain @tyfinn @fictasticvoyage @queenmabcreates and anyone else who wants to play 🩷

[starlightvld]

Word Game Wednesday - "Mine"

__

When Price speaks again, his voice is low enough that John has to strain to hear him.

"I feel responsible. I knew something was going on between you two. I should've put a stop to it."

"Wouldnae have made a difference. I was gone on 'im long afore anything happened 'tween us."

"Still—"

"No' yer fault, Cap. S'mine for bein' a goddamned fool, and Simon's for makin' me think he..."

John lets the words trail away, but the unspoken ending screams inside his head and stabs into the tender flesh around his shredded makeshift heart all the same. He pushes his glass forward and raises his hand, motioning to the bartender for another.

[bi-bats]

It's @ficwip‘s Word Game Wednesday.

Once again, I am choosing violence.

Word: Breathe

“Yeah, good, just like that—” Tim breathes, pressing against him, and Damian glows at the praise, begins to forget why he cannot do this.

😇

[chickycherrycola]

Hopping on the @ficwip word game wednesday train with an extra long snippet submission! This week's word is 'find', and boy howdy do I use that one a lot 🤣 decided to share a little teaser from Chapter 4 of King of My Heart, because my sources tell me it will be up on Ao3 this weekend:

"Sweetheart,” the king says carefully, though the mounting hysteria in his voice is only just barely held at bay. “What is that… on your neck, my darling?”  Soul draws in a fortifying breath as he braces himself for the worst.  “Oh, these?” Maka lifts her hand, and her long, thin fingers trace lightly, almost fondly, over the bruises that dot her throat, the deep purple and red blooms of color stark against her pale skin. She lets her eyes drift from her father’s face to Soul’s, and her voice turns sickeningly sweet. “They’re love bites.” More disarming than her honeyed words, however, is the way she reaches out and touches him–how easily her fingers find the closure of his shirt, how they linger near the hollow of his throat at the topmost button. She isn’t even truly touching him, not really–she’s touching the fabric of his shirt, the plastic of the button, not pressing with near enough pressure to reach his skin beneath.  It’s incredibly intimate, and it makes his heart race– the way she slowly undoes the button, the way her eyes don’t leave his even once as she does so. He swallows, excruciatingly aware of the movement of his throat and the roar of his heartbeat in his ears, completely immobilized by the endless green of her eyes and the subtle heat emanating from her fingertips.  “Letting everyone know exactly where I’ve been,” he rasps, his voice coming out thicker than he’d intended. He leans in to rest his forehead against hers, keeping King Spirit solidly in the periphery of his vision. “Maybe tonight we’ll have to do the other side, eh? So that it's even?"

With what @moriohpissky and I have been cooking up... KOMH readers, y'all gonna be eating good reaaaal soon 👀👑❤️

[the-pen-pot]

For the epic @ficwip and their Word Game Wednesday!

'How's your headache?' Arthur's voice was a lazy, low purr, roughened by the ebb of sleep and warm in Merlin's ear. The sound of it made a grin swell his cheeks, and he looked up into those blue eyes. 'Gone now. It wasn't that bad to begin with.' Arthur had found him sprawled out on the mattress the previous evening, his eyes closed as he endeavoured to fight off the throbbing in his temples. It had taken him no more than a few moments to decide the two of them would take dinner in their chambers, rather than rejoining the others, and Merlin had been only too happy to turn his back on Sigan's damned journals for an evening. Arthur had stroked away the pain with gentle fingers, sifting them through Merlin's curls and down his back. It was what he had needed: a little bit of coddling – and to feel Arthur lounging beneath the sprawl of his body, vibrant and alive, safe and whole. He hadn't asked that Merlin voice his concerns, which was a blessing. Instead, he'd been the one to take on the mantle of quiet conversation, his topics never straying from the benign day-to-day troubles of a crowded citadel. It felt like a glimpse of what their future could be, when the world wasn't so determined to come crashing down around their ears.

(Hiraeth - Chapter 83)

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

Word Game Wednesday

from @ficwip

Thanks @kiwiana-writes for the tag!

It is still Wednesday and I am procrastinating my writing schedule, so I am immediately playing this game. Apparently I've only used this word twice, both times in @affectionatelyrs' birthday fic, Gonna Save Me, Call Me Baby. You get bonus teasers, congrats.

First:

The notes of Yellow Submarine echo through the house at a wretched pace, mocking the absence of the missing—the selected swan song of Arthur Fox. It’s cruel that the tune so easily pierces the heavy silence cloaking their home, Henry thinks as he moves towards the refrain repeatedly ringing through the stillness.

Second:

“That’s too bad,” Alex says, though he doesn’t look dismayed by Henry’s response. “Well, just in case you change your mind, or yours suddenly all go missing, I’ll check back in a few days.”

Tagging @affectionatelyrs @leojfitz @songliili @cultofsappho @cactusdragon517 @read-and-write- @matherines @leojfitz @14carrotghoul @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and anyone else who might want to do this :)

[ficwip]

This week’s word is…

✨ SICK ✨

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[jamiesfootball]

Word Game Wednesday:

Sick

Note: I'm very sure I've posted some of this one before, so to make up for it I'm just posting it in a bigger chunk :D

Someone’s hand was on the crown of his head. It was a nice hand, warm. It moved softly, brushing his fringe back from his forehead so the owner could examine Jamie’s face. “Amigo?” Dani. Something hot seized at the core of him, and Jamie struggled to keep his face blank. To keep his eyes closed and keep Dani from realizing he was awake, because if he did then he’d stop and- Fuck, he missed Dani. “I think he is waking. Jamie, can you hear me?” A new hand joined Dani’s. This one cooler to the touch, with gentle knuckles that tested the temperature of Jamie’s skin, and now the burning feeling was building behind his eyes, because as badly as he didn’t want to get up, who was he to disappoint Sam Obisanya? “Yeah, I’m fine." His voice didn't come out right; all gruff and clogged, sounded like he was putting on his best Roy Kent impression. “Must’ve dozed off for a moment, but don’t worry I didn’t lose any time. We can keep going—“ Sam’s hand on his chest stopped him from getting up. “We are in the treatment room.” What? Jamie tried to open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut with a sharp gasp. “Hold on. I will get you something,” Sam said softly. He left, and Dani hovered closer, murmuring quietly in Spanish -- Jamie knew enough of them now to know they were curse words. Bit of a secret between them, that.

Fuck, he missed Dani. He reached up, trying to find some bit of Dani to hold onto - wrist or arm or even a hip - anything that would afford him a grip and keep him nearby, where Jamie needed him. Familiar and calloused, Dani's caught his hand of his own freewill. His thumb rubbed circles over the back of his knuckles. “Shhhh. Shhhh. It’s alright, amigo.” Was Jamie making a noise? “Here we are,” Sam’s voice returned, and that was all the warning that he had before a cold towel was laid across his forehead. Jamie groaned. A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, dripping into his hair. He couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away. He hadn't realised how much it was hurt until a little relief made it worse. “Fuck. Do I have a concussion?” “No,” the dual answer came quickly, without hesitation.

"Then what?"

"You passed out from low blood sugar, you twit."

Jamie jumped. He hadn't even noticed Roy was in the room. He tried to open his eyes, only to turn away when the light stabbed him for his efforts. Sam readjusted the towel on his head, and Jamie tried to bat him away -- not because he didn't want him there, but because he needed to sit up, needed to get back out there, couldn't stay down when Roy expected him at training-

A sharp pinch caught him in the crook of his elbow. He hissed, inspecting the spot where the IV port was plugged into his arm until the feel of the needle under his skin made him queasy and he had to look away.

Sam made that tick noise he did with his teeth when he was disappointed. It made Jamie want to crawl under a blanket. He didn't even have a blanket. Dani gently maneuvered him until he was lying back down. The damp towel hadn't even budged from his head.

"You also have a bump on your temple," Sam explained gently.

"And a fever," Roy growled.

"You should have told us you were sick." Great, now even Dani sounded like he was frowning.

Outnumbered, Jamie fought through the throbbing pain behind his eyes to argue his case: “But we have Leeds tomorrow.”

"Jamie," sighed Sam. "They are at the bottom of the table."

[nativestarwrites]

The word is Song for ficwip's Word Game Wednesday. I was sure I didn't have this in a wip, but turns out I have it in two and I couldn't decide which one to share so... decided not to pick. 😂

First one is from When Darkness Falls:

“Jamie…” Keeley flicks a switch on the radio and turns to face him fully. “When you were gone, Roy took it-” “I know!” Jamie snaps at her, “Do you really think I don’t know? I’m not stupid, the amount of time me and him spent together? He’s my best mate for fuck’s sake, you think I don’t look at him and know that he fucking grieved me?” “We all grieved you.” She reminds him quietly. “This-- you coming back, it never felt possible.” “But Roy never gave up.” He sing-songs back to her, too angry to hear good things about Roy right now.

And the second from the Post-Series Ted Lasso wip:

“Fuck. You.” Jamie repeats and slams the door as he storms out, hard enough to rattle the door frame, and it’s both satisfying and not enough. His hand is curled into a fist, his nails biting into the skin of his palm and it takes more than a few deep breaths while he tries to find his way out of this maze of a building before he can relax them. He’s still a mess of emotions when he finally steps out into the bright sunshine outside. It's a lot like walking out into another world, inside he’d felt closed in, it was too quiet, a forced stillness with the light muted by the windows and curtains. Now he could hear the bird song and traffic, feel the heat of the sun and the wind on his skin. But he can still hear his dad’s voice.

[abubblingcandle]

For Wednesday Words how about Measure, Pool and/or Cast?

These are all coincidentally in The Richmond Job so I did 45min of sprints on Ch3 to fill the requirements

Cast - Chapter 16

“He’s in a wrist cast and needs to be using the crutches for his knee and strictly no physical excursion until his month check up,” the doctor listed off, only looking up from her Ipad to glare at Roy with deep threatening brown eyes. Which, from Ted’s viewpoint anyway, was a bizarre personal grudge to hold against a man who was playing the part of a good friend of a patient in your hospital. But who was he to judge people’s odd behaviour?

Pool - Chapter 15

He was supposed to be this team’s fucking hitter and he had allowed himself to get surprised and drugged. He deserved this. It would be a teachable moment, that was what his dad always used to say, “chin up Junior. Teachable moment. Won’t make this mistake again will ya.” If Jamie survived he definitely wouldn’t make that mistake again. “Yeah alright,” Jamie wheezed. He was skirting around the edge of the pool, trying to put as many deckchairs between himself and Zain as possible.

Measure - Chapter 15

“Bex? You’re here,” Jamie huffed out through a relieved laugh. She pulled back and looking him over with an intense professional beat, like she was getting the measure of him in a snapshot. He felt weirdly exposed.

The sprints produced 1028 words! 🙌💪

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For the @ficwip word of the week: pour.

“Was that your Dad calling?” 

Sam handed the washcloth to Jamie so he could clean off his lower half. He’s unsure why he asked. There could have been several people reaching out to Jamie, but there was a look of dread on Jamie’s face at each notification. Sam kneaded his hands and thumbs into Jamie’s upper back and shoulders while his friend washed himself, and Jamie sighed at the release of his already sore muscles. But Jamie pointedly didn’t answer Sam’s question. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” Sam said, picking up the cup and motioning for Jamie to lean his head back. "Keep your eyes shut.”

Water poured through Jamie’s hair as Sam worked the conditioner out with his other hand.