#Wednesday fic ideas

[twobirdsflytogether]

I am simply rambling and throwing ideas, with the ever existing hope of a writer seeing and going "hm, yes. Yoinking this idea"

I need more Wednesday fics where Wednesday has bird habits/features, maybe even the ability to shift. Maybe the more bird characteristics came about after crackstone™, being truly a raven

Give her wings and feathers, collect shiny things, have a silly soft moment with Enid (and/or with Bianca) of them doing her hair and affectionately calling it preening. Subtly gifting small snacks to her intended throughout the day (providing food is a very common courtship thing and something ravens do). Learning to mimic other people's voices, a skill she'd utilize to get out of trouble or get her 'flock' out of trouble.

I know theres a few bird Wednesday fics, but there is never too many bird-ified character fics.

Or

Lean into the 'black cat' typing, make her a werecat, maybe hit her with the double psychic and shifting. Have that line Enid says in the start, the "this kitty's got claws" be responded with a very annoyed "you're not a cat" from Wednesday as she brings out her own claws. Add another layer to their conversation on the balcony, of truly not understand why being a 'lone wolf' would feel bad as cats arent typically pack animals. Have silly little moments where she's just sitting really high up and people trying and failing to get up to her/find her, cause cats like being higher. Also obligated mention of silly catnip shenanigans.

Maybe she got turned into a werecat over the break, coming back to nevermore and having to learn to navigate these new abilities and instincts. Maybe add some extra trauma, of finding her stalker over the break and they're the one who turned her.

Would she be bound by the moon like the wolves or would her shifting be voluntary? Add a layer to the voluntary, have it be necessary for her to shift at least once a month.

I dont think I've ever seen a werecat Wednesday fic

[sleepy-steve]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🪱🧠

thank you for the tag @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @stevesbipanic @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @wheneverfeasible and of course, anyone who wants to throw their brain worms at me ✨

thinking about modern au metal-burlesque performer eddie and audience participant steve (who was dragged along by robin probably, at her insistence that he would definitely enjoy it).

eddie is the last performer of the night, and so far steve has definitely enjoyed the show. robin makes them sit at the table front and centre, so the dancers have interacted with them a little, waving feathered fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, little touches and grazes as the performers step down from the stage to wander the audience. while it’s not really steve’s thing, it’s been a bit of fun.

then. eddie walks onto a pitch black stage. a red spotlight shines on him as a dark, heavy beat begins. eddie turns as the vocals start (music very much that filthy horny metal kind), and he looks nothing like the previous performers. he’s all tattoos and piercings and wild hair and ripped jeans and leather jacket.

steve is immediately starstruck. the whole audience is transfixed. eddie is one of those performers that does next to nothing and the audience just fucking eats it up.

letting his jacket hit the ground, he walks the stage, looking for his victim of the evening. he spots steve, in his glasses and pale sweater and soft swoopy hair and eddie zeroes in on him immediately. steve gets pulled up on stage and guided to a chair, where eddie (after confirming it’s okay) runs his leather gloved hands up steve’s arms and across his shoulders and down his chest from behind.

as the performance continues, steve is close to short circuiting, unsure how and when he became so revved up over another man teasing to take off what looks to be a band tee cut into a loose tank top, but here he is.

at one part, eddie kneels in front of steve, spreading his legs apart and head rolling towards steve’s crotch (an absolute classic) and steve speedruns his sexuality crisis right then and there because he’s gonna need this hot tattooed man on his knees in front of him forever.

eddie teases taking off his leather gloves, shoving his fingers from his other hand into the opening in a way that is so lewd. with one glove off, he brings the other to steve’s mouth and commands him to bite it.

holding the finger tip of the glove in his teeth, steve is helpless watching as eddie playfully pulls at it, like it’s hard to get the glove off, like having it removed this way is turning him on. he’s touching himself up and down his chest and panting, before finally letting his hand free of the glove.

steve quickly shoves the glove in his pocket as eddie moves to sit in his lap, rolling his back against steve’s chest, running his hands up his chest as he finally removes his shirt, only to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. eddie guides steve’s hands to his chest—steve feeling the nipple piercings hidden beneath—and lets steve unclasp the bra from the front.

the show is over way too soon, with eddie tossing the bra into the crowd. eddie brings steve up to bow, the audience going absolutely crazy for them. guiding steve back down off the stage, eddie gives him a cheeky smile and a wink before disappearing offstage.

robin is losing her whole mind over all of it, and steve is kinda sad that he won’t get to see eddie again. but robin points out that he just might get to.

because steve still has the leather glove in his pocket.

[merlinmylove]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Here’s an excerpt from the new fic I’m writing:

- - - - - - - -

“You know my husband well.” Arthur smiled. He should've known this was the case.

Merlin had this tendency to…adopt, for a lack of word, young boys who were lost in life.

That’s what had happened to Mordred a few years back. And with another boy called Daegel, who Arthur still didn’t really know where came from. But one day he was there, and Merlin decided he was to stay.

Now there were these two orphan boys — young and curious — of course Merlin would take to them like a duck to water.

- - - - - - - -

Canon au, married merthur, fluff and comfort, original child characters

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy, @bookishbroadwayandblind, and @bachusekart. It was lovely to get your updates today.

Honestly, I probably shouldn't be posting because I have so little to show for my efforts recently, but I thought perhaps putting out "please cheer me on" vibes into the universe would help motivate me.

STITCHES After what I think is almost three weeks now, I have finally (mostly) finished tooth-fairy Baz, and he is lovely. I just need to add some earrings when they arrive in the mail and then stitch his head on.

I've also cut out all the pieces I need for this Baz's Simon, but I haven't started sewing because my hands have been giving me trouble. So, he's just on hold until it doesn't feel like I'm being stabbed in the wrist whenever I pick up a needle and thread.

SENTENCES In fic news, I have two WIPS currently. The first is a very messy friends to lovers AU with cheerleader Simon and soccer player Baz. My Simons tend to be lovely and sweet and my Bazs are always angsty vampires. Neither is true in this fic, and it's been harder to make progress than I expected as a result. But, here are some sentences anyway, Baz POV talking to Dev.

“Seriously, what did you see?” I strain to peer around him, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Agatha and Penny are standing next to a couple of milk crates filled with purple and white cheer poms. Trixie is wrestling with the portable speaker—a chunky black cube the squad rolls with them everywhere. Keris has a clipboard and she seems to be taking attendance amidst all the girls I don’t recognize. Then, my eyes finally spot the one anomaly. The one person wildly out of place. Amidst the sea of skirts is a singular boy. A boy with bronze curls and blue eyes and billions of freckles. More freckles than he had the last time I saw him. An impossible number of freckles.

My second WIP, a Dark Rise AU-ish thing, is in the colorful post-its planning stage still. I have a very rough outline of the main plot, but there is an incredible amount of backstory to reveal and I am currently trying to figure out where and how to do so. I think I may need dual timelines and several POVs I've never written before, including the CO adults. Find some Malcolm below.

MALCOLM I wish you could see him, Natasha. Your son. He is bold and brilliant. Top of his class. A fine magician.  The best of you. The best of me.  I tried to protect him. To hide him in plain sight.  I taught him to be cautious. Stoic. Discreet.  I insisted he never reveal the inner workings of his heart. I provided a template for him—a guide he could follow—with my own.  One cannot be vulnerable when one remains indecipherable, Basil. Be unreadable.  Unknowable. Or be undone. He is a magnificent student, Natasha. The very best. He didn’t just learn; he excelled. He kept everyone at arm’s length. (Including me.)  I tried, Nat. I tried.  To keep him healthy. To keep him safe. I failed all the same.

(If you have read C.S. Pacat's Dark Rise series and the unicorn horn scene has been branded into your brain the way it was in mine, then please know that this fic is me attempting an AU just for that scene. The brain rot is SO real.)

Anyway, head pats are appreciated. Hellos and high-fives.

@alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch,

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@katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess

@mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee

@rbkzz, @rimeswithpurple, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @shrekgogurt

@skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @technetiumai

@the-beard-of-edward-teach, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon, @valeffelees

@whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[squirrel-gay]

Enid: Yeah my mum loves the scars

they remind her of me wolfing out, that i'm no longer a disgrace

Wednesday: I like looking at them

they remind me of your love for me

Excuse me, but consider this: Enid doesn't like her scars, because they get more attention than she ever did. It's the first thing her mother notices, and she almost cries of joy because she didn't believe it when they told her she'd finally turned. Enid catches her mom looking proudly at her scars from time to time, which is more attention than she ever gave her before. "Let me get a good look at you" she says, turning Enid's head to the side, tracing the scars. Enid wants to run away. Her mom doesn't say "I'm glad you're okay" she doesn't ask if it hurt. She says "finally" because Enid almost dying is less important than her wolfing out.

Enid starts wearing her hair in a way that hides them as much as possible. Until one day Wednesday asks her about it, "do you regret how you got your scars?" and Enid's words get stuck in her throat. And Wednesday, carefully tracing the area on Enid's cheek so she doesn't touch still healing wounds, tells her that they're just a visual representation of her choices. A part of her now, sure, but they're more like a footnote, an added detail to the intricacy of her. And when Wednesday looks at them she remembers how she saved her life that day.

"If you regret saving me, that's okay, but I can't bear to see you hiding yourself like this"

And Enid stops her then, because she would never regret what she did that day.

"It's just... it feels like my scars are the only thing mum loves about me"

And Wednesday says her mom's a fool, because "What's not to love about you?"

[0vergrowngraveyard]

He still remembered the first time he called Tails “lil’ bro” out loud. The kit’s reaction was unforgettable.

It felt natural to Sonic. He’d already been referring to the kit as his little brother to cashiers and any other stranger who got nosy and asked what a blue hedgehog was doing with a two tailed fox kit without either of their parents around. They always gave him an odd look but that didn’t matter. He didn’t exactly care what these people he’d probably never see again thought of his and Tails’ little life. They weren’t in it so they didn’t get to have an opinion about it.

However, he apparently never voiced the whole little brother thing to the kit himself. Part of him didn’t think he needed to and that it was pretty obvious that they were basically family at this point. Sure it had only been a few months since they met, but Sonic only needed a few months to decide that this kid was his and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it.

In hindsight, he probably should’ve realized that Tails wouldn’t have come to that conclusion. He knew they were friends, best friends even, but Sonic could tell that the kid was still nervous about the whole situation between them. Whenever he thought he did something wrong, he always had this scared look in his eyes as he apologized over and over again. It was like he was still expecting the hedgehog to just dump him somewhere and leave him alone again.

There was also the chance that he just didn’t have a very good opinion of families. With his biological one being completely out of the picture and all, Sonic would have been surprised if it left a sour taste in his mouth. Then again, this theory hinged on the idea that he actually remembered his parents which he didn’t seem to, so it was safe to say that it probably wasn’t the case.

(There was a secret third option that had suggested that Tails simply didn’t see him as an older brother figure. Sonic didn’t like to think about that one too much.)

When he finally called Tails “lil’ bro” out loud, the kit stared up at him with the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They almost reminded him of the light blue chaos emerald with how much they were sparkling. Tails asked over and over if he meant it, that he really did see him as a little brother and barreled into the hedgehog when he confirmed. The kid pricked himself on a few quills but he didn’t seem to care, his namesakes spinning in happy circles all the same.

It had been maybe three weeks since then.

Tails never really called him his big brother in public, or in private really. Any time someone asked him who he was with, he’d just silently pointed over at Sonic. When asked what their relationship was, he just fidgeted nervously and ran over to the hedgehog, making it so that Sonic had to explain that they were brothers.

He never held it against the kit, figuring that he was just nervous. He was never comfortable around strangers for obvious reasons so it made sense that he wouldn’t talk to them.

He was just a quiet and anxious kid. That's all it was.

The memory faded away as the sound of a small coughing fit brought him back to reality. He slowly sat up and stretched, looking around their campsite for the source of the noise only to find the culprit where’d he’d been for the past few days now. Sonic sighed and made his way over to him.

The duo hadn’t moved in almost a week. Tails had caught a pretty bad flu and Sonic didn’t want to force him to fly around the zone or travel at supersonic speeds in general. He didn’t think that kind of thing would do him very good when what he needed was fluids and sleep.

Sonic sat down next to the sick kit who had conked out again after his quick coughing fit. He took his glove and put the back of his hand on the fox’s forehead. Tails was still burning up, his fur was damp with sweat and his sinuses still audibly congested as his small body fought off the intruder.

He sighed again as he put his glove back on. They were nowhere near any hospitals where the kid could lay down in an actual bed and be looked over by professionals. Instead, all he had was the ground, a pillow and blanket, and some broke eleven year old.

Luckily, Sonic had enough money to quickly run off and buy some medicine for the kid but that was pretty much it. His wallet was empty except for a few coins and they were running low on food. Last he checked, they only had two cans of chili left. That was dinner tonight and tomorrow, they’d have to skip breakfast and lunch which wasn’t good for the sick fox.

The medicine made Tails sleep for most of the day so he couldn’t see as Sonic’s worries and doubts started eating the hedgehog alive.

Had he made the right call when he decided to stop looking for a suitable family for the kit? What did he have to offer him, especially right now? He wasn’t fit to be watching over a little kid by any means. They ate the same thing every day, sometimes they didn’t eat at all, Sonic was far from a good influence, and their life was full of potential danger. Chaos, the kid had gotten grabbed by Robotnik a few times and almost used as a living battery for one of his robots.

To top it all off, Sonic himself was still a kid. What did he know about raising someone?

He loved Tails, he really did. Without fail, he looked forward to seeing him the next day and continuing their little adventure to save the island one zone at a time. He loved the little guy’s laugh, his smile, the way he tilted his head when he was confused and all his other quirks that made him who he is. For a bit, he kinda thought it was weird for an eleven year old to have a four year old best friend. But when that four year old just so happens to be the coolest kid you’ve ever met and will ever meet, it really can’t be helped.

But as much as he adored his little tagalong, this wasn’t something he could be selfish about. Part of him was starting to regret telling Tails that he saw him as family and getting his hopes up because if this didn’t work out after all-

“Mmm…Sonic?” A quiet little voice weakly called out as its owner temporarily returned to the waking world.

Sonic snapped out of his self loathing and directed his attention towards the kit, “Hey, bud. How you feelin’?” He asked, putting a hand on the kit’s head and gently petting him.

“m’body still aches… ‘nd m’nose is still stuff-“ he cut himself off with one sneeze, then another, “stuffy…”

He went to wipe his nose with his paw, but Sonic beat him to it as he cleaned off his little brother’s muzzle with a small scrap of cloth. “Well, you still feel pretty warm. You wanna try drinking some water?”

The kit’s watery eyes stared off into space as he thought about it before he gave a small nod that was barely visible. Sonic helped him sit up, wincing at how his ears drooped and how limp his tails were. The fox rubbed his eyes with the back of his paw and let out a squeaky yawn as Sonic fetched the big water bottle he had stolen from the pharmacy he got the medicine at.

(He probably could’ve stolen the medicine too and saved some money. What would they have done? Chase after him?)

He handed the bottle to the kit and put a hand on his back as Tails slowly brought the bottle to his mouth and drank, making sure not to spill any even in his state of delirium.

When he was done, he handed the bottle back to Sonic who put the cap back on and set it to the side. “That any better?”

Tails nodded, “mm-hm…it tasted good.”

Sonic chuckled at the kid’s slurred words, a firm indicator that he was once again fading quickly, “I’ll bet. Why don’t you lay back down and get some more sleep, bud.”

He nodded again and laid back down, tails weakly curling around him as Sonic tucked him in nice and snug.

“Sonic?”

“Tails?”

“Why’d you look sad earlier?” The fox asked, fighting against his heavy eyelids to stay awake a little longer.

The hedgehog blinked at him, “You were awake?”

Tails shifted a bit, “Mm…kinda..b’also kinda not..”

Sonic lifted his hand to the kit’s head, scritching behind his ear and trying to ignore just how warm he felt, “You sure you weren’t just imagining things? You might’ve just been out of it, kiddo.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, “i ‘unno..maybe..” he nuzzled into his pillow, “b’ you looked pretty upset…”

“I’m all good, bud.” Sonic promised, “You just gotta worry about getting better so we can get back to kick Ro-butt-nik’s butt, alright?”

Tails nodded and finally allowed his eyes to close, “M’sorry i got sick…”

“No need to apologize for that, lil’ bro.” He shook his head, “I’ll wake you up when it’s time for dinner, alright?”

“okay big bro…” was the last thing the fox managed to get out before he fell asleep for what would be the next few hours.

He continued scritching until he made sure the kit was out. He then pulled his hand back and just stared at him.

Big bro…

It shouldn’t have meant so much to him, it really shouldn’t have, but Sonic couldn’t help the smile that forced its way onto his muzzle as fondness filled his entire chest, squeezing him tight.

Never in a million years did he ever think he’d be called someone’s brother, let alone be part of a family. He always thought that kind of life would weigh him down and force him to stop moving.

He thought he’d hate it and yet here he was, in the middle of Hill Top Zone with the only person in Mobius he considered to be family.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

He placed the water bottle in arm’s length of the fox just in case as he picked up the dirty cloth and ran down to the river nearby to wash it off for later use. When he returned, he put it back in the backpack and got out their cooking supplies and a can of chili to start making dinner.

Maybe he wasn’t the most qualified to be looking after a four year old, but that didn’t mean he was about to quit just because he’d hit a rough spot.

This kid was his, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Not even his own self doubts.

[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

[samtamdan]

[pzweigs]

wip wednesday

artpatrick, pre-canon, away on an international tennis tournament, art finds patrick with another guy

“Don’t you think your first time with a guy should be with someone you’ve known longer than one second outside a club?”

Patrick scoffs. “Like who, Art? Like you?” He swears under his breath, about to turn away, go back inside and try his luck again, and the sight of it makes his blood run cold. Art can’t watch that happen. He’s angry, and he’s jealous, and so confused—but he just can’t. It feels as if he could lose everything in a moment if he doesn’t just speak up and say—“Yes.”

He blurts out, quickly and a little too loud, but it works��� stopping Patrick in his tracks entirely. He turns back to Art, rigid, eyes shrinking from shock to suspicion.

“Yes? Yes, what?”

“Yes, someone like me.”

Neither of them speak for a minute. Art’s heartbeat rattles in his throat, his entire body. They’re sliding into unknown territory now.

“What do you—Art, what do you mean?” Patrick says very carefully, enunciating his words, looking as scared as Art feels.

“I mean…” What does he mean? He’s been scrambling for sense the moment he saw Patrick walking off with some guy. “I mean, why not me?” Art asks back pathetically, a cop out but a sincere question, one not without bitterness. Amidst all the panic and confusion, Art is still inexplicably mad at Patrick, wounded that he’d seek his desires anywhere else in spite of his own reticence.

“Why not—Art, are you kidding me?” Patrick looks at him in disbelief, like he’s speaking a strange, alien language. He tugs at his own curls in his frustration, pacing, and then stopping, and then starting again. He’s never seen him so stressed: Art wants to take his hands and hold him tight. “For one thing, you don’t like guys.”

“I like you.” Art admits, like it’s a simple, easy fact, like that isn’t the tip of the iceberg of his feelings for Patrick Zweig.

Patrick’s bewilderment turns to anger. He steps closer to Art, back in his face, eyes fierce and smile bitter.

“Yeah? You like me?” His laugh is brittle. Disbelieving. “Enough to have sex with me? To fuck me?” He gets even closer. “To let me fuck you?” Art’s body heats up, from Patrick’s words, his proximity, this entire conversation. He can’t help his skin turning red at Patrick’s quite successful attempts to fluster him. He watches Art flounder for a moment before stepping back, eyes clenched in pain and his hand back to clawing at his scalp.

“I mean, fuck, Art, why are you even doing this? Just so I won’t go off with some guy? You won, ok? I won’t. I’ll be a good little heterosexual boy like you and go home. Just—“ And then, Art watches the strangest thing happen. Patrick deflates. Art watches his body shrink, small and limp, and it’s so unlike him that he suddenly appears almost unrecognizable. Patrick doesn’t even look at him, eyes shiny as they lock on his own feet. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

[umgeorge]

"Had to drop these for this weekend 😮‍💨" - may 1, 2025 📷 @.mercedesamgf1 / instagram

[lokimobius]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @elodiah @insomniaflarrow @distracteddream @loki-is-my-kink-awakening <3

I'm posting in the nick of time... I've been jumping back and forth between two WIPs today, so I thought I'd share something from my spice-adjacent fic to switch it up a bit. Here are some first kiss vibes!!!!!

Mobius cupped his face, gently stroking his thumb along the curve of his cheek and over his lower lip. “Oh, Loki.” He sighed, a tender smile spreading across his face that made it impossible for Loki to resist him any longer. He gripped Mobius’ hips, pulling him closer. “Please… kiss me,” he pleaded. Mobius didn’t need to be told twice. He surged forward, connecting their lips in a bruising kiss. The moment their mouths met, a spark coursed through them, igniting a flame that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. A hand wove into his hair, and with a slight tug, Loki felt himself melt, his body shifting from warm to blazing. His need to have Mobius closer intensified, and he wrapped his arms around him, fingers roaming over the smooth fabric of his shirt, desperately searching for something to hold onto. Mobius matched his urgency, pressing Loki firmly against the rack, their bodies so close it felt as if he were trying to erase the last traces of personal space that had ever separated them.

Not tagging anyone because it's late, but if you see this, count yourself as tagged!!! Pls let me know what you're working on!!!!!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @imogenkol @lilywatt @direwombat @neonshrike @josephseedismyfather @cloudofbutterflies92 @ellswips and @carlosoliveiraa for wip wed/ 6 sentences this week. Thank you all <3

Been hopping between wips lately with not much to show for it, but spent some time playing around with the mw3 canon for Rory as I outline and reaearch for it. This is still a very rough first draft snippet taking place shortly before the assassination of Shepherd via Price. warnings for implied major character death (yes, Soap's death is still a thing in Rory's verse, but I'm trying to make it mean more than it did in game)

"Not right f' me to put this on you.”

Her eyes narrow immediately. Something is off, she knows it is. That quiet alarm in the back of her head starting to blare. The one that has existed from the moment she said yes to being his in Syria.

“Put what on me," she asks, completely sobered up. The eyes that can see through even the thickest cloud of John's bullshit suddenly burning through the fog with a pointed stare.

“Nothin’.” With a sharp shake of his head he tries to sweep the matter aside. 

“John? What are you planning?”

“Nothin’, darl –”

Her finger presses to his lips, cutting off the lie before he can finish it. “You want to try that again?”

Wrapping his hand around her fingers, he pulls them away from his mouth, pressing a kiss to the tips. “Nothin’, Ror.” He says it with the finality of an order given, enacting the pavlovian response that gets her to comply, to stand down. 

Rory's stomach twists, the turns of her intestines knotting further as every instinct and impulse tells her something horrible is coming, the same way birds take flight en mass before a tsunami hits, emptying the sky as the waves are drawn back revealing the hidden base. Her heart rabbits in her chest, pounding against the confines of its cage, and frigid, creeping terror unfurls down her spine as if she can feel the specter of death’s kiss herself. 

Someone is going to be made to pay. He can’t get his hands on Makarov, someone else is going to be the scapegoat for his anger, something to take out his cold, merciless fury on.

She can see it in his eyes, in the cavernous depths of them, the way they seem to go on and on forever, deeper and darker, like the very circles of hell and at the very bottom of the pit is the place reserved for traitors. 

Shepherd.

She knows it. He knows it. And neither of them are saying a word. It’s already long since been decided. I’m comin’ for you. John had warned him, and he always kept his word. He just needed another reason and it had landed in his lap and had sprayed across his face. Warm and dripping and red.

tagging (no pressure to interact):

@lasersinthejungle @aceghosts @devil-kindred @taciturntraveller @sukoshimikan @voltac @voidika @chadillacboseman @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042 @strangefable @la-grosse-patate @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage @inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @finding-comfort-in-rain @cassietrn

[max-nico]

Sonic has been called an "overprotective big brother" over the years many times. Not his fault that Tails is small, impressionable, and reckless. He's known the kid since he was a toddler, if anyone else had been around that long they would understand too.

Or at least he thought they would, but it seems he was wrong because his own two best friends–Amy and Knuckles–are the ones who call him overprotective the most. This is a huge betrayal on their part, especially when they bring up valid points like Tails' intelligence and skill, because how could he disagree. Sonic has the coolest, most awesome and amazing, little brother ever. 

With that being said, Sonic is pretty sure he has the right to interrogate the little fox this time. He's like 90% sure his panic is warranted when he sees his little brother load and cock a very real and deadly gun. Because that kid is 9. He is 9, and he is putting on his watch and his plane gear to leave, and for some reason he needs a weapon wherever he's going. Sonic thinks he has a right to exercise at least a little big brother privilege here, honestly it would be negligent to not at least question him. 

"Hey bud. Whatcha up to?"

Tails' ear flicks toward him as he packs a few things into the Tornado. "You remember that hard drive that GUN thought they stole from me, but I actually knew they wanted it so I lowered a few of my defense systems so that they could grab it and leave me alone?"

The answer is no, Sonic has no recollection of that happening at all. Though he supposes it's his own fault for only half listening when Tails was talking. He's really gotta break that habit.

"Sure do." Sonic lies.

"Well, I actually have a little bit of data on there that I forgot to back up to another hard drive since I didn't think I needed it, so I'm going to go get it."

"And you need a weapon for that? Why don't you just ask Shadow?"

Tails finally turns to face Sonic, floating down off the Tornado and in front of Sonic. He stands with his hands on his hips, leaning just a little into his personal space. He takes the chance to absentmindedly scratch behind his little brother's ears, making him push his head into his hand.

"I did, actually. He's the one who told me to bring some weapons, he said he wants to help me improve my stealth techniques."

"Huh, and he didn't even bother to text me about it." Sonic huffs. It comes out playfully, but he won't deny being a little peeved that Shadow didn't message him. Tails is a genius and can make his own decisions, sure, but he's also not even in double digits. Sonic is literally his guardian, he feels like he should've been consulted about this. "I find that quite rude."

Tails smacks Sonic with one of his tails. The fur gets trapped in the small quills on his face, which makes his brother giggle.

"Then how do you find that, hm?"

"I find that the person who did it has another thing coming."

Sonic is so gonna fill his pillows with quills and shaving cream again. The fox constantly complains about not being able to get his quills out of any furniture, but he also got his fur stuck on Sonic's face, he figures this is pretty good retribution.

"Sure I do."

This is what Sonic means. Where did his wholesome brother go? Ignoring the fact that he has been a little menace since they first met, this is obviously team Dark's fault. Their devious ways are corrupting his little brother, who has obviously only learned nice things from him, like dad jokes and spindashing.

Tails has been constantly hanging out with team Dark for a few months now. After spending time with Rouge on Amy's last birthday he seemed to acquire a sort of childish fascination with them. Honestly, Sonic didn't really see it as a bad thing at first. They got Tails to spend more time out of his lab, and they always seemed to take care of him so Sonic had no qualms as long as Tails was having fun.

Then the habits came. Habits that Sonic had managed to completely purge a couple years back. Sure, he's not building bombs willy nilly anymore (as far as he knows anyway), but a few weeks ago Tails showed him the Empire nuclear launch codes just because he could.

Just yesterday they were having a conversation about a grocery store in station square. Amy had apparently told him that the cashier was kind of rude, so he asked if she wanted him to "blow up the entire store". She laughed and said no thanks, but when Sonic just shook his head at him Tails had the audacity to say "he'll make sure there's no one in it", as if that was the problem with what he said.

Sonic will not claim to have clean hands. He will not say he's never killed anybody on purpose or on accident, but is it so much to want to spare his brother from the same fate? Sonic still has nightmares over things like that, and even if his little brother is joking, he just can't find it in himself to laugh.

It's obvious Sonic will have to talk to Shadow and Rouge soon, he would talk to Omega as well but the robot honestly just does whatever he wants. Sonic can respect it. He cannot, however, respect Shadow and Rouge teaching his kid brother bad stuff, like how to get away with murder and other things of the like.

"I'll be back before you know it, Sonic, I swear!"

It's obvious Sonic has just missed most of the one sided conversation Tails was just having with him, he zoned out again. Damn it.

"And I'll have my communicator on me so if anything goes wrong, you'll be the first to know! I'll stay safe, Shadow will be with me."

Tails says that as if it's any comfort to Sonic. He may trust Shadow with his life but he does not trust him with children. He's sure Tails will come out physically unscathed, but mentally? This is going to be a trainwreck.

Sonic sighs. He already knows he won't be able to convince him not to go, at least not in the small timeframe he has, so he just pulls the kid in for a hug instead. "Call me as soon as you're able, okay?"

"I will, promise!"

"And if you're not back and not answering in 24 hours, I'm coming to find you myself."

"Yes, Sonic." Tails says, pulling away.

"And I'll give Shadow a piece of my mind if I have to, you know I will."

"I'm leaving now."

"And so will Knuckles and Amy!"

"Goodbye!"

"Remember what I said about calling!"

"I can't hear you anymore!"

Sonic smiles as Tails starts his plane, the kid will be fine, he knows it. After all, he's sure Shadow and Rouge know the consequences if he's not.

woe, the brothers be upon ye I wrote this in like two sittings and its barely been edited, I'll probably put this on ao3 later after I've looked at it again lol. you're welcome to hit me up in my dms or askbox, but if it's a request I would prefer my ask box lol. Remember you have to be nice to me forever and ever and ever if you decide to talk to me btw

[yeyinde]

thank you for tagging me @ivymarquis ! i debated between this, the regency fic (fleshed out), or one of the other Price fics i'm working on (home from college for the summer and seducing hot older neighbour Price whomst you had a crush on since sixteen (aka daddy issues, the playbook), DomPrice, etc), but i think the Soap fic will probably be finished before all of those. so, here is the baby trap piece with Soap.

nothing smutty but this def captures their odd, imbalanced dynamic perfectly, i think:

“And you have no cellphone? No satellite phone?”

“Ye can check it—” he makes a flippant motion toward the glove box in front of you. “Deader than ever.”

You hesitate only briefly. Long enough to level him with a searching look that yields no results (every expression hidden behind a thick, unruly forest of overgrown hair jutting out to his Adam's apple) before you reach for the compartment, gingerly pulling it open, and—

Sometimes, things get overlooked by their surroundings. Swallowed in the vacuum. Blending seamlessly into the muddle, the commotion. Or hidden. Can you spot the mountain lion in this tumble of rock and bush?

This isn't like that. 

It sits on top of a manila folder. Sleek black and cold silver. You're not terribly well-versed in guns—the extent of your knowledge stemming mostly from formulaic crime shows aired late at night; CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds—but you recognise this one instantly. Some sort of handgun. Police issued, you think. It's bigger than you'd expected. Looks heavier, too. 

Your heart stutters. The air galloping out of your lungs in a stammering rush. 

He makes a noise, soft and nonchalant, as if keeping handguns in the glove box of his old, burnt umbre truck is perfectly normal. 

“Fer protection,” he mumbles. You catch the jerk of his chin in your periphery. “Forgot I had it in here. Been usin’ the rifle for huntin’ mostly. Or the shotgun.”

Three guns. You swallow. “Why—” your voice comes out in a brittle whisper. You clear your throat. Pretend it helps, that you don't feel as vulnerable as you sound right now. “Why, um, why do you need three?”

“Not fae around ‘ere, are ye?” He echoes your words from earlier with a wry twist of his mouth, eyes slanting in the sunlight. “Tha’,” he takes his hand off your thigh to jab his finger at the handgun. “Is fer wolverines.” His index finger falls, his thumb juts out. He jerks it over his shoulder. “Tha’ is fer huntin’. The shotgun back home is fer bears.” 

You try to move out of the way when his hand falls back to your thigh, but the pain radiating up your leg immobilizes you. There's not much you can do in this situation but endure.

Military. Wounded in action. Three guns. Touchy. 

You're not sure what to think. It would be easier if you couldn't. 

“What do you hunt?” You ask instead, glancing out the window to the barren landscape rolling out around you. There doesn't seem to be much in the jagged hills, towering mountains. 

“Gettin’ hungry? Donnae worry, doe. Go’ tha’ pesky hare I was tryin’ tae shoot on the ledge fer dinner tonight.” 

It's not much of a comfort. The idea of being injured—by accident, he claims—to such an extent over a rabbit makes you feel a little sick. 

“That's it?” 

“I can make a mean steak outta anythin’. Stews fer tougher meat. Fish, too—whitefish, arctic grayling, and lake trout. Learned how tae make a nasty fishfry from the locals in Nahanni Butte. Bannock, too. Got berries ‘round ma cabin. Caribou, Moose. Taste better in tacos or burgers. Mountain goat, Dall’s sheep. Been eatin’ better ‘ere than ah did at home.” 

“And you're—just allowed to hunt them?” The website advised of a permit through some special outfit needed to hunt when you requested your pass into the park. Said that only aboriginals were allowed to do so. “You're not—”

“Aye,” he cuts you off with a small nod. “No huntin’ in the park. But. We're not in the park anymore.”

“Where are we?” You ask again, firmer this time. 

“I told ye. Nearly home.”

“And where is home?” 

The way he sucks his teeth makes you recoil slightly. Wet. Irritated. As if he's tired of this conversation already. 

“Close.”

You don't let his flat tone deter you. “Are we—are we still in the Northwest Territories?”

“Thereabouts.” 

It's not an answer. It doesn't reassure you in the slightest. 

You open your mouth to say so, words curling on your tongue when he jerks his chin toward the handgun, brow furrowed. 

“Thought ye wanted tae check on the satellite phone.”

His tone is severe. A growl curdling the ends, pitching it down, down. Displeasure, irritation, blooms in the gnarled petals of witch hazel when he narrows them into slits. 

[havenshereagain]

WIP Wednesday!

I did finally finish the de-aged Tim fic (i'm waiting for that prompt for batfam week to post) so i'm not gonna post a snippet of it, but I do have two others to post from! One is kinda a vent fic of a thing i've been thinking about in my own life applied to Tim and Dick (i know i make their relationship strained a lot, but i enjoy playing with their dynamic) - not sure why i've been thinking about it since it happened years ago, but i am. The other is inspired by finding out DC has their own version of ao3, with Jaytim both being fic writers reading each other's hero RPF without realizing who the other is

Tim and Dick Vent Fic

Dick's face softened slightly at that and he patted Tim's hand. "You're too old for that, bud," he said, and Tim felt his heart break. Of course. It was the same argument his parents always used about physical affection - it was childish to want, Tim was too old, he was better than that. He just hadn't expected Dick to think the same thing.

He wrenched his hand from Dick's, turning on his side away from him. "Righ'," he muttered, trying to blink back the tears welling in his eyes. "'m too old t'need t'be taken care of. You can-" he broke off to cough, sitting up against the pillows but still keeping his eyes off Dick. Tim couldn't look at him right now. "You can go." Tim felt a hand on his shoulder and pulled away from it, lurching forward with another cough.

Jaytim Tales of Our Own

Tim was always blown away by how well dar managed to write he and Jason's relationship. They almost always managed to actually get Red Robin right - he wouldn't just stand back or stand down, he would argue with Red Hood, push back against his bullshit, and, when they wrote combat, was able to hold his own easily. They wrote Hood getting saved by Red more often than the other way around, though the new fic was an exception.

It was actually reminiscent of something that'd happened maybe a month or so ago, where Tim got in over his head with some drug traffickers and waited until the last minute to call for back up - only for Jason to show up barely two minutes later and decimate the guys. Jason had apparently already been on his way for his own reasons when Tim's call for back up went through, and he was pissed about Tim going in on his own. The two had actually argued briefly on a rooftop about it - maybe a clip of that had been the inspiration? Usually Tim was good about not being filmed, but he'd been tired and annoyed that night, and even he wasn't perfect about spotting onlookers.

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello :) thank you for the tags and for your patience and kindness! will tag back under the cut <3

writing is hard right now. life is even worse. i am doing my best! if you've shown me kindness or support recently, please know i am so incredibly grateful. i am scaling back right now, which is hard because y'all know i love to be loud and hype folks up. please know i love you anyway.

here is a snip from chapter 4 of people ruin people. total posted fic word count right now is. 4k words. short and easy.

“What if you replaced golden here with something dramatic as fuck—” “Sun-drenched?” “—like honeyed—no, wait, I fucking love that. All aboard the celestial imagery train. Destination? Billboard's Hot 100—” “Your powers of manifestation are truly remarkable.” Alex laughed into his coffee cup, one of many he'd consumed over the night. His neck and shoulders were sore from hunching over notebooks with Henry, body exhausted but brain more alive than ever. They'd been at it for hours, shoulder-to-shoulder on Alex's couch, the city lights streaming through the window, concealing any rational sense of time and space as they furiously scribbled lyrics on sheets and debated metaphors. Henry was partial to water and the elements, grounding and sure; Alex gravitated towards the sun and stars, expansive and uninhibited.  The entirety of the wings of icarus album was drenched in celestial and mythological references, painting Alex as the tragic hero doomed to fly until his wings gave out from the weight of his lofty ambitions; his bitterness towards fame and fortune had never been more evident, if not a little hypocritical. He was, after all, writing with Henry in his disproportionately expensive apartment.

xoxo roop

i miss you i miss you i miss you i love you

+ open tag bc it is late + tagging some folks back who have tagged me recently or i have seen floating about :) and some who i know are reading this wip. thank you for reading, it means the world to me!!!

@stellarmeadow @cha-melodius @wordsofhoneydew @onthewaytosomewhere @kiwiana-writes

@miharaikko @sherryvalli @thesleepyskipper @saturntheday @porcelainmortal

@run-for-chamo-miles @anincompletelist @sophie1973 @orchidscript @firstprincehornyramblings

@suseagull04 @cricketnationrise @leaves-of-laurelin @tailsbeth-writes @alasse9

@sparklepocalypse @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @celeritas2997 @14carrotghoul @lilythesilly

@henfox @msmarvelouswinchester @caterpills @firstprinced @incalamity

@shesfromboston @melisnonstop @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @tintagel-or-cockleshells