#wip meme

[char-writes]

3AM writing brain: We came up with so many ideas today!

Daytime writing brain: You put twelve unconnected words into a note app and there is not a single complete sentence to be found

3AM writing brain:

[wanderingaldecaldo]

I'm not the only one, right?

[huginsmemory]

I'm dying over here FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

bra fitter from another world, PLEASE

Ok so I was playing an extremely trashy but surprisingly fun idle game called Isekai: Slow Life recently, and of course it's full of big titty anime cheesecake, which I was mostly really enjoying because who doesn't love cheesecake once in a while? But one of the sexy-girl characters who shows up is this fox babe who's trying very hard to be a ninja and just sucks so bad at it and her boobs are so big that I was genuinely kind of alarmed, especially since she's dressed in absolutely the most scantily of clothes. It was so jarring compared to the other, mostly much goofier and/or sexier cheesecake that I actually said, out loud, while alone in my office, "Baby girl, maybe you'd be a better ninja if you had some back support."

Thus: "bra fitter from another world." There isn't even any story in the file yet, just a few notes, but it's about a modern-day seamstress and clothing designer who gets hit by a truck and isekai'ed to a pseudo-Medieval-Europe fantasy world, where she's found unconscious in a field and nursed back to health by a woman who lives in the nearby village. This is all per stereotype, of course. Naturally she wants to do something to thank this woman, and after helping around the house for a few days it finally clicks for her that her host is constantly spilling out of the top of her dress and seems to have some for real back pain, and this is something that Our Hero knows how to fix. So she makes her host a sports bra.

This is, of course, a revolutionary concept to the people of this absurd fantasy world, who have, like, steampunk airships and elves and actual magic but have never heard of a support garment in their lives. Soon everyone with any kind of chest situation in the village, which is, like...most of them, wants one. And now that they're no longer constantly suffering from back pain and they can, you know, run places without hitting themselves the face, they're much more active in the community? They're thinking about their roles in society? In short, Our Hero has accidentally started a feminist revolution on the basis of supportive underwear.

The story even has a villain, which is to say a much more...let's say "traditional" isekai protag who's been living in this fantasy world for years now, has been suddenly deprived of the ability to see the nipples of any woman within his line of sight, and was just recently approached by one of his approximately fifty-seven wives with a comprehensive plan for a new locksmithing business that would have her out of the house a lot. Our Hero is fucking this up for him! How dare she!

I love this story concept, I should start, like. Actually writing it tomorrow.

[hearthouses]

🫃

🫃 - Post-s15 fix-it retirement AU with pregnant Dean

Dean brushes the hair off his brow and Sam moans around his nipple, suckling for a few moments while Dean whispers nonsense encouragements to him—good boy, you’re very hungry today, you’re feeding so well. Sam lets up, drawing himself back; his mouth is pink and lips are swollen, but not as swollen and puffy as he leaves Dean’s nipples, red nubs tingling as the air drives Sam’s spit from his skin. 

“You’re going to get real milk soon,” Sam says, running his fingertips around the sides of Dean’s tits, avoiding his oversensitive nipples. “That’s why these are getting bigger, why they hurt, your body is getting ready to take care of our baby.” 

Dean swallows, hating the way Sam talks makes him shudder and tremble, how our baby makes his stomach clench, some heady twist of both arousal and anxiety pooling together in an escalating combination. Dean wants to get lost in Sam's touch and mouth, let him overwhelm his senses and his mind until he can’t think anymore, but Sam’s words won't stop ringing in his ear—our baby, the baby we made, the baby trying to grow inside your barren and inhospitable body—hitting every nerve ending, not just the good ones. Dean nods in response, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment, forcing his mind to only exist where Sam touches him, feeling only his brother’s hands on him. He opens up his legs as Sam fits between, hovering above Dean, cradled between Dean’s thighs. 

Sam kisses down the center of his chest, between the rounded mounds of his tits and heading south toward Dean’s stomach—still flat, no evidence of anything growing inside him, but they know there is something there, tiny and microcoptic, but something they made. Sam lingers there, his hands mapping out the expanse of Dean’s waistline, stretched out over his stomach as he presses his face against the middle of it, kissing across the surface, butterfly wing light kisses circling Dean’s belly button and moving outwards. Sam is whispering things into his skin too soft for Dean’s ears to pick up, tracing symbols across his stomach with his fingertips. 

Dean thinks they might be protective, but Sam moves too fast for him to make them out. Sam then presses his face into Dean’s stomach, breathes in deep, inhaling him, sniffing past Dean as if he could smell their kid, break down their scents to that granular level and separate their kid out. 

Sam wants this baby so goddamn much, the thought eating at Dean, worming its way through his mind, leaving tunnels and empty spaces in his skull, and I'm going to fuck this up, I'm not gonna be able to do this. 

Dean sucks in a breath, his lungs burning as he tries to take in air but his chest feels tight, constricted. He tries to take smaller, shorter breaths, trying to shove aside his thoughts, stay in the moment.

Send me an emoji and I'll write five lines of any of the following WIPs and share them

[pipitwrites]

CARDCAPTOR......

im just going to dump everything in that google doc in here bc it's not even like. a real fic. 😭😭

alex does a cardcaptor sakura and accidentally opens a magical book and now must save the world. charles is the keeper of the cards who in his small form is a little cat and in his true form is a strange beautiful boy who wants to try all the delicious things that alex brings home

at first alex makes charles stay inside his apartment during the day bc charles does not quite understand human norms and would certainly draw unwanted attention. but charles meows pitifully bc he’s curious and wants to see the world!! even if it’s from alex’s pocket. he likes alex’s pocket. alexander is smart and strong and good and obviously pure of heart to be able to open the book of cards, so of course he will find all the cards and restore order to the world!!

alex is the best human he has ever met in all of his four hundred of years, charles tells alex very seriously over soufflé pancakes covered in cream and cut fruit. alex thinks that this says more about the people that charles has met, people who have tried to use the cards (and charles) for ill. still, alex must try his best to succeed because he does not want to disappoint charles… charles is in many ways so easy to please... but sometimes it's the simplest things that are the hardest to find.... someone who will care for him and the power of the cards…

at first charles is very stubborn and does not see why he needs to buy clothes when he can just wear alex's!! he likes alex's tshirts, which hang loose and comfortably around his body to his thighs and hide how he's rolled up a pair of alex's old boxers underneath it

alex agrees that yes, charles looks good like that, running a hand up charles's legs to mollify him, but he thinks charles might also look good in some other clothes, too. so they go clothes shopping and alex tries not to feel like a filthy pervert when charles holds up a pretty lacy bralette to his chest in the lingerie section and marvels at how delicate it looks

also cat charles climbing up alex's long leg. why isn't alex picking him up!!! alex is so mean!!! and still charles will tell people that alex is the kindest and strongest and best

when alex and charles are like. in the last big battle against the Main Antagonist who is trying to stop alex from securing all the cards. and the antagonist tries to distract alex by telling him that charles is just using him, he can't trust charles. and alex immediately defends charles bc charles is Good and of course alex trust can him... and the antagonist is like oh yeah well he's been lying to you all this time, and alex is about to tell him to fuck off again but charles is so, so pale and trembling, and alex asks, worried, "charles?" and the antagonist is like see! he hasn't told you that the energy needed to lock away all the cards is enough to kill a man, and alex can't believe it, but charles isn't denying it. "that's not true, right, charlie?" alex asks again, slowly becoming scared.

and charles is like very desperately, "i would never let anything hurt you, alex," and that's it. that's what alex was afraid of. because he understands immediately that charles was going to sacrifice himself to pay that price. anyway like magic fighting happens, blah blah, big explosions and fireworks, the evil is defeated dot gif but alex cannot find charles in the immediate aftermath...

"Charles! Charles," Alex calls out, choking on the thick dust.

A pair of sparkling green eyes pokes out over the rubble and Alex's head falls back with relief. 

(obviously charles doesn't die. what happens is that his magical energy is mostly sapped instead, so now he can live with alex forever <3)

there are also some like. outtakes. here and here.

[linearao3]

Hand in Hair please? Either an excerpt or a premise, whatever you feel comfortable sharing?

Oh man congratulations on finding the porn straight off! This is one I actually started writing on Bluesky in response to a sexy-pictures prompt account, and I will post here everything I posted there, though under the cut because it’s long-ish. I am not sure if I will expand on it or not.

—

He looks at her steadily from across the table as she squirms, his cards laid flat in a perfect arc in front of him.

“Why would you let me deal?” he asks at last, and his hoarse, harsh voice seems a little harsher and hoarser than usual. “Why would you even agree to play?”

He’s lost his coat, his tie, and one glove, the right hand, which he removed carefully, finger by finger, three rounds back, when Inej still had her pants on. And he hasn’t stopped looking at her, the whole time, eyes barely flickering down to his hands as they moved through the deck.

Why would she play strip poker with a man who cheats at cards? Late at night, alone in a hotel room, a safe hundred miles from the mark they’ve lightened by a few hundred thousand? She looks at the bottle at her elbow, and he nods, slowly.

“Yes, the liquor. I’ve practically been pouring it down your throat, haven’t I?”

It’s her turn to nod; yes, that’s it. Of course that’s it. She’d taken a long pull every time he passed it over the table to her and he’d kept passing. Why else would she have done it? If she were sober, she would never have agreed. Or she would have folded before her bra came off.

He’d just watched silently, as she unfastened the hooks and pulled it down. And dealt another hand.

“Right. You’re a good girl. It was just the liquor.”

He stands, reaching for his cane. Now he’ll tell her it’s time for bed, that he’ll take the cot, and he hopes she’ll be sober enough to drive in the morning. Which is exactly what she would expect. A relief. Yes, she is relieved.

But instead he comes limping slowly around the table, eyes still on her as she tries to cover herself with her hands. The naked right hand wraps around the neck of the bottle, and he puts it to her lips. “Have some more.”

The glass lip clinks against her teeth, and he pours the brandy in a slow, sweet trickle. She looks up at him, at his glittering dark eyes, and swallows, and swallows.

At last she chokes, just a little, warm drops spilling down her chin and spattering on the dented varnish of the table. One drop landing wet on her bare breast. He sets the bottle down.

“Why don’t you get on the bed?” he says, and yes, that’s what she was expecting, except he’s standing so close, and he said on, not in, but it was probably a slip of the tongue and she gets up anyway. She thinks for a moment as she stumbles towards the bed — letting herself stumble, making herself, because drunk people stumble — that she feels his hand brush her lower back. But it was only her hair.

Just as she thinks that, just as her fingers brush the coverlet, the braid is lifted off her shoulders and a tug pulls her off balance. She scrambles, catching herself, and then her back is bent, her head pulled back, and she can hear his bare hand moving in her hair, gathering it slowly in his fist, as the gloved hand pushes her on, onto the bed.

“Why did you play, Inej?” he asks, and his voice is so close, so near to her ear. “Why did you keep playing? You knew I’d cheat.”

And she did know. She knew every hand she got hand he wanted her to have. And every time it was bad her heart beat in her ears like it’s beating now.

She whispers, “I wanted to know what you wanted to see.”

The hand in her hair tightens, and the gloved hand sweeps slowly down the line of her back. “Everything,” he says. “Now you know. I wanted to see everything.”

[reagi-df]

Sketches

[solarmorrigan]

Mom says it's my turn to write about Eddie finding out about the fight between Billy and Steve post-S2 and I can’t wait to see it

Hello! This one was something just... very self-indulgent that I started writing when I was trying to get the wheels turning again. I love post-S2 AU's where Steve gets adopted by Eddie/Hellfire generally, and my favorite part is always the reveal of everything that went down between Steve and Billy

The whole fic is actually done, I just never posted it because I wasn't sure how much interest there would be, since it's mostly Steve and Eddie talking that night out (and flirting awkwardly). But here's a snippet! (Also, in case context doesn't make it clear, the fic as a whole is not Hargrove-friendly; just as a heads up!)

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit. “Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles. “Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now. “That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now. He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him. “Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.” Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

[lunarriviera]

saaaaaaam happy birthday!!!!

i'm here to ask about 'gu yiran can handle casual sex just fine' but if other folks are asking about that already, i'll ask about 'gu yiran discovers he's been married a while' :3

HIDEY ILU THANK U AND HBD TO U TOOOOOOOOO

gu yiran thinking he's got it all under control (…he doesn't) is actually a different-pov remix of "Appetite," the recent DAZZLING zheng bei pov fic, by @achray1 …if she'll let me?? (i really hope she will ����) (also if you haven't read that fic WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, GO NOW)

—anyway here's an excerpt from an angsty bit, why am i so nervous?

Afterwards they stand there gulping, half-leaning against each other, and Gu Yiran’s hands shake as he fumbles toilet paper off the roll and cleans up his hand, and Zheng Bei, the best he can. Zheng Bei tucks his polo shirt back into his jeans, and Gu Yiran thinks he’s about to turn away and leave the stall first when he suddenly leans down to kiss Gu Yiran again. But this kiss is different. It’s sweet, Zheng Bei is suddenly being sweet and it’s unexpected and something wells up inside Gu Yiran that’s so fond it makes him angry. He wants—he wants everything, he realizes, not just this. He wants to wake up in the same bed, he wants to lie there quietly in half-light reading while Zheng Bei sleeps, he wants Zheng Bei to stop going back to his idiotic cot in the living room after they fuck, like they’re doing something they have to be ashamed of, like Zheng Bei has to disavow it somehow. He wants to fall asleep next to him still a mess, with Zheng Bei’s arms snug around him, feeling his chest rise and fall as their heartbeats slow and their sweat dries. It’s at that very moment that Gu Yiran gets it, as Zheng Bei pulls back just far enough for Gu Yiran to feel his lips curve in a guilty, sheepish smile: that this absolutely can’t go on. Not because Zheng Bei just did something for which they could both be arrested, in the men’s lavatory of the Halan Public Safety Bureau. Not even because Gu Yiran let him. But because he likes him, now. It’s not just—whatever he’s been telling himself. He likes him. Zheng Bei gives him one more soft kiss, like he can’t stand not to, and is gone. And Gu Yiran stands there blinking, still glowing, still stunned. He settles his glasses on his face, rakes his hair back into place, tucks his shirt all the way down into his boxer shorts, and tightens his belt a notch, because Zheng Bei didn’t fasten it right. And then he tells himself some lies. That it’s past time to stop this. That it hasn't meant anything. That anyway he’ll be fine.

[finemealcreates]

This is a meme for a story stuck in WIP hell :3

[kriz-smthn]

Nobody:

Absolutely nobody:

Nikolai Lantsov, for some reason, during "I hear you're alive" chapter 20:

(Chapter 20 "The winner takes it all" will be coming soon, I swear.)

[sapphoshands]

Curious about what Coven True 5 + 1 is

this is obvs very much a working title but this is my big agatha/rio backstory. i personally refuse to believe that agatha and rio never saw each other between nicky's birth and rio showing up to break agatha out of wanda's spell. their relationship is far too deep and layered and intense for that! so this is going to pick up right after nicky's birth and track some of their encounters through the centuries.

i haven't fully decided how it's going to play out. it might be five chapters rio pov and one agatha, or it might be alternating between the two of them chapter by chapter. i know the first one has to be rio pov and the last agatha, though. i do have working timelines for all the chapters, as well.

i have signed up to the femslash big bang and intend to write this for that challenge, so ideally i will be able to start posting it in september. fingers crossed!

thanks!

ask me about my WIPs

[hearthouses]

👻

👻 - Gothic Ghost Case Fic Set In Pre-Series Era

The first thing Sam takes notice of is blood running down his hand, slipping in between his fingers: It’s hot, hotter than he thought it’d be—just this side of scalding, but he can’t be sure if that’s his subconscious making him see and feel things that aren’t there, like his father’s blood on his hands so hot it burns, so hot it leaves permanent damage, scarred forever reminding Sam of what he did. Sam’s breathing goes fast, hard, and heavy; he can’t seem to stop—you're hyperventilating, he thinks, not from within, but somewhere outside his body, looking at himself from above, taking in the scene from the outside, untethered.

Dad is on the ground. His eyes are closed. Sam’s hand is still wrapped around the hilt of a knife, blade stained red, dripping the same blood that covers Sam’s hands.

“Sam,” Dean says, voice coming from behind Sam—Dean came upon the scene with quiet steps, snuck up on Sam despite his vantage point above their heads. “Hey, Sammy,” Dean says, voice steady and low, careful as his steps. Sam doesn’t feel steady until Dean comes up behind him and holds him by the shoulders, pushing Sam back into himself, shuddering back under his skin when Dean presses close and holds him in his firm grip. “Why don’t you give me the knife, okay? You don’t need to hold onto it anymore, I got it.”

Dean’s hand moves from his shoulder and slides down Sam’s arm, his palm smearing through their father’s tacky blood, already drying on Sam’s skin, until he’s holding Sam’s hand over the handle of the knife, trying to work Sam’s fingers open.

For a moment, his grip slips, and his hand wraps around his wrist instead, molding to his bare skin like they belonged together—as if he were guiding Sam while he stabbed their father, as if he were with him, as if they did it together, and it’s that thought that makes Sam jump like a startled cat.

He drops the knife with a too-loud clatter and Dean’s voice is in his ear, soothing nonsense whispers, a hand on his back—it’s okay, we’re okay.

“I should be saying that to you,” Sam says, guilt lining his voice.

This is not what he expected but then again—Sam had no plan, no preparation. No thoughts at all, except violent impulse and fury and that cold crushing guilt in his heart.

Send me an emoji and I'll write five lines of any of the following WIPs and share them

[ragrfisk]

[bardic-inspo]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @kalmiaphlox & @pursuitseternal 💜 (& later by @nyx-knox 💜)

Been working on my new fic, Aeterna Nostalgia. Summary below:

Astarion’s carefully crafted empire is thrown into upheaval when his bride falls victim to a modify memory spell. Without any memory of her lover or her own vampirism, his dark consort is a threat to both herself and her sire.   Astarion must win back her trust and affections, all while hunting down whoever sought to break the most powerful bond in Faerûn.

A little more from chapter two. Co-dependency go brrrrrrr (that's not the actual chapter title. But maybe it could be 'Co-dependency go OUCH').

[Astarion's] own thoughts constantly snag on the thorn-sharp fear turning their link into a prickling, untenable tether. Tenderly, he reaches out to graze her consciousness the same way he might tuck her hair behind her ear. But the surface of her thoughts is scalding. He bites back a hiss, recoiling from the connection.  They’ve had ill feelings before. They’ve shared rage, aired grievances, vented disappointments. All of it dissolves in the balm of their bond. Through it, he feeds her consolation. Comfort. And in the same manner, she soothes the fleeting but many frustrations of the most powerful vampire the world has ever known. At times, she’s been reluctant. At others, he’s been stubborn. But sooner or later, with or without coaxing, they both succumb to the salve that is each other. 

Tagging in turn @electricshoebox, @totally-not-deacon, @brain-rot-central, @astarionancuntnin, and @pinkberrytea to share if you'd like! No worries if you'd rather not. 💜