#this is a fic idea that I really want to flesh out

[vostok3-ka]

Thank you so much for the tag for the WIP word game @bromcommie I adore adore ADORE these games and I also love sharing my WIPs haha, and it's really fun! Also I got phantom tagged by @gyokujyn so I'm taking this as an opportunity to share even MORE snippets hehe!

Choke

This is for a fic I'm writing for my dear friend @mohish-ko who is a lovely lovely person and a wonderful artist, and it's based on her drawing where Bucky fights the Winter Soldier! I think this fic will actually be done very very soon!

Bucky lets go in a flash, and the Soldier, unbalanced all of a sudden, shoots his arm out to keep himself from meeting the ground face first, but as soon as himself more or less under control, Bucky is already straddling his back, twisting both the Soldier’s metal arm and flesh one under him, stabilizing himself by kicking a foot up, against the cobblestones. The Soldier gasps in surprise, struggling, but Bucky has him thoroughly tangled. “I know these moves inside out,” he hisses, and the Soldier pulls up his knee, craning his neck to lift it off the ground. The mask scrapes as Bucky presses his head down before he sits on the Soldier’s arms, and wraps his own arms around his neck, squeezing hard. The Soldier kicks out, wriggles, and grunts as he presses his chin inwards in an attempt to loosen the choke, but Bucky keeps firm. He can feel the Soldier’s pulse slow down, his jugular pulsing against his flesh arm, and it isn’t long before he stops fighting back altogether.  Giving the Soldier’s throat a last squeeze for good measure, he lets go, and straightens, stepping over the limp body. Bends down and turns him so that he lays back down on the ground, then unfastens the mask and hooks it onto one of the straps on the Soldier’s harness that he knows from experience is specifically made to hold the mask. He steps around so that he stands by his head, then leans over and rolls the Soldier back onto his stomach so that he can get him into a fireman’s carry. 

Dark

This fic is one that has uh... 3k words of NO DIALOGUE! I don't know how well it's written, and I'm struggling a lot with the plot, but I love the idea to bits and I will power through it till the end cause I want the idea out there! It's about Bucky going to an old bunker where they did sleep experiments on him during the USSR because he cannot sleep and he wants answers.

Bucky’s breath flutters in his chest, and he feels incredibly weak all of a sudden, lightheaded, like there is static in his ears, crowding his hearing; with a start he realizes he is going to pass out, so he steps inside fully, taking long, quick steps towards the cot before sitting down and sticking his head in between his legs. Takes a deep breath in. Then out. The static dims somewhat, but the lightheadedness still has a grasp over him, so he simply just- breathes. Breathes until he is confident he can raise his head without the world creeping in darkly, so he does so, leaning back a little, setting his palms flat on the mattress by his sides. He raises his eyes.  There is a small, dark, speaker in the corner at the back where the ceiling meets the wall, and Bucky scoots backwards so that his shoulders touch the wall. Stands up on the cot. The metal creaks. He pulls out one of his guns from its holster, the SIG-Sauer. Clicks the safety off. Reaches out with his right hand to cock it, and curls a metal finger over the trigger. Raises his arm. Lines the front sight up with the rear of the gun slightly below the speaker. He doesn’t close an eye; shooting with both eyes open is something he’d mastered many decades ago. Breathes in. Out.  He shoots in the moment before the inhale.

Press This fic was originally for Whumptober 2024 but it's November right now so hah! But I liked the idea of Walker and Bucky interacting more, and it's for the prompt "Starvation", where I made it so Bucky hasn't eaten in a while and well... it doesn't go so good!

Bucky looks down at his wrist, and his heart drops like it is made out of lead. The scarring on his wrist never did heal up, not after that terrible night in 1948. Heavy iron floods his nose, and his nostrils flare, glancing at the paramedic with eyes that are a little too wide, a little too pleading. A little too cornered. The paramedic, to his credit, doesn’t let his professionality slip, instead simply looks up at Bucky and tilts his hand subtly so that his wrist is out of Walker’s line of sight. Bucky wants to sob, but he doesn’t, instead grinding his teeth together in that bad habit of his he’d always had, and stares at his knees. Embarrassment flushes through him, hotly, and he wants to go home, wants to curl up with Alpine in front of the television on the floor, listening absently to the hum of ice-hockey play on the screen, but there are still hours of this damn flight left, and the urge to shoot himself flashes through his mind again. There are fingers pressed against his wrist, the feeling soothing in its old fashioned-ness, and as the paramedic counts under his breath, Bucky has the rising suspicion that the action is purposeful, but his senses feel dulled and it is tiring to think so he doesn’t pay it any mind.  Walker is busy on his phone, and the paramedic finishes his counting, before saying low, “Tachycardia, Sergeant Barnes. You’ve got to stay sitting down or you will pass out.” “Fine.” Bucky answers shortly, and the paramedic reaches out to grab the wrapped IV port.

Memory

This is something I started writing last year when I was nineteen and kind of starting to get into the Soldier's time in the USSR. I do intend to finish this fic, but I simply don't remember what I wanted the plot to be lmao...

Gentle moonlight seeped in through windows, blanketing the Soldier in a soft silver glow. Stars flickered and winked cheekily outside, and the Soldier stared up at them from the little cot he was laying on. Fabric covered metal pressed into both his left and right wrists, as well as his legs, effectively strapping him down to the cot. The mattress was not too soft, and not too hard, and by all means, the Soldier should have been comfortable, but he had his jaw set uncomfortably, shifting his left shoulder every now and then. The paint on the ceiling was, for once, not cracked, and the Soldier felt horribly out of place without the familiar spiderwebs criss-crossing into each other in all sorts of shapes and forms. He was bare chested. They had taken his shirt from him, leaving only his combat pants and boots, sans laces, and yet, warmth seeped into him. They’d warmed the room somehow, and an ever constant wave of confusion washed against the Soldier’s mind, lap-lapping at the inside of his skull like a dog sniffing around for something sustainable, something known. The Soldier did not know what was known and what was unknown. Something had shifted in his mind, something big, a behemoth he couldn’t see, couldn’t feel. Something- and a faint memory of Lovecraftian giants brushed its soft fingers against his mind’s eye. The Soldier shuddered fully, so roughly that his metal hand thudded against the cuff. Something was out there, something. Yet-  The Soldier jerked against his restraints, growling slightly when they did not budge. God. He wanted out. He needed to stay. He was sick. But he wanted out. He hated the feeling of being strapped down, hated the anger it ignited in his chest, Chyort! He jerked his arms again and then once again. Nothing. Giving up, he turned his face to the side, chest heaving in irritation. His entire body tingled, like electricity was shooting through his senses, mildly, just underneath his skin, and static shushed in his ears. 

Home

This is also from the fic for Mohish! Just the very very beginning paragraphs!

Riga, Latvia. It is cold when the wind snakes through the city’s old buildings, slipping over cobbled streets like a python, slithering over Bucky’s shoulders and reaching its fangs out to strike at his nose and cheeks, nipping them a faint pink. Cigarette held loose between his metal fingers, he leans against the front door of Zemo’s Riga home, blue leather jacket hugging his torso and shoulders, soothing in the way it holds him tight; he is himself well aware of his affinity for leather. It is familiar, safe, and he taps his finger against his cigarette, ash drifting down upon the porch like gray snow, light and carried slightly by the breeze. Raises his hand to his mouth. Takes a drag of his cigarette, and the nicotine unfurls blooming petals in his lungs, knocking against the back of his throat pleasantly before he lets it all out with a breath. The smoke curls prettily into the air, disappearing in the very fabrics of the streetlamp-lit night.  Running his free hand through his hair, he tugs at it, spiking it up. The short hair feels odd, strange. Not unfamiliar, but rather nostalgic, too familiar. He’d had short hair as often as he’d had long during his time in the USSR. The signature long haired look had only come into play during his Hydra years.  Bucky taps his cigarette again, takes one last drag, then snuffs it out against his pants. The heat burns, but his pants are thick enough to withstand it and Bucky doesn’t hiss in the searing pain. He can hear the low murmur of Sam talking to Zemo inside, his enhanced hearing just strong enough to pick up the sound without making out the words. Contrary to popular belief, his serum isn’t actually as strong as Steve’s. It’s worse, different, seeping and thick in his veins, poisoning him from the inside out, and the strange urge to slice his forearm open, to let the teeming darkness in him seep out in spilling, pouring blood, washes over him so roughly his fingers jerk involuntarily. 

Space

Now this is one that makes me giggle. It's from a fic I'm writing where I'm not letting myself pore over every word and sentence, because I'm currently in a deep rut in my writing, so this is me trying to loosen up. It's the fic I'm currently working on, and I want to finish it pretty soon too! Featuring an unhinged Bratva friend, a tiger, and a Lada sedan.

It is no human. Whatever is in the house is no human, and the Soldier nearly slumps in relief at the realization, but he doesn’t, keeps himself straight, and lays the fork on the kitchen counters beside Rumlow’s gun. A really large dog, probably. The Soldier steps around the doorframe into the dining room, and every muscle in his body freezes, his heart stopping for one terrifying moment, his tongue heavy in his mouth. A large, Siberian tiger licks its chops, muscles rippling under its fur as it sits down on its haunches with a heavy thud. It blinks lazily at the Soldier and the Soldier refuses to look it in the eyes. He doesn’t know- he doesn’t- he isn’t trained to- oh! Ignoring the panic that rises steadily in the space between his heart and sternum, bubbling over and spilling into his lungs, choking him slightly, the Soldier makes a minute movement backwards, towards the kitchen again.  The tiger yawns. The Soldier takes the moment where its eyes are closed as an opportunity and flees.  Slamming the kitchen door shut behind him, he locks it too, even though he doubts the tiger is able to open doors, then slides down to the floor, legs up to his chest, rests his forehead against his knees and simply tries to get his breathing back under control. Gasping in small stuttering breaths, the Soldier almost wants to laugh. It feels so- so normal. So regular. So common, to be afraid of a large tiger in his face, and the fact that it has nothing to do with Hydra, nor the past that seems to swirl and spit haze into his face more often than not, helps him calm down considerably quickly. He breathes and breathes, the erratic heaving of his chest steadying out into a smooth, deep rhythm, and he takes a minute to himself before he raises his head and leans it against the door. One last moment, then he stands up on shaky legs and turns to look out the window in the door. 

Sharp

From a fic I'm writing dedicated to the wonderful @sootiesweep where the Soldier is on a boat after a mission, and there are cigarettes, talk about patriotism and melancholy...

Baltiysk, Kaliningrad Oblast. There are stars in the heavens tonight, small, sparkling specks of light freckling the skies’ cheeks like a painter had come along to flick white paint all across the darkness, and waves smash blind, salted faces against the hull of a docked military ship, beating themselves into foam and froth. The air is sharp, cold and biting, nipping blood to the surface of cheeks and noses, and the Soldier stands by the bow, draped in shadows, rubbing a gloved hand over the bottom of his face, roughly warming up the cold skin with the friction. Light eyes catch the moonlight, causing them to glow oddly, almost like those of a predator, and dark hair falls over them slightly, the boyish cut framing his sharp-jawed, young face. Somewhere deep in the ship’s bowels laughter erupts. The Soldier pays it no mind, instead glancing down at his long, dark blue sailor’s coat before he slips his hands into his pockets to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a matchbox. Shaking the pack so that he can get at a cigarette, he holds it between his teeth before shoving the pack back into his pocket. Bright orange-yellows light up the dark corner he is huddled in when the Soldier strikes a match against his pants, the wood catching the spark and erupting into flame. The matchbox follows the cigarette pack into his pocket too, and smooth, smoky nicotine hits the back of his throat pleasantly as the Soldier takes a deep drag in, letting his eyes slip shut in enjoyment. The static that had seemed to grow louder in the past few days, rattling in his mind, smooths out.

Sweet

This is from something I wrote when I was like- 18? I think? I can't remember, but it's from this fic idea that has been rolling around in my head in a salad spinner since I was sixteen, where Bucky gets admitted to a psych hospital before the war, where Hydra actually takes an interest in him there first...

Gold drips from the heavens, running lazily down the glass windows of the hospital, pooling in splashes of sunlight on the brick walkway. Bucky blinks slowly, taking in the sight. Something about the building seems ethereal, otherworldly, and he swims through the raining gold, step by step. To both sides of him, two men. Thin, light coats frame their shoulders, barely kissing the tips of their knees. Their hands keep him upright, holding him around his biceps and on his back, pushing, urging, coaxing him forward. Behind him, two more men march, keeping up the flank. He swallows suddenly, a burst of terror surging through his body, quick, lightning sharp. With sudden clarity, he realizes that he does not want to be here, and he stops. Stiffens. Tries to turn. The hands on his body are firm, unyielding, and he lets out a sharp breath through his nose. Static hums around him, and he digs his heels in, turning his face towards one of the men holding him.  "I don't want to," he whines, low in his throat, the sound tight with fear. "I know," the man says, and his wide eyes are bright, kind. A sharp contrast to the cold, bored demeanor of the man on the other side of him. "But you have to." "Come now," the other man says, tugging him forward, and he forces his feet to move, to drag, really, though his chest feels oddly heavy. There are lilacs peering shyly at the procession as they near the steps leading up to the building, their sweet smell drifting lazily in the wind, and Bucky has the odd urge to reach out, to stroke them. To see if they felt as unreal as everything else did. 

This was THE most fun I've had with these games in a while, and I really enjoyed digging through all my WIPs and getting the urge to actually work a little on them!!!

No pressure tagging @painted-doe @writethewolvesaway @bbyboybucket and @sad-eyed-lady-of-the-paperbacks for the words Light, Slam, Shiver and Pray!! :))

[alicent-archive]

Rhaenyra and Alicent go to the Dragonpit to select a dragon egg for Aemma’s unborn baby. Up until that point, Rhaenyra had been the one selecting the eggs, but this time, she wants Alicent to pick one. Alicent selects a black egg, and the reason she picks it is because the colour reminds her of Rhaenyra’s riding clothes.

When Baelon dies, the egg is returned to the Dragonpit.

Once Alicent is heavily pregnant, Viserys mentions that an egg has to be chosen for the baby. Rhaenyra would’ve been the one choosing the egg, but Rhaenyra isn’t on talking terms with anyone.

Viserys chooses the egg instead, and when Alicent returns to her chambers, inside the fireplace is a black egg. Visery’s tells her that it was Baelon’s egg, and Alicent almost snaps and tells him that, yes, she knows it was Baelon’s egg. She had been the person to pick it.

She doesn’t snap. She smiles. And that’s that.

Alicent realises, looking at the egg, that Viserys didn’t choose an egg for her baby, he chose an egg for Aemma’s baby; for Baelon.

As if the prince was still alive, as if Baelon walked among them.

When the egg hatches, from inside squirms a golden, glimmering dragon.

It reminds Alicent of a certain yellow dragon she used to visit almost everyday.

When Aegon is old enough to say single words, he calls the dragon Sun.

When he’s old enough to understand sentences, he calls the dragon Sunfyre.

[arsenicflame]

steddyhands modern au inspired by this post:

(1828 words, themes of kink but nothing explicit, established blackhands & gentlebeard-centric. Happy Pride!)

Stede picks up leatherworking in the wake of his divorce. He's not exactly sure how it ended up being such an important hobby for him, only that he had always admired the intricate designs on his horse's best bridles, and with little else to do with his time, he decides to give it a go.

It's rocky going at first, but he's having fun working with his hands for the first time in his life, and there's a sense of satisfaction in seeing the design come to life as he works. With practice, his skills improve, and he learns how to make things that are truly one of a kind.

He starts off posting his pieces online, as a way to reach fellow enthusiasts, but quickly finds himself with a rather large audience. Stede’s style is unique, and, after many requests from his followers, Lucius encourages him to make some more basic pieces he can sell. It's not about making money for Stede, but another way to meet new people who share his interests- as Lucius keeps telling him, it's sad that his personal assistant is the main person he talks to these days. 

So Stede sets out on a new adventure, and has quite the time designing a new range of patterns for the market. He makes purses, belts, bracelets, and, most importantly, dog collars- all still with his unique designs embossed into them, of course. He rents a booth at his towns monthly craft fair, and very quickly finds himself with a new group of friends in the other regulars- Pete, his usual neighbour, who sells an array of wooden figures he carves, Roach, who runs a stand for his bakery, and Frenchie, who isn't actually a stallholder, but is almost always busking near his friend Wee John’s stand of knitted goods, bringing life to the market even in the pouring rain. There's also Buttons, another regular at the market. Nobody is exactly sure what he does there- he doesn't sell things, or seem to buy anything either, but rain or shine, he's there with the birds.

Stede’s been doing this a few months by the time June rolls around. As he's setting up his stand, he notices that the area is much busier than it’d normally be at this time of morning. Lucius, who got roped into helping run Stede’s stall somewhere down the line (despite his protests that this is not what personal assistant means… But hey, he got a boyfriend out of it, at least), reminds him that there's the parade today, too- not realising that Stede had no clue there was a parade today, and especially not that it was pride. Stede immediately jumps to fretting about the amount of stock he’s brought, and Lucius takes the cue to escape, saying he’ll go and grab them coffee (but really, he's off to flirt with Pete)

Lucius is still missing when Ed stumbles across the little leather stall. Stede’s just ran back to his car to fetch his last boxes of inventory, and by the time he returns, Ed’s already begun to narrow down his choices. Stede greets him, starting to tell him that they're not actually open yet, but before he gets more than a couple of words out, Ed’s exclaiming “You're a Kiwi!!!”

The two of them smile at the shared recognition, and Stede says he’ll make an exception, just for Ed, and asks him what exactly he was interested in. Ed tells him that he's looking for a collar “for his boy”, and points out the particular design he was looking at. It happens to be one of Stede’s favourites from this latest run of work, a fact he mentions to Ed. It leads them into a discussion about Stede’s craft, and Ed’s Izzy, and then everything in between. Ed’s listening intently to the things Stede’s telling him, completely drawn in by the process, and by Stede himself. He watches as Stede stamps Izzy's name into the collar, and Stede even lets him have a go at one of the stamps. 

Lucius reappears sometime in the middle of this- only to immediately retreat again, seeing Stede engrossed with Ed. He sets up camp at Pete's booth opposite, watching this man flirt intensely with his boss- and Stede flirt back just as hard. Does Stede even realise he’s doing it? Lucius had known Stede was gay since before Stede even admitted it to himself, but this is on a whole other level.

The pair stand there so long that Izzy comes to look for Ed- the two of them are manning a float on the parade with their crew, and it's past time for them to get geared up. He's already worked up, frustrated to have been left to set up everything alone, when Ed had just gone to see if he could get them both coffee. So maybe he's a bit of a prick, approaching with a brash “where the fuck have you been, Edward”, to which Stede brings the same energy, giving a bitchy “Ed! Do you know this guy?” Izzy tenses, ready to snap, but then Ed cuts in, excitedly telling Stede that this is “his Izzy!” Which confuses the hell out of Stede. 

Forgetting his earlier attitude, he asks Ed if he “really named his dog after his friend”, only to be met with confusion right back from Ed at where the hell Stede got the idea he had a dog from. Stede gestures at the bag with the collar in it, to which Ed has to tell him, “oh, no, that's for him.” Ed tells Stede that they're here to run a float for their local leather society, and while Stede is certainly shocked by what Ed’s saying, he's not finding himself… uninterested. It's simply that he’s never even considered any of this before, especially not that people would use the things that he made for this, but Ed sounds so enthusiastic about it all. He tells him about how his friends would love to see Stede’s work, about how classic leather gear is always so fucking boring- but not Stede’s stuff, no, Stede’s stuff is “fresh” and “fascinating” and unlike anything Ed’s ever seen before. 

Ed's enthusiasm is incredibly infectious, so when he invites Stede to come back to see their float, he readily agrees. It’s a concept Izzy’s less than enthusiastic about. He doesn’t really want to bring this man who’s dressed like he just walked out of a HOA board meeting to their kinky little corner of the world, but he is having a lot of fun watching Stede squirm, so decides not to raise a protest. He does demand he gets his long-overdue coffee first, though (Stede pays for it- as “compensation for him distracting Ed from his job”, he says, not giving Izzy a second to process before he's tapping his card)

By the time they return to the float, Fang, Ivan & Jim are waiting for them, all already geared up. Stede is stunned silent at the sight for about 5 seconds, before he starts actually looking at the quality of Jim’s harness, and proceeds to go off about the poor quality of the craftsmanship, about how the hardware is tacky and completely the wrong choice with this leather, how his “ten year old daughter could do a better job!!!” 

There's complete silence from the group, until Izzy, of all people, bursts into laughter at Stede’s audacity (and, the fact he was staring at Jim's tits completely unabashedly, like he hadn't even noticed them in the first place). Izzy's laughter sets Ed off as he tells the group about Stede’s misunderstanding- “you didn't say he was a person!” “I mean, he's my dog”- and soon everyone's having a friendly giggle at Stede’s mistake.

It's somewhere in the middle of the retelling that Ed remembers that this whole thing happened because he was buying Izzy a gift. After a moments fumbling, he presents Izzy with the collar-  It's a rich, deep black, embossed with a rolling pattern that resembles waves. It’s made from a firm enough leather to take the tooling, and to remind Izzy that he’s owned while he’s wearing it, yet still soft enough for long term comfort. Izzy's eyes immediately lock on to it, an unreadable expression coming over his face, and Ed turns it; first so he can really see the design and Izzy’s name embossed into it, and then so he can see the small “Ed ♥” on the inside of the collar, right over his swallow tattoo. 

“I did the heart,” Ed says to him softly, intended only for Izzy’s ears. Izzy's eyes flick up to Ed’s, and he raises his chin to give Ed the room to put it on. Ed buckles the collar around his neck almost reverently, a test of the tightness turning into a caress of Izzy's neck. It's a perfect fit.

It's as though something comes over Izzy; so twitchy and abrasive earlier, now silent, staring at Ed with a look akin to worship in his eyes. He obediently tilts his head for a kiss as Ed's fingers move to his chin- It's a sight to behold, and one that has Stede intrigued. He wants to know more about this lifestyle, and these men in particular. He wants to be the one to put that expression on Izzy's face.

The moment breaks as Ed and Izzy pull apart, and Ed calls for the crew to finish the last bits of set up. Izzy shakes himself a little before running off to bark orders again, but even still, there remains a softness to him that wasn't there before. 

Ed turns back to Stede with an apologetic smile, already obvious that he has to get going. Before he can speak, however, Stede jumps in -“My business numbers on the card in the box… I'll be around all day”- Ed’s smile turns more genuine at that, promising to stop by if he gets a moment, and that he’ll send his friend's Stede’s way- “if he wants that kind of business.” Stede says that he does, actually- that he's seen a whole new world already today, and, while he was a little taken aback at first, he can feel the passion Ed and his friends have for this life. If there's one thing that's ever mattered to Stede, it's other people's enthusiasm. Maybe he doesn't completely understand yet, but he would like to try.

One year later, Stede’s back at the market on pride weekend again, far better stocked for the crowds this time around. Lucius is finally free to spend the day flirting with Fang & Pete to his heart's content, now that Stede’s roped his own boyfriends into helping him run the stall- and into modelling the merchandise. Ed loves that part, while Izzy needs a lot more convincing, but the puppy eyes Stede & Ed weaponise against him make a very good argument.

[puhpandas]

Abby is shown interacting with the other kids more at the end of the movie so it’s possible that she could meet Gregory later on in the second or third movie!!

man I hope so but I also think Gregory being a special case related to getting in trouble with authorities would fit and it would be a good lead up to meeting Vanessa (a cop, but I wouldn't be suprised if she quits her job since theres a good chance it was a cover up for william).

imagine vanessa is getting back on her feet but still heavily traumatized from what happened at freddys but also just her life leading up to this point and shes still struggling. shes still a cop to bring in more money for herself and the schmidt's until she can find a new job and after being called to the station to deal with a delinquent kid she for some reason has to transport him somewhere, or shes called to the scene to be the one to take him to the station.

queue something plot related happening where they're interrupted and vanessa has to get to freddys or the schmidt's or something right away and has to take Gregory with her. then more plot stuff happens and Gregory is stuck with them but just trying to help and survive

vanessa feels so guilty because he was under her watch and also not involved and now hes in danger. so from that guilt plus the guilt of all of the others she turned a blind eye to or covered up or couldnt save she tries her hardest to protect him

queue found family with the two sibling duos. vanessa said something along the lines of "you have abby and that's more than I can say" so imagine if she could say she has Gregory! maybe later its revealed that Gregory is a homeless orphan kid so shes able to actually take him in. they would bond enough over the course of the movies events plus probably some sort of moment where she blurts out her true intentions and why shes trying so hard and that makes them closer.

[cerealboxlore]

I have no self control

I have a math exam this Sunday

And a lot of homework to do

But

Imagine a DC Captain Marvel one shot fic where it centers on Billy Batson and his self esteem about himself crumbling down one day after a tragic failure in a battle against Dr. Sivana or Black Adam, and he keeps himself in the Rock of Eternity to be by himself during this time. He wonders if he can even be the Champion of Magic anymore after what happened

He's upset and wandering around the RoE when the ghost of the Wizard appears to him and speaks to Billy. He reassures him that he is the perfect champion, and that he is more than worthy.

Billy doesn't seem to agree.

So with the stubbornness of an ancient old man, the wizard displays a magical image of all Billy's friends, family, and JL teammates who talk about him, praise him, worry about him and respect him.

Billy sees how his family wants the best for him, and how they just want to help their brother be happy.

He sees how Batman praises his sunny nature and optimistic view on the world to his batfam in the batcave, expressing concern if he should speak to him if his sunny nature ever dims out.

He sees how Wonder Woman refers to him as an honory brother of hers, and how she respects his modesty despite being a champion of several gods, never letting the power go to his head like most would.

He sees how Super man, the superhero he admired since his childhood and still now to this day, admit that he is envious of Captain Marvel at times for his power and ability to believe in the best in other people, believing in redemption and kindness. "A better boy scout than he could ever be".

Billy begins to see these magical images blur in his eyes, and he welcomes the overwhelming sobbing tears rolling down his face as he realizes...he is worthy.

He has always been worthy.

[jayyydez]

600 words added to my Wicked Game planning doc and you should all be worried lol

It's gonna take me at least two years and probably more to get there, given my current posting speed, but BE WORRIED

[rapidhighway]

i want to write fic soooo bad but i feel like i just can't present a narrative in a way that anyone will understand idk it always just feels so nonsensical, whatever i write. Even just writing a plan its like after a while all words just lose all meaning idk what this meanss idk how to do this

[wawamouse]

I thought I was on my way to writing the same number of Miguel/Chico fics as Ding Rong/Wang Zhi fics but I've actually written a surprising variety (for me) for Oz so far, and so miguelchico only accounts for 27/46 of my Oz fics (which includes several drabbles, of course) whereas rongzhi is 50/59 tsomd fic with i think maybe 1 drabble and 6/50 are another rarepair that i might be the only person on earth who truly likes

So the takeaway here is that if you thought I'd already milked this rarepair dry, think again! We haven't even entered the wilder AUs yet.... the transmigration.... the Island Prison!Oz AU.... I haven't even written MCD yet! There's been no marriages! No undercover!Miguel infiltrating El Norte! No 12 Monkeys AU! No Stepford Wives AU (yes this is also a bullet point on my "Fic Ideas" list.... no, I will not be taking questions at this time....)!

Not to mention the 10 miguelchico wips I already have started! 🥴 Basically, if history is anything to go by, I will be here chugging along long after everyone gets sick of my shit lol

(I have a Stanislofsky wip in the works rn too.... probably gonna be a short thing for HT100 as a breather, and also because I genuinely do want to write more oz fic with other characters too! sorta have a Torquemada/Morales AU in the back of my mind too—probably also going to be a short piece that I will try to match to a HT100 prompt, since idrk how to write either of them. But I feel like Morales doesn't get any love in the fandom and he's one of my favorite characters in the show tbh!

Also I've had a Said/Bismilla idea that I've had since last year when I was working on Holding Up the Sky (I know, that was forever ago) but need to do more development (bc... well... Bismilla) for that basically so I've been putting it off. Kinda wanna write Shirley/Diane still and Shannon/Gloria as well, and my sister's comments from last week's episode watch kinda made me want to write some sort of Ryan/Peter thing, but again... still gotta come up with more substantial fic ideas than simply the pairing and some vibes. Alas!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

in another universe i finished this fic instead of glass princess:

[rowanisawriter]

it’s time.. For my modern AU gale/durge…….. this has been cooking long enough lol

[luckycharms1701]

thinking about cowboy leo again

[teknicaldifficulties]

graaaaagh, i wanna write a pmd fic,,,

[thesamestarlight]

today was SUCH a good day even though i didn't do the thing i wanted to get done and i know it was because i CREATED!! i meant to just jot down an idea in a google doc but that accidentally turned into like four HOURS and almost 3000 words and i??? feel so good?? i've been lamenting a lot lately that i have all these fragments floating around in my head but i haven't been able to actually Make anything with them and then today i finally did in a way that i completely didn't anticipate and that came out of nowhere and it felt GREAT. and then i sang in the car and saw the sunlight in the trees and watching a funny show and lived laughed love the spirit of small joys saturday!! i love you guys!!!

[riccissance]

it's so frustrating when i have an outline for a fic that i'm really excited about but for some reason, my mind won't cooperate when i actually try to write the scenes

[pogueit]

So you know how I’m an absolute liar??? Well I am currently working on some stuff!! The name change will happen whenever I remember my password!!

[icezansky]

......