#WIP WEdnesday Catch-Up

[jtl-fics]

FOR WIP WED CAN YOU PRETTY PLEASE DO MATH NERD OF NEIL JUST BEING SO NORMAL AND ANDREW JUST DYING CAUSE HE HAS A CRUAH ON THIS NORMAL ASS DUDE

WIP Wednesday (7/19/23) - Closed | Math Nerd AU

Aaron had come to know bits and pieces of who his brother is. He knew not to touch Andrew without asking, he knew that his brother didn't give a shit about Exy, he even knew bits and pieces about the friend that Andrew had been looking for.

The thing he most knew about his brother was that he did not let sweets go to waste. He didn't let ice cream melt and he didn't let hot cocoa get cold.

So when he came to the cafeteria and found Andrew sat across from Neil that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that Andrew's bowl of ice cream had melted and he was staring straight at Neil who had his tongue sticking out as he was cutting away something with scissors.

"What's wrong. Your ice cream is melting?" Aaron asks in German wondering what in the world is going on.

"He's cutting coupons." Andrew says as if that explained it.

"Okay? And...?" Aaron tries to prompt.

"He gave me his membership card for the chain supermarket. He gets fuel points." Andrew continues.

Aaron continued to fail to see what the issue was but Andrew had a white knuckle grip on his spoon as if he was mere moments from lunging over the table and stabbing the freshman.

[0vergrowngraveyard]

random wip wednesday thing! sonic and vanilla having a deep conversation post frontiers edition

”I just…” Sonic stared down at his hands helplessly before he sighed, “I just thought that maybe I’ve been in his life long enough to…I don’t know, reverse any damage they may have caused. I mean, he barely remembers anything about his life before he met me so…”

Vanilla hummed as she considered the hedgehog in front of her and his words, “Well, I don’t know much about this particular subject, but I do know how important it is for young children to receive parental affection and care. It's a very formative time for them and that neglect can have devastating effects on the child later on in life.”

She paused for a brief moment before continuing, “When I was pregnant with Cream, I remember speaking to a few mothers to get some insight and listen to other’s experiences. One of their stories always stuck out to me.” Something about her gaze turned sad, her grip on her mug tightening, “One of the ladies told me about how she didn’t receive much affection when she was younger and how she was using her experience with that as a motivator to be the best mom she possibly could. I remember her mentioning that it almost felt like a piece of her was missing and she was angry for a long time.”

Sonic eyes widened as she went on, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the absence of his parents is starting to weigh on Tails. And, while you’ve been a wonderful guardian for him, I don’t think there’s much that can truly fill in the gap that they left behind.”

Vanilla’s words hung like a weight over Sonic that threatened to fall and break him into a million pieces any second. Had Tails really been struggling with something like that? The kit never told him about anything of the sort and never seemed to even think about his parents. Hell, most days Sonic forgot that Tails hadn’t always been with him. That his last name didn’t just come from nowhere and there are people out there who are biologically related to the kit.

He’d forget that there was a time his little brother wasn’t in his life.

That no one was, really.

Something else suddenly started to enter his mind, something that forced its way in and took over like a parasite. Any thoughts about his little brother were buried in an instant and Sonic felt himself tense. One single question bounced around his skull, trying to escape its confines and make itself known to the rabbit sitting across from him.

If that’s how that lady and Tails felt, then…

“Why don’t I feel like that?”

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Let's Pretend for a Second it's Still Wednesday

I know it's not technically Wednesday, but my Wednesday ended up going in all kinds of directions I had not anticipated, so we're pretending for a second. Mental time travel.

I'm working on four different projects right now. I know, I know, but they're collaborations, and collaborations are my very favorite way to create things. Seriously, I've been looking forward to this stuff all year!

Three of those projects are for @carryon-reverse-bang. I get to work with three extremely cool and talented writers, and it's so much fun getting into the projects with them.

These snips are from the sketches I initially posted for the fest. We'll see what happens going forward XD

I'm also working on something for @carryonthroughtheages. (Which, btw, if you haven't noticed, is in ONE MONTH!) I'm not going to share a clip from that because there isn't much I could share that wouldn't give it all away. I'm very excited, though. Also nervous. Mostly excited.

Personal update: In between art endeavors, I've been very busy. Just made a huuuuge life change uh... exactly two weeks ago. I'm still adjusting to that and it's taking a lot of time, energy, and spoons. But I think/hope it will all be worth it. Also hoping to find my presence on Tumblr again after being a bit absent of late. Missed you all!

Since Wednesday is past, I'm going to tag all the awesome people who have tagged me even though I've been super absent the past couple of months! (Under the cut)

Thank you for not forgetting my existence even when I wasn't around to remind you of it <3 <3 <3 @monbons, @mooncello, @thewholelemon, @fiend-for-culture, @youarenevertooold,

@whatevertheweather, @blackberrysummerblog, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @that-disabled-princess, @imagineacoolusername,

@orange-peony, @rimeswithpurple, @cutestkilla, @bazzybelle, @drowninginships,

@hushed-chorus, @bookish-bogwitch, @shrekgogurt, @roomwithanopenfire, @alexalexinii,

@noblecorgi, @best--dress, @artsyunderstudy, @prettygoododds, @ic3-que3n,

@emeryhall, @tender-ministrations, @supercutedinosaurs, @leithillustration

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @talentpiper11. Your art for The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch is just gorgeous. Everyone go check out the post—the level of skill such tiny paintings require is extraordinary! On my end, I cannot believe it is only Wednesday. Between Spirit Week and Homecoming dance shenanigans last week (supervising a HS dance is a trip, y’all), I am exhausted. We have a half day on Friday, so I just have to survive until then...

Speaking of Friday, Chapter 6 of The Boy Next Door goes up then. I really can’t preview any Baz POV, so have some more Simon instead. Below the cut, but not spoilery in case you aren’t caught up.

Instead, the universe decides to punish me further. I come home one evening to find a green Range Rover parked out front, right behind Gran’s Astra. “Fuck,” I mutter, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk. This is the last thing I need right now. Yet another reminder that I am a colossal disaster. I glance up at Baz’s window even though the sun hasn’t completely set yet. I know he won’t be there. Still, a not insignificant part of me was hoping that he’d somehow sense my distress and swoop in to save me. Just one of his shy smiles would be enough to steel myself against whatever lies in wait beyond my front door.  No such luck.  With a sigh, I head the rest of the way home.

Hellos and high-fives!

@thewholelemon, @raenestee, @cutestkilla, @bookish-bogwitch, @roomwithanopenfire

@iamamythologicalcreature, @emeryhall, @mooncello, @hushed-chorus, @rimeswithpurple

@artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @best--dress, @brilla-brilla-estrellita

@run-for-chamo-miles, @supercutedinosaurs, @whatevertheweather, @talentpiper11, @larkral

@shrekgogurt, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @blackberrysummerblog, @messofthejess

@drowninginships, @valeffelees, @orange-peony, @facewithoutheart, @alexalexinii

@ic3que3n, @skeedelvee, @fiend-for-culture, @katatsumuli, @stitchyqueer

@ileadacharmedlife, @theimpossibledemon, @letraspal, @rbkzz, @confused-bi-queer

[kineticallyanywhere]

wip wednesday, why not

[direwombat]

remember when i said that my last wip wednesday was probably going to be the last snippet of ch7 that i'll share? yeah that was a lie. have some more.

He drags her out the door and down a series of hallways. They wind their way through the dark and hauntingly vacant corridors, twisting and turning through the labyrinthine hospital. Every step the soldier takes echoes heavily down the hall, heavy thuds bouncing off the chipped plaster walls.

The whole place is eerily empty.

Her shadow stretches grotesquely in front of her, its shape flickering in time with the unsteady buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead. The sharp, lemony smell of antiseptic stings at her nose, but it's quickly overwhelmed by the heavy, metallic taste of rust and fresh blood that comes to rest on the back of her tongue and throat. Bloody claw marks mar the wall they're following, only to divert down a hall where, somewhere further down, a helpless victim begs for death.

Her stomach lurches. The hair at the back of her neck stands on end as she's hauled past the pained wails and pleas for death; away from yet another victim of the cult she couldn't save.

The man drags her through the Veterans Center until finally cutting through an empty industrial kitchen and shoving through a side door that leads to the building's dumpsters. Gingerly, he unhooks her arm from around his shoulders and leans her against one of the bins. "Wait here," he mutters. "I'll be right back.

She slumps against the dumpster as her Friend scouts ahead. In her sudden sense of stasis, the weight of her body comes crashing down on her and the haze over her mind returns. Her knees buckle and she slides down the metal siding. Her stitches prickle, the skin itchy and tight. That aching throb begins to resurface without the painkillers to dull it. She leans her head back, knocking against the hollow dumpster and producing a resonant clang.

She goes stock still. Eyes wide, breath held; her muscles coiled to push herself upright and bolt at the slightest sign of trouble. Shit that was loud.

Her teeth are bared, fingers curled, prepared to claw and bite anyone who dares come to investigate.

She waits.

But no one comes.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her heart hammers against her rib cage. Her teeth fucking itch.

This is a trap.

It has to be.

Why else would her Friend carry her so close to freedom only to abandon her? Why else would he discard her behind a dumpster like some stray animal?

It has to be some sort of sick, twisted game.

Catch and release.

Jacob and his men have to be out there, watching. Waiting. Lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for her to run, all so they can chase her down and haul her ass back, like demons dragging a sinner's soul down to Hell.

She'll be damned if she doesn't take at least one of them down with her, first.

All she sees is the flash of red rounding the corner and she's on her feet. She lunges, one hand grappling the stranger's arm while the other wraps around their throat. With her bare feet planted firmly in the dirt, she swings the other person's weight around until she's holding them against the grimy brick exterior of the building. The webbing between her thumb and index finger notches just under their Adam's apple and she presses against their windpipe, teeth bared and snarling.

"Easy—" She chokes them harder. "—Easy! It's me."

It takes longer than it should for her to recognize the voice. The choked, frantic whispers are so different from the hurried and hushed ones she'd heard from her Friend as he was dragging her through the halls. But in those pleading, dark brown eyes, she finds a sense of familiarity. She's seen these eyes before.

Her Friend sucks in a quiet, shuddering breath. "You're in control here, Deputy" he whispers evenly. "Kill me if you want, but if you do, you'll be on your own in a den of hungry wolves."

The threat doesn't escape her, but his logic is enough to get her to release her grip around his neck.

But only barely.

"What's your game?" she growls, and she pulls him towards her only to slam him back against the wall. "The fuck're you gettin' outta helpin' me? Who are you?"

taglist (opt in/out)

@buggknife, @cloudofbutterflies92, @josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarishikages

@florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl

@ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners,

@trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies

@josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain,

@socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hello my beloved I'm glad that your little break of sorts is helping <3

I am humbly requesting more arson even though I am not caught up (shame on me 😔)

I hope you have a nice week and that you don't have to fight with your neils this time around!

WIP Wednesday (7/3) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 191)

“Disgusting,” Andrew says, nose wrinkling.

“Have you ever had it?”

Andrew thinks about it for a moment before realizing he hasn’t. “...No.”

“You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“I am only ‘missing’ disgusting-ness.”

“No, really. It’s good. I promise. Tell me your address and I’ll have one delivered ASAP so you can try it. Actually, wait. No, no, no. Don’t give me your address, I’m going to figure it out myself with all those clues you gave me.”

Andrew pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve told you. You cannot figure out where I live based on a street sign and an intersection.”

10 hums as if he disagrees. “You’d be surprised what you can accomplish when you never have anything to do. I once built a house of cards that was taller than me. It was actually sort of a castle. Had towers and everything.”

“Do you have a picture of it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I don’t believe you.”

“Mean.” 10 pouts. “Have you ever had ice cream cake?”

Andrew blinks. “Yes. Why?”

“I saw it advertised at Dairy Queen the other day. Sounds gross.”

“It’s ice cream with frosting.”

“Exactly. Ew.”

“Says the man who’ll put fruit on pizza.”

“Bell peppers are fruits. Hell, tomatoes are fruits.”

“They’re not.”

“They are. That means you’ve had fruit on every pizza you’ve ever eaten,” 10 says, sounding awfully smug about it. 

Andrew sighs, “I think you’re unscrewing my head. Or whatever.”

“You mean I’m mildly annoying you.”

“Exactly.” Andrew affirms. When 10 laughs, Andrew suddenly doesn’t mind that tomatoes are fruits.

[lightningboltreader]

I come bounding in at the end of Wednesday with some angst to counter Sunday's heat.

Carlos stills. Of course he wants to. He wants everything with TK. He’s never wanted anything more. “I do,” he pleads but it's clearly not convincing because TK detaches himself and takes a step back.  “Dude, you don’t have to lie to me.” TK rubs the nape of his neck as he moves to the chair, leaning on the back of it when he turns to scowl at Carlos. “If you didn’t want this, you literally just had to ignore my text.” And Carlos is officially furious with himself. He meets TK in two long strides and reaches for his right hand, trying to settle his nerves. Holding onto it with both of his, Carlos looks down and tries to memorize the image. In case this is the last time. He can’t help but caress the soft skin above TK’s wrist with his thumb, grounding himself as he opens his heart. “No, that’s not it,” he says, but he can’t do it like this. Carlos tugs TK over to sit with him on the couch, deliberately taking the middle cushion so TK will have to sit next to him. He picks up his hand again, studying the connection between them once more.  “Then what, Carlos?”

🔖👇🏻.

Thank you @welcometololaland, @strandnreyes, @paperstorm, @sznofthesticks, @carlos-in-glasses, @sanjuwrites, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @sugdenlovesdingle, @alrightbuckaroo, @birdclowns, @heartstringsduet, @vineofroses, @theghostofashton, @iboatedhere !!! I'll catch up on all of yours and more at bedtime.

If ya haven't yet and could use a tap to post, c'mon out to play @bonheur-cafe, @rmd-writes, @tailoredshirt @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @thebumblecee, @chaotictarlos, @reasonandfaithinharmony, @carlos-tk, @safeaswrites and YOU.

[verbenaa]

wip wednesday~

thank you to the lovely @kalmiaphlox for tagging me over the weekend and to the talented @elinorbard for tagging me today to post a little something!! I'm dreadfully behind on writing since I've been visiting family and have had basically zero alone time to even think (let alone get much writing done), but I did manage to work some on a little scene from an upcoming chapter of to eden 😮‍💨!

“Hush now and stop complaining, you little minx.” Astarion looks down at Rin from her seat on his bedroll, slight amusement flickering to life in his gaze at the sight of her indignity. “How do you want to do it then, darling?” “Diner’s choice.” Rin rolls her eyes as she gives him a saccharine smile, eyelashes fluttering mockingly as he scoffs in response. “Always such a little sweetheart, aren’t you?” With measured steps, Astarion moves to take his place behind her, settling himself with an admirable grace as his familiar cologne fills the air around her.  He moves the tiniest bit closer, lowering his head to her neck as he breathes her in, though whether it is the scent of the blood that pounds in her veins or the scent of her, she isn’t sure. “Is this alright?”

no pressure tags (and sorry if you all have already been tagged as well!) ✨💖 @khywren @ladyduellist @inkymoonbunny @bardic-inspo @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxnashiraxx

[jtl-fics]

Math nerd AU! 🧮🤓

WIP Wednesday - Closed (8/30/23) | Math Nerd AU

Neil nods, "I'm sure I did." he agrees, "Still, thanks." he repeats before holding up the envelope of coupons. "I'm going to hit the bathroom real quick first then I'll be all set to go." he says getting to his own feet.

Andrew, who had already stood, nodded and sat back down.

Aaron waited for Neil to get a fair distance away before he turned to his brother. "You've been glaring daggers at him this entire time and you agreed to take him to the grocery store?" he asks incredulous. "This is just what my face looks like." Andrew argues looking away. "I owe him, for the fuel points card." he adds. "What's your point?" he asks.

"I thought you said he wasn't even interesting enough to care about?" he hisses.

"He isn't. I'm just in this for the Ben n' Jerrys he promised." which might be the truth if it didn't sound like Andrew had offered the ride and if Aaron wasn't looking at his brother's red ears.

[tricksterlatte]

WIP Wednesday…here is a rough draft of Akira going through it and yelling at some taxi driver who invaded his favorite billiards hall (extended version of a scene I posted elsewhere for this day)

[trulybetty]

wip wednesday, on a sunday night...

thankyou @wildemaven for the tag, nothing much has been going on but I got struck with an idea that hasn't left my mind the last couple of days and so I started to plot something out.

which pedro character is it? I can't make up my mind (I think I may need some outside resources for assistance), is it going to go anywhere? who knows, but I'm having fun with it 😋

There was only one person missing from the reunion — you paused, a familiar prickle ran down your spine. Your body knew they were there before you could even turn around. He was supposed to be in Austin, out there for the foreseeable and the reason why you hadn’t seen him in two months, communication limited to pointed text messages and the exchange of Fedex boxes of belongings. As you turned to face him, he looked just as effortlessly handsome as ever. That lazy smile, half smirk, never failed to make your knees go weak. Your fiance, — no, sorry — your ex-fiance. Not that anyone in the room outside the two of you knew that, yet.

Since it's not wednesday I'm not going to tag, but if you've got something you're working on you want to share feel free to throw it up and tag me in it! 🙌

[britcision]

A second WIP Wednesday in this chapter, but gods willing and the creek don’t rise we will not see a third! I’m just trying to see if I can squish both Harley and Constantine in at the end… and the answer is probably not 😔

But, that’s what next chapter is for! And for now y’all can enjoy an excerpt from the tail end of this one! All good things must come to an end

————————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Steph, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

———————

Damian will probably go straight back to last names, but even he has that secret Wayne ability to commit to the bit 😏

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion

Oh shit we lost someone today I swear @blacksea21090 used to be taggable :( that’s not a fun discovery

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @greypetrel and @vakarians-babe. Thank you both!

It's late in the day, so no stress or pressure but I am tagging @dungeons-and-dragon-age @ndostairlyrium @star--nymph @pinayelf @inquisimer @dreadfutures @nightwardenminthara and anyone who has something to show off!

Not all DA related, but I am currently working on:

1) this cool blanket. This yarn was the first thing I bought myself after getting a job and it's languished in a basket ever since. Taking a pause from scarves to make a pretty honeycomb blanket c: It's turning out more liney than I expected, but that's okay! I adore the pattern.

2) A one-shot for a con, which I've volunteered to GM in exchange for a free ticket. It is a bard-based campaign where they all wake up after a crazy night to find themselves in possession of an important magical artifact (which they now must smuggle back to its rightful location). I have to build all of the character sheets, write up the session, and (if I have time) build the terrain and print minis.

3) A piece for an exchange. It's...slow going, unfortunately, but we'll keep on truckin.

[direwombat]

wip whoops its friday

tagged by the beloveds @g0dspeeed, and @adelaidedrubman (tysm~ <3)

still hating everything i write, but the "daddy la roux lives and is in the fc5 timeline" au has seized my brain and i have been piecing together an abridged version of katc for this au featuring syb's shitty dad <3 so here he is. being a little less shitty. and helping boomer dig her up from the grave faith put her in during her Bad Day™

In the confines of the coffin, Sybille had managed to stay calm. To slow her breathing, conserve her oxygen and focus on the sole task of breaking free. Humming that song had helped -- had given her the adrenaline she needed, and the soft, phantom voice of Jacob Seed murmuring words of encouragement every time she struck the lid. 

Good. 

Again. 

Almost there.

It isn’t until the wood buckles and dirt begins pouring in that she begins to panic. The soft, crumbly topsoil falls onto her face and into her mouth, like thousands of tiny spiders crawling over her skin. 

Her initial scream was more instinctive than anything else. 

Each subsequent one is more akin to the yowling of a feral animal throwing itself against its cage. 

Her bloody knuckles sting as dirt cakes onto them, but despite its looseness, the soil is heavy. Each time she pushes it away, more takes its place. She can barely breathe. It’s only when she takes a strained breath for air that she hears the sound of a dog barking. It’s faint, muffled by God only knows how much dirt, but she’d know that sound anywhere. 

Boomer. 

It’s enough to keep her going. 

She calls his name, and with a renewed sense of vigor and desperation, she continues to claw her way to the surface. The dirt begins to move around her, and between Boomer’s barking, she thinks she hears the sound of another person’s voice. It’s low and likewise muffled, but it sounds like a man. 

Someone is here. 

Someone is here to save her. 

Most likely Earl, if she had to wager a guess. Boomer must have run for help after she passed out from the Bliss. She’s just lucky they found her in time. The prison wasn’t close to where she last remembers being. Maybe it’s Sharky. Hell, it might even be Xander. 

She thrusts her arm up into the dirt as far as she can push it, and there’s a sudden release of pressure as her hand breaches the surface. “HELP!” she cries out, and this time, she’s close enough to hear Boomer yipping and barking in response. 

And then the warmth of another person’s hand grasps hers. It’s rough and calloused, and there’s a not insignificant part of her that bizarrely hopes that it’s Jacob’s. It squeezes her own, almost reassuringly, and while she still can’t tell who the voice belongs to, she can make out their words. “I gotcha, I gotcha, I’m’a getcha outta there!” 

The pull nearly wrenches her arm out of its socket. It’s like being dragged through molasses. But her arm is free.

Then her head, and she’s blinking away the bits of dirt falling into her eyes, her vision adjusting from the pitch black of the underground to the bright sunlight glaring overhead.

Then her torso is pulled from the ground, and she’s falling into wiry, but strong arms. She trembles against her savior, clawing at his shirt and hiding her face in shame as tears blur her vision and streak down her cheeks. But when she inhales and the stench of stale tobacco and the sharp bite of menthol fills her nose, a broken sob rips free of her chest. 

“It’s okay, Billie,” Daddy shushes and he holds her tighter. “I’ve gotcha. You’re safe now, okay? Daddy’s here. Daddy’s gotcha.” 

She ought to push him away. She should want to claw his eyes out. But for the first time since she was a baby, Daddy’s here. Her knees come to curl up to her chest, making herself as small as possible, and suddenly she’s four years old again. 

She’s four years old and Daddy’s home, and he doesn’t stink of alcohol.

She’s four years old and nothing Bad has happened yet. 

She’s four years old and Daddy’s here to chase the nightmares and monsters away.

She’s thirty-five years old, screaming in grief and agony and all the other emotions she bottled up inside are suddenly bursting free until all she can do is shiver and shake while he holds her. His touch is startlingly gentle. Long, nimble fingers -- pickpocket’s fingers; cheating gambler’s fingers; liar’s fingers -- stroke her hair and rub small circles over her back, trying to help soothe the pain away. 

She’s thirty five years old, and for the first time in as long as she can remember, she feels safe in Daddy’s arms.

taggin' @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share a wip! (taglist opt in/out)

[simplegenius042]

WIP Wednesday and Last Line Paragraph + Music Monday

Tagged by @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @inafieldofdaisies @josephseedismyfather and @socially-awkward-skeleton

Tagging @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @deputy-morgan-malone @derelictheretic @wrathfulrook @voidika @onehornedbeast @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @neverthesameneveranother @vampireninjabunnies-blog @cassietrn @chazz-anova @a-rose-in-a-garden-of-weeds @snake-in-the-garden @jillvalentinesday @minilev @g0dspeeed @ec-10 @henbased @inafieldofdaisies @ladyoriza and @nightbloodbix

[Update: If anyone saw an @ for ladyofeden’s-blog on this it’s because this WIP was made before the thieves had been exposed. I only just realised her former blog was on it and now has been taken off]

Here's two WIPs (well one WIP + a last line) for Silva's Hope and The True Sinners from Far Cry The Silver Chronicles PLUS some music.

Here's Silva's introduction to Jacob's right-hand man, Alexander Khaos in Silva's Hope. Also Jess is here. Reminder that this is still under a lot of work, so this scene may or may not change in the near future. Enjoy the snippet below:

Silva stood up, giving the Whitetail corpse one last glance up and down, turning to face Jess.

Bow and arrow still in hand, but her focus shifted from the foliage to the deputy, the young and vengeful huntress regarded her with little more than pursed lips and a raised brow as she jerked her head over to the unfortunate Whitetail.

"Is he the one Eli is searching for?" she questioned, looking the mutilated corpse up and down, not batting an eye at the dried blood that soaked the Whitetail.

Silva herself kept a steady face, though the desire to show her disgust towards the barbaric display was no less prevalent. It reminded her of the methods of executions back on the Archipelagos; needlessly cruel to send a message.

"Yeah, he fits the description Eli gave," she looked over to the corpse once more, frown unseen by Jess, "At least from what I can discern."

"You see what we mean now? Jacob's a sick fuck, much like the rest of his asshole siblings," Jess spat out, sneering at the display, "They preach about how they want to "save" people and "free" us from our so called sins. Then they go an pull shit like this, or worse, let psychopaths like the Cook burn families alive. Fucking liars."

Something they have in common with the Congregation, Silva noted, remembering all the propaganda that spewed out the need of servitude and duty of men and women, all strewn around the Overcity and the Minas, all brushing aside the rampant beatings, false persecution and execution of Tumultites and sympathizers alike.

It seemed the more time she spent here, the more unpleasant Joseph and his cult became. She wondered how long it would take until she discovered something truly unacceptable. Would it make a difference if she called Joseph out on it? Probably not, she reasoned, Prophets are only focused on the glory they get from preaching "God's Will". Anything else is just a means to get to that end.

She exhaled roughly, dashing away further thought as her left arm ached. Though her rescue from John's envoy thanks to Jerome was only a couple days ago, the aches from the crash did not cease, her left arm feeling the worst. Her right arm was more lucky, thankfully.

Kamski's scolding was still fresh on her mind. If it was up to him, he would have locked them both in his clinic while the war raged on. Sedate her if he had to. But both knew that as long as one of her limbs was not too damaged, she would still go on to fight.

What a miracle her right arm was just as good with a gun as her left.

"We should head back. Eli and Wheaty would want the news-"

An arrow cut past Jess' hood and struck Silva in the leg. The Deputy could only stare at the arrow protruding from her leg, and looked to the trees.

She noticed movement from the branches and pointed them out to Jess as she tried to call out. But her voice slurred, no coherent word coming out right, and the familiar sparkles that belonged to Bliss engulfed her vision.

Jess had turned her back to face the trees, bow and arrow at the ready, though Silva stumbled and fell onto her back as the world diluted into a realm of colors and butterflies.

She could barely hear what Jess was shouting, though a massive thud that sounded like an earthquake shook the Earth gave her most coherent thoughts an indication that her companion was out of commission.

Still fighting for consciousness, Silva heard the echoes of crunched leaves and commands.

Above her, a new figure looked down on her, a man with brown hair and dark hazel eyes with flecks of gray. His attire was that of which the Chosen wore, though he lacked the red hood, and his vest shirt was black, with his sleeveless overcoat a dark gray. He smirked, shaking his head as he spoke.

"Salutations to you Deputy, you were quite a struggle to find," he greeted, his imitation of a southern accent quite noticeable even when Blissed, "Thankfully Eli just couldn't let go of a chance to rescue one of his own. Don't worry, that fella was dead before we hacked up his corpse. Unpleasant work but it needed to attract your attention."

He knelt down get a closer look at her, his fingers tracing stroking the healed scratches on her cheek. She shuddered involuntarily from the contact, which felt numb and yet made her stomach recoil from the cold in his hands. He stopped his inspection upon noticing this, eyes softening before becoming stoic once more, thankfully retracting his hand.

"I'm surprised you're still conscious. By now most would have succumbed to the Bliss, which I'm sure you will shortly. Some tolerance you have there," he kept his eyes on her, chewing on his lower lip as he pondered, curiosity clearly piqued, "I'm sure Jacob will be pleased to know."

Silva tried to reply, tell this Chosen to go "fuck off" or some variation, but her tongue felt like weight on her mouth, and her eyes started to shut as the sky got brighter.

The Chosen watched this, his smirk returning as he stood up, then groaned as softly smacked his head, "Forgotten my manners yet again! Now, you better remember this, Deputy, because you're going to see me a lot more than you think. Name's Alexander Khaos."

"And Jacob's been dying for a talk with ya," Alexander's distorted voice revealed as Silva's thoughts were shrouded in the desire to close her eyes. And she found no reason to protest any longer as darkness started to consume her vision.

Here's a Last Paragraph for The True Sinners. View the start of a terrible beautiful friendship between Kamski and Tammy. Paragraph(s) below.

[Kamski] leaned over the small kiddie pool, the water slightly tinted pink from whatever blood managed to get into the water. Untied rope still tethered to the pool's edge, likely to be used to tie prisoner's feet into the water. A wooden chair stood strong in the middle, though Kamski would have preferred it to be something stronger... like metal. Though wood was a step up from plastic. The unused ECT device on the table caught his attention, the face cloth that laid next to it. Tammy stared at him from the doorway, arms crossed as she inspected his movements.

Weary, ruthless and not afraid to get dirty? Where was she on the archipelagos? Kamski thought to himself, thoroughly impressed with her station. Turning to her, he questioned with amusement, "A kiddie pool?"

Tammy blinked at him, unbothered by the question, just shrugged with undeterred confidence. Kamski snorted, and looked back to the what was essentially a large plastic tub. "Quite a humiliating way to go... more than I could ever do back in my homeland anyway," he commented in praise, envisioning an Enforcer tied the very chair Kamski stared at, face covered with a wet cloth as he screamed from the shocks coursing throughout his body. Begging right up until he was completely fried. Oh, what Kamski would have traded to see Lapis in such a state.

And lastly a song for Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. A rather sensual one between John Seed and Nadi Sinclair.

"Use the sleeves on my sweater Let's have an adventure Head in the clouds but my gravity's centered Touch my neck and I'll touch yours You in those little high-waisted shorts, oh

She knows what I think about And what I think about One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no Cause it's too cold, for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

And if I may just take your breath away I don't mind if there's not much to say Sometimes the silence guides our minds To move to a place so far away The goosebumps start to raise The minute that my left hand meets your waist And then I watch your face Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love the taste, yeah These hearts adore Everyone the other beats hardest for Inside this place is warm Outside it starts to pour

Coming down One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no Cause it's too cold, for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

Cause it's too cold, for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

Whoa."