#these wips are just for one story each

[monochromatictoad]

Me: Maybe I should open prompts for my writing blog. Something to get my ass back into writing.

Also me: *has two WIPs for a Macul short and three for an Isaacul short, because I cannot get Mathias or Isaac's personalities right.*

[squirrelno2]

All right so I haven't been active in the Julie and the Phantoms fandom in a long time, and although I know there are definitely still people creating and reblogging in the fandom it tends to be a much smaller handful of people than it used to, which for me felt disheartening and was part of why I've backed off from it. I'd love to see new stuff more regularly and start recirculating older things just to remind myself and anyone else who needs it how much I love this silly little show.

All this to say, I am putting out feelers to see if anyone is interested in a blog that runs consistent, casual event-type things for the fandom to try and revitalize interest in jatp fanworks, like featured weeks for individual characters here, fic rec events, etc. I'm toying with ideas to inspire people to pick up their wips, spark new stories, and highlight older content that didn’t get much attention or would just be nice to see again. I’d like to create a community space to liven the fandom back up for people who miss the show or got into the fandom after the hype died down. Does that seem interesting to anyone?

[askyofexplodingstars]

my favourite polycule

[diazheartsbuckley]

📄 I love angst so I think this will be soo good

Hiya anon 🫶🏻

This is a tough one but it’s worth it 💗

📄📄📄📄

“This is our marriage, Buck. You don’t get to just make the decision when it ends, at least not without talking to me first” Eddie says, feeling his jaw clenching in frustration.

“You were the one who transacted to another station! What am I supposed to do with that?” Buck snaps, watching his husband’s eyes widening in surprise, like that wasn’t the answer that he was expecting.

Make me write ✍🏻

Tagging the wife @tizniz 😘

[gothsuguru]

this writing slump is whooping me… am on the ground rn

[delta-piscium]

blatantly making [DnD character’s] backstory a steddie fic for wip weekend please I am so intrigued!!

oh thank you!!! You have no idea how excited I am that you requested this, this fic is my (very neglected) baby !! (and based on my favorite PC who is a human bard called Max in a modern campaign setting, i just wanted to share that lmao)

“Steve? Eddie?” Someone calls from the other room and they spring apart. “Where did you go?” “Uhh,” Eddie says and Steve rolls his eyes. “Just getting water,” he calls back, “we’ll be out soon.” “Get me an ice cream too,” the someone, who Steve now realizes is definitely Dustin, shouts before he hears the back door sliding open and then shut again.  He waits a couple of seconds to be sure they're alone again and then raises an eyebrow at Eddie. “Uhh,” he parrots. “There’s not a lot of blood in my brain, kinda difficult to think” Eddie snipes back but he’s smiling. Steve tilts his head, “I make it hard for you to think straight?”  Eddie gives him an unimpressed look, “that’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to me Harrington, and I had an angry mob with pitchforks after me.” Steve shrugs, “what are you gonna do about it?” Then he lets a slow smile spread across his lips, and glances down at Eddies ‘no blood in his brain situation’ “big boy.” Eddie’s jaw audibly snaps shut and when Steve looks up he’s giving him a wide-eyed look. ‘Yeah, got him back for that one’ Steve thinks, satisfied to have some leverage back between them.  Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You are gonna have to stay so far away from me Harrington, or I will jump your bones and traumatize all our friends even more than they already are. Then when everyone has left I will deal with all,” he waves a hand between them, “this.” “You keep calling me Harrington,” Steve points out, “what, no more baby? Sweetheart? Princess?” Eddie turns on his heel.  “So far away,” he shouts over his shoulder.

(very late) WIP weekend (Wednesday)/make me write

[corellianhounds]

Thanks for The tag buddy!

(And soon I will answer it, 'cause I need to organize my ideas :)

But, The Clone Action Movie Pitch actually got me.

I'm all ears 👀

YESSSS I’m so happy, I was hoping somebody asked about this one! This idea came to me two weeks ago and I’m STOKED (And also I am defo ready to see what you have cooking 👏)

So basically the thought started with the beginning to a familiar action movie setup of a group of guys having to reunite after over a decade because somebody has been coming after the members of their former squad and killing them off one by one, and now they have to get back together for one last job to find out why and put a stop to it. Despite the fact I started writing this with the express purpose of using all sorts of action movie tropes for the formula, there’s still new and fun twists on how they happen because we’ve set it within the world of Star Wars. It’s a good old fashioned action movie, babyyyyy!

It’s also all original characters, which I know may not be some people’s thing, but it means that this is unconstrained by most of canon, in terms of timeline consistency or connections to other properties��� stories. I have plenty of canonical Star Wars elements, but I wanted this to be a case of “Hey do you like Star Wars and don’t want to do any homework to understand what’s happening? Do you like action movies? Come on in!”

—

Taking place ~16 years after the end of the Clone Wars, the story opens with fifteen-year-old Rio and his father living simply in a city on an Outer Rim planet. Most people didn’t know what the clones looked like beyond their armor, and that— along with its owners— was phased out a long time ago. Rio doesn’t know much about his father’s past beyond his own life, but it doesn’t come up in conversation much and Rio doesn’t know of a life any different than the one they’ve always had.

There’s some suspicious activity and murmurings around town, us following Rio through what a normal day should be for him, but as the day draws to a close things start to get more suspicious. His dad, normally a genial and easygoing guy, is strangely quiet and serious, and there’s a moment Rio catches him having some furtive conversation over a comm in the hall; when his dad realizes he’s there he snaps at him to go back to bed.

When Rio’s noticeably caught off guard by his dad’s tone, his dad visibly softens and his shoulders slump, and he goes to him, gently pulling him in to press his forehead to his son’s as he apologizes, asking him more civilly to go upstairs. Rio reluctantly does as he’s told; though his dad outwardly seems much more like his calm self, there’s still something tense about him.

The next day it’s clear there is something going on, the kid seeing people closing up shops, arguments happening in the square, a squad of troopers questioning and harassing people. Rio’s nearly caught up in trouble with the troopers himself before his dad appears out of nowhere and intervenes, making quick work of them before telling him to stay calm and follow his lead, the two of them swiftly making a beeline for their home.

His dad tells him to pack a bag of necessities only, says they’re leaving and they won’t be coming back. Rio, understandably alarmed, desperately follows his dad around the house asking questions, asking what’s going on in town as his dad yanks cords from electrical panels in the walls and burns the databanks on his machines, and the kid’s alarm only heightens as he sees his dad pull burner comms, armor and gear, tools and equipment and weapons he’s never even seen before from hidden compartments all around the house.

His dad hated guns.

When Rio finally stops him and demands to know what’s going on, refusing to budge another inch until he has answers, his father sighs, visibly pained by the anger and distrust on his son’s face.

He takes Rio by the shoulders, gentle despite all that’s happened. “Do you trust me?”

Rio looks doubtful. “… Is the person you are still my father?”

“Yes,” his dad says without a moment of hesitation. “Yes, Rio.”

Rio wavers for a moment, but right now all he sees are the earnest, honest eyes of his dad, and he realizes… Yes. He does trust him.

“… Okay,” Rio says, beginning to help pack gear into a duffel bag. “Let’s go.”

—

The kid doesn’t ask any more questions as they head out of town on foot, not even when gunfire starts up several blocks behind them and people start panicking in the streets. They’re at the edge of town when they hear the first explosion and Rio sees his dad’s resolve harden to determination. An old friend of theirs takes them by speeder outside of town; Rio still doesn’t ask questions when his dad leads him to a ship that’s been hidden and well-maintained for over a decade, and eventually the two of them set out to escape off-planet.

They wait in a remote location for other ships and transports to arrive. Rio sees a number beings exit the ramps; there’s a Pantoran woman in a trench coat with a satchel over one shoulder. A mountain of a man in a motley assortment of layers follows her, wearing a visor and partial face mask, accompanied by a droid. Another pilot lands and immediately hops out from the cockpit, sliding down the ladder as a second man follows. The first looks like a stunt racer, dressed in speederbike leathers and boots. The second man looks like a regular lineman, though with a rifle slung across his and a mask covering his features. The pilot unbuckles the strap of his helmet as he joins them, and something about it looks familiar to Rio.

A real, honest-to-gods Mandalorian appears from behind Rio and his dad from the outcropping they’d met at, either having been there the whole time or somehow managing to creep up on them without notice.

The group convenes in a loose circle, and his father removes his hood.

“Lark,” he says, nodding to the woman. “Gentlemen,” he says to the men. “It’s been a while.”

They all look at each other, noticeably glancing at the kid before he puts a hand on his shoulder and says “Rio. My son.”

Slowly, one by one, all of them remove their helmets and masks, and Rio can’t help but look around the circle in astonishment.

Each man there, every one among them for no discernible reason why or how, shares his father’s face.

WIP Ask Game

[morrigan-sims]

another late night / early morning wip pic under the cut

>:)

[insane-weasel]

I think as writers we should hold funerals for our WIPs more often.

Dearly beloved, gather us here today where this fic of some middle-aged man getting rawdogged and this other fanfic about the importance of friendship are laid to rest, because the author got really distracted playing that new video game.

We celebrate what could have been, cut-and-recycle those really good lines or ideas, because I swear I'm going to use them, I swear! And drag this poor document not to the great recycling bin or trash, but to the "graveyard" folder because sometimes I like to commune with the dead.

[altruistic-meme]

pov: you're Abram when he's about to start writing something

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[cream-and-tea]

was thinking about it and i firmly believe that the funniest possible thing to keep the exact same if i write anything in the lmd no-magic-no-apocalypse-au is pallas and calliope routinely just beating the absolute shit out of each other. t4t violence that transcends genre or whatever.

[themyscirah]

Started thinking about the Amanda Waller + Ben Turner relationship again.... fuck, I'm gonna need a minute

[exalok]

might post all the tiny self-imposed prompt stuff from a few years back that i for some reason never did. this is your automated warning

[ebitenpura]

still having brainrot over Eight and Lana's own commander-and-outlander relationship bc i can't fucking sleep and have to make flop posts, but the day before he leaves is the day they sit down with one another atop his ship, watching the sunrise. (I guess this counts as a WIP whenever but I've slacked so hard this month I don't even remember how or what i've been tagged in...OTL)

they've both been made aware of one another. Lana's incomparably guilty. Eight looks at her and sighs.

"Be proud, Lana Beniko. Yours is the shield that our enemies dashed themselves on, that guaranteed a new future for all those you held dear. If you're at a loss for what to say to me: don't. No other would go so far. That is why we won."

For once in her life, Lana finds no speeches at the tip of her tongue, no ready-made phrasing that does just enough; she merely stares at her friend, (her hand), and stammers.

"I... don't know what to say. Eight, I..."

"I just told you not to." The spy feigns irritation with a roll of his eyes, then cracks a smile at her, faint and fleeting as the breaking dawn. "Neither of us were very good at listening to each other, were we."

An awkward silence descends on them. Lana is visibly discomforted, now made aware of the exact implications of such a statement. Eight had bent over backwards to follow her sense of right and wrong. Eight had devoted everything to heeding her call. She hadn't even known his reasons for doing so until the very end, blinded by her own eagerness to be saved. Her gloved hands grip the edge of their perch, white-knuckling them beneath the leather.

And she'd been none the wiser until she awoke one day to a slightly panicked holocall from base saying Eight was gone.

He'd fled. Deserted. In the traitor Theron's words, as he put it with uncharacteristic gravity to his features, "was it any surprise that he ran away? you used him-- and now he wants nothing to do with you or the Alliance. It's over."

The betrayal had stung almost as much as the revelation. They'd made up by now, but...

"Lana." Eight's voice pulls her out of her morose reverie, clear and lucid as day. His eyes lock with hers, piercing right into her soul. Lana's breath hitches, and his next words punch the air right out of her chest, like a battered hole in a damaged dreadnaught in the vacuum of space.

"Stop it. I know that look. Stop punishing yourself."

He grips her by the shoulders, shockingly earnest for a spy who concealed all emotion. Lana opens her mouth to speak, but instead of words coming forth- something unfathomable flows into her across the bridge of physical and mental contact, whisking her away on the tides of fate.

[fangirlforeversthings]

A drabble about my OC's or:

My first ever light introduction of my oc's

"He should be looking at his goddess when praying to her. Instead he is on his knees in front of her with his gaze fixated on him. His king standing with his back facing him in the door of the small mountain cathedral. Patienly waiting for him to finish. Illuminated by the golden sunlight. A little pause from their travels. A king and his loyal grand army leading commander, his personal knight guard alone on the road.

He should be looking at his soon to be queen, when she talks with him. Instead he glances over her shoulder at him. On the opposite site of the room, standing guard at the door. Causally, the legs shoulder broad the arms behind his back folded in a comfortable stand. The long big orange feathers on his helmet gently waving in the summer breeze of the open castle window. Long and bushy feathers, signaling his many victorious battles, his rank. Sensing his kings eyes on him he turns his helmet at him. It gladly hiding its wearers blush under its shining spotless silver, when he looks back into the kings almost shameless, hypnotised yearning look.

"He should be loyal to his goddess, be a dutyful knight, be pure of mind and soul, saintly of heart and body. And he is. He was. No, no he is. He chose this life at last...but one day he allowed himself to let his gaze linger a little longer that was a mistake. Once you saw the golden sun, warming your heart and mind, you cannot imagine life nor actually life without it ever again.

He should focus on her, his promised queen. Learn to love her, marry her be a role model, be dutyful. He is the king at last....but one day, he came into his life. And the young king let his gaze linger too often. A mistake. Once you saw a fairytale, a magical being, you can't stop looking, in pure awe.

You can't pry your eyes off.

For this simple moment, merely the blink of an eye, there were no restrains no responsibilites no social enclosures, just them. Just for a moment a second, no one will notice. The king would marry his queen and the knight would stay on his guard place where he belongs. It was settled. It was no question. They knew their places, their reaponsibilitys and those were not up for discussion for neither of them. So what could a stolen little glance her and there hurt? It was just a look. It was their unspoken arrangement. Glances, rare, not more, not less......but"