#@kedreeva

[madnessfromthemountains]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My WIPS:

Alanna’s Uruk

The Wild Hunt

Chopper

Dinosaur Sue

Barbarian and Girl

A snip of The Wild Hunt under the cut!

“I will!” Piper promised, flipped up into the air and flew in her human shape over to land behind Jenine.

            Jenine grinned and revved her bike.

            I pulled on Asshole’s power. I need to do this. We need to do it at least together. “Let us RIDE!” I rode forward, off the road and towards the edge of the hill. My bike wheels got light before the grass even felt rough. I sounded the horn and watched Flame’s head ignite, turning the Minimi into a burning horse skull. The emblem of the Hell Knights. My mount since she was a fucking pterodactyl dragon thing.

            Dee yelled as we flew up. The guys behind us yelled. A big shape came out of the lake below the Castle.

            “Hey babes!” I yelled at Sea Turtle. No idea how she got there, but cool. Oh. No shit. She had a rider.

            “Trudy!” Irish swooped over to them. He’d recruited her. She was still mad at him.

            “Fuck off, punk!” Trudy yelled. “Where is this undead that hurts my birdies?”

            “Let’s find out.”

            Jenine zigzagged around, like Piper was a hound on the scent. I could hear them arguing. Then they struck out West.

[wordsintimeandspace]

I bound myself a copy of Siren's Song by @kedreeva! It's such a beautiful story that's still sticking with me even though I'm not really active in the Good Omens fandom anymore. I can't wait to reread it in it's physical form. Thank you for writing and sharing it, Ked 💜

This bind features my first try of using toner reactive foil, and my first sewn endbands! I honestly love both, will definitely use it again in future binds.

[kedreeva]

OC Askbox Game

I'm avoiding writing and you probably are too, so let's at least think about our characters while we do it.

You know the drill- send me a number (ONE number, you can come back for more) and I'll answer for an OC of your choice (if you know their name) or my choice (if you don't know their name). Feel free to name some of your OCs in the tags of your reblog, if you want to be asked about them.

How did you choose their name?

Were they created for the story, or was the story created for them?

Do they have a love interest, and was that their choice or yours?

Do they have a best friend? If so, how did they meet? If not, have they ever/why never?

Did they have a pet as a child?

What catalyzed their introduction to the plot?

What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?

If your character's financial situation were to suddenly flip (someone poor becoming rich, someone rich becoming poor, etc), how well would they handle it? What would be the first thing they would do?

If your character could have handed their role in the plot to someone else, would they have?

Free Space #1: Which of your OCs would be most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse? Which would die immediately?

Does your character have a pet peeve?

Has your character committed any crimes (per their universe's laws)? If not, which crime would your character most likely commit?

Who is your character's closest (by relation, fondness, or distance) blood relative?

How does your character feel about riding horses (or your world's closest approximation of a horse if it lacks horses)?

Is your character's first instinct fight or flight? Is there something that could force them to do the opposite?

What is your character's favorite leisure activity?

Is your character holding any grudges? Are they likely to stop?

If your character were trapped on a deserted island, what three things would they want to have with them? Which person would they absolutely hate to be trapped there with? Which person would they enjoy being trapped there with?

Does your character have any health issues, whether they're aware of them or not?

Free Space #2: Which of your OCs would you most like to meet in person, if they could become real (or you could visit them) for a day?

Final Question: Ask me your own question about my OC

Remember: play nice! Send an ask to the person you reblogged this from, and try to send a few to folks that reblog from you!

[greenbergsays]

I was just casually scrolling Tik Tok and just imagine my surprise when

@kedreeva why are you haunting me

[madnessfromthemountains]

Looks like a peacock and a blue jay had a love child!

White-throated Magpie-Jay (Calocitta formosa)

© Dubi Shapiro

[skyasimaru]

Need this for a thing. Incoming podfic, standby...

[matiasthecamilion]

Ok "If We've Got Nothing (We've Got Us)" wtf you were all my life

I don't ever think that my fave part of a GO fics will be God, this was beautiful, give it a chance

[fallen-chances]

#9 for Hadrien?

If your character could have handed their role in the plot to someone else, would they have?

Hadrien wouldn't have. There was no one better suited. His history with Martin made him perfectly placed. Even if it hurt to see Martin's final sacrifice. That's how it had to go.

[madnessfromthemountains]

I was hoping for discordant honks, not majestic music!

“ Majestic Peafowl “ // © droneholic

Music: Terry Devine-King - Headway

[spottedenchants]

"I Think You’re Worth Holding Onto" please!

Sentences!

Essek makes a little mewl and Jester goes stock still. All he does is cover his face as he stretches a bit and relaxes again, still asleep, and it’s stupidly cute. Okay, maybe she’s more upset about this whole thing than she thought.

Thank you! :D

WIP Wednesday Game rules

[wolveria]

"Echo Reader" for WIP Wednesday please!

Echo!!! In this wip he's wearing the "droid" outfit, my favorite ;)

After cuffing his wrist to the nearby pipes, and placing larger stuncuffs around his ankles, you patted him down and found a pistol strapped to his thigh plate, hidden underneath the cloth kama. You removed the pistol and placed it on the workbench out of reach, not taking chances. Your next task involved feeling along his helmet until you found a latch on the side of his headgear. The mask clicked and lifted upward, revealing his face.

You blinked, not sure what you’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Cheep beeped in binary, tottering back and forth while waving his spindly arms.

“A clone?” you asked, studying the pale, unconscious face. “Are you sure? He doesn’t look good. Do you think he’s sick?”

<He’s definitely a clone! Though I am not sure if he’s ill.>

You crossed your arms. This was far more complicated than a simple thief sneaking into your repair shop.

“I thought they all worked for the Empire. This one doesn’t seem Imperial.”

<I can scan his wrist implant for information.>

“Do it.”

The grey and yellow astromech rolled forward, a blue light bathing the clone’s arm where he scanned it. After a moment, he beeped in distress.

<The clone doesn’t have an implant!>

 “That’s because it was removed.”

You gave an undignified squawk and jumped backwards, Cheep mirroring your panic.

The clone was now awake and seemed very unhappy about the new development involving two sets of binders and the removal of his weapons.

You cleared your throat and straightened your posture, crossing your arms over your chest. Cheep mimicked you, crossing his tool arms in place of real ones.

“Are you with the Empire?”

“No. I told you, I’m here to retrieve a droid. That droid,” he said with a pointed glare at Cheep, who immediately scooted behind your legs, bravado forgotten.

“Cheep isn’t going anywhere with you,” you told the impetuous clone, “especially if you’re taking him back to that spice-dealing scum.”

“Then we have a problem, because I’m not leaving without him.”

“You’re not leaving at all! You’re the one in binders!”

The clone removed his hands from behind his back, the binders in fact, gone, and then proceeded to release the binders around his ankles with a simple spark of his scomp link.

You grabbed the pistol on the workbench and aimed it at him, trying not to think about how quickly this was spiraling out of control.

“Stay back!”

Cheep rolled in front of you, pulling out his stun tools and firing them up in a display that didn’t impress the clone. He simply glared at you as if you were the inconvenience, and his patience was wearing thin.

“Put down the blaster.”

“No,” you growled. “You’re not taking him.”

“Are you really going to shoot me to keep that from happening?”

He asked as if genuinely curious. Or maybe he was just stalling for time.

 “I don’t want to, but I will.”

He stared at you for a long moment, studying your features with that same consideration, and then he gave a small shrug.

“Despite the fact you’ve never held a blaster before, I believe you.”

You frowned.

“I’ve held a—”

The clone lunged before you could fire, grabbing your hand and squeezing your fingers so you couldn’t grasp the trigger. He moved behind you, yanking the pistol out of your grip and pinning your arms to your chest with his scomp link. You kicked out with your legs, but he simply held you off your feet, taller and stronger than you even with one prosthetic arm.

“Let me go!”

The clone pointed the blaster at Cheep, who was just about to stab at the clone with his cutting tools.

“Don’t do it, droid. The client only needs your memory banks intact, not the rest of you.”

Cheep backed up but sputtered angrily, cursing the clone and the tube he came from.

“You bastard!” you seethed through your teeth, your struggles failing to dislodge you from his grip. “I thought you of all people would understand. He fought in the war, just like you.”

The clone went still.

[madnessfromthemountains]

"Dinosaur Sue." please! And re getting asks: yeah, it was getting too confusing for me, trying to track sending asks to a ton of random new posts, so I stick to looking in the notes of the post I make, and I think other people look there, too. Easier to find the group doing the thing if the group is in one place!

Point. I was just figuring that out. I am tired and it is bedtime for me.

But here is some Dinosaur Sue!

“Our vehicle is outside.” Olam shouldered his pack and led them out of the courtyard.

            Drakon had been expecting something fancy to go with the Royal quarters, but it was a military transport, run by the newfangled and noisy alcohol motor the engineers had invented when he was a recruit. They’d been famously even less reliable than a fractious triko in rut, but they had gotten better lately.

            Temur flew up to the roof perch.

            A couple of grunts helped Drakon load his and Arresh’s gear into the cargo box. The four mages’ packs took little space.

            “Want to ride in front, Sarge?” One of the grunts asked.

            “I’ll sit up with Temur.” Drakon climbed up while the priests and priestess clambered into the rough passenger shelter.

            “This is a mad mission.” Temur said cheerfully as he sat in the gunner’s chair.

            “It’s been mad ever since I found a woman in a circle of downed trees.” Drakon retorted.

[madnessfromthemountains]

Oh, Bug, you glorious idiot!

I set my bowl down for 2 seconds to grab the parmesan and find this murder scene when I turned back around. Ignoring her lunch fruits in favor of Our Lunch (pasta).

[greenbergsays]

I say "in my defense, my wife said I could do it" in the same way some other people say "in my defense, you left me unsupervised"

and the worst part is, i'm not even legally married

[lizhly-writes]

"villain fiance" please!

When Chen Lihua finally found Han Bangqing’s Sing-Song Girls of Shanghai in the library, she heard an ominous creaking noise.  Her thoughts, in order, were 1) “Huh, that’s weird” and 2) “Oh, I see, I’m going to get crushed to death by a bookshelf.”

Conveniently enough, before she had any time to react, somebody tackled her out of the way.

[labelleizzy]

"The Carter/Stark handshake" for WIP Wednesday, please!

Sorry it took me a few days to get here!

Here's a piece I wrote from the prompt: laundry

The hotel room was dark, dingy, cramped, and ugly. The only saving grace was the double twin beds: one against each wall with a chair in between them. Thank God Peggy wouldn't have to share an actual bed with Howard! He's aggravating enough to share space with, she's observed that he sleeps like an octopus. Or a toddler. And that would be simply intolerable.

By the second day into their research mission/stakeout, Peggy's forced to yell at him because he is leaving his clothes on every possible surface, sometimes including on top of her own suitcase.

"Howard. You will cease and desist this moment."

"Huh? Why?" He blinked at her fuzzily. To be fair they had been spending most nights recently watching the bad guys at the docks and tracking them back to their lair.

"You're about to leave your shirt on the floor again, next to your pants and belt. You really must use the chair next to your bed in lieu of Jarvis. I cede that territory to you, if only because we need to be able to walk on the floor without treading upon your clothing."

"Oh." He blinked again and ran his hand over his hair. "Sorry, Peg I didn't realize that I was taking up all the space. And I guess I do tend to rely on Jarvis quite a lot. I know you know I'm a mess maker."

She snorted a laugh.

"Usually my mess contributes to my creativity, " he rubbed his chin, "or else it's the byproduct of my creativity." He huffed a laugh. "I'll try to do better."

"See that you do," she nodded crisply with a slight smile, returning to her own nightly routine. They should be able to get a little sleep before catching the morning train to Dusseldorf.