#wip folder ask game

[grubus]

tell me about wife hunt yqy??

wife hunt YQY!!!

Basically an omega au, where YQY is revealed to be an omega at a meeting between sects. Due to PIWD Plot Reasonings, this leads to a demand for a "hunt", where the winning alpha gets to claim and mate him.

SJ is fucking pissed.

Not only didn't he know YQY was an omega; HIM!!!! But no, there is now also the fact that RIVAL sects wants to claim YQY, clearly as a political move. After all, CQM is the number one sect! If, say, a high ranked alpha from HHP manages to claim YQY... well that would SUCK.

On top of that, he always fucking knew LQG was a dishonorable piece of shit, because the brute has decided to join the wife hunt as well. Clearly SQQ has no other choice than to join to ensure that YQY's honor is kept.

Just... a fic where YQY has to try very hard to get away from people while 100% hoping his Xiao-Jiu catches him, meanwhile SJ and LQG are murdering so many alphas in this hunt and also constantly trying to stab each other as well.

I've spoken about this idea before but I just really love it so much! I look forward to writing it all out one day. I think it would be very, very funny. Especially if SJ almost catches YQY early, but he assumes YQY took pity on him and gets so pissed off that he chases him away, demanding a "proper challenge" while poor YQY is truly just. So flustered about having face planted just because he caught SQQ's scent.

[djarins-cyare]

Here from your WIP post - please tell me about Refugees From TV Land?!

Yay, I’m so glad someone asked about this one! 🩵 It’s one of my favourites and the first fic idea I wrote down after finishing Be-All And Endor.

As those of you who’ve read my WIP folder titles may have guessed, I’m pretty obsessed with the whole ‘Earthling in the SWU’ concept. One of my most beloved Mandalorian fics ever (Short Debts Make Long Friends by @wrathkitty) features a Reader from Earth, and I’ve already described one of my Earthling!Reader fic ideas here.

Another of my favourite Mandalorian fics is Not My Stars by @keldabe-kriff, which is kind of the opposite – it features Din becoming stuck on Earth. It’s such an intriguing inversion of the ‘Earthling in the SWU’ concept that I found myself dreaming up my own spin on how such a situation could come about and what the dynamics would be like. I love the idea of Din being totally flummoxed by things we find normal and the reader having to help him adapt!

Refugees From TV Land is a placeholder title until I can think of something better, but I’ve got the whole thing plotted out and have written a few scenes here and there. I think the best way to illustrate the setup is simply to give you the entire scene where Din arrives, although I don’t really want to give away much more than that for now. So here you go – I hope you enjoy it! 🩵

Refugees From TV Land

BOOM!

You bolt upright as a deafening bang wrenches you from your couch-based slumber, shattering the enjoyable Mandalorian-themed dream you were having. The projector still hums quietly behind you, its vintage lens casting an achromatic glow over the room, though the show has long since ended.

Through the foggy confusion of your abrupt awakening, you scan the room, convinced that something has either fallen or exploded, and a mounting panic hits as you realise Yoda is nowhere to be seen.

“Yoda! Where are you, buddy?” That dog is a menace.

After a few seconds, the patter of claws on the hardwood floor signals your little hound has heard your summons. All you see at first are his huge ears approaching the couch before he leaps up to join you.

“What have you destroyed this time, huh?” you ask, already dreading the mess you’ll have to face.

Yoda huffs at your accusation before bounding forward to lick your face – either in apology or simple affection – and you collapse back onto the sofa, laughing as you fend him off with a few ear scratches. A quick once-over confirms he isn’t wet, smeared in food, or singed. It’s unlikely he’s caused too much damage, then.

“Alright, little guy, whatever it is, we’ll tackle it tomorrow. Bedtime now.” But as you try to kick off the blanket and sit back up, you swear you hear something else – a man’s shout, distant yet discernible.

Is someone outside? You’re about to get up and check when Yoda growls, and a cold shiver of alarm races through you at the possibility of an intruder. This place is so isolated that you’re not sure how to handle such a prospect. You freeze for several anxious moments, watching your dog for any clues about the threat’s origin.

Then, you notice something odd: Yoda isn’t growling at the door or the windows. He’s fixated on the blank wall opposite you, upon which the projector still casts a large square of light.

And that’s when you see it.

Shifting patterns ripple within the light’s confines – undulating shimmers that make the solid wall appear almost liquid, the shapes slowly gaining colour and definition.

Suddenly, Yoda howls, and your focus snaps back to him, only to see him doing his best wolf impression at the ceiling. “What the fuck…?” you murmur.

But before you can reach out to soothe him, a shrill, high-pitched tone slices through the air, forcing you to clamp your hands over your ears. Yoda abandons his howling in favour of barking instead, his gaze fixed once again on the wall. You look up and see… images! They’re faint but unmistakable – as if the projector’s lens is out of focus.

Wondering what on earth it’s projecting (since the DVD has undoubtedly ended), you reach up behind the sofa and fiddle with the lens assembly, twisting the focusing gear to adjust the aperture. The piercing tone has vanished, so you drop your other hand from your ear, noting that Yoda has now fully burrowed himself beneath your blanket.

So much for your guard dog, the little wimp.

As the image sharpens, you hear a man shouting again – but this time, you can make out the words: “There he is! Stop him!” Desperately, you twist the focus gear once more, trying to tune in whatever your projector is inexplicably displaying.

Suddenly, the image becomes vividly clear – a perfectly projected grey hallway with angular walls and glowing strip lighting. Your drowsy mind struggles to make sense of the familiar architecture and fathom why it’s being projected onto your living room wall when, all at once, there’s another boom. You jolt in shock, and Yoda whines from beneath the blanket.

Then chaos erupts in the corridor: flashes of red ricochet off the walls, and your eyes widen as a figure dashes around the corner. A figure you recognise immediately.

It’s none other than the Mandalorian – his silver beskar deflecting the red plasma as if it were mere rain in a summer storm.

What the fuck are you seeing? Is this an easter egg at the end of the DVD or something?!

You watch as Din tucks himself against the wall near the corner he just raced around. He peeks back out and fires a couple of blaster shots back the way he came while Grogu’s little pod zips around the corner, its top closed tight to protect him.

Suddenly, a door slides open closer to you along the corridor, and a stormtrooper steps into the foreground, taking aim at Din’s back.

“Oh, shit!” you gasp, fully immersed in the stakes of this bizarre bonus scene. But Din pivots just in time, firing his blaster straight at his would-be attacker. The trooper falls instantly, their own shot going wide and bouncing off the metal wall until it hurtles directly toward the camera…

…and into your fucking living room!

You scream as it impacts the wall above you, desperately wondering if you’re still asleep on your couch and merely dreaming this madness… until Din rushes toward you, shouting, “Is it safe there?”

This is a dream. It can’t be real.

Nonetheless, you nod.

And then he’s running toward you again, stormtroopers rounding the corner behind him, blaster bolts shrieking in your direction.

You cringe as elements from the show you love transform your cosy living room into a battlefield. Red plasma shatters an antique vase on your shelf… it singes your new oak coffee table and custom-made couch cushions… and the Mandalorian you’ve adored for the past four years dives through the wall, rolling to a surprisingly graceful stop on your rug.

Holy shit. This is a dream. This is just a totally realistic, scarily vivid dream.

But the shots keep coming, and the stormtroopers clamour ever closer….

“Close the doorway!” Din yells, rolling to his knees and returning fire through your wall.

Reacting mindlessly to his command, you twist on the couch, stretching up behind you to slam the on/off switch as fast as you can. But as the projector’s light flickers and fades, a few more blaster shots make it through the rapidly vanishing ‘doorway’ – and one catches your outstretched forearm.

The pain is more excruciating than any injury you’ve ever endured. You can’t even tell if you scream; you think you do, but nothing else exists beyond the searing agony of white-hot plasma eating into your skin.

It’s fucking glowing.

With the projector now off, the room is shrouded in darkness save for the moonlight streaming through the windows… and your fucking glowing wound.

You slide back down on the couch, clutching your injured arm and trying your goddamn best not to hyperventilate.

“Hey… let me see,” you hear, and suddenly, your fictional crush is gently cradling your forearm in his soft leather gloves. Din fucking Djarin is kneeling beside you, holding your arm as you hysterically gulp down oxygen and repress the urge to scream. Then, a gurgling sound comes from behind him, and you glance up…

…and wide brown eyes stare at you from between enormous batwing ears that illustrate exactly why you named your dog Yoda. Except… he looks real. A real-life Grogu with fluid movements – so unlike that jerky puppet in the show.

It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. Even your desperate, gasping attempts to take in oxygen aren’t enough to stave off your shocked mind’s overwhelming desire: to just switch the fuck off for a while.

And as darkness encroaches from the edges of your vision, you remain conscious just long enough to feel something tingly being sprayed on your arm. The last thing you hear before you pass out is a modulated voice that sounds remarkably like Pedro Pascal assuring you, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Sure. You will be when you wake up. Because this was all a dream.

Right?

[pencilofawesomeness]

please give me the facial expressions of my son erik plz

most of them are still sketches because I have been lazy about making it look prettier after a friend convinced me to go all out

He's worth it though. Erik my son <3

[mercars-musings]

WIP Folder Ask Game

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. People can send an ask or comment about the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it! Aaaa tysm for the taggies @thedissonantverses <3 I actually got some of my WIPs names sorted out recently hehe:

DA WIP Folder:

Coming Home Breakdown: The Saga Emmrich FP Hissera Origins Hair Dye Babyyyyy Breaking In

No pressure taggies! : @sunny374940 @andthekitchensinkao3 @ofcrowsanddragons @taashyvashedan @sorrowsfallallaround @rookgallustroublesomehousehimbo

[plusultraetc]

practice all your worst mistakes, please!

I talked about this one a little bit here (SORRY I AM GETTING TO THESE SO SLOWLY) but I usually (always) have something else to say!

so I actually shared this snippet before when I made the wings poll. it still makes me laugh, but it's been cut from the final fic because I fear it strays too far into crack territory. for some reason, I keep writing myself into corners when it comes to talking about The Wings--I managed to keep them out of 'there's no good tricks but old ones' almost entirely, but they really want to be in this fic lol. I DO THINK that if anyone was going to call Hawks out on 'using telekinesis to give himself literal wings,' it would be Shinsou 'observe, assume, and provoke' Hitoshi. I feel like he would catch on to the whole 'wow, you've really made this your whole identity, huh?' without even realizing the minefield he's stumbled into 😬

[robingoetia12]

Guys I’m bored pick a number between 1-6 and I’ll tell you my fanfic ideas!! Two of them are ones I’m currently working on the others I’m not starting till I’ve finished the other two!!

[midwrites]

kinkmeme 2x1 for the wip folder game? 😊

I started working on this a year?-ish ago? I think. The basic premise is that during episode one of the Terror when Francis and Tom Blanky propose to go for broke, Fitzjames and Sir John actually listen to them and they consolidate all of the men and resources onto a single ship. This of course leads to many a-"there was only one bed" kind of situations. Cue in Tommy Armitage getting kicked out of his little broom closet of a room to sleep with the rest of the men in the mess hall and a marine Sergeant who is tired of having to sleep on the floor because there's no room for hammocks.

It all has a very romcom-esque silly lighthearted vibe that I don't usually write, but I'd love to return to this at some point, mostly because I already have a good chunk written down and a pretty solid structure in place.

“We could appeal to command in the morning,” Sol’s voice comes again, once almost all of the lamps have been extinguished, Tommy having carefully nestled his body towards the outside of the pile, still wearing his undershirt and breeches, something too indecent in the idea of disrobing in front of so many again. “I’ve heard that none of the other stewards have been kept from a hammock, maybe Jopson could appeal to—” Tommy shakes his head. “It’d be too much of a hassle, and Tom already has too much on his plate right now—I wouldn’t like to cause him more trouble,” he lowers his voice to answer, tries not to look up at the bare expanse of Sol’s legs the moment he tries to meet his eyes from his position up, sitting on his hammock. He frowns for a moment, like a puzzled dog, Sol does, thinks a little before he speaks up again with a glint in his eyes that makes Tommy flush in a way that’s definitely not tied to the heat of the bodies around. “Could always let you hop up when I’m out, keep it warm for when I’m back.” There are eyes staring from across the floor when Tommy dares unlock his own from the bright solidness of Sol, Erebus’ youngest Private looking in wide wonder from across the deck, lying inches away from where his own Sergeant is to rest.

“Sol, I—” “Stop treating our lad as if he were your wife, Sol,” Heather grunts from somewhere in Tommy’s vicinity, just as the lamp that hangs closest to them gets extinguished with a mournful hiss. “No wonder Gibson won’t allow him near us…”

[tomicaleto]

Necesito saber del "Fic o algo parecido del Zorro porque ya no tengo control sobre mi vida". Por favor.

(also que es el kakaobi que es eso quien es kaka)

Ay me alegra tanto haber puesto los WIPs que no eran de Star Wars jajajaj

Bueno, el título es porque es mi primer fic del Zorro (la versión de 1957 que hizo Disney) y en el momento en el que decidí empezar a escribirlo jamás se me había pasado por la cabeza hacer fics del Zorro jaja de alguna manera se sentía como si mi obsesión por esta serie me hubiera sobrepasado y terminó desembocando en fics :P

El setting es post-series (es decir que es canon compliant), donde Ana María (my most beloved) viaja a Los Ángeles mientras su padre viaja nuevamente a España. Al poco tiempo de llegar se encuentra con Diego que le ofrece quedarse en la hacienda de los De la Vega en lugar de quedarse en la taberna. Ana María tiene la oportunidad de conocer a los amigos de Diego de Los Ángeles y obviamente empiezan a profundizar los potenciales sentimientos que habían empezado a tener por el otro en Monterrey. A su vez, Ana María se pregunta si tendrá oportunidades de ver al Zorro en Los Ángeles y qué puede significar para su relación con él considerando la despedida que tuvieron en la serie.

Además, cosas extrañas empiezan a ocurrir en Los Ángeles que el Zorro va a tener que encargarse de solucionar antes de que se transformen en problemas mayores.

Es básicamente un fic de romance pero tratando de tener una trama similar a las de la serie mientras se desarrolla la ship principal :)

Por otro lado, el KakaObi es una ship de Naruto jajaja, Kaka es Kakashi, el maestro de Naruto y sus amigos, y Obi no es Obi-Wan pero Obito, su amigo de la infancia que se sacrificó para que Kakashi viviera y le enseñó una lección de vida pero resulta que no estaba tan muerto después de todo jeje

WIP FOLDER GAME

[grubus]

Please, as god is good and the day is long, tell me about wife hunt YQY.

Well the details can now be found here!

But here is a tiny cut from it :D

Yue Qingyuan is not the ideal omega.

It is, perhaps, part of the reason why none ever suspected him to be one. His height, his broad shoulders and his bland personality certainly worked against the very concept. His scent, when on suppressants, is dull even for a beta. 

He’s not used to his own scent. It keeps catching him off guard. 

Yue Qingyuan stands in the meadow and watches as the prospective alphas line up. They are all cultivators; many from rival sects. Their intentions are clear, and he avoids breathing through his nose, for every single one of them is projecting their scent and it makes him want to gag. It coats the back of his tongue, so thick he can now taste it despite trying to avoid it all together. 

And then Shen Qingqiu joins the line.

[djarins-cyare]

I have so many questions about "Din needs an iphone charger to find out what Pedro Pascal looks like" 🤣 Is Din in a modern-day AU? Are we in a wormhole where the Mandalorian, iphones, and Pedro exist together? Is this code for an upgrade on his helmet tech?

Hey Cas! Thanks for asking about this one; it’s one of my favourites!

I love all your ideas, but this is your classic “Earthling in the SWU” story, except with a kind of… meta twist, I guess. I’ll do my best to explain.

Usually, when you get an Earthling in the SWU fic, it’s just assumed that Din would look like Pedro because that’s what he looks like on our screens. But what does that say about the universe our Earthling Reader has ended up in? Have they been sucked into the TV? Are they now in an entirely fictional universe? How can it exist? Or have they been transported into an AU?

To my mind, there are three possibilities:

Yeah, our Earthling Reader has been transported into the fictional realm created by George Lucas and specifically crafted by John Favreau and Dave Filoni, and Din does indeed look like Pedro. It’s like the movies Last Action Hero and Pleasantville – they’re literally sucked inside the movie or TV. This is uncomfortably deterministic since every event is crafted by writers, so essentially, it makes Favroni into gods. Everything that happens to our Earthling!Reader in that realm is predetermined since we know how Star Wars turns out. I don’t like this option much.

Although Star Wars began as fiction, our Earthling!Reader wanted to be part of it so badly that they somehow wished it into existence. So now, a new universe exists IRL, and they have been transported into it. Since it started as fiction, Din does indeed look like Pedro. This universe is a brand new offshoot and not subject to the fictional rules of Star Wars, so our Earthling!Reader can manipulate events to change the outcome of things. I like this option!

The Star Wars Universe exists as a real alternate universe somewhere alongside ours, and somehow (let’s say via the Force or some lowkey Earthly version of it), George Lucas and other prominent Star Wars writers have dreamed/sensed the events occurring over there and have woven them into stories. They think they have great imaginations, but they’re actually Force-sensitive or as close as you can get to it in this universe. Perhaps Favreau cast Pedro as Din specifically because, in his mind’s eye, that actor looked the most like the person he saw in his visions/imagination. In this scenario, the version of Din that our Earthling!Reader meets may not look precisely like Pedro at all. Similar, yes, all the features match up on paper, but somehow slightly different. This is an intriguing option.

In this fic (which I have now given the hasty title: Face Reality), Earthling!Reader has no idea which of the above options applies, although she has been very honest with Din about where she comes from. She explains that in her “universe” (for want of a better word since she doesn’t know if it’s an actual AU), his story and the stories of others he knows are told as fiction for entertainment. In an effort to spare him the existential crisis of “OMG, I’m just a character in someone’s narrative, I’m not a Real Boy”, she continues with the idea of this place being an already-existing universe that people in her world can sense (i.e. option number 3 above), but the question of whether he looks like Pedro or not comes up…

…particularly when Din discovers that some of the stories are visual. He freaks out. He worries an entire universe of people might have seen him without his helmet, and his creed is now in tatters. So, he becomes obsessed with finding out precisely what Pedro looks like and whether or not they’re identical. The trouble is, everything that Earthling!Reader tells him seems to fit him exactly.

So yeah. He’s having an existential crisis… she’s having an existential crisis… and, oh yeah, they both fancy the fuck out of each other.

Lots going on!

I actually have several scenes of this written already, but most are pretty piecemeal. I’ve got bits of the one where they meet, and everything I explained above comes out, but it’s very raw and unedited. Fortunately, the one where they talk about the iPhone charger was pretty solid already, so I’ve decided to give you the whole of that one, which is like 1k words (admittedly, I polished it up a little first and tweaked it to make it self-contained). Enjoy!

This WIP Folder game is really helping me get some of my WIPs in shape, I’m loving it!

Face Reality

“Tell me what he looks like,” Din asks. “Describe him.”

Not this again. He’s been relentlessly interrogating you about Pedro’s appearance for two days now.

“I already did. How many times do you need to hear it before you quit asking?”

He shakes his helmet. “However many it takes to figure this out. Your description could fit millions of humans across the galaxy – me included.”

You know he’s prevaricating. You’ve described the man’s teeth, for fuck’s sake – there are definitely not millions of humans with an extra tooth in front of their lower right lateral incisor. No, the problem is less about your descriptive skills and more about his increasing panic with every new detail you offer.

You’ve tried reassuring him. You’ve tried arguing with him. This time, you take a futile stab at redirecting him. “Well, at least we’ve established you don’t look like Brendan Wayne. That’s a win.”

The withering look Din sends your way comes through the barrier of his visor loud and clear.

“I need more,” he insists, desperation edging his tone. “If he looks like me, and you’ve seen my face….”

A strangled sound of irritation escapes you as you press your palms against your closed eyes. For a guy who’s recently learned his entire existence is considered a work of fiction in your reality, he’s freakishly hung up on his religious adherence. Or maybe it’s the fact that if he does look like Pedro, he’ll need to face the fact that he’s essentially a copy of someone else and not a Real Boy in his own right.

And you get it; you do. But it’s also fucking frustrating when you’ve got some pretty insurmountable problems of your own. After all, you still don’t know how you got here, nor where ‘here’ actually is. Were you sucked into your TV and all this is fiction, or are you in an independently existing alternate universe that George Lucas has dreams about that he makes into movies?

Your companion is not the only one having an existential crisis here.

“There must be more you can tell me. Be specific,” Din demands, and his unyielding insistence triggers your frayed nerves to finally unravel. You miss home, and being stuck in a possibly fictional universe is enough of a headfuck without this endless back-and-forth.

“I’ve been as specific as I can be!” you snap. “I’ve described everything about him in extreme detail, right down to the epic combination of sexy nose scar and cute little heart-shaped beard patches. I don’t know what more you want. It’s just Pedro being his usual gorgeous self, only extra sad and broody. I get that you’re scared about this, but can you please just give it a rest?”

It takes a couple of seconds for your brain to catch up with your mouth, but when it does…

Shit. You got a little carried away there. Please, God – or whatever deities rule over this galaxy far, far away – don’t let him notice how much you’re practically drooling over Pedro.

“You think he’s… gorgeous?” Din ventures hesitantly.

Fucksticks.

Backpedal! Reverse thrusters! Fall back to base camp!

“I mean….” You screw your eyes shut, searching for a way out of this latest living nightmare, but there’s no denying it now. “Yeah?”

A heavy silence descends. You can’t tell whether Din remains hung up on his potentially broken creed or if he’s moved on to wondering how your attraction to Pedro might translate to him if it turns out they do look alike. Become an apostate but gain an admirer… probably not a fair trade in his eyes.

Well, you wanted him to shut up. Mission accomplished. Except it looks like you now have the opposite problem.

If anything, you’ve made things worse.

Fuck, he still hasn’t said anything. Thor? Or is Odin the one in charge? Wait, wrong franchise. Maker? You’re pretty sure only droids pray to the Maker in Star Wars, but at this point, you’ll gladly supplicate a damn space toaster if it’ll end this awkward silence.

And then suddenly, an idea strikes. Whether it’s divine intervention or sheer desperation oiling your overtaxed, still-weirded-out brain into gear, you can’t be sure. What you do know is that you feel like a prize idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

“My phone!” you exclaim, rifling through your bag until you find your iPhone at the very bottom. You present it with a flourish. “The battery’s been dead for days, and it’s not like this galaxy has 5G, so I didn’t even think about it before.”

Din’s visor locks onto the black slab, and you self-consciously flick away some lint clinging to the curling edges of your screen protector. His helmet tilts inquisitively – still mute, still mysterious.

“It’s like a comlink, but it does a lot more, including capturing different types of images. There’s an image of Pedro as Din on here, but I have no charger with me. Not that there’s anywhere to plug in an iPhone charger in this universe. Y’all seriously need to install some USB-C ports.”

His visor tilts back down to the device, interest apparently piqued.

“If you can find a way to recharge the battery, I can show you what he looks like,” you explain, holding out the phone. “Then you’ll know if your creed is intact.”

He accepts the proffered device, turning it over in his gloved hands, and you point out the charger port at the base.

“Do whatever you need to – take it apart if you really have to – but just… don’t break it. I don’t have much left from home. There are photos of my friends and family on there too, so if you can get it powered up….”

Cradling the battered piece of your heart with a tenderness you know he typically reserves for Grogu, Din nods and rumbles, “Thank you. I’ll look after it.”

There we go. Tension diffused, problem solved. Or partially solved. Or… vaguely moving in the direction of being solved.

Whatever. At least now you can get back to fantasising about what’s under that helmet in peace.

[pencilofawesomeness]

pleaseeeee give us the dragon fam bat fam WIP pleaseeeeeee

I didn't think I started this project that long ago but boy I pulled up the file and WOW that was 2022 actually and my line style is waaaay better now, I think. Now I must grapple with the urge to Redo This Entirely.

But here's a couple of the duos. I love outfit swaps :D

[bromcommie]

for the wip ask!! who is origins 👀 she’s intriguing …

Ah, Origins. Or as I like to call it, Why Am I Doing This. Or alternatively, The Latest Baby in the My Own Personal Goncharov Series.

Basically what happened was I made these silly mockup posters for an in-universe HBO show about Steve's life pre-ice, and then the lovely @booksandabeer made a joking comment in the tags of her reblog about me writing the script for it. And I saw that and thought, "Haha! Yeah, that'd be fun. Would be nice to write a script again. I'm not actually gonna do that though I don't have the time and it's definitely an insane thing to do anyway". And went to bed without a care in the world. And then, well. It Compelled Me for like a month straight. Both because I'm always thinking about just how much better those movies could've been lol, but in this case more specifically the story-within-a-story element, considering that that's already a major part of the whole Steve Rogers vs. Captain America dichotomy.

Anyway flash forward, I'm manically layering post-its on my desk trying to map out the timeline and structure and style for this fucking fake meta Emmy bait-esque biography miniseries (say that five times fast) and its in-universe ripples. It's still in its very early stages and slow going so I don't wanna jinx myself out of getting at least the first "episode" actually done lol, but basically: the series itself is supposed to be around 5-6 45-minute episodes that span Steve's life concluding with the Valkyrie crash. I'm currently playing with the idea of making it a not-strictly-linear narrative with each of the episodes possibly centering around a different theme/aspect, but we'll see. It's also supposed to be a little too dramatized and not a 100% accurate, but close enough to the real thing that it attracts some mixed opinions from the general public as well as Steve himself. Which is really the toughest part right now, because I've decided it means having to a) settle on some kind of outline of what's supposed to be the "real" course and nature of events in the first place and separate it from how the "real" Steve remembers those events, and b) then figure out the context of when this is being made and released in-universe, who this filmmaker is, what their sources/influences would be and how they'd frame it all, and with what goal in mind.

So. I have no idea who this is for honestly or what I'm doing with it, exactly, but. I might've gotten too invested. There are playlists and pinterest boards and possibly a bible. It's all great fun, and it also makes me scream internally because whyyy.

[plusultraetc]

oooooh I am super curious about all of these honestly, but may I ask about 'hold on and feel i belong'?

!!! so 'hold on and feel i belong' might be the next fic in the Shinsou expansion pack—I say might because, while it actually evolved from a cut scene from 'training montage,' I'm honestly kind of worried it's too big a leap for the canon compliant tag 😬 it's a decision I'm going to have to make sooner rather than later, as this one is basically done and just needs a little extra editing!

that being said, I've shared a few snippets from this fic, but this is the tensest one by far:

(it's important to me to note that while there is a misunderstanding, All Might doesn't actually do anything wrong in this fic. I love him forever & he's trying his best!!)

[catofthecanals289]

Australian summer 👀 🤲🏻

ooh another old one. One of the first thigns i wrote for maxiel *ever* I'm pretty sure

-

The January summer sun draws long shadows on the dry grass, creating sharp contrast despite the washed out colors of the place.

The ground is dusty and warm to the touch, and Max knows it will cling to his clothes and sweaty skin like a tan that will always fake on his pale dutch skin, but he can’t bring himself to mind. Not when he can hear Daniel laughing, when he can see him throw his head back with another bark as his niece says something in her squeaking little, adoring voice. Not when Daniel’s sister leans over having sat down in the shade of the tree Max doesn’t know the name off but is leaning against, legs stretched out in front of him, and says: “He probably told you already, but he’s so happy you came.”

She doesn’t mean to this pony riding event that Daniel had promised to his niece and nephew, but Max feels it counts anyway, making him shrug and lift the bottle of lukewarm water to his lips.

After a couple of gulps, he lets it sink again, exhaling.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, and it comes out softer than intended , but Max’s cheeks are already flushed anyway. “I know,” he repeats even softer.

It’s not enough.

“He wasn’t sure you’d come,” Michelle says.

Across the paddock Daniel laughs again, loud and honest and beautiful. If Max closes his eyes, he can taste it on his tongue, can feel it against his lips.

“I know,” Max says again, his heart heavy in his chest.

Daniel waves at him. His niece and nephew do too. Max waves back, so does Michelle.

“He’s getting too old for his, Max,” she says, her hand down again, expression gentle but serious. Max can’t stand it, but he once thought he couldn’t stand summer in winter either. “For these games, do you know that too?”

Max shakes his head. “I’m not playing any games with him.”

She doesn’t believe him, but neither does Daniel some days, and Max has no idea how to fix it. He thought, maybe, coming here, getting onto a plane after New Years, would be a start. Now that he’s here, on the other side of the world, he wonders if maybe he should have come sooner.

They’ve never spend a New Year’s together.

Six years of this, of them, and not one New Year’s.

“I wouldn’t be here, if I was,” he adds, and he doesn’t look at her, instead looks at his own hand, runs his thumb over the spot that shows a rose on Daniel’s.

He didn’t get it for Max, that’s not something Daniel would do, but Max always felt like in a way, it still ended up for him, his, and maybe that’s foolish, maybe that’s self-absorbed, but maybe that’s how Max feels about Daniel too, about this thing between them, that after all these years, he should be able to put a name on.

Daniel was never meant to be Max’s. He was meant to live in the sun, to have laugh lines drawn onto his face by summer warmth and happiness, he was meant to live and love, and none of that with Max because Max’s one true love will always be racing and Daniel sued to feel the same, but Michelle is right, he’s getting too old for this, he’s getting tired. He hasn’t said so yet, still talks about winning, about believing, about having that passion, and most days he sounds like he believes himself, but others the tiredness in his eyes gets a little too dark, a little too blurry and then Max can see it clearly, can hear it loudly.

Daniel wants to be done. Soon.

He loves the polished streets of Monaco, loves the yachts and the money and the champagne parties but he loves dirt roads and February barbecues more. He loves sleeping in, and waking up to no city noise around him. He loves the ranch he lives on back here, in Australia, and he loves his family, wants one of his own and Max isn’t the kind of guy who can give him that.

“I want to be with him, always,” he says slowly, carefully, *honestly*. “And it’s easy in Monaco. No one question why we’d both be there. We live there. We are friends. But being here, in Perth, it’s different. It’s-”

“But would it be so bad?” Michelle interrupts him, voice low. “If people knew?”

“It would be,” Max answers after a moment, looking over to where Daniel has lifted the little girl onto his shoulders now, walking towards Max and Michelle and their tree, His brother in law with his son next to him.

“Why?” Michelle asks with a sigh.

“Because I’m not done racing.” *And I won’t be for years. Ever, maybe.*”And no matter what they say, I can’t have people know about me and Daniel and race in Qatar. In Malaysia. In Saudi Arabia. Or- Any of those places.”

Her eyes don’t leave his. “What about we race as one?”

A small, sad smile makes the corner of Max’s mouth curl upwards.

“What about it?” he asks, voice a little more raspy than usual.

When the others reach them, Michelle gets to her feet, plucks her daughter from her brother’s shoulders and spins her around, making the little girl giggle and squeal and Daniel smile, all sweet and soft, and nothing like the bright, loud laugh he wears so often than Max loves all the same when it’s honest, never growing tired of it. But this, this small, little thing, it’s not for anyone, not for fans, not for reporters, not for rivals, or for the world. Not for Max. It’s for Daniel and Daniel only, an unconscious little thing.

“I love you, you know,” he says, voice still too rough, too raspy, once Daniel has set down, smelling like horse and sweat and him.

He wishes Daniel didn’t look so surprised. Not after six years.

“I know,” Daniel says anyway, that soft, sweet smile back on his lips. Still looking at Max, he presses a kiss to his own hand, lips covering the rose tattoo.

He’s never said so, and Max would never ask, but it’s something Daniel does when he and Max can’t kiss, when it’d be too risky, when he knows that it’d make Max uncomfortable.

If Daniel was wearing a cap right now, Max would be flicking the brim of it in answer, but as it is, he taps the tips of his index and middle finger against Daniel’s forehead, right where his wild curls begin.

“And I’m glad I came,” Max goes on, because if nothing else, he needs Daniel to know that. “I’m glad I’m here.”

“You hate the Australian summer,” Daniel counters, smile wider now, showing teeth. He puts his arm around Max’s shoulders and Max has to fight the urge to turn into him, to make this something more than buddies, something more than best friends, and breathe in more of Daniel scent, and press his face into Daniel’s bare skin, right where his tank top reveals too much sweat glistening skin, down from his armpit over his ribs to his stomach.

Max wants to slip his hand under the fabric and splay his fingers over the little rolls that slouching has created in place of Daniel’s abs. He wants to climb in Daniel’s lap and grind down on his crotch, wants to feel Daniel grow hard for him, wants to see the wild, dark lust in his eyes, wants bruises on his wrists and bite marks on his throat.

He wants to wake up next to Daniel every morning and go to bed with him every night.

He wants to sit on the roof of his jeep with him and watch the sunset.

He wants to kiss him and love him and fucking marry him too.

He wants to watch the laugh lines on Daniel’s face that he eyes so critically in the mirror these days grow deeper, wants to be there to see his hairline get thinner little by litter and make sure that Daniel knows that he’s not one bit less attractive, not to Max, not to anyone with a brain.

But Max wants to be a world champion too, and that’s all there really is to that.

“I don’t hate it,” Max says, and he means to just knock his knee against Daniel’s, but it stays, instead, side pressed against Daniel’s.

Daniel looks down, eyes crinkling, the corners of his mouth curled up. His smile grows a little wider when Max puts his hand on his thigh, too sweaty and too warm, heart thumbing in his head like it’s about to break.

“No?” Daniel says, voice low. “I’m glad.”

[tomicaleto]

Selkie AU? 🥺👉👈

As I mentioned here, Obi-Wan thinks he's subtle about his desire for Anakin but really, he's not very subtle and Anakin calls him out sknflskna

Obi-Wan’s hands found his hips immediately. He rubbed his thumbs on the prominent bones and bit his lip when Anakin wriggled on his lap, his hard cock rubbing against his taint. “You always liked my hips.” Anakin teased, his hand playing with the hair on Obi-Wan’s chest. “Your eyes wander, you know.”  Obi-Wan felt his cheeks flush. He knew he found Anakin attractive, but he had hoped he had been subtler. “I’m so-”  He couldn’t finish his apology before Anakin pressed two of his fingers against his lips, pressing against them until Obi-Wan opened his mouth. “No apologies, I hadn’t been so desired since…”

Also, for plot reasons, Anakin leaves at one point of the story and Obi-Wan feels a little lonely, so he gets a small cat called Boga and he's not sure Anakin won't eat it once he returns and meets her

By the time he got downstairs again, he found an adorable sight in front of him. Boga was perched on top of the coffee table, locked into a staring contest with Anakin. Her tail was moving like crazy and her back was slightly curved, trying to make herself look bigger. Anakin, on his part, was tense and his pupils were dilated to the point his eyes looked almost black.  Unfamiliar with how a selkie would react to a cat on the long term, he faked a cough and broke Anakin’s concentration, the man turning towards him. “So you’ve met Boga.” Obi-Wan said, reaching the couch and sitting next to Anakin. “Here, she likes pets on her head.” He explained, his hand scratching the cat behind one of her ears. A small purr could be heard from Boga. Anakin stared at Obi-Wan before extending his own arm towards the cat.  Boga seemed to know there was something strange about Anakin, because she was suddenly alert again, sniffing his hand, her body tense and ready to spring away from them at any sudden moment. Obi-Wan felt like he was watching himself interact with the twins all those months ago. 

I would say this is a very domestic, slice of life kind of fic which is ironic because it was going to be a PWP originally but then I found a theme I wanted to explore and here we are, 10K words in and I still have quite the amount of fic to write lol

WIP FOLDER GAME

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

Void shackles (I HAVE to ask about this one) and The binding of Loki (if I can be greedy and ask for two 🥺)

Kamz also asked about The Binding of Loki, so I hope you don't mind I answered that one in this post.

Void shackles is my name for a fic where Brad ends up in the Void due to a mishap during a tyrst and wanders into President Loki's liar for another. It's naturally fiesty.

I'm actually ashamed I've posted 6 snjppets of this and havent yet gotten to the meaty bit or finished it. Anyway, here's all preceding snippets

First snippet

Second snippet

Third snippet

Fifth snippet

Sixth snippet

Seventh snippet

And this snippet is technically the fourth if read in order, but I haven't posted it yet. This is just for you. (Yes, I gave Brad a kink).

“Looking for your dolls?” The taunt left his mouth before he had registered it, and then he scowled and looked away, not wanting to see Loki’s reaction.

“In a way, perhaps.”

Brad’s head snapped to him. “What?”

Loki was rummaging in the box. All sorts of things must be in there. He could definitely hear metal and something rubber that squeaked. If he was very lucky, maybe there would be a tickler in there, too. It had been ages since someone had scratched that particular itch. He wasn’t sure that would be very Loki though. Something more sinister was likely to be his brand.

When he stood up, hands behind his back, Brad felt all the moisture leave his mouth. Whatever that was had to be very dangerous, unless he was messing with him. Maybe he was messing with him. Sure, that had to be it.

List of my wips