#still need to figure out a good tag for WIP posts

[the73rdpostscript]

Word Finder Game

You are given five words. You must find those words in one or more WIPs and post the excerpt containing each word!

Was tagged by @non-un-topo. (Thanks friend! Being tagged in one of these games once again got me to write a few more sentences so I appreciate it <3)

Your words are: blank, rose, scowl, purpose and fortune.

Somehow I haven't used the word scowl in any of my most recent 20 WIPs??? I found blank a few times and purpose twice, and I decided to share my results for rose even though it definitely doesn't count :)

Purpose - From the story where Nicky and Nile end up on a monster hunt in the woods.

Nicky is purposefully positioning himself between them and the darkness - where the thing is making soft and angry noises. "Nicky," Nile says, testing the volume, "Nicky!" His head tilts just enough - a signal that he heard. She licks her lips and dodges a squirming shoulder aimed right at her chin before she tries to say it. "Maybe that guy was right. Maybe. Maybe this thing isn't just a thing we can kill. Maybe it's a manifestation of something."

Purpose 2 - From the story where Nicky and Nile go to the movies

Lifting his arm up, he waits till she slides in under it before he replies. "Booker and Joe were always more interested in the physics of the unknown than I was. I preferred to question our purpose.” And he gives her shoulders a squeeze because he suspects she’s also thinking of the first time they all met – the bitter collision of their past with her future.

Blank - From the story where Joe and Nicky can't sleep

Studying the shadows from the windows, Joe is reminded that he doesn’t take the time to stare at empty spaces as often as he should. There’s too much art on his walls to allow for much blank space, and he considers turning his breakfast table a few degrees towards the doorway of the kitchen area so he can stare at the single narrow blank wall space beside the doorway. Resting his eyes and admiring the light he gets in early morning hours would be an improvement to his morning routine. Even if that morning routine barely exists at this point. Does he need to enforce his routine more? Would he fall asleep if he got up and practiced the motions as if he was getting sleep?

Blank 2 - From the story about Nile's first century of life

They established this routine a week into their first break. It's a grounding practice for her internally, but it also helps her remember who Nicky is outside of the times that he shoots a man in the head point blank without flinching. Soon they'll say a short prayer together and he'll send her off to the church with a hug. Then he'll crawl back into bed with Joe to do his own Sunday rituals - a tradition Andy somehow always sleeps through and Nile is very glad to leave behind.

Blank 3 - From the story where Nicky builds coffins

WARNING: This section contains descriptions of corpses

On the second day he saw two men had landed in a kind of embrace. One had ended up slightly more on top of the other - one arm haphazardly laying across his back in a grotesque gesture of protection. His legs were missing but the other man's legs were folded upwards - as though supporting him. The one laying under the first had his head pressed into the other man's chest as though seeking comfort. The first man's head was tilted at an agonizing angle - staring up at Nicolo with blank eyes - covered in flies. Nicky stared down at the bodies for an indeterminate amount of time, before he felt tears running down his own cheeks. Picking up the shovel again, he began the slow process of covering the tomb, before he moved on to the next few bodies. He did not bother to wipe his face.

Rose - From the story where Joe is a plant dad on instagram

Like he’s been given a third wind, Joe exhales into his rant, “That is not even close to the proper lighting for a succulent garden. That tray would have taken an hour or more to set up, and those plants will last two months at best. Those rosettes grow that way because-” the words cut off in a gasp as Nicky leans forward and licks Joe’s neck. “Keep going,” he murmurs. “No, no, this is better,” Joe says, turning to kiss Nicky with wet lips.

I'm going to double tag @polarcell and @gallifreyburning And then I'm gonna tag @aphroditestummyrolls @lazaefair and @raedear

Your words are ring, pout, plant, grave and oyster

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back to work but still hurting.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re grateful only for the reprieve of Sy’s shower. He spends at least an hour in the bathroom but it’s not nearly enough time to figure this out. He’s not going anywhere and you have no way of changing that. And with how things are going, it won’t be long before you’re entirely trapped with him. 

The helplessness suffocates you. You slowly get up, needing to do something, anything to keep your thoughts from spiralling further. Or him. 

You go to the kitchen and pull out some chicken. Even with your recent shop, what you have won’t last. Not with two people. You marinate the tender breast as you pull out the jasmine rice and your mini rice cooker. Everything you have is built for one, it’s another reminder that he’s invaded your life. 

The bathroom door opens and you stay hidden in the kitchen. It’s only as he calls your name that you poke your head out. You don’t want him to think you’ve tried to escape again. Imagine that, escaping your own life. 

“Here,” you squeak and your mouth hangs open. He stands in only a towel. It’s low enough that the trail of hair along his stomach grows thicker just above the knot. Your lashes flick and you cough, “just starting dinner. Jerk chicken and... and rice.” 

“Sounds delicious,” he grins and runs his fingers through his beard. “Much better than field rations, eh, Aika?” 

He whistles at the dog and she perks her ears up. Sy sighs and drops his arms, smiling at you dreamily. Your eyes wander to the scars all over his body; a thick raised one along his ribs and smaller ones flecked along his shoulder and a line on his lower stomach. 

“I’ll get dressed,” he rubs his hands together, “can’t be eatin’ in my towel, huh?” 

“Sure, uh, I... I’ll be in here.” 

You go back into the kitchen and stare at the rice maker. You see the reflection of his scarred mind in his body. Again you can’t help the rent in your heart. That sympathy that underlines your fear. He’s a tortured soul but not one you can soothe. You don't know where to begin. 

You put the chicken in the oven and set the rice to cook. Next you look for a veggie. Broccoli. Standard. You’ll add a bit of seasoning. You’re not very hungry, even as the aromas rise in the air. 

“God, it’s hot in here,” Sy growls as he appears in the doorway that opens to the dining space.  

“It’s the oven,” you say as rinse the head of broccoli, “sorry.” 

“Ah, you know, it’s not half so bad as the desert,” he chuckles, “Aika knows. The way the sand gets all in your mouth and—and everywhere else.” 

“I can’t imagine,” you murmur, “wouldn’t be a day at the beach, I’m sure.” 

“Mm, no,” he agrees as he leans on the wall, “not a bad idea. I could take ya down for a beach day. We could get some good pictures. A few videos.” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you focus on your task. You put the broccoli on the cutting board and pull out a knife. 

“You want me to get that, sweetie? Don’t wanna cut yourself now,” he pushes away from the wall. 

“No, I got it,” you line up the knife and chop the head in half. He winces. 

“It’s dangerous, you got a smaller one?” 

“Really, Sy, I’m fine,” you insist as he looms closer, “let me just get dinner ready and you can sit--” you hiss as you pull your finger back at the sudden slip. 

“I told ya,” he accuses as he grabs your hand and examines it. His grip is iron and you don’t resist. There’s no blood. 

“It was just my nail,” you wiggle the top of your finger, “please--” 

“Let me do it,” he insists and reaches for your other hand, “give me the knife, sweetie.” 

You hesitate but hand it over. You’re not sure why he’s so nervous about it. Still, there’s no sense fighting over sharp objects. 

“We gotta work together, don’t we?” He says as he chops.  

“Sure,” you agree thinly. 

You turn to get a sheet pan for the broccoli. You’ll dress in oil and some spices, maybe a bit of lemon juice. As you lay parchment paper over it, he drops the knife in the sink. 

He remains, crowding you as he watches you work. You spread out the little branches and drizzle them over. You put them in beside the chicken and rinse off your hands. You dry off and glance over at Sy. He's watching you. 

“You really don’t have to stay out here,” you say. 

“I like being around you,” he grins, “still can’t believe it’s real.” 

Me neither, you think. 

“Well, all that’s left is the waiting,” you set a timer, “so...” 

“Ah, well, s’pose we can do that on the couch.” 

“Oh, well, I was gonna get the laundry together,” you say, the excuse popping up spontaneously. 

“Why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?” 

“Right, uh, I wanted to get it done. I need to get back to my commissions tomorrow.” 

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “you work too hard.” 

You withhold a mean thought. He hasn’t mentioned work since he showed up. What about that desk he was talking about? You know better than to challenge him. You’ll keep the peace as long as you have to. Get through dinner then worry about the real test; bedtime. 

“Alright, let’s sit,” you relent and reach for his large hand.  

It’s not an affectionate gesture, merely appeasing. You can still hear his voice booming and the thump his skull made on the wall. Not to mention the state of his face and the dent in your wall. You can’t forget what he’s capable of. You can’t deny that you’re lucky he only hurt himself. 

He lets you guide him out of the kitchen and you try not to show your reticence. You won’t think of what happened on the couch last time. Besides, you can’t leave the food to burn. 

💗

You eat at the table. It’s an excuse for some space. As you waited for the timer to save you, you were trapped in his embrace. His constant touching and cooing. You should be flattered when someone tells you you’re pretty and perfect but he just makes you want to combust. 

You can hardly stay still. You clear the table and tidy up what mess is left in the kitchen. You can hear him prowling in the other room. You wipe down the table and peek up as he stops to watch you. 

“Almost done?” He asks. 

“Sure, uh, I’ll finish and get washed up for the night.” 

“Washed up?” He echoes. 

“Brush my teeth, wash my face, all that,” you explain. 

“Oh, yeah, makes sense.” 

“What about Aika? She need to go out?” 

He stops and looks at the dog, still laying at the door. 

“She should,” he intones grimly, “I’ll take her then.” 

He disappears into the bedroom as you let out a breath. It’s not much. You know you’re just putting off the inevitable. He reemerges with the jangle of keys and you see your phone case peeking out of a pocket in his cargo shorts. He might seem scattered but there’s something about him that assures you he’s just as calculated. 

“I’ll be back,” he assures and stops just by the door, “sure you don’t wanna come with us?” 

You rinse off the cloth and shake it out. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You should come...” he mumbles. 

“Sy,” you go to the doorway parallel to the apartment door, “I promise, I won’t go anywhere.” 

You have nowhere to go. 

He stares at you. His looks pale and drawn. He cracks his neck as he tilts his head one way then the other. He lets out a long exhale as he sets his head straight and he steps closer. Aika stands, her paws scuffing on the hardwood. You gulp as he makes himself bigger and glares down at you. 

“I know you won’t,” he says quietly, “because you know I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t you, sweetie?” 

You bat your lashes and gulp. You nod, “yes, captain.” 

His lips curve and he reaches to grab you, cradling the back of your head as he pulls you close and kisses your forehead, “good girl. Get nice and fresh for me.” 

He lets you go with a growl and you stand frozen between the counters. Aika watches him with her doleful eyes as he steps into his boots. He opens the door and points her out, not bothering to take the leash with him. She looks at you, wiggling her nose, before she goes. 

The door snaps shut behind Sy and jolt you. You can’t shake the grit in his voice. The subliminal threats laced into his proclamation of devotion. He found you and he’ll find you again, so why bother trying to run? 

You shut off the kitchen light and flit into the bedroom. You gather up a set of pajamas. A white tee and short pairing with little sliced oranges stamped into the fabric. You lock yourself in the bathroom and face yourself in the mirror. You look just as afraid as you feel. 

You lay out the pajamas to one side of the sink and put on the fluffy headband that keeps your hair out of the way. You start your usual routine, the familiarity the only comfort you have left. Brushing flossing, exfoliating, moisturizing, and toning. It’s the little things you started to make yourself feel better but they just aren’t working this time. 

You hear him return as you button up the pajama top. You stare at the door with dread and gather up your shirt and skirt, along with your panties and bra. You teeter on the balls of your feet, trying to find whatever you might call courage. He gets there first. 

The knock makes you jump. You quickly go to the door and flip back the lock. He opens the door from the other side before you can. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you answer dumbly as you hug your armful of clothes. 

“Oh, you look... nice. Refreshed.” 

“Um, yeah,” you say as you waver. There’s no room to get around him. 

He steps back and waves you out. You carry the clothing into the bedroom to dump in the hamper and turn to find him looming in the doorway. Great. 

“You smell good,” he purrs as he peels off his shirt. 

“Did you lock the door?” You ask. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. You got me here to take care of ya,” he scoffs and hurls the shirt so it just barely clings to the side of the hamper. “Those are some cute jammies.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you look down and pinch the sides of the shorts. 

“Long day,” he stretches and drops his arms, unbuttoning his shorts shamelessly. 

“Yep,” you agree, “be nice to sleep.” 

You go to the edge of the bed and slip beneath the duvet. You tuck your chin down as you hug yourself beneath the fluffy cover and keep your back to him. He flips the light off and you nearly whimper. The bed dips behind you and cool air flows under the blanket as he climbs in behind you. 

You’re not surprised when he swathes you in his thick arm. He pulls you against him, his furry chest flush to you as he purrs. You grasp his forearm and squirm as his heat surrounds you. He nuzzles your hair and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

“Ain’t this nice? I could spend every night like this,” he growls as he keeps you curled up in one arm as his other hand trails down your side. “Never slept much over in the s—over there.” 

You squeak and stare into the static darkness. You tremble and force out a yawn. Maybe he’ll get the hint. For once. 

“I’m tired too, sweetie,” he toys with the bottom button on your shirt, “I know I’ll sleep all nice and cozy with you.”  

His fingers tickle your lower stomach and crawl beneath the cotton. You go rigid as he creeps up your soft flesh and you latch onto him as you try to stop him. He presses his lips to your crown. 

“Don’t be bad,” he warns in a gristle. 

You let him go with a babble. He brings his hand to cover one side of your chest. He squeezes and lets out a raspy groan. He rolls his hips and you feel he’s in need again. You close your eyes and brace yourself. It’s worse than the couch. You’ve laid yourself down in his trap. 

“You’re so soft, sweetie,” he fondles you, swirling his rough fingertips around your nipple, “so warm...” he inhales your scent and snarls, “you got me hurtin’ so bad.” 

[your-local-uwu-artist]

it was suggested I post this to the tags as well >:D

fuck it ima tag @transcendence-au as well because tbh I'm very proud of my silly little animation

some me being a nerd under the cut!

okay so this all started when I read the original post this was inspired by and though 'wouldn't it be silly to add some art to this 3 year old post?' but then I decided to animate it for funsies!

and gosh I sure do love animating!

So I got the base sketch and then got into the lineart animation for each component!

i don't have the sketches/wips saved at all sense this wasn't really a project and it took less than a day to complete. but here's a peak at the timeline

I animate entirely in my ususal drawing software: clip studio paint. It's just what's easiest for me.

all of these layers outside that folder are just the sparkles! after I finished I added some sparkles for fun! there's a lot of them because it involved a lot of copy and pasting sparkle layers

the bottom folders here are the wings body and facial expression! for everything like the wings arms and flags I was able to just copy paste, reverse, and then align the timing correctly in the timeline

one thing unique about this animation is that the lineart and colors are in separate layers! I tend to do line and colors on the same layer but this time I was using a brush that doesn't have the same lack of anti-aliasing and sense it's a small animation I wasn't as worried about keeping a minimum of layers like usual.

also the movement of the body is only 4 frames! and one one of those is just the hat shifting position

initially I wasn't going to have the second facial expression but when I got stuck on animating the flags I added the second facial expression while taking a break.

the arm animation is just 8 frames! honestly the only tricky part in this is the flags, everything else was pretty simple, which made it super fun to work on because I got both a challenge and mindless therapeutic drawing out of it.

NOW THE FLAGS there was 3 throw away attempts before I got it: you see the thing that made this tricky is finding the balance between believability and visual appeal. a big part of animation is creating the illusion of physics, this is the 'believability' part, I need these to look like flags that are moving and made of flat fabric, HOWEVER if I animate these one-to-one with realistic physics: it won't look good! I can't apply wind to the whole drawing because then the hair would have to react, and wind goes one way, and I wan't the flags to be pointing opposite directions. so without wind the flags would be laying down flat, but that won't look good at all! and furthermore realistic physics would have the flag not being all nice and front facing most of the time. so the trick here was figuring out how much physics to apply to make it look believable, while still making it look good.

one trick I did to help me animate the flags is I actually made a plan rectangle flag as a guide so that the general mass/volume of the flag would stay consistent, this is something i highly recommend when animating! like having a circle guide along a characters head to keep their height and proportions consistent.

after I finally found the balance with the flag lineart coloring wasn't too hard! sense I just had to follow the lines, and THANK GOODNESS the trans and aroace flag have the same number of stripes: saving me time!

and then it all comes together to make a satisfying perfectly looping bundle of cuteness >:DDD I feel like the tau fandom doesn't have as many artists with particularly cartoony/chibi art styles so I've gotta play my part in spreading the joy-whimsy-adorable-sillys >:D

anyway! hope you get to see a cool beetle today :D

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

2024 at a glance

Been inactive as I try to find more motivation. Thank you all for your patience.

This has been an exceptionally hard year for me. Lost loved ones, questioned life choices, and a mound of personal issues.

However, I want to focus on the positives. That's the tone I wanted for this blog. Specifically, let's look at my writing:

I want to shout-out all of my lovely mutuals. You guys are amazing. I've received so much joy from y'all's positive comments.

Specifically, @illarian-rambling beta read TSP to its end, and her comments were exceptionally helpful. I've made so much progress on TSP. Many new chapters, scenes, revelations - even helped with Part Two! I got much more drafted than I thought.

I have begun making the database of powers for Alii. Man, it's nowhere near done, but it exists and will be helpful eventually.

Alium has a calendar! Mainly a time and date system. I've made so many revelations about the world!

The amount of character revelations I've had from playing ask games and tag games is insane. Thank you everyone for helping me figure out more about my story even when you didn't intend it.

I did some background thinking for other WIPs. This is just really fun even if they're just ideas. I like expanding those ideas.

Also beginning planning for IWAJAD. That just is so awesome. I thought I'd finish TSP and SOTL first.

This was a good year for writing.

On here, I used to post, in spurts, twice a day because of my desperate need for validation... I'm trying to find validation and fulfillment elsewhere, without attempting to get people to notice me here. The break was largely for my mental health.

Still tag me and interact with me and maybe drop an ask - I love it so much. But I won't be posting as often as I used to so I can avoid falling into the habit of relying on notes and asks for a self-esteem boost.

Love all of you guys so much. Thank you for making this hard year better 💞

[eusuntgratie]

2025 wips

thank you for the tag @anincompletelist <3

i am a perpetual too-many-wips disaster so i'm always grateful for an opportunity to lay out what i'm working on.

malex pretty woman au (roswell new mexico)

my next big project is the malex pretty woman au. alex is the rich, detached businessman, michael is captivating in tiny blue shorts and thigh high boots. do you see the vision? i need to make a banner and pick a title!

(i make ONE comment to @bigassbowlingballhead about craving a certain type of fic and suddenly i'm being enabled into my next longfic 🙃). i am genuinely so excited about this one. i've got about 5k written and the whole fic is plotted. i'm thinking this will be in the 25-30k range? maybe? honestly jon is better at estimating my word counts than i am so who knows. still not sure if i'll finish writing this one and then edit and post chapter by chapter or what i'll do, but i think i'll be able to get this one up this year.

firstprince exes (rwrb)

if i have another big project in me i would LOVE to finish my outsider pov firstprince exes fic. i love love love this weird little fic but it is a real challenge to write.

sequels & additional chapters

part 3 of conformation (rnm) will be just alex and michael after their fun with maria at the club. maybe alex will make good on his idea of tying michael up and seeing how much he can take. i could write millions of words of sub!michael please do not tempt me.

chapter 3 of after hours (first prince/rwrb) aka mechanic alex will be alex and henry's first date.

one shots

come back inside is a malexa morning after the airstream scene fic...what if michael convinced alex to stay? this is probably more than half written. malexa my beloved 😍

hunting guide au (tknp, men's hockey rpf). tk hires pat for a guided hunt with his young daughter.

these might not happen 😐

shadow is a buddie fic that was gonna be a big bang fic (which will never happen) but i *could* finish and post the first few chapters as a one shot. featuring baby eddie having his mind blown by a slightly older, extremely gay buck at a college party while visiting his sister.

i wanna be adored is an elliott/marco, marco gets dropped into crystal valley fic that i've written about 5k for but can't quite get to do what i want. when i started writing it there were no kissingchambers fics, but there are lots now! so if you like them you should probably just read those bc this bad boy probably won't see the light of day even though i've got about 5k written.

dumotanger omegaverse college au (men's hockey rpf) - y'know i really love this one and i am unhinged about dumotanger but i think there's just something missing here that i haven't been able to figure out. i'd love to finish it if i do though! i've got maybe 3k written.

okay those are the ones with something significant written. i have LOTS of other abandoned wips and ideas, plus i always like to do some kind of short prompt series. i haven't done femslash february in a while so maybe i could write a few ficlets for that? maybe do some shuffle prompts again? hmmm. we'll see, we'll see.

my askbox and dms are always open for questions about my fic, wips, ideas, etc. <3

open tag for anyone with wips they wanna share!!!

[whirlpool-blogs]

asking for a friend??

WIP Tag Game

ohhh this is the Nazi interrogation Buckies fic! Loosely based on the post that @thebuckys started, and @crowthis and I were riffing on.

Gale is known to be the best B-17 pilot around, so the Nazis are determined to get answers from him. They know he would be their best bet for getting information about the fuel range of the bombers, airspeeds, combat box weak points, max rate of ascent and descent, etc.

They also know that the Buckies' biggest weakness is each other. So when Egan rolls into the processing center, they know exactly what to do.

After days of fruitless interrogations, they drag Gale into an interrogation room and there's John, tied to a chair and hair matted with blood, eyes wide when he spots Gale. They tell Gale that for every question that he doesn't answer, they're going to hurt John. Quickly, John yells out, "I'll be fine, Buck, don't give em nothing."

So when the Nazis ask what the fuel range of an escort P-51 is, or what radio frequency they use to pull together their formations in the air, Gale keeps his mouth shut. Even when they flatten John's warm, beautiful right hand against the table and crush every last delicate bone in it. Even when they hold an electric cattle prod to John's abdomen for so long that he's throwing up onto himself, that Gale can smell burning flesh.

Eventually, the Nazis realize they're getting nowhere and escalate to the next option: their truth serum. It's super expensive because it has to be synthesized in a lab using hard-to-find reagents, so they really do try to avoid using it as much as possible. But they have a Major, and they have Cleven, so the higher-ups clear the use.

They inject it into Gale's veins and Gale just laughs at them. "You think truth serums actually work?" he spits. "If they did, then you would know that I'm actually in love with John. And the fuel range of a Spitfire is 1180 miles with a drop tank." And oh FUCK.

But now that Gale has started, he can't stop. He tells the Nazis about how long he's been in love with John. He tells them how 12 o'clock high is the weak spot of a combat box, where the fuel tanks on a B-17 sit. He tells them about Marge, how he's going to marry her, how he's going to break his own goddamn heart and marry Marge because he can't face the alternative.

John is begging, Please shut the fuck up. Gale, just shut up. Shut up.

The Nazis are DELIGHTEDDDDDD, they hit the payload AND the pilot is a deviant?! They start joking, laughing, and then decide to give Gale a reward for his good behavior: a blowjob from the man he's apparently so in love with.

John's mouth is all wrong when he takes Gale's soft cock inside of it, all slimy and warm. There's leaky, gummy wounds where his two back molars used to be. Gale doesn't need to be a genius to figure out why; there was already blood on John's face and a pair of bloody pliers on the table when he arrived.

It's the worst blowjob of Gale's life.

He comes, still soft.

John pulls off, spits blood and cum onto the floor. There's tears in his eyes. "In love with me and still gonna marry Marge, huh?" he asks.

Gale looks down at him. "Yeah," he says, softly. "Yeah, I am."

[liminalmemories21]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @screamlet (who I've been reading since at least 2010). Thank you!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 48

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 711,517

3. What fandoms do you write for? 911 LS, and 911

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Long Story Short (series) - LS A home isn't always the house we live in - LS It came without ribbons! - LS Always Wear Your Invisible Crown - LS Awful quiet here since love fell asleep - 911

5. Do you respond to comments? I really try to, sometimes I think they get lost in my inbox, but I do try.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? uh, none of them? I don't think I've written anything that doesn't have a happy ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? hmmm, maybe It came without ribbons?, or Knave 4 (The Knave of Clubs ... swears he'll take her part). They both end in marriage proposals.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Just a few on Knave 4, which I expected and mostly ignored.

9. Do you write smut? more often than I ever imagined I would

10. Do you write crossovers? I love a good crossover. Haven't written one yet, but would enjoy it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of. Let's keep it that way. (finger's crossed)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yup! All the 911 stuff with @cecilyv - nothing better.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Well, I don't publish WIPs, not because I have an ethical stance on it, but because I'm usually still changing things at the beginning right up until I hit post and I don't understand how people post things as they write them. Not my process.

That being said, there's a LS kidfic that I'd like to finish some day, but every time I look at it I can't figure out where it's going.

16. What are your writing strengths? I feel like this is a thing other people need to tell me? Dialogue? Plot (apparently? or so 200,000 words of Knave-verse would like me to believe).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? brevity

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'd like to do more of it, because I have characters I write who I think probably do think in another language, but it's not a language I speak, so I don't.

19. First fandom you wrote for? published? Lonestar. unpublished? there's a Merlin story @cecilyv and I wrote for years that is mostly not great, but has it's moments.

20. Favorite fics you've written? ooh, okay:

There were a bunch I wrote early for LS that are kind of character studies that I love - A home isn't always the house we live in (Judd), Stitched with its color (TK & 9/11), and through same of am through haves of give (Enzo)

And, I'd be lying if I didn't say Knave-verse, because I think Knave 2 and Knave 4 are the best things I've ever written - and there is just so much of me in the way TK thinks about art.

And then Baggage That Goes with Mine - because there isn't necessarily me in there, but there is a lot of my history in fandom and the huge cultural shift that I have seen happen since I started reading fic in Tommy's story. Also, I do love me a split timeline narrative.

tagging @walkinginland, @rmd-writes, @alchemistc, @rcmclachlan, and @three-drink-amy

[theeccentricraven]

The 10th Day of Writemas🎅🤶🎄❄️⛄🔔

Welcome to another day of Writemas thanks to @agirlandherquill💚🤍❤️This is a tag game/writing challenge/writing prompt of her brilliant doing 🎶The rules of the tag game are here

For today's prompt I picked a lake. I decided to switch works and take advantage of this to write out a scene for my WIP Sanctuary Calling, another YA Dystopia. I realized this was the golden opportunity to write a key scene where my MC 14 year old Nari is stranded in the middle of Lake Erie on a mostly abandoned earth 😮This is the first time I started drafting for Sanctuary Calling as I was holding off drafting to first do some more research. I figured I might as well start here. This is not Chapter 1 but much further right after the Inciting Incident/Catalyst. If you're curious about the setting and what's going on, I have a post here on the world building and story of Sanctuary Calling.

_____________________________________________________

The lake is real. I shouldn’t be here. I sit in the shallow water of my raft, alone with only the pile of supplies. A sharp pain bites my leg. I don’t pay attention to the pain as I watch the escape pod sink into the dark waters along with the shuttle. There goes Etienne. I’m crying. I cry over someone who I knew for only a few hours who pretty much sacrificed himself for me. A stranger. People who truly know him, a mother and father with kin far away on Phobos, are mourning him without his body. To think that my parents could already be mourning me….

 I shake violently. I shiver. There is nothing but endless water surrounding me. The gray clouds hang low from above. I think about the classroom simulation where I sat in a shaky rowboat in the middle of a lake. The sunshine and green forests were beautiful, but motion sickness overwhelmed me. Back there, I only needed to ask the AI to turn off the simulation. I returned to the wide empty room and detached the nerve stimulators. Not here. I can’t just tell the AI to turn off everything around me. I’m so cold, I wrap my arms around myself. I can’t tell the AI to warm up the room. There was no room. The water below me is real. And it looks deep. The simulator would never drown me. I hug my life jacket.

At least my suit still functions.  

“Jin,” I say to my AI, “turn on the thermal unit.”

Instead of hearing Jin’s assuring alto voice, I hear static. My suit still works. The sleeves warm my limbs. I breathe out some relief as I slowly feel warmer inside. My heart is racing. How long will my suit last? The battery will run out. Imagining earth as the empty paradise of wilderness according to my studies, I see little hope in finding battery cells. There aren’t any solar panels on earth, are there? Then again, the Tenders need electricity whenever they make their annual drops on earth. 

My heart lifts for a moment. Could there be Tenders on earth now? Someone who could rescue me? My sinks again when I think of how Luana and her people must have picked a time of year when none of the WC would be on earth. Whatever she and her toadies plan to do.   

The pain nipping at my left leg, like little sharp thorns puncturing my calf, starts to get on my nerves. I look down. A long slimy black thing bites my calf. Apparently I hadn’t noticed a hitchhiker grasping me during my brief swim. I scream. It could be a humongous leech. I heard about them inhabiting some of earth’s murky fresh waters. Then again, the thing sinking its teeth into my leg is too big to be a leech. I grab its tail and pull. Its teeth dig deeper. I grab its head. I pull harder. I pry the little monster off, leaving a deep bite mark in the back of my calf. Its mouth resembles a suction cup with rows of sharp teeth. I toss it in the air. I never had that good of a throw, but I had to have tossed it at least a dozen meters. I look down at my bleeding calf. 

“Jin,” I say, “can you please initiate healing?” 

At this point, I feel I need to plea for Jin’s artificial life to keep going.

“Initiated,” says a fuzzy, static voice that at least proves Jin is running. For now. 

The back of my leg feels warmer as the healing starts. The nanobots in my suit speed up my body’s healing process. My skin gradually closes over the wounds. I feel better already. Then I also face the reality that if Jin stops working, I’ll have no way to heal if I get injured.

Assuming I get somewhere other than the middle of Lake Erie. 

“Jin, what was that thing? The thing that caused the wound?”

Jin came in broken. “Bite marks indicate you were bit by a sea lamprey.”

Sea lamprey. Sea lamprey.

I remember the classroom lessons and simulations where I interacted with animals from earth. There was freshwater life. Then there was ocean life.“What’s an ocean fish doing in the lake?”

Jin made beeping noises. “There is a large population here in Lake Erie. Historical archives say they are an invasive species. Their numbers likely skyrocketed when humans left earth.”

I don’t understand. “But the Tenders are supposed to care for the earth, including controlling the numbers of earth animals. I thought they were preventing invasive species from increasing their numbers.”

“I have no data on why the population in the lake is so high.” Jin sounded disappointed.

I have to move on. I’m bummed that the raft has no motor. At least I have the oars. Where to from here? 

“Jin, how could I get to the ruins of New York from here?”

A holographic image appears in front of me. A map shows my location, Lake Erie. The map draws a yellow line for the path and lists locations by their pre-Sanctuary names. I would have to go up the Erie canal, cross Lake Ontario, go up the Lawrence River, go down to Lake Champlain, and then down the Hudson River. It's more than 200 kilometers long.  

I put what muscle remains in my arms into pushing the oars. I peer at the horizon. I make out the outline of something in the distance. 

“Jin, what is directly south of me?”

I hear only static. If I lose Jin, I’m toast. Then the staticy voice speaks. 

“Directly south are the ruins of Cleveland.” Jin sounds oddly chirpy. 

“Are any of the Tenders present in the area?”

Jin makes some beeping noises. “I’m afraid I can’t tell. My data indicates that information is classified.”

“Classified?”

“The WC does not reveal their coordinates. They keep that classified to protect the Caretakers from intruders.”

“What does that mean?”

“If the exact locations of the WC Tenders were known, enemies could use that info to find weak spots without WC presence and make unauthorized returns to earth. This would endanger the Caretakers.”

Of course. The Tenders keep their locations secret so that Luana’s little rebel group or their adult masterminds couldn’t find them and isolate them. 

To have any hope of leaving this lake of death, I have to go somewhere. I could go up the mapped route of lakes and rivers to get to Luana’s group in New York (and give them a piece of my mind). But will I be any safer? Luana’s promises of revolution seem like a delusion now. I don’t care about her revolution. I just want to survive. Not knowing the Liberator’s plans and stations, I supposed more of their people could be in Cleveland. If not, could the Tenders or Peace Arms at least be there?

I don’t care if I get arrested and sent to a WC prison. If I need to do that to escape this lake of leech fish, I’ll take my chances. 

“Jin, show me the path to Cleveland.”  

________________________________________________________

Tagging!

@sunflowerrosy @furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill

@revenantlore @whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @constellationandcompendium @olivescales3

@ryns-ramblings @primroseprime2019 @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @kitty-is-writing

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@apolline-lucy @elizaellwrites @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @ddgraywrites @autism-purgatory @mxxnwishes

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark @sleepywriter00 @americanfemcel @fairy-tales-of-yesterday

@inkednotebook @the-letterbox-archives @laureleavess @simonnebethel @forthesanityofsome

@melpomene-grey @creatrackers @stephtuckerauthor @theink-stainedfolk

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @late-to-the-fandom

and Open!

[thatonebirdwrites]

"Promise" WIP Fics

Oh hey, an ask game, sort of! Thanks for the tag @luthordamnvers

I have too many WIPs. I'll do around 3 or 4 Supercorp and 2 Original fiction. Enjoy!

Link to Original Post.

Near the end of Act 3 for Unraveling Realities:

A sonic boom echoes in the air and the trees whip back and forth at the passage of a human-like bullet. A figure in black hovers in the air above her, the violet energy crackles around her form, and the sun dims from the grey fog.

“Lena.” The voice doesn’t even sound like Kara. The accent thick and not quite like Red Daughter’s. Lena isn’t entirely sure who came — Power? Red Daughter? Some other personality that Kara has hidden away?

“Hi.” Lena attempts a smile. “Will you come down to talk?”

“Who do you call, Lena?” The Kara-like person drifts closer. Her eyes glow a deep violet. “Kara? Do you truly think she exists still?”

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words. To whom am I speaking then?”

Violet lightning sparks in her hands, but she floats closer, her feet nearly touching the ground. “Who I am is not important. My deeds speak for me.”

She’s almost close enough. “Everyone has a name,” Lena says with a hint of flirtation in her voice. That tone always got Kara to blush in the past. “If you’re so shy, I can promise not to tell anyone.” She leans closer and holds out a hand.

A faint pulse of her magic tickles her palm from deep within Kara’s body.

________________

Floor is Lava (writing it with @nottawriter)

“So you know Kelly Olsen? I’m buddies with her through work contacts. She is the fiance of Alex Danvers. I’ve only met Alex a few times, but I think she might have a sister. I don’t recall her name though."

“Huh. If they’re related, then dang, what a small world we live in.” Lena chose the dark violet thread for the shirt. If she was going to mend it, she might as well stitch fun patterns for Lori. She loved the designs Lena came up with. It was a fun hobby that kept her hands busy. Especially as she promised her therapist she’d not work on her days off. That wasn’t an easy task. Already her mind was drifting back toward some of the architect projects she was working on with colleagues.

“It’d be awesome if so! So when is this date? What’re you going to wear? Where’re you going?”

Lena laughed at Sam’s eagerness. “Sam! We haven’t decided on that. Kara suggested it, but she had to head out to her next client I presume. She said she’d call.” Part of her was worried that Kara wouldn’t call her. That maybe it was too much of a dream come true. A beautiful woman who was good with Lori? Who seemed kind and generous?

________________

Where Do We Go From Here? (Worldkiller Kara, still debating how to end this one, but it'll eventually go onto AO3):

"I need to be locked up." A hopelessness coats her voice. She turns and winces at the shattered table and microscope. Zips forward, and before Lena can say a word, she stands in the center of the room with the power dampening handcuffs. "Please, put this on me."

Lena winces as she pushes herself off the floor. Each step feels like a mile, her body aching from the attack prior. She doesn't want to do this, but what she just experienced has made it clear Kara isn't safe right now.

She takes the cuffs and looks at Kara. "I promise you I’ll fix this," she says, firmly. "You and Sam are going to get through this alive, okay?" She clips the dampeners over Kara's wrists and adjusts the settings to its max. "I won't stop until you're both cured."

Kara smiles, sadly. "I know. I trust you."

_________________

Anamchara (I posted the start of this on Tumblr in response to an ask by someone, but am still working on it off and on. Full story will eventually go on AO3):

"Yes," Lena replied, which Kara dimly noted answered none of her questions. Turning toward the bar again, Lena tapped the counter three times.

The bartender walked over with a smile, their blue skin glistened with sweat, and in their six-fingered hand, they cleaned a glass. "We'd like the Anamchara please."

The bartender narrowed their eyes. "You sure about that? Pretty permanent stuff."

Lena waved her hand. "I've heard the rumors that it’s magic to find one’s soulmate. I promise you I’ve researched this thoroughly." She gently touched Kara's arm. "Companion here agreed, right darling?"

Kara nodded. "Sure thing. Let's do the Anamchara." She downed the rest of her rum, her brain even foggier.

And that was the last thing Kara remembered.

_________________

Original Fiction: Telemores (set in Elivera world; note that Mǔmoshǔ's pronouns are vi/vir/vis):

“Must say this case boggled my mind,” Visikar admitted. “Never heard of stealing energy to ‘ascend,’ which still makes no sense to me. Were they trying to be immortal?”

“Perhaps.” Vi thought through past cases. Ability abuse was one of their specialties and often why vi got transferred to a new city or town to assist local justice councils. Most cases were never this dire. “Must review Anata’s notes to see her definition. Let us hope there is not more like her.”

Visikar frowned and took a swig of her alcoholic drink. “We’ll find them if there are.”

Mǔmoshǔ listened to the quiet hum of muffled conversation from the other stalls, the wooden walls between each table not quite thick enough to muffle all sound waves. “Visikar, ready to honor your promise? Tale of the statue in garden?” Mǔmoshǔ took a sip of the Niaz tea.

Visikar smiled. “Sure can.”

__________________

Original Fiction: Dragios Twins: The Lost Ones (from Chapter 1):

She pressed her forehead against my shoulder. Her silence made me more and more scared. She was thinking about death again. I was sure of it.

"Kia, please."

She lifted her head. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you will find the truth." Anxiety clutched my stomach at her words. "Just… I want to help. Because so much don't add up. Your Mom. Her sister. All those secrets they got. And that specialist. Oh, gosh, this weird music and our synced dreams. We're gonna need a list for it all." Kia shook her head. "I'm not saying this well."

"Don't." I protested. "You're better. Remember no negative self-talk?"

Kia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes this time. "My biggest supporter. I'm in remission, sure. But I didn't wanna say, but my check-up Friday was odd. Sure, doctor said it was possibly nothing, but something has 'em rankled. Secrets again." She laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it.

________________________

And that's it for now. I have a few other original fiction works I'm working on, but funnily enough they didn't have the word promise in them. Huh.

I'm not sure who to tag that hasn't already been tagged. I guess no-pressure tags for: @nottawriter, @kj-yikes @s-nebul0sa @sssammich and anyone else who'd like to play.

[kcscribbler]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the ever-early @elodiah.

I'm still fiddling with a few WIPs right now and won't be online a lot of the week, so instead have the scene I cut from a recent chapter. I posted bits of it here before and eventually decided to cut it completely. Hope that's okay. 😅

--SOME HOURS LATER--

A warm hand on his brow is what wakes him however long it is later, startling him out of what feels like a remarkably painless sleep, all things considered.

He is not destined for godly or mortal paradise, and this surely cannot be Hel?

Mobius makes a vaguely surprised noise when he realizes Loki’s eyes are open. “Hey, there you are.”

His own eyes are dark-shadowed, pinched at the corners as they always are when he has a headache, but he seems much calmer than Loki remembers last seeing him. And looks utterly exhausted. His hair is sticking up everywhere, as if he’s been dragging his hands through it repeatedly.

“Are you really awake this time?”

Loki blinks for a few seconds, trying to sort through the confused muddle of his last recollection, before nodding somewhat uncertainly.

Mobius chuckles, and reaches somewhere beyond Loki’s vision, bringing back a plastic bottle of water and uncapping it. “Go slow,” he warns, slipping a hand behind Loki’s neck to assist with a better angle.

Cool and refreshing, the water is most welcome. It serves to slowly wash back what Loki now realizes must have been a very near-death experience, if his memories are accurate. The acrid bite of the cursed dagger seems to have vanished, as it should have within these walls and the cast Runes they hold; and while the wound is no longer radiating such agony as he last remembers, it is very much still in existence, that much is clear.

Even the small effort of drinking seems to sap the rest of his energy, however, and it is with great struggle that he forces his eyes open again, not willing to fall back into that darkness without first ascertaining their safety. He appears to be lying semi-sprawled on the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut. A downy pillow rests under his head, and he is covered with what feels like half a dozen coverings – but that is definitely the hard, chilled stone floor under him.

Oh. Yes, good. Mobius had understood Loki’s basically non-existent directions, and had opened a Door directly beneath them to drop them into relative safety in the Citadel. It would have been a bit of a tumble, but certainly better than remaining where they were. Loki spares a brief moment to be impressed that Mobius had figured it out quickly enough to keep him from exsanguination, but that full story will likely need to wait.

Mobius puts a hand on his shoulder, as if reading his confusion on his face. “I assume we’re safe, for now,” he reassures, calm and soothing. “And do I have a load of questions for you about this place! When you’re feeling better, anyway.”

“…Questions?”

“They can wait. You need rest.”

Loki shifts a bit against the cold floor, and immediately is informed by his own physiology of just how not healed he is. Mobius’ face twists in sympathy. “You’re doing a lot better than you were yesterday, but it’s not gonna be a fun recovery, I'm guessing. ‘Specially without magic."

“If this is a lot better,” Loki rasps, breathing heavily, “then I shudder to think of the previous state.”

Mobius worries at a little string fraying on one of the blankets. “You’re not the only one,” he finally says. “I was sure Valhalla was putting another place setting on that long table.”

Loki reaches up to place an unsteady hand on his, noting the absence of the ring which had done its job perhaps a little too well. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You should be,” Mobius retorts, but he turns his hand to lace their fingers tightly. “Oldest trick in the book, and you fell right for it. Damn it, Loki.”

“Forgive me if I find it rather difficult to focus on myself when there is a lesser variant of me with a blade at your throat.” Mobius snorts, amused despite himself at the designation. Loki exhales in a pained grunt. “Might we adjourn to something softer than the floor?”

“I think so, yeah. If you can make it upright for a few seconds, I can use the momentum to get you settled. I’ll get you something to drink with sugar in it, too. Even if your magic kicks back in, it isn’t gonna fix blood loss. You really need a doctor.”

“I would like to try to heal myself first, if you’d be so kind as to assist.”

Mobius nods and gets to one knee beside what Loki now realizes is a makeshift pallet on the floor; and no wonder, since Mobius could never have gotten him up alone. The runes hidden in the walls were just enough to cancel out the curse from the blade, though it does not feel as if his magic is even close to returning. Perhaps assisting a bit with healing, but nothing more.

Brows drawn with worry, Mobius locks one hand around Loki’s and firmly grasps a bony elbow with the other hand. “Ready?” he asks.

Loki nods, braces himself with opposite hand against the floor, and clenches his jaw to prevent a shout of pain when he pushes off, hauled to his feet and kept there with remarkable strength given that it takes a moment for him to find his footing. It is only a few meters to the bed, but it might well have been light-years, for as much as he is exhausted again, limp and breathing heavily, when they finally reach it.

Mobius fusses for a few minutes with the pillows, carefully arranging them so Loki can sleep on his uninjured side instead of his back, facing the middle of the bed. A glass of some sweet-smelling fruit juice is held to Loki’s lips, and then set on the table after he drinks from it. Mobius then retrieves the blankets from the floor, arranging and rearranging them until Loki, already half-asleep again, finally drags his eyes open and catches his wrist mid-action.

“What is it? What do you need?”

“You,” Loki whispers. “I need you safe, and I need you to rest. Please.”

It is telling that he gets no argument against the latter. Mobius just nods, and then after a moment of hesitation slips off his shoes and settles somewhat awkwardly on the other half of the not-exactly-oversized bed. Loki watches through half-closed lids as he fidgets with the unfamiliar sleeves of the pajamas. Discovered prowling around, no doubt, while Loki slept. He turns up the cuffs of the simple brown top, and then unrolls them again. And again. And again.

His hands are shaking.

“Are you all right?” Loki asks.

Mobius immediately stops and then squirrels under the sheet and quilt, offering what Loki can immediately tell is a forced smile as he settles in, hands folded neatly over his chest. “Don’t you worry about me,” he says quietly.

Loki’s lips curve in a faint smile. “I have done nothing but that, these last months,” he admits. It is, perhaps, a little too honest, a little too fraught with pain, for right now. “With good reason, it would seem. I told you that you were too trusting.”

A faint snort, but Mobius seems to then relax and fall back into old bantering habits, exhaling in a gusty sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.” He side-eyes Loki briefly, and despite the weight of these last months seems to silently agree that, and all its unspoken consequences, is a discussion for the morrow. Instead, he simply turns on his side to face Loki, watchful and silent.

Loki manages a shallow, measured exhale and inhale. Another, and then another, until the pain is bearable.

“Please tell me we’re not going to talk about things right now,” he then rasps.

A brief chuckle, even if it’s tinged with sadness. “Not unless you want to.”

“Actually, I do. But not – not until I can think clearly,” he says, a little more candid than he meant. He blinks a few times and allows the pain to settle, to become a Thing of the body, not the mind. He has had far worse, after all.

Mobius huffs what seems to be a sigh of relief. “Sounds like a plan.” He pats Loki’s shoulder and then turns to shut off the light.

Loki’s eyelids droop against his will, but he reaches out across the space, careful not to stretch too far, and settles for leaving his hand there as he loses the fight against sleep.

Tagging @lokimobius @doomed-spectacles @insert-witty-user-name-here @mirilyawrites @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

@in-my-loki-feels @andthekitchensinkao3 @mythical-magik @scifikimmi and @thosegayoldmen

Whatcha workin' on this week?

[seastarblue]

Creators Club: Friday Roundup

✨Good day!✨

For this Friday of Creators Club (hosted by @bardic-tales ) I’m gonna share what I did this week in regards to Writing! Things!

it got a tad long so you know the drill! Under the cut!

———

Actual Writing:

Uh… hahah… not really? I wrote a very little amount this week I’ve been focused on school and worldbuilding for when I wasn’t at school

so to the next one!

Worldbuilding:

Started making a map! I still need to figure out how to make it accurate, but the thoughts are there!

Worked on some world building posts surrounding the area my stories take place in

New Characters?

No…

Building on Existsing Characters?

Yes!

Ive been working on the Main gang’s dynamics and such

Ive also started working on a Villain … eheheh

ive built on the Fifth Order and I’m really liking this one guy called Nero idk why he’s funny

hes not even that important

Anything Else?

I’ve decided that I want my main WIP to be called… 🥁 Interwoven!

I’ll start referring to it as that but I’m still going to tag it as sea’s story 1

also I spruced up my intro! It needed the makeover frfr ✨

What I want to Achieve:

I need to figure out whether or not I want Felix to Live

also how to introduce Juno and Mael to the story

and I think that concludes it! May or may not have written too much but oh well !

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Right This Way

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get lost on a campus on your first day of college and a helpful stranger shows you around.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: this is the third of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’ve leapt over one hurdle for the day but it won’t be the last. Your first lecture is done, but now you have to find your way to the second. Typically, you’d be on your way home. For years, you languished in part-time or sabbatical coverage but now, you have achieved regular faculty status. It might not be the school you hoped for, but these days, a job is a job. 

You gather up your things as the class disburses. A few keeners come down to ask you about the midterm and you assure them it’s only day one. Full details will come soon. In the meantime, they can review the readings schedule. 

You set your phone on the corner of the table as you search for your wireless mouse. You bring your own. You’ve had enough experience with neglected classroom equipment. 

“Hey, Miss,” a deep voice rolls behind you and swings you around. A young man with golden hair, a square jaw, and a letterman jacket stands across the table. He is a factory-issue frat. You had your share of those in your own time as an underclassman; as a professor, they don’t often bother you unless they get an F. “Just wanted to chat about a few things I got this term.” 

“Oh, sure,” you say as you reach for your phone. His eyes follow your hand. His cheek dimples. 

“You on your way to Ford too? We can walk and talk if that’s easier?” He offers. 

You’re not sure if you should take his eagerness as a good sign. At least he is mindful. At first glance, you don’t expect that. 

“Um, if you don’t mind, I have my next class there,” you agree. 

You hike up your bag and black the screen of your phone. You’re a bit embarrassed that he noticed the maps wide open on your phone. You’re still gearing your way around. 

He waits patiently, bouncing in his brown leather Vans as you round the table. “Steve, by the way.” He offers his hand in an overly formal gesture. You know that brand of frat. They put on that gentleman act for the elders. It’s a charm you would’ve fallen for twenty years ago. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” you shake his hand then continue to the door. 

He hurries past you and pulls open the door ahead of you. Again, that overly helpful gesture twinges your suspicion. He must be asking for something big. 

“So, I play baseball,” he begins as you set off down the hall. He quickly catches up, walking parallel with you. “And I just got my schedule. I can get coach t give you a call if you need but I’ll be out of town for a few classes...” 

“Right, baseball,” you repeat. You’re not fighting the senate on this one. They prize their start athletes much higher than due dates. “I’m sure we can figure it out. Did you have your schedule with you?” 

“Um, you know what, I don’t have it printed but I can email it,” he says. 

Once more, he opens the door ahead of you. You step out into the early fall sun and descend the steps. It’s a quick conversation, it might be awkward to stick around. 

“That works,” you agree. “I don’t want to keep you so if you want--” 

“Nah, really, I’m headed in your direction,” he insists. “You do know where that is, right?” 

You look at him. His blue eyes gleam. You peer around and shake your head, “that way?” You point. 

He laughs, “no worries, professor, I got you.” 

He puts his hand on your lower back and points in the opposite direction. You turn to move away from his touch. You blame the little club he’s joined in his youthful arrogance. They never do abide by the rules. After all, he is asking for exception, so why wouldn’t he overstep other barriers. 

“So, you must be new,” he intones. 

“Here, yeah,” you confirm. 

“What else do you teach besides Renaissance history?” 

“My specialty is medieval but I’ve taken on various subjects; ancient warfare, Victorian culture,” you rattle off. You know he doesn’t really care. For the jocks, classes are simply an afterthought. “What got you into this subject?” 

“I like art,” he says. “Figured it wouldn’t be a bad elective.” 

“I hope,” you reply. He points you around the curling path. You hesitate. You peeked at the map. This seems wrong but you did find the only dead end on campus earlier. 

“You seem young for a prof,” he says. 

You snort, “I don’t give extra credit for compliments.” 

“I mean it,” he argues. 

“Right,” you huff dryly. “Steve.” 

He smirks as you glance at him, “wow, you got that professor voice down. ‘Steve’.” He mimics your tone and chuckles. You shuffle closer as you pass a group of young girls but he doesn’t seem to notice them. 

“Like I said, it isn’t my first gig. Just new around here.” 

“I think you’ll like it,” he intones. “Nice campus, nice people,” he preens. “A few profs pop by the parties even. Open invitation.” 

It’s your turn to laugh, “oh, I’ve outgrown that.” 

“Classy lady, I’m sure,” he agrees. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you. “Well, what about back in the day?” He wordlessly gestures you along as he guides you. “You are party girl? Sow your wild oats?” 

“That was a long time ago. It’s probably better left back then,” you deflect. 

“Come on. I won’t judge. I’m a bit of a square myself. I’m the designated tidier. I pick up after all the drunks,” he snorts. 

You hum. You don’t miss those days. Everything was so much more stressful. Not just classes but everything outside of it. Who to hang out with, what to where, where to go. 

You slow as you look around again. You’re behind one of the large gray buildings but not too sure where. It’s a path lined with trees and abstract statues. They’re benches and an engraved stone wall memorial. You don’t see any buildings close by. Maybe it’s one of those at the other end. 

“Told you, it’s a nice campus. Doesn’t seem like you’ve gotten to see much of it,” he says. 

“Not yet,” you agree. 

“It’s a short cut. Trust,” he says. 

You nod and continue on. He turns towards the twisted metal owl and you go with him. You really don’t think he’s going the right way. You sneak your phone out of your pocket and press your thumb to the screen. 

Suddenly, you’re nearly knocked off your feet at he bowls into you. 

“Woah,” he collides with you so hard your phone falls onto the ground. “Shit-- I mean, holy cow. Sorry, miss. I tripped on--” He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder. “Did I--” He looks down at your phone on the stone path. “My bad.” 

He scoops it up before you can and you recoil. Your eyes wander away from him and you examine your surroundings. The trees, the statue, it all blocks you off from the main path in an eerie way. You can hear the bird’s tweeting and the coeds chatting but you can’t see them. 

“Damn,” Steve’s voice draws you back as dread simmers in your stomach. “I think it’s cracked.” 

He walks ahead of you as he examines it. You trail him, “it’s fine. I can take it to the store and have them look--” 

“I’m real sorry, professor,” he cradles the phone between his large hands. “I’m such an oaf. Bet I’m not gonna get that extension now, huh?” 

“Everything’s okay, Steve. You can give me my phone,” you reach for him as he leads you into the shade of a large oak. “What are you doing?” 

He pulls his arm back, aims, and throws your phone. It flies through the air as you gasp and lunge forward. What the hell? 

His arm wraps around you from behind and he swings you back. You cry out but only for a split second before his palm smothers your mouth. He leans his body weight back and brings you down with him into the grass. What is he doing? 

You struggle to get away. You grab at his arm hooked around you and claw at the grass with your other hand. You writhe and try to twist away from him. He follows you, crushing you to the grass beneath him. You wheeze as his weight forces the air from your lungs. 

You flail both arms and sink your fingers into the dirt as you fight to drag yourself from under him. You can’t. He growls as he pulls his arm from under you and grips the back of your skull. He keeps your head twisted on your neck, clamping it between his large hands. 

“Shut up,” he snarls. “Be good for me, professor, and this will all go quickly.” 

You gurgle into his hand as your heart hitches. Why is he doing this? You said yes. You didn’t argue. 

“I’m going to move my hand and you’re going to stay nice and quiet, aren’t you?” 

You try to scream into his palm and he wrenches your head down into the ground. The grass is soft but the impact is enough to make your nose fuzzy. He hushes you. 

“I mean it, alright? Shut your mouth or I’ll fill it with dirt,” he snarls. 

You whimper and nod, puffing against his palm. Your body tenses before you slowly make yourself go limp. You lay your head against his hand and let your arms still. You raise your hands slightly to say, ‘see, I’m good’. 

He huffs and slowly drags his hand away, smearing your spit across your cheek. You sniffle as your eyes prick and you inhale the scent of dirt. You can hardly breathe as your chest throbs and burns. 

“Ah, don’t act so hard up,” he chuckles. “Bet you don’t get a lot of guys these days,” he pushes his knee between both of yours. “Sad, cause you don’t look half bad in this.” 

He tugs your skirt up your legs as he shifts his weight around. The satin tickles your thighs and sends a shiver through you. You close your eyes, your forehead flush to the ground. You liked that skirt so much. You bought it just for your first day. 

The thought stabs into your heart. You push your hands flat to the ground and brace yourself. Denial cords around you as terror clogs your throat. This can’t be happening but it is and all you can do is let it. 

“Mm, not bad,” he rasps as he pushes between your thighs. “Come on, loosen up for me.” 

He moves your slack legs apart and runs his fingers along the cotton of your panties. He purrs as he traces the edges along your ass and back again. He snakes his hand under you and presses against the fabric and feels your folds through the thin layer. 

“I’m so goddamn hard right now, you have no idea,” he says.  

You chuff out air. You try not to hear him, not to feel him. He slips his fingers beneath your panties and rubs your lips. He pets your head as he cooes in your ear. 

“See, I’m being nice. Isn’t that nice? I know you wouldn’t be shaking like that if you didn’t like it.” 

He rubs between your folds roughly as he presses his crotch against your ass. He rocks against you as he teases you. You scrunch your toes tightly as a tingle crawls along your thighs. No, please. You don’t want to feel anything. 

He purrs as he continues to move his pelvis, breathing heavily behind your ear as he growls. He stretches his fingers along your cunt and delves into you. He pushes his hand further and curls his finger through your entrance. 

The heel of his hand brushes against your clit as he moves. You whine as the coil winds around and around and around, tying up your guts in knots. You shudder and bring your hands to your hand, digging your nails into your scalp as you spasm. You cum, slickening his touch as a mortifying moan escapes between your lips. 

He slides his fingers out of you. You groan. Your tears leak out and trickle onto the grass. He trails his hand around, leaving wetness along your shirt. He angles above you, pushing your knees apart with both of his. He splays you and tugs your panties to the crease of your thigh. 

His zipper slices the moment. Your breath cramps in your chest as you hold it in. He guides his tip along your thighs. He feels you quiver, teasing and toying, as he rubs up and down your folds. He slides up by your cheeks and you clench. He laughs and traces back to your entrance. 

He uses his thumb to push his tip through your resistance. You tighten around his intrusion and squeak out your breath. He shushes you and you swallow down a sob. He inches into you, his own exhale flowing over you like a cold storm. 

He sinks in to his limit and you bury your toes into the dirt. You heave as he pulls back and thrusts in again. Your shoulders curl with tension and your spine locks. He pumps again and moans, petting your hair as he falls into a rhythm. 

“God, you’re tight,” he grits. “I heard... well, I guess everyone lies.” 

He runs his hand down the side of your head and beneath your forehead. He forces your head up and nuzzles your hair as he tilts into you. He puffs across your scalp. 

“I didn’t see a ring,” he reaches up to clasp your hand, twining his fingers through yours as he continues to rut. 

He keeps you like that, fucking you harder into the dirt. He lifts his hips, slamming them down so his zipper bites at you. He pounds at you relentlessly, shallow breaths mingling damply in the cool autumn breeze.  

You open your eyes and stare across the grass. Your vision blurs around the tree trunks and wooden benches. Your grief and glazes over and drowns you in horror. 

“Welcome to campus, prof,” he growls between nipping your ear. “Oh... and don’t worry about those missed classes. I didn’t make the team.” 

[umbracirrus]

WIP WThursday <3

After a very hectic evening of baking and tidying yesterday, I wasn't able to get what I wanted to work on written or posted as a WIP! However, I come with one now!

Tagged by @hircines-hunter, @skyrim-forever, and @thequeenofthewinter! Not tagging anyone back at this point, maybe next week if I have a WIP though ^-^

Balgruuf and Proventus have a personal chat in the Bannered Mare today :3

------------

“My Jarl? How long have you been here?”

The voice was quick to draw him from his thoughts as he had some more of his drink, and he noticed that Proventus had approached him, leaving his daughter and son-in-law to whatever it was they were celebrating, and appeared to be silently asking as to whether he could take one of the seats at the table. After he gestured towards it in a just as silent response, he exhaled quietly. “I’ve not been here for long. After all that business with trying to figure out how to respond to Korir, a drink was sorely needed,” he muttered, moving to rest his free hand on the table and lightly rapping his fingers against the wood. “Thank you for your help with that. It was highly appreciated, as usual.”

“Ah, of course. It is all part of my job, after all.”

After a few moments of silence, Balgruuf straightened his posture and asked a question which had been on his mind since noticing him there… And was likely the question his steward seemed to be anticipating, he looked to almost be bursting to say something but waiting for the right moment to speak. “You don’t come here often, so what brings you here, hm?”

Straight away, Proventus’ face lit up. That had definitely been the right question to ask. “Adrianne invited me, saying that she had news.” It was almost as though he couldn’t hold himself back. “She and Ulfberth are expecting their first child. Due to be born in the summer.”

“Well, that is most certainly good news.” A smile broke out onto his face at he saw how prideful Proventus looked. “That means that you will be a grandfather too.”

“Oh, yes, I will indeed…” And then, just as quickly as the excitement had made itself clear, so did melancholy. A quiet sigh fell from the steward’s lips as his face fell, before he sipped at his wine. “They grow up so fast. I still remember when Adrianne was no higher than my knee, excitedly swinging a sword around… my little warmaiden.”

“Don’t remind me… It won’t be long before my three are-“ His words caught in his throat as he finished his thought in his mind. It really wouldn’t be long at all… All three of his children were closer to adulthood now than they were to the days they were each born. How long would it be before they made lives for themselves? Had families of their own? Would he ever become a grandfather, as Proventus was set to be? He would never openly admit that the thought almost scared him, knowing that such a time was approaching so quickly. That the years were creeping up on him. “Hm. Now is not the time for such sullen thoughts. You should be with them and celebrating, not sat with me.”

“Ah, Adrianne wanted some fresh air for a few minutes so she and Ulfberth have gone to stand outside. I will be rejoining them when they return. I just happened to notice that you were here whilst I was waiting,” Proventus explained as his brow furrowed. “Are you here on your own, my lord? If you are, I am certain that Adrianne and Ulfberth would not mind if you were to-“

“Nonsense, Proventus. And you have no need for the formalities, this isn’t Dragonsreach. This is a time for you and your family, I would be intruding. Besides, Hrongar and Irileth will be here soon,” he smiled, before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Pass on my congratulations to Adrianne and Ulfberth. Their child will be lucky to have them as their parents, and you as their grandfather. You should invite them to Dragonsreach for dinner one of these days, they are always welcome guests.”

“I will do, and I shall let them know of your invite. And- Ah, there they are.” As if on cue, Adrianne and Ulfberth stepped through the doors, returning to where they had previously been sat. Now that Proventus had mentioned it, the fact that Adrianne was pregnant came across as obvious. “I shall leave you be, my Jarl. But if Irileth and Hrongar do not arrive, please do not hesitate to join us.”

After nodding along, Proventus stood up and returned to his daughter, leaving Balgruuf alone to his thoughts and his ale.

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 05/19/2024

Three weeks in a row. I should play the lottery, I might hit for some big money!

Nerdie, please. We think it’s fine that you play the lottery, but have you done much this week?

I will have you know, that I worked three 12 hour shifts in a row, one of which I was the charge nurse. Something I’ve never done before and only had a 4 hour class once. The person that was supposed to be training me was not there so I just did trial by fire. I also worked this weekend. 

Though the highlight of the week was Friday night!

What? You had a hot date? Good for you!

Huh? This is Nerdie you’re talking about, no. Not at all what happened. I got to see Hozier live in a concert! It was wonderful! I might still be singing all the songs, have played them for my coworkers and that one guy whose room I was in for 30 minutes getting him cleaned up and bed changed should know a fair bit of “Almost (Sweet Music)” and “Something New.” I think I also had a brunch with my family this week somewhere in there.

We have so many questions…did that man even know what you were singing? Is he now a fan? How was brunch? How did you even find out about the concert? Why wasn’t that the first thing you said?

Sometimes you gotta bury the lead. Brunch was with mama Nerdie and two of Nerdie’s brothers. I have three total. I’m the only girl. The concert was magical, I’m trying to figure out something for September but it’s likely sold out. I think I really lucked out last Friday. 

Nerdie, do you have anything fanfic related? We’re happy to know you’re doing well. We wonder sometimes, but you know, this is Tumblr.

This week will be a bit different. I did a lot of reading last week but this week, I didn’t read much of anything except beta reading for a couple people. So Nerdie will highlight some series she thinks you should peek at:

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (A wonderful series featuring Joel - who is having a moment with his new hair by the way. I did notice, how could one not? Has Joel and a female OFC in post outbreak Jackson.) Fun fact - one of my patients called me symphony so it’s going to be one of my many aliases now.

If Wishes Came True by @schnarfer (A Dieter Bravo trilogy. Our beloved trash panda is many things and has many expressions, some not so great. Can it turn into something worthwhile?)

Headshots by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Pike - being the sweet man that he is. The OFC is a photographer. Love blooms. It will give you warm fuzzies and you’ll sniffle. It’s totally fine to do so.)

Bloody Kisses by @perotovar (Shane Morrissey and Tim rockford are the combo I was not aware I needed and now I think about them. The longing, the realization, the understanding, the build up, and the growing pains. Just read it and you’ll get it.)

IRL by @grogusmum (A sweet Javi G fic. You and Javi have been chatting about your shared interest in movies and sparks fly. So much so that you fly to see him in person. How does that go? Read and find out.)

These are five series I’ve read, loved and will read again because I enjoy them. I hope you all do too. 

I believe I did post a Dieter one shot for the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot May challenge about aliens. 

Also @fhatbhabiee back! 💖💖

I was tagged by people for WIP Wednesday through Saturday so I’ll do something from my not titled Pero x Dragon fic (look - it was a thought I had and it morphed into this but it’s dialogue):

Darkness is beginning to take him as is the cold. Pero cannot feel his limbs nor tell if he’s moving them. “Hmmpf, you care nothing of your life? Just to let it slip away like this. You appeared to be a warrior of some sort. Do all human warriors lay on their belly and wait for their final breath? Such a pity.” This voice, such torture before death to be mocked like this, couldn’t he have died in battle?  “I’m already in hell only hearing this voice before I die. Goddammit.” The mercenary laments.  “Are all humans fools like this? Why will you not heed my words? I am not trying to reach you for simple vexation.” “Stop with your flowery words then. Say what you actually need. I’m not going to listen to you the entire time before I leave this earth.”

Pero is the type to curse and argue with demons, angels, monsters and Gods if it means he has the last word. I stand by this. Contrary to what this conversation reads like, Pero does not die. His fate could be worse than death, we’ll have to see. 👀

The Peeps who maybe tagged me? @tinytinymenace @connectioneverywhere @magpiepills @604to647 @djarinmuse

@megamindsecretlair and @for-a-longlongtime There are either people I missed or people who didn't tag me. My bad either way. 🤣

I’ve also been toying with which series between my Marcus therapy series and my sweet Javi P series to start posting on Tumblr. I’m not sure which one. Everyone one’s welcome to ask me questions about any of these WIPs, just know I may not stop talking about them like most fic writers. 

I think I do dialogue well in my fics, and wacky ideas, but I could use work on world building, smut, descriptions and other things. I think. Who knows, I'm just going to keep wiring and we'll see what happens.

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie!

[for-a-longlongtime]

WIP on wednesdaythursdayFriday what day is it even?

Look, these past weeks have been such a mess really - I don't know what's been fucking up my brain and ability to function (incl focusing on reading, so that probably means it's the good ol' depression), but it sucks. Nevertheless thank you so much to @romanarose @sp00kymulderr @quinnnfabrgay-writes @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem

@chronically-ghosted @almostfoxglove tagging me for WIP posts over the past week - I'm really late to the party.

I wish I had a lot more done on the FFM I started last week with Frankie, but they've decided to take a break for a bit, so I'll just have to get back to that later. What I do have, entirely to blame on my non-functional brain and being out of sorts and just wanting to not think, is a new doc I started --- but that's really my NTIDK!reader and Santi (while Frankie is out of town). A lot more self-indulgent than usual, but sometimes you just really need to write Santiago brat taming the fuck out of reader.

(Jsyk this is all gonna stay consensual despite them having her picking a fight)

You glare back at Santiago, trying to shove him again. He clocks the movement though, and with a strong tug at your wrists, he makes you stumble against him, using that moment of disorientation to drag you across the room before you even realize what’s happening. You yelp as you nearly trip again, but he doesn’t even respond to it, making you stumble along with him, and then shoves you not so delicately with your back towards the wall.  The gasp that escapes from you isn’t because of pain, but surprise - your brain is barely processing how quickly and decisively he moves. Within the blink of an eye he has you pressed against that wall, your hands above your head still held tightly in his grip. He coolly looks you up and down, making sure that you didn’t get hurt, then leans in to whisper into your ear again. “What’s the matter. You want to fight? Is that what Fish lets you do when you’re in a mood like this?”

“I’m my own damn person, Garcia. Don’t need him to let me do shit.” You try to take a deep breath, calm your rapidly beating heart, but it’s too difficult - he’s too damn close, hardly any space between your bodies, and this close you can see all the flecks of grey in his hair and his beard. Smell him so clearly. The three of you slept together several times at this point, so it’s not like you haven’t been this close together… but it’s different. Especially without Frankie being around. You’ve known Santi for a few years now, have seen him under almost all possible circumstances - but the urge to literally and figuratively scratch at him now, just to provoke a response that you could respond to, is so much stronger than any reasonable thought in your head. You didn’t want pity, you wanted - goddamnit, he is right, you *do* want to fight. “Then what the fuck is your problem, hermosa?”

I've seen so many people post WIPs this week and I've lost complete track of it, so I'm not tagging anyone specifically this week -- BUT if you read this and you have something to share, please do so because I'd love it if you did!