#and ''this man is going to have problems!!!!'' is a martian fic that's been 99% written for about 2 years at this point

[appalachianapologies]

tagged by @rosieblogstuff to make a new post and drop the names of my WIPs, and because I also don't have a WIP folder (my folders are far more nuanced and I don't have the brain cells to do something that smart), this probably won't be all of them

I have a handful of relatively tame ones:

jack reads files

snips from juvie

tragic backstory™️

fuck it desi lore

mash or pass

and then just random words that somehow make sense in this brain of mine:

fight club except not at all and also people die

autism be damned my boy can COOK

this man is going to have problems!!!!

another wip don't fucking @ me

the long needed abandonment complex overhaul

I also don't know if I can tag enough people, especially people who have already been tagged before so if you're reading this, I'm tagging you in all ways but physical and you can absolutely say that I tagged you

[appalachianapologies]

I’m cackling PLEASE tell me about ‘this man is going to have problems!!!!!’

asdfkjdskjfjk okay so this is the working title for my The Martian fic that i wrote literally 95% - 99% of in january of 2022 and have STILL NOT FINISHED and it bothers me more than i'd like to admit that i cannot find the right way to end it. i wrote 7k words and then shrugged and said "okay well all i need is like 300 more words to conclude it!" and then got stuck there for over two years. and now i'm writing my thesis on mars, so mark watney has clearly gotten the last laugh here.

I'm not sure if you're familiar with The Martian, but here's some fun words from that fic regardless :D

I’m going to go back home. Back to a planet that isn’t actively trying to kill me at any given moment.

And just like that, all of the fight leaves me in an instant.

I feel so unbelievably naked, and that’s not just because I’m sitting on a cot wearing only my boxers. It’s like a switch has been flipped in my brain, and all I can think about is Earth.

Home.

“...ney. Dammit, Mark!”

Swallowing, I look up. Beck’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s closer to my face than he was just a second ago.

At least, what I assume was a second ago.

Who actually knows?

“Holy shit,” I mutter, looking at Beck. “I’m a fucking mess.”

There’s a quiet breath of relief when Beck realizes I’m speaking to him, but he still doesn’t pull his hand off of my shoulder. “Honestly Watney, I think that’s an understatement.”