#wip introduction chapter

[unmellowyellowfellow]

Chalk Mountain | 0 - Dixie Alvarez Holds a Grudge

draft status: (complete rewrite)

(tw: drug use (marijuana), language, (daddy issues)

A/N: hi, so, this is the introduction chapter to my wip; and this is my first time sharing it. i hope you enjoy, i would love feedback (especially on dialogue. that shits hard). but never more, here it is! in all her rusty glory. everyone, meet Dixie.

The red sand of the west Texas desert gets into every nook and cranny of life around these parts. The texture is rough, yet soft; and leaves a stain on your Sunday best that sticks to ya like a honeybee to a marigold. It sneaks underneath your fingernails and hides in the corners, just out of reach.

I suppose that may not be a problem for some folks. Some like the orange tint to their white button shirts, or the wind blowing in an excuse to call into work on a Wednesday to go get evening coffee and pie with your aunt down the street, or the way it sounds against the windows may resemble the gentle patter of rain against the sill.

Dixie quite liked the color of the red sand, although she called it the red dirt. Her fluffy hair greatly resembled the red dirt below her porch steps that she left her stained boots on when she came home from trekking downtown. She sat down next to her boots and flicked a lighter, watching the flame dance.

She thought of her mother with a furrowed brow and a professional skill to ignore her father when he shouted inside the house about this and that. She missed her brother who ran away from home when they were children, who always had her back when their father would lash out back then. Dixie always wondered, and secretly hoped, that they were out there together somewhere.

Right as Dixie lit up an old roach that she had found in the dirty pockets of her overalls, her lungs burned from the deep inhale as her father came out the door. “Dixie,”

“Yes, Walter,” The smoke trailed through her words.

“What the hell‘re you doing?” He stepped over to her and looked at the spot next to her on the step. She responded in a single nod and scooted away from him to let him sit.

“Drugs,” Dixie offered the cherry towards him and he scoffed.

Dixie and Walter butted heads for as long as she could remember. Her mother always told her it was because Dixie had a spirit filled with fire and gold and passion and Walter’s spirit got used up and dried out years ago when he was just a boy. She never understood how they met and fell in love and always partly blamed him for her disappearance, thinking maybe she did it to get away from him.

However, Declan disappeared before their mother; 6 weeks to be exact. He ran away from home on a warm, rainy night after a family explosion about grades over dinner. Dixie used to sit by the living room bay window and wait for mother to return with her baby brother.

They existed quietly with each other for a moment while a tumbleweed rattled in the wind, tangled against their street sign. ‘Lower Passage’ was what it read before the wind storms sand blasted most of the paint away. Lower Passage was a long dirt road in the middle of nowhere around 8 miles long, out where the banjos play, as Dixie would say. Other people lived down Lower Passage, too, but they all had farmland and nobody paid anyone any mind.

The front yard was filled with the seasonal white flowers that take over like a plague. They danced in the wind with the trees whose leaves were floating in the air to the ground and chillbumps littered Dixie’s arms and legs. In the distance, she heard children laughing and running through the leaves in the side yard.

She closed her eyes and imagined Declan running past the front porch, his burgundy hair tangled in grass and sticks. A little curly fire haired Dixie played with young Declan and danced about in the flowers with a dainty and fragile crown of flowers and weeds upon her head.

Their mother watched from the wooden bench swing they had on the big live oak tree in the yard with a careful eye and a toothy grin. Her mother laughed as little Declan got scared by a bee; the laugh echoed further away once Dixie opened her eyes.

“Where do you think they are, daddy?” She coughed and flicked the ash to the dirt, then smushed it with her sock.

“Who, your mom and Declan?” Walter sighed and lit a cigarette. She nodded and hugged her knees to her chest. “I don’t know, Dixie Anne. If I did, they’d be right here at home.”

“But this ain't home anymore, is it?”

He paused to take a long drag, then blew it out with a shake of his head. “No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna find them one day. I swear it, I will.”

“Now, I thought I told you it’s time to drop that shit. You can get yourself hurt goin’ out there playin’ detective,”

“I’m not playing anything, I’m taking care of my family,” A crow flew in front of Dixie and cawed loudly and began to peck at the grass.

“I’m your family,”

“No, you sure ain’t.” Dixie ran her tongue along her teeth, then spit some of her lunch carnage onto her fathers shoe. He looked up towards her with a frown that showcased the matching dimple that Dixie inherited from him. She mimicked him and stomped her socked feet across the porch; the screen door exaggerated her dramatic exit by a loud slam against the wooden frame.

[aauroralightss]

happy work in progress wednesday!! here's a passage from my current multichapter wip! the premise is fallen angel vash au, but this is an interaction in chapter nine with livio :)

---

“A roommate?” Livio’s eyebrows shoot up. “In that tiny rental?”

“Well, it wasn’t—planned. He’s sleeping on the couch.” Wolfwood scratches the side of his neck. “But yeah. His name’s Vash. He’s…” Wolfwood struggles for the right word to use to describe his roommate, actively fighting the urge to call him angelic or heavenly, knowing how that would sound to his brother. (Even if it would be really funny to recount to Vash later.) “He’s a nice guy. You’d probably like him.”

Livio’s eyes widen. “A nice guy. You like him!”

“I—what?”

“As a person,” Livio clarifies with a hand lifted. “Unless—”

“No.���

“Okay, then as a person.” Livio grins. “But you definitely do. The only other person you’ve ever outright called nice is that Millie Thompson.”

Wolfwood can’t deny that—or at least he can’t deny that Millie is nice—but it’s a little humiliating that Livio has been keeping track. “...So? I’m living with him, I’m allowed to like him.”

[tricks-n-illusions]

Calamity@Lady Ombre: The florges approached the trio as she looked voer the small giratina "Greetings all mighty," she greeted her politley "I havent seen any gods or goddesses from my universe so im not sure how its suppose to be..." she thought out slightly before looking towards Silas "This prison...." she said lightly in thought patting her chin with hand "Why was he imprisoned? It has something to do with the young zorua...?" her gaze wondered to the collapsed zorua who still haven't moved "Right...?"

Silas's shouting had quickly melted into silence, I suppose this was a job for Calamity then! She happily approached Lady, ready to answer her question.

Her reply was interrupted as Calamity seemed to zone off in confusion, that couldn't be right. She didn't say he could use that. There were no spirits of Giratina around beside her. A look of horror began to bleed into her expression. There was only one person who could do that. Someone much more important than a lowly spirit, someone divine.

Reality quickly hit the spirit as she began to squirm in a panic, everything was going wrong and so quickly. "W-wait!! No! I-"

The fox raised his arm, bringing the spirit much higher. Though his face was covered it was clear he was upset, the tone of his voice was harsh and unforgiving. "I am not your Nym." "I gave you no permission to address me as such." He growled, "Call me that again, Next time I'm going to do more than just kill you. I don't want your stupid nicknames. We are not friends and we will never be friends. I don't want to be anyone's stupid fuckin' friend, Okay? So just, fuck off. Alright!" Instead of fighting Silas, Calamity quickly began to accept her fate, she was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it. As much as she wanted to live she didn't have the heart to fight back. Tears quickly began to fill her eyes and as she shook in terror.

The impact was rough, dust-filled but the results were clear. Silas gave a huff, he felt nothing towards that thing's death. No sadness, no guilt, he had no connection with it. Why would he care about the death of a thing that couldn't even feel true emotions or pain? Everything she did was just an act to earn trust, a facade to seem like she was real. Something to make him care about her. He wasn't going to fall for it.

The silence was eerie, all that could be heard was the occasional small sniffle from Silas as he stared off. It seemed the fox's thoughts were wandering again.

"I hope you didn't want to talk to that thing, I think you should have asked a little quicker. It's much too late now." His tone was mocking, and demeaning as he leaned towards the Florges.

"I've taken down much worse than a poor little lost ghost. Just ask anyone~ I'm sure they'll tell you how much I love killing small, little helpless ghosts like you. They always like to squirm and scream." "So, This is what's going to happen. You're going to turn around, you're going to walk away and then you're going to leave this place, alright? How does that sound, hm?" Though he phrased it as a question, it's clear it wasn't. This was a threat, but something in his tone wasn't quite right. Something was off… there was almost a slight tremble to his voice? It was quickly covered as the fox gave a soft hum, "Well, Unless you want to find out why I was stuck in that stupid little prison, and I both think we know you don't." "If not, I'm sure we can arrange otherwise." He grinned, even with his face covered it echoed in his voice. "We can see how quickly you can die if you'd like~" "Maybe you can beat the bug's record? But, I doubt that, you seem like a stubborn one having stuck around this long."

[ Ask from - @ask-noonescity ]

[uefb]

New Scamander brothers fic soon

I’ve been peeved with fic, recently, because I’d written the majority of “Hope is the thing with feathers” and had begun to post it, before Queenie Goldstein threw the largest wrench of ‘my universe’ into things as I was finishing the climax, which thus forced an actual ENTIRE rewrite. That fic is now—therefore—unfortunately on hiatus. That being said, this one is nearly ready to go next week! About 20,000 words from Theseus’ POV, following his relationship with Newt (and their parents) from the time he’s 8 to about 28—it’s very much a fic as much about Newt and early 20th century beliefs about autism as it is Theseus and brotherhood, but it’s the first time I’ve ever done a story *entirely* from outside Newt’s POV. I’m decently pleased with it, and just have to write a few missing scenes to tie the pacing and beats together. (But I’m not posting it until it’s done, to avoid a Queenie fiasco 😅.) So here is the opening of the first chapter and the last chapter of my next fic ^_^

First chapter—

Last chapter —

[the-world-is-a-poem]

Best way to deal with writer's block? Change every minute detail in your wip except the basic plot and watch how creativity flows out of you

[megarywrites]

this chapter I'm working on is really full of description (she's traveling to a new location through different countrysides) and I know it's necessary to like establish the setting(s) here but my brain is like that one audio that's like: "I'm tired of this, grandpa!" "That's too damn bad!"

[victorluvsalice]

WIP Snippets!

I was tagged by @dont-offend-the-bees to post a snippet of a WIP -- but I have two major projects that I’m working on, so why not do a bit of both? :) Especially since I didn’t do a “sneak peak” at anything over the holidays this year. . .

First things first, though -- I am tagging in turn @nebbychan, @ace-of-tales, and @thesatiricaldemon, should they be inclined to share anything they have going on in the writing well. :) Anyone else who also feels inspired to post a WIP snippet upon reading this, please feel free! We’re all friends here!

And now -- snippets! First up, we have a portion of the first chapter of “Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland,” the second part of the “Londerland Bloodlines” series I’m working on with Alice as the Malkavian fledgling in Vampire: the Masquerade -- Bloodlines. This is from my take on the cutscene where the fledgling wakes up after being knocked unconscious by the Sabbat and dragged off to a junkyard upon their arrival downtown. . .but you’ll notice that one of the Sabbat members looks a little different from usual. . . (warning for some foul language and threats of violence -- no worse than in the game itself)

---

“Let’s drain it.”

“Let’s stake it and leave it out for the sunrise.”

“We’re going to have a lot of fun with this one.”

Well, fuck, was the first coherent thought Alice could put together. Her skull felt like someone had taken it out, dropped it on the ground, then poorly superglued all the pieces back together before ramming it back into her head. She cautiously cracked open her eyes to see three figures standing over her, poorly lit by the light of the moon and a sputtering lamp. “Think you could blow up our warehouse and get away with it?” one snapped at her in a voice as rough as sandpaper. “Huh, lick?”

The fellow next to him (Alice was reasonably certain it was all hims) snorted. “Let’s pull out its tongue and its eyes and its teeth!” he suggested, flexing the claws that had dragged her into this mess in the first place.

“Yeah,” a smoother voice said, its owner crouching down in front of her. “I want its teeth.” He put a foot on Alice’s clavicles, pressing her down into the cracking concrete. “Camarilla fuck – what do you say to that?”

Alice squinted at him. “. . .are you wearing glitter?”

Judging by the startled blinking, that wasn’t what her captor had been expecting. “. . .yes?” he admitted, suddenly defensive. “What of it?”

“It’s just not the usual look for you lot, is it?” Alice continued, her tongue happily running ahead of her brain. “I mean, no offense, I’m happy you apparently put enough stock in taking care of your appearance to actually bathe, let alone apply make-up, but. . .” She looked him up and down – at least, as best she could from her vantage point on the ground. “Loads of hair gel and a bright pink suit don’t exactly inspire terror.”

The clawed fellow snickered. “She may be a Cammy fuck, but she’s got you there, Habits.”

“None of you fucking appreciate fashion,” Habits replied, surrendering to stereotypes by sticking his nose in the air.

“Toreadors,” the sandpaper-voiced one – Alice could now see he was a big fellow, face framed by dreadlocks – muttered, before focusing back on her. “Don’t think that big mouth of yours will help, Camarilla. I think my boys and I could use a little entertainment.” He turned to an invisible audience over his shoulder, smirking as he curled stumpy fingers. “Those of you sitting in the first few rows will get wet.”

Shit – all right, Alice, think, she told herself as he turned back toward her, baring his fangs. Above him, the clawed fellow and Habits smirked, preparing themselves for a show. Going invisible obviously isn’t an option, and Auspex is less than useless here – which means I’ve got get my head focused enough to unleash Wonderland upon this lot before they unleash on me. She dug her nails into the sidewalk, pushing past the pain in her head to focus her blood as best she was able –

BANG!

---

And second up, a bit from the sequel to the full version of “As Long As You Love Me” (which should be going up this year, I just need to edit it properly), “The Joker And The Queen!” This is the story I’ve mentioned before where Victor ends up kidnapped by X-Sector and imprisoned in The Sanctuary by Dr. Kelman while Alice ends up teaming up with Victoria and Emily to find him. . .and while he’s in there, he ends up meeting quite the remarkable group of people, including one named Smiler. . . (warning for a touch of accidental misgendering in this one, but Victor genuinely doesn’t know Smiler’s non-binary until they tell him)

--

They proceeded down the hallway, around a corner, and to a large pair of double doors (white, of course). Bagshaw opened them to reveal a room that looked a bit like Victor had always imagined a dorm common room to look – some couches arranged around a TV, another bookshelf (better-stocked than the one in his room) against the wall, a few tables here and there for people to sit at, a beanbag chair in the corner because it was expected. And fortunately for his sanity, Kelman had made some concessions to color here – not a lot, as the couches and chairs were all white, but the tables and bookcase were at least mahogany, and there was a couple of sad plants on shelves adding a bit of greenery. It was a slightly less depressing place than his cell, at any rate.

And it had other people in it – a young black man and a Chinese woman playing cards at one of the tables; a pair of white women – one red-headed, one platinum blond – half-watching the TV; and a red-headed white man built like a lumberjack lounging in the beanbag chair. “Everyone?” Bagshaw called, causing them to all look up. “This is SW9.” He patted Victor briefly on the shoulder. “Play nice.”

And with that, he headed to the corner by the bookcase, pulling out his phone. Victor stared at the vaguely-curious faces before him, one hand automatically reaching for a tie that wasn’t there. Oh damn. . .when was the last time he’d actually introduced himself to anyone? Usually his interactions with people who weren’t Alice consisted of either handing over money for snacks or giving his name and then handing over money for a hotel room. And – and he didn’t know any of their names, or what they were like, or –

“Hi!”

Victor damn near leapt out of his skin. A seventh person had just appeared at his elbow, one he’d missed in his earlier glance around – a white man about his age, he guessed, with spikes of black hair hanging down the left side of his face, and bright yellow eyes that could only be contacts. “I’m Smiler!” he introduced himself, sticking out a hand with a brilliant grin. “What’s your name?”

“Ah – um – Victor,” Victor said, taking the offered hand cautiously. Goodness, but this fellow seemed ready to beam his head right off with that smile. Wonder if he read Mr. Cedars’s book too. . .

“Great to meet you!” Smiler said, pumping his arm. “I mean, yeah, be a lot better if we weren’t both stuck here, but under the circumstances, great to meet you! Oh, and let’s get this out of the way right now – they/them. My pronouns,” they added in response to Victor’s puzzled eyebrow, stabbing themselves in the chest with a finger. “Non-binary.”

“Oh! Oh, yes – he/him,” Victor responded in kind, cheeks heating up. “S-Sorry, my family’s a little conservative, so – I’m still a bit new to that sort of thing.”

“No worries! Now you know,” Smiler said, smile never faltering. “Come on, let me introduce you to everybody!” They linked their arm through his and pulled him over to the first table, where the card-playing pair were waiting with faces that suggested they’d totally expected this from Smiler. “Okay, so – this is Oblivion, he thinks he’s an edge lord,” they said, pointing at the black man. “And that’s Thirteen, she’s actually an edge lord.”

---

Hope you enjoyed!

[jasperygrace]

Record Recovery - Journal Entry 08

An Immortal Laid to Rest - Draft 2, Chpt 8

“Well, well, well, look what I found here.” He looked up at the unknown voice. Perched atop one of the Deity statues was a young man with pearly white hair and a pair of broken horns. Across his face was a long line of stitches, making his otherwise boyish face fierce and broken. He wore a dark suit ill-suited for the desert environment, but it didn’t look like it remotely bothered him. “Funny to run into you here,” the man said with a grin on his face. “It’s been awhile, Orias.” “Who are you?” Orias asked. He didn’t recognize him, but something felt familiar. “I’m hurt, Orias! You wouldn’t forget your brother-in-arms, would you?” The man hopped down from his seat and landed gracefully on the ground below. “It’s me, Niv! I’ll admit I had some work done over the years, but I wouldn’t greet you in a form you didn’t recognize.” He was shorter and younger that what Orias remembered, closer to Vincent’s physical age. But his mannerisms were the same—that of a cocky man carrying too many secrets.

[morphaeus]

AI: FIRST CONTACT 00. PROLOGUE

By the time humanity branched out to the stars, we had long ago given up on the idea of discovering alien life.

Certainly, we might find some kind of new microorganism somewhere. But nothing sentient.

Nothing exciting.

Some people believed that aliens still existed, but that we were the advanced ones, that somewhere out there a civilization lived that dreamed about us. But that was a fringe belief, more in the domain of science fiction than actual science.

Most simply believed that we were the only life worth bothering about in the universe, whether that was due to god or chance or chaos theory.

In retrospect, we were remarkably arrogant.

taglist.

@arixabala @hottubraccoon (ask to be added!)

read on wattpad.

[elitheaceofalltrades]

Aria was a hardened warrior. She'd fought countless battles, faced numerous enemies and always came out victorious.

She was Taratheras' greatest weapon.

She was tired.

When Aria had agreed to the experiments as a desperate child, she'd been greiving and in pain. Twelve years later, there were new scars, new losses and new abilities, but she still felt the same. It ached. Twenty-eight was by no means old, but she was old enough now to realise that despite everything she'd been through leading up to it, sixteen was still a child. Realising one day that she was a child soldier had crushed a piece of her. Realising that, despite all the violence and bloodshed, nothing had changed had almost killed her.

She moved on. She had no choice. She was stuck in a cycle of pain, grief and vengence. For every soul avenged, she lost three more. It weighed down on her, but the war was never ending. There was no time for a young adult to question the choices made in youth and the path they put her on.

Then it ended. She emerged victorious from the final battle.

The dead were avenged.

The bloodshed was over.

Taratheras was free.

She was still the last of her village.

For all that there were celebrations and feasts and meetings, no one actually paid her any mind. They had their hero and they'd all assumed she'd continue to fight when called on. There was no reason to interact with her when so much was left to be settled.

That was their mistake.

For the first time in twelve years, in sixteen years actually, she looked to the future and realised she could choose. The ones who destroyed her home were dead, her family and comrades avenged. For the first time, Aria was able to look at the future, and make a decision that wasn't based on fixing the past. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew this.

She was tired of fighting.

Today saw her slinking down the main road of the city. The streets were full of jubilated people, none paying attention to the woman sticking to the shadows. She didn't have a goal in mind, per se, but it'd been so long since she'd done this. She realised one night that she'd spent almost half her life fighting for a place she never saw, so she was trying to change that. She was about to cut down a side alley, having reached her limit of dealing with crowds, when a shop caught her eye. The display was nothing close to what was expected of Taratheras' War Horse. Yet, a memory of Affie surfaced.

"If you're trying to figure out who you want to be, start with some new clothes"

With nothing to lose and the voice of a ghost pushing her forward, she headed into the shop.

She’s a battle-scarred, jaded super-soldier loaded with biomechanical upgrades and chemical augments. All she wants to do is wear cute clothes and paint.

[sidhewrites]

did someone say inciting incident

"Here," he said.

They stood in a glade by the river. It looked to Polly like nothing more than another part of the woods, with old man's beard hanging from branches and moss growing across an old fallen log. Wildflower blooms and berry bushes grew here and there, but nothing close to a circle, much less a Fairy RIng. "What are you...?" She started, but Jack shushed her with a gesture..

"Careful now," he said, voice dropping to a whisper. His eyes glittered as he led Polly towards the fallen log, where a single shaft of moonlight filtered through the leaves. They landed on fist-sized mushrooms growing between the cracks in the wood. He helped her to her knees, careful not to let her land on any sticks or sharp rocks. "Look."

At first nothing happened, but Polly trusted Jack. He would always find her exciting things to see in the woods, magical or mundane. Even if it took all night, she knew he wouldn't have brought her out here if it wasn't worth it.

And then, in time, something changed. The mushrooms, still and small, began faintly to glow. A soft silver gathered in their caps, gathering and dripping like rainwater.

"Is that--" Polly started, wondering if the moonlight itself had somehow gained form, but Jack shushed her before she could ask. 

She waited in silence. The silver droplets continued to drop onto the moss, beading up and sparkling like so many diamonds. And then ...

It was like a bell chimed. A soft, tinkling voice chittered. It took all Polly's strength not to gasp as the mushrooms shifted. Two tiny heads poked out from under the mushroom caps, with skin like mottled bark. Their eyes gleamed in the dark as they looked about, pointed ears twitching as they listened for nearby threats. Pixies. Tiny, humanoid creatures with hoofed feet and long tails and the most beautiful wings made of delicate flickering starlight. They were nearly defenseless save for their camouflage, but they were quick and cautious and gentle. Polly watched, breathless, as the scouts slipped back under the mushroom caps.

Again, that tinkling bell. But this time, it was not just the scouts that emerged. From every mushroom and fallen leaf, dozens of pixies stepped out into the starlight, chirping and cooing and laughing. They were all different colors -- leaf green, loamy brown, but every single pixie sported intricate lacewings, delicate and beautiful, as they flitted from branch and leaf and stone over to the mushrooms where the scouts now stood. They carried little lanterns or baskets, or half-finished cloaks of sewn-together leaves. The glade lit up with tiny points of light, giving off a cool and comforting glow.

Polly didn't understand their words exactly, but she imagined that she could pick out bits of gossip and small talk. How are you's and good evening's mingled with titters and rumors of romance or scandalous secrets. But eventually, the crowd died down, all eyes on the scouts as they ascended to the tallest mushroom on the fallen log and spoke. She fancied that they were introducing someone important. Someone very old and very wise.

And then, all at once, some of the moss sat up. An ancient, gnarled creature, no larger than her hand, grumbled and rubbed his eyes, and said something that she fancied meant good evening.

He was, she thought, something like a grandfather. Perhaps he was the pixie king.

He spoke slowly, with a voice like pebbles falling over each other in the riverbed, wishing the others well, and mumbling half-formed words. Every Pixie listened to him with rapt attention. Polly did as well.

An animal's scream ripped through the woods.

The pixies scattered instantly, all light gone in an instant. Even the Pixie king had disappeared back among the moss, utterly indistinguishable and impossible to find again.

"Jack?" Polly said, rising to her feet. "What was that?" She had never heard that sound before. The occasional fox or deer caught in traps, perhaps, but not this.

"It sounded like..." He frowned. When he stood, she moved in closer subconsciously, afraid of the things in the dark. "It...it doesn't make sense, but it sounded like an elk."

There were no elks in this forest. They lived closer to the capital city, on the west side of the mountains, where the trees were older than stone. It didn't make any sense.

"We should get you back home," Jack continued. He wrapped an arm around her protectively, scanning the shadows for any movement. His free hand went to the knife in his belt. It wasn't much, and wouldn't do any good against something that could make an elk scream like that, but it was better than nothing. "Let's--"

The elk screamed again.

[the-kingshound]

Small Kal update

I am very fond of lists and bullet points so I'm going to make this post, and hopefully more if I manage to stay consistent, to update everyone following my WIPs about their progress.

The King's Hound

You might know that the update, which consists of the second part of chapter 2, is 95% done in terms of writing. Unfortunately, it has been for quite a while, and though I had hoped to release it by September, at the latest October, it's clear that I need a bit more time.

The main reason, just so you all are aware and know what to expect from me and my games, is that I started a three year university course, Dietetics, and the lessons alone go from 9 am to either 4 pm or 6 pm (plus, I have almost four hours a day total of commute). It's not difficult per se, but it is physically draining and takes a lot of time and energy out of me.

Personal update aside, last weekend I managed to:

Edit Arthur and Gwyar's first pov scenes in game. I think I am finally satisfied, and hopefully you will be too

Polish the code a bit.

Not much, but still. What's left to do for the update is:

Edit Morien's first meeting with MC in chapter 2

Finish writing the ROs scenes in chapter 2 (part 2)

Code chapter 2 part 2 (😭)

I'll keep you updated if I manage to get some progress done in the weekend!

Golden Ashes (blog)

Last week I finally changed the title and the blog aesthetic, so there's that. I am very happy with the new look. As for the rewrite:

I have been slowly working on it since summer. The total wordcount is around 3k words, and it includes Cherena's first meeting + dragon MC's introduction into society. It's about 30% of the updated Prologue.

I have done a bit of work on the Twine UI for Golden Ashes, but with the Sugarcube update I will need some help to have it all working as it should. Still, it's mostly done so it shouldn't require much additional time

Aand that's all. See you soon❤

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

ABOUT ME AND MASTERLIST

hello everyone! My name is Anne and I'm just a girl who writes for Formula 1!

reqs currently open inbox currently open

I am so glad you have somehow found this little blog! a few things about me: I have the unhealthiest obsession with uhm... OLDER MEN, I struggle to wake up on race days but do it anyways and still complain about it, I love good romance books and movies, and I like to cook rather than bake because I can't bake 🥲

we're all friends here, so please feel free to reach out! I hope you all enjoy your time here! :)

below is my masterlist related to all things f1! as I continue to write, I will continue to add to the list.

the list will be divided individually by drivers or team principles (mostly toto wolff). Any mature content will be noted by the symbol ❤️ if it's full of fluffy content then I will mark it with the symbol 🩵, I don't know if there're any chances that I will write some angsty stuff or not, and if yes then it will go by this heart symbol 💛.

happy reading! <3

Homecoming Daydream Series ❤️, 🩵 1 2 3

Mr Long Legs and Ms Pocket Size 🩵 One-shot

Movie night 🩵 One-shot

Hearts in Sync, Tires on Track 🩵 One-shot

Scout Wolff 🩵 One-shot

Then, now, and forever ❤️,🩵

Prinzessin ❤️,🩵

Little Vettel (WIP) 🩵

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Play you? Play me? ❤️,🩵

His bookworm ❤️,🩵

Smile, we’re on the camera ❤️,🩵

Instacrush ❤️,🩵

Kinktober masterlist

[mikikkoo]

―୨୧⋆ ˚ Matchmaking Hysteria

╰⇢ Megumi Fushiguro x female reader

**NOTICE: THIS IS CURRENTLY A DRAFT AND THE FIRST CHAPT. WILL NOT BE OUT SOON BC OF EVENTS OCCURRING TO ME IRL (so sorry) SO DON'T EXPECT AN UPDATE**

Two people who can't stand each other find themselves in a matchmaking app’s viral “Best Match Challenge.” Their mutual friends sign them up without their knowledge in order to “help” them find their best match. Each week, the app pairs them with potential dates from their shared friend circle—unfortunately, or perhaps intentionally, the algorithm keeps matching them with each other.

⤷ TW/CW: sexual jokes (no smut), brainrot/bad humor, bad grammar, swearing, insensitive jokes (ex: kys), probably ooc, no curses au, modern au, aged up characters, fake dating profiles, smau, Enemies-to-lovers, mistaken identities, slow-burn romance. This list will update as the chapters come out!

⤷ Status: incomplete/ongoing

⤷ Notes: inconsistent update schedule, I am a student so slow updates are expected (sorry). This is an smau but there will be written portions (even though I can't write). This list will update as the chapters come out!

⤷ main masterlist

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . Chapters !!

Introductions:

Dumb and Dumber

The Skibidies + Megumi

Swipe right (and wrong)

wip

Taglist !!

@gumims @sirenla @cinnamxnangel @rreveurdoll @kiss-my-asscheeks @ifuhatemeiloveu* @fushiguruuzzzz*

*if your name is not underlined then tumblr will not allow me to tag you, please check your settings!

[caffeineandink]

Writeblr Introduction

I've been lurking for a year so I thought I'd introduce myself.

Hi, my name is Mack, and I've been writing since I was 8 years old (I'm 19 now). I am in college for Secondary Education with a concentration in English, and I'm beginning my second semester this Fall.

I mainly write fantasy at the moment, but I have dabbled in mystery and paranormal/horror as well. My favorite WIP at the moment is a fantasy/mythology book called The Thriving Village of Nyr, which I have lots of worldbuilding done on, but only one chapter written. My other WIP is unnamed, but it's more dystopian fantasy.

I am one of those writers who has like 10 WIPs going at once, so my goal is to have at least one finished and published before I graduate from college.

Hobbies outside of writing include crochet, cooking, reading, character sketching, and video games (my favorite is Animal Crossing).

It's a pleasure having met a bunch of writers so far, and am looking forward to meeting many more

[wolfjackle-creates]

Oooooh, I love the wip ask game!! You know I'm a fiend for your Answer My Call fic, but... Danny is Vlark's Nephew is calling to me, that sounds like so much fun!

Look out tomorrow night (after 9 pm EST) for Answer My Call! Can you tell how much fun I'm having since this chapter takes place in Boston?

As for Danny is Clark's Nephew. I actually kinda forgot all about this one until I was looking through my "Prompt fills" document. And I followed the link I saved and what I wrote doesn't match it at all? So idk if I saved the wrong link or if I just took the barest bones and went in a totally new direction.

Here's the first 350ish words.

-----

Danny was practically vibrating as he followed Constantine through a random junk yard in Chicago and into a shed. He was going to meet the Justice League! And possibly join them! Totally worth the months he’d spent gathering every piece of John Constantine’s soul.

“All right, your highness. This is the Zeta Tube. They’re expectin’ us. After I make this introduction, we’re even, right? You’re not gonna demand anything else from me?”

“Nope! Your soul back for the chance to meet the Justice League with the potential of joining them. You’ve given them the files I sent you, right?”

“Course. Wouldn’t dream of reneging on a deal with the Ghost Prince.”

Danny laughed. “Sure you would.” Before Constantine could protest, Danny continued, “Now, how does this thing work?”

“You just stand right there. I’ll take care of it.”

Unfortunately, Constantine stood in a way that prevented him from seeing what he did. But then it didn’t matter because the room was filled with a strange energy that bombarded him. It tickled. Danny laughed even as the world spun away from him and reality shifted.

When everything came into focus around him again, he was facing a group of people. But his eyes focused on just one. Someone was talking, but Danny could only stare into equally shocked blue eyes.

“—om. Prince Phantom!” Constantine’s hiss finally got through the ringing in his ears.

Danny looked over at the wizard, but then he heard that clearing of the throat. He looked back at the group that had come to greet him. And there was Uncle Clark, dressed as Superman, standing with his arms crossed, foot tapping, and one eyebrow raised.

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” he said as soon as Danny met his eyes.

Danny opened his mouth. Closed it again. Swallowed. “Um…”

And then Constantine was talking again, thank the Ancients. “Superman, this is Prince Phantom, Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms, defeater of Pariah Dark, defender of—”

“Not you, Constantine.” Uncle Clark continued to stare straight at Danny. “I got a Christmas card from your parents just three months ago. I spoke to you on the phone last month on your sister’s birthday. You were alive then. Why do you suddenly not have a heartbeat.”