#numbered wip ask

[canisalbus]

lmao i remember when i sent an ask asking about machete and vasco’s first kiss and now we have all these science experiments trying to figure out how they actually Do That and if they even can. nature is cruel and homophobic 😔

The power of team effort.

[dxckgrxsonx]

Out of office is ON. Absolutely ZERO customer service duties until Monday and I am sososo relieved!

May i give you all a look at my exbf!dick WIP?

**

Watching that first edge of your relationship catch at the precipice of failure felt so much like grief it was alarming; letting go has never been something you’re good at, especially not when it comes to him.

But you couldn’t stop Dick Grayson from slipping through your fingers the same way he couldn’t stop you from slipping through his.

Ending the relationship was a mutual decision. But that fact brought no relief. He was still leaving you, and in the terrible reflection of that, you were leaving him too.

There was no coming back from that.

**

Your relationship ends on a Tuesday and first thing Wednesday morning you walk into Titans Tower to find Dick standing at the kitchen counter.

Time stalls, your whole life stuttering in a furious backfire.

Whatever you were expecting. It wasn’t this.

Memory blooms against the palms of your hands and it’s tangible, focus hard enough and your fingers could trip along the interlocking bones of his spine. It’s historic recollection, almost twelve months eclipsing the time it takes to blink; one trip around the sun together and your life comes back to you irrevocably changed.

Three hours of sleep isn’t enough to deal with this; you don’t think any amount of sleep is enough for this.

Dick stares at the wall just past your head, mug held halfway to his mouth. He’s still wearing the same clothes as last night, doesn’t look like he’s slept for even a minute, and you could throw a dart at what you’re feeling about that and still not pinpoint it exactly.

Silence seems to echo, then swell, and you can't help but fumble in the face of it, caught in foreign territory. You wasn’t quite sure what you were expecting, but seeing him again so soon wasn’t really on the list. For a moment you consider turning on the balls of your feet and leaving, and yet, you know that won’t solve anything.

A cup of coffee is pushed across the counter in your direction and you stare at it, bewilderment shoved up against the roof of your mouth. You know it’s made exactly the way you like it; know with the same sort of certainty that you bring into mission briefings, the same concrete accuracy you display in combat.

It feels like you’re going fucking crazy.

Glancing at Dick you try to gauge the look on his face but you can’t.

When you first starting dating it was hard to read between his lines–difficult to spot the miniscule changes in his mannerisms–you could stare him straight in the face and miss the switch; miss the split second where emotion filters through the cracks and he shuts it down, hides behind a smooth facade of indifference.

After all the time you spent together it got easier. You learnt. But you look at him now and you might as well have never known him at all.

Dick opens his mouth and every muscle along your spine flexes in preparation, "Let’s not make this weird, yeah?"

Your teeth grind.

What a fucking diplomat.

One thing about you is this: you’re petty. Hand on heart you can’t help it. You get wronged and hit back in the lowest form you can think of–the most inconvenient way your mind can conjure up. The satisfaction you get from it is unparalleled.

Years ago, your uncle told you to leave your own house after a disagreement and in retaliation you parked your car so close to his bumper he couldn’t get out of the space. Then you blocked his number and didn’t come back for three days.

Not once did you regret it.

Dick knows exactly what you’re like; who you are on the inside, and yet he arrives at the solution of damage control. As if that would have ever gotten a positive reaction out of you–as if there would be any moment in your life where you wouldn’t bite all the way back to your molars into something glaringly spiteful.

There’s a split second where you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

He knows you on a level you can’t speak about–knows you through all four seasons and right down to the cosmic dust that interlocks with the fabric of your being–and he’s so brilliantly clever. Strategist since he was a child. You don’t have a doubt in your mind that he knows what you’re about to do before you do it. The revelation stings the same way a papercut does, wound superficial and with clean edges, yet painful no matter what.

Dick Grayson knows you, and in a fit of something helpless and tearful, you wish he didn’t.

The mug of coffee tips in your fingers and you pour the whole damn thing down the drain.

“Yeah.” You say, blinking furiously, refusing to acknowledge the wobble in your voice. “Fuck that.”

Dick stares at you the whole time–the blue of his eyes almost flashing with something un-named–his free hand tightening into a fist. The exhilaration is damning, blood rushing up to greet the sick satisfaction sparking in the hollow of your throat.

Fuck him.

Fuck him so goddamn much.

**

[sad-leon]

can i put two numbers <3 i'm nosy <3

i wanna know what 13 and 50 are 👀

ehehehehe hell yeah

you go my old drawing set up before i got my new tablet :3

... dont mind the wierd missing like.. square in this one.. csp corrupted and this was one of the layers that got hit apparently lasjdflksjdlj

and eclipse leo without the background :D!!! i darked the file background for this one cuz he does not look very good on the lighter one alkdjflasjdf

[jtl-fics]

i’m very very confused about the numbers on your wip wednesday post so i’ll just send this in and hope for the best:

if you’re still taking asks, could i have a snippet from smalls please?

- @you-know-i-get-itt

WIP Wednesday 9/11/24 (Closed) | Smalls AU

“You! You promised me that you’d get ready at 8:30! It’s almost 10 AM!” he squawks.

“I did get ready at 8:30 AM.” Janie gestures to her workout clothes, “I took my gear off before I came in since it seemed rude.” She looks at Kevin who was still almost fully geared up.

“Coach, you cannot let someone like this onto the team!” he points at her voice cracking in his indignity. “She skipped her very first practice!”

[nyoomerr]

#2, incomplete fic rec?

#2: an incomplete fic for the fic rec ask game

i personally can be wary of reading a WIP fic only for it to end up abandoned / never seeing a conclusion, so i'll reassure you that these are all recs for fics that, while currently incomplete, are being regularly updated!

"In the Red" by ibex_ascendant: sy is carefully trying to pay off his family's debts through steady hard work, when suddenly his debts are bought by a mysterious asshole who wants sy to pay them off ✨ with his body ✨ like it's some kind of dogblood drama. except, there's all sorts of weird details, like this mystery guy feeding sy blood, and sy's health slowly improving all of a sudden, and mystery guy's genuine upset that sy hates him for all of this… it couldnt be... acTUALLY BINGGE?? this one has one of my favorite mean-slash-extremely-pathetic bingges ever.

"two lonely souls at sunset" by lilacbuddy (with art by the amazing @/softandworm!!): sy (a pidw native in this au) is one of bingge's many forgotten spouses - a husband who bingge doesn't even remember the name of. bingge, who has just returned from the mei vs ge extra, decides it may be worth it to entertain the idea of finally getting to know sy, who seems to be a bit different from so many of his other spouses. this is one of my favorites to come from this year's bingyuan minibang!!

"through the eye of a needle" by funeralstrut: luo binghe - the powerful, blackened emperor - crash lands outside sqq's house. this is a problem, because the luo binghe of this world is still a sweet little white lotus disciple, meaning that this new luo binghe can be no one but bingge himself. bingge decides the best way to resolve this situation is to introduce himself with a fake name and move into the bamboo house himself, giving sqq a very awkward roommate situation.

"in search of a flower" by anonymous: sy has even worse luck transmigrating, and ends up stuck in the warm red pavilion as a brothel worker. bingge, post mei vs ge extra, discovers this world during his search for a nice shizun of his own and very quickly comes to the natural solution: using all his riches to buy out every second of sy's time. since it's something that usually squicks me in binggeyuan fics, i'd like to give an extra warning for the "sy / original character" tag here, but it's a generally vague and hand-wavey "yeah he's a brothel worker" situation :>

[astrobei]

if thinking about grunge will byers is a disease i don’t want to get well

[pearlypairings]

Hi there friends ✨

As part my November writing goals, I was inspired by @1lostsoul0fishbowl to do a weekend wip challenge to help keep my target wc goals on track!

I'm gonna list out the wips I'm currently adding to and anyone can pick 1 (or more) wip with a number of sentences you want me to write. Just send an ask with the wip(s) and # of sentences and I'll send back a snippet when it's been completed.

My goal is to finish all of the reqs by Monday am😁

WIP List:

Aurelias- hellcheer long fic, yall know it

Let the Light in- photocheer sequel

Burnin'- patrick x chrissy

Heaven- charlie's angels au for nancy, chrissy, and robin (new)

With Love, - robin character study in France (new)

Show me - tripol ficlet (enterprise fandom & new)

Polish folk au - untitled hellcheer inspired by slavic fairytales (new)

Feel free to send as many or as few asks as you as you'd like but keep the sentence number under 30 please ❤️ if you have no prefence of wip, just put "wild" in the ask and I'll choose randomly 👍

I'll reblog periodically, but thank you for for reading this far if you have! Happy reading and writing friends ✏️

[abubblingcandle]

Well done on compiling the spreadsheet! I've been thinking of doing something similar to keep track of my wips for ages but I've yet to sit down and actually do it, it's a lot of work!

How about number 42?

It is but I was laid in bed last night and was like stewing on one of the ideas and thought ... "I've never actually written down anything about this idea, oops" and so did this today!

@thirteenemeraldcats also asked for 42 but also another one so I'll do 42 here and the other in reply to that ask :)

42 - The 16 year old Jamie fic

So this fic is inspired by what I learnt a few months ago about Archie Gray at Leeds United. Quick Archie summary but he is a 17 year old Leeds wonderkid from a family of Leeds United players (his grandad, his great uncle, his dad all played for Leeds for the majority of their careers and his younger brother is in the youth set up). He's made it into the starting line up this year and he pointed it out in a post match interview that according the FA and Leeds rules ... he has his own private changing room because it is a safeguarding risk to have a minor changing and showering with adults.

This just got me thinking about what if Jamie hadn't been 23 when he was loaned to Richmond, what if he had been 16? This wonderkid who Man City don't really know what to do with coming straight into the Richmond starting line up and desperate to prove himself to everyone including his idol Roy Kent. His dad moving down to London with him. Not really being included in the team and team bonding as they just go out drinking.

Then Ted arrives and Jamie's never had a coach like Ted. He doesn't know what to do with it

Roy huffs as he watches Jamie bat away the hand Colin was offering to help him up off the floor. The kid's blue grey eyes were misting over with tears of frustration but his lips were pressed together in a mask of fury directed at the grass itself. Roy remembered being like that. He remembered being called up and touted as the best thing since sliced bread at an age where your main worries should be whose dating who and how you were going to survive your exams. But unlike Jamie, Roy wasn't a champion asshole about it. He took the hits, he paid his dues with only the token bullshit expected from an up and coming star. Then other younger models came through the ranks, Roy made his big career move and all that strife was history. It had seemed like the worst thing ever at the time. Now it was just remembered as a stepping stone. "Get the fuck up Tartt, your fault. Get over it," Roy growled, kicking the ball away from Jamie's feet and pinging it back over to O'Brien for the goal kick. The death stare from the young striker would have unnerved a lesser man. Roy glared back until Jamie flinched first and rolled to his feet.

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Definitely would love to hear about "fuck it we ball"!!

Ok so this is a hypothetical baseball AU, Bobby focused of course because that’s what I do. My qualifications for reasoning and source of my information: I played softball for a very very long time and have watched baseball for even longer even if it isn’t my favorite sport.

What positions would each boy play? A lot of them are up in the air, but these are the vibes they’re giving:

Bobby - Catcher

Kind of the man in charge on the field, they see everything that’s going on

He’s facing the opposite way of everyone else on the field like he does in the boat

Calls time outs on the field to huddle in the pitchers mound when things aren’t going good, gives pep talks and all that

Don - Pitcher/Second(?)

Pitcher because he’s stroke

Second basemen are either the quiet kid or the obnoxious kid who thinks they’re the shit like come on man you’re at 2nd, you’re arguably one of the worst players in the infield (I can say that because that was me until I switched to outfield the loml)

Joe - Third Base

Third base is a wild place to be, you gotta react on your instincts a lot and you gotta react fast. Theres all kinds of situations a third baseman can be in

One of the hardest working players on the field. They can really make or break your infield

The ball is literally drilled at you sometimes so you have to be tough and Joe is definitely tough

Shorty - Shortstop

Usually one of the best players on the team

Can be pretty hot headed

Shortstops are very confident in themselves and can have a bit of an ego

Stub - First Base

Big guys who don’t move very fast play first. I’m not saying Stub isn’t fast, but he’s def a big guy.

First basemen are usually big power hitters tho like lots of poser behind their bats. He probably hits 4th or 5th in the line up, hits cleanup

Johnny - Center Field (or maybe short??)

I feel like he’s fast but he’s not giving that infield ego vibes to me, you know?

Totally the coach’s kid growing up, like he probably pitched and played shortstop. It’s not uncommon for players who played a position in high school to play outfield in college (I know several)

Gordy - Right Field

Idk it just kinda fits imo

Chuck - 2nd Base (?)/OF

Again he just kinda fits

He’s got that infield ego

Maybe a relief pitcher?

Roger - Left Field/Second(?)

Mostly think he’d play OF, but he’s giving lowkey second or third base vibes. So like maybe whenever a new pitcher goes in Roger takes their place on the infield and Coy goes to the outfield.

There is absolutely zero plot nailed down for this but I have details that I would include if I were to ever write it:

Backstory: Bobby is the one deciding what pitches the pitchers should throw aka calling pitches during games until he messes up and loses them a big game. Ulbrickson decides that’s the last straw and kicks him off the team. In actuality the pitcher didn’t throw the pitch Bobby called or missed his spot and blamed Bobby for it.

The story would be set sometime after Bobby is brought back as the catcher for reason XYZ, why isn’t important rn for this. But Ulbrickson has a stipulation that he’ll be calling pitches, not Bobby. Bobby agrees, but obviously goes off script sometimes.

I want Bobby signaling for a particular pitch as called by Ulbrickson, but uses another sign he made up that tells the pitchers “hey I didn’t come up with this.” And Don shakes off the pitch by shaking his head and Bobby smiles and signals the one that he thinks he should pitch.

I want Bobby in a backwards baseball cap (ofc)

I want Bobby getting into a collision at home plate, definitely a must because I love that hurt/comfort

[anxiousotters]

WIP Game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

all my love to @ferretrade for the tag, these are always so fun <3

alright I have wayyyyy too many wips so I'm narrowing it down to ones I'm currently working on:

PaxAxe child of divorce

dinluke NEED TITLE GAWD

Ragnar & Axe buir basics insp

codywan engineering AU

(codywan) in the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

(JasTor) can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

(Jango & sons) seeing you in every dream

no pressure tags: @cookiemonsterv3 @thenookspace @friendlyneighbourhoodelf @lothcatthree @diaphanouswings

@meebles @willowgrove

[fizzigigsimmer]

For the WIP game, I am bursting at the seams with the need, the ballet au?

This one I am still working on the outline for/researching but I am so in love with this idea. You can read the other posts I've made about it here.

But the gist is: Billy's mom had a gift. Everyone said so, and that she could have gone much further with her career if Billy's father hadn't happened. After a whirlwind romance, a positive pregnancy test and a dash to the alter her career as a dancer ground to a halt but she never stopped loving it. Billy swears he started dancing before he could walk, loved spending hours with her in their garage or the living room learning at her side.

But men shouldn't dance according to Neil. Neil who drinks away all the money his mom makes giving lessons and can never seem to hold down a job. Neil who forces his mother to get a second job waiting tables just to make ends meet, and yells and screams and grabs her too tight when they argue. Billy quits ballet, even though he knows it breaks his mother's heart. But he just doesn't want to hurt anymore or be the reason she gets hurt.

When his mother is diagnosed with a terminal illness he's even madder at the world, and devastated at the prospect of losing the one parent that loves him. Before she passes his mother writes to her old friend, who runs a prestigious conservatory school for dancers in Indiana - Mrs. Harrington. She wants Billy to dance again because she thinks it will save him. Billy's not sure if he's worth saving after she's gone. But for better or for worse he's on his way to an uppity private school full of elite snobs.

Actually the school isn't that bad and he isn't even the only scholarship kid. And maybe he did miss dancing. Like a lot more than he was willing to admit to himself. And he's really good at it, and for once he's actually celebrated for it.

The only downside is Madam Harrington's son Steve, who just won't get out of his way. Madam Harrington thinks they both have what it takes to win Best Male Dance at nationals, but there can only be one number one.

[authenticaussie]

May I request Sad Dad Times for WIP Weekend please? That sounds fun (for me, if not for anyone actually in the fic) 💚

Sad dad time is a two for one special!!!!!!!

"You ruined it!" Damian shouts, and then hates the drop of guilt that forces his blood from his face. It's true, and it's real, and it's Tim's fault that his Father returned, but it's not fair to say it was ruined, how could he have ruined something Damian had waited his whole life for-

But his father had been overbearing. Had been stern, quiet, and demanding, with no clear goals for Damian to exceed. But his father had been disappointed in him, had pulled away during the first few awkward attempts Damian had made to find common ground, and it - this - felt like a fracture in a wound he had never noticed.

But Damian had waited his whole life for his father's love, and his father had not been the one to give it to him.

Timothy stares at him with confusion and frustration warring in his gaze, an exasperated edge to his tone when he says, “Look, baby brat, I'm allowed to join you and B for dinner.”

----

It was with baited breath that the people of Gotham waited for Bruce's curse; with parents such as his, with a silver spoon and want for nothing, it would be strong but lovely. What price would stand in the way of another Wayne patriarch improving the city, and how often could Bruce pay it?

There was no question of if he would; you always had to, no matter what, and what Wayne would hold back from serving Gotham?

And then there was the murder.

The lovely string of fake pearls scattered along the streets of Park Row, and Bruce Wayne, too young, huddled insensate over his parents' bodies. By the time the police arrived, they were long dead, and the blood had soaked into Bruce's pants.

It was a spectacle when Gordon and Pennyworth helped him to his feet, for that was when they thought that the last Wayne had been injured too, blood blooming over his chest and dripping down his arms, and the pictures of Bruce's curse and Alfred Pennyworth were front news for the next week.

What an irony, they whispered, when the news came out, that she would have served him better alive then dead.

What an irony, that Thomas' curse had been twisted so much, in the tragedy, that Bruce's bleeding heart became reality.

It had been hard to get news of the Wayne heir after that; the pictures of him could be constituted as gore, sometimes, with the way blood would seep through any fabric he wore, and no-one in Gotham was truly comfortable with the fact that their city's most prominent figure was now the child that had seen his parents die. They were just curses - but this one felt pointed, felt sad, and while it was never easy to live with a Gotham curse, at least the fridge having teeth was a silly story to share with friends, in comparison to the constant tragedy Bruce Wayne wore.

It was almost a relief when he vanished. Even more so when, upon his return, the bleeding had eased - and Bruce had taken to wearing red undershirts under his suits, well-disguising his bleeding heart.

Alfred Pennyworth never told anyone about the blood trails through Wayne Manor, which had not abated in the intervening years, nor did he talk about what did eventually ease Bruce Wayne's curse.

After all - everyone knew you had to pay the price of your curse, and no Wayne would hold back from serving Gotham.

[jtl-fics]

TDY. I love how my boy Smith is in this too, except it also makes me a little sad because he likely has a v different relationship with Nicky.

7/3/24 WIP Wednesday (OPEN) | TBD

He’ll have to actually see the menu but driving Josten home so that he doesn’t run himself to death is already paying unexpected dividends.

They’re brought in and the staff is just the right amount of disinterested to let them be for long enough that Andrew can read the entire menu and the carry-out number for later. Katelyn had been getting some strange cravings as of late with the pregnancy and Andrew was usually the one that went to go and grab something so that Aaron could sleep.

He’d grab a carry-out menu to pin at their house.

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[turtletaubwrites]

Directors Cut of Numbers Game pretty please

Oof, asking about the fic I'm currently writing crazy things for, lol

Thank you again for requesting that I write about the Cross Guild, this has become my most popular fic! 🙏🏼💜

I have SO MUCH I want to scream about, but it's all coming up in the next few chapters 🥰🥰

My main issue with writing prompts and requests is that I can't do anything without context. This whole fic was just supposed to be that big sex scene that spanned from part 5-9, but I couldn't write it.

I couldn't write it without understanding WHY each character was acting that way, why the reader would feel scared, yet give consent, why all the things. So my brain went wild creating all the backstories, all the relationship dynamics, even though I didn't expect to take it further than that.

But y'all SCREAMED at me to keep going, so now you must deal with the consequences of giving me too much leeway with plot, lol.

I really didn't think it'd get this far, or that I'd get to play around with all the ideas I had. I'm honestly freaking out about the next chapter, and it's looking like it'll be the longest one yet.

I hope y'all don't kill me 😅

Am I a little rabbit, a sweet girl, or a pretty star? I honestly don't know anymore. I started writing fics because I love Buggy SO MUCH, but this fic beats the crap out of him, especially at first. I went bananas writing for Mihawk 🥵 He's so fucking devious in this, and I can't get enough. But writing Numbers Game made me fall in love with Crocodile. The more I write for him, the more obsessed I become. Why choose? I'll take all three, please 🥰

[theminecraftbee]

ao3 wrapped question 12 because I felt personally attacked by it (and because I want to know if I'm the only one with an ungodly amount of WIPs)

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

holiday exchange counts for this, so that's 1. bedrock bros fic is 2 (I PROMISE ITS STILL HAPPENING I'M JUST SLOW). there are two-ish redacted things that i may or may not publish next year but if i do that would be 3 and 4. rendoc superhero fic is 5, if i actually publish that next year. and... for now those are the only CONCRETE wips for potentially next year, so i'm gonna say 5? 5.

[tag-if]

How physically affectionate are the RO's in a scale of 1/10? Hope you're giving yourself well deserved breaks! :DD

Also the Talbot fanart thing still hasn't been digitally drawn yet, busy stuff this week and exams iykyk. But he's looking good so far ;]

going to combine these :)

i've just got home for the holiday break, so i'll (hopefully) be a little more active— and, in theory, relaxed ajdhsj

PRE RELATIONSHIP;

A. Bellefleur; 3/10

K. Valiev; 5/10

A. Caras; 1/10

T. Bellefleur; 1/10

M. Serrel; 6/10

POST RELATIONSHIP;

A. Bellefleur; 6/10

K. Valiev; 8/10

A. Caras; 5/10

T. Bellefleur; 6/10

M. Serrel; 9/10