#I have not finished all of last week's WIP Wednesday asks but will that stop me from doing this week? no it will not
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WIP Wednesday Game
Taken from @kedreeva.
It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.
Here’s how it works:
In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.
Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!
After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.
That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!
If you’re reading this, you’re invited!
If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.
file names:
omegaverse nursing
feral omega murder-nanny Jason and pup Damian in the League
Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this
Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!
YJ accidental baby acquisition
snippet from "YJ accidental baby acquisition":
"Thank you," Tim says, dropping the swab into the evidence bag. Kenley eyes him sourly for a last long moment, then makes a point of looking at Vic instead. Tim feels distinctly ignored.
That's definitely not because Kenley's stopped seeing him as a potential threat, he knows, and can't help suspecting it's that they trust Kon more than they don't trust him.
Or they think Kon's going to be easier to manipulate than the rest of them, given the clone factor, and–
"You're doing good, Kenley," Kon says, giving Kenley another gentle little squeeze. Tim remembers, again, how quickly he had that name to hand. "Want a lollipop or something after this? Gar's probably got some kicking around if Bart doesn't.”
"Why?" Kenley asks.
"This is basically your first doctor's appointment," Kon says reasonably. "Lollipops are traditional, right?"
". . . hm," Kenley says, brow just barely creasing assessingly.
"Kon, they've never eaten anything in their life and you want to start them off with candy?" Cassie asks, putting her hands on her hips and looking exasperated by the idea.
"Yeah," Kon replies with a shrug. "Tasting stuff for the first time is really overwhelming, simpler flavors are easier to start with. Not gonna want to order them paneer right now, you know? Maybe get them some of those bottled smoothies to start, actually, on that note. I puked the first couple times I tried eating and I'm pretty sure my teenage stomach was more capable of handling solid food than a kindergarten one is gonna be. Plus sugar tastes good, and Kenley should get to taste something good for their first time."
"Oh, uh, good idea," Cassie says, blanching slightly. Tim empathizes with the urge to backpedal on saying the wrong thing here. Deeply empathizes. He's not sure it would've even occurred to him to make sure that Kenley's first experience with taste was a positive one or that they might have trouble with solid food right off the bat, himself.
Kon's "ours" comment is both making more and more sense and also is probably for the best, at this point.
“What flavor do you wanna try?” Bart asks Kenley, peering curiously at them. “Wonder Girl's favorite is cherry and mine's orange and Robin's is green apple, so you might like one of those or you could try–”
“Mango,” Kenley says, burying their face in Kon's chest and gripping his jacket again.
. . . that's Kon's favorite, Tim knows.
And he'd be a lot less concerned by that choice if Bart had actually mentioned that fact. Especially because mango is a much, much more specific and unusual candy flavor than something like grape or lemon.
#meme#wip wednesday#omegaverse#I have not finished all of last week's WIP Wednesday asks but will that stop me from doing this week? no it will not#also yes this is absolutely the childcare edition of WIP Wednesday#no shame no regrets#wip: yj accidental baby acquisition#little bit cheating this week but shhhhh NaNoWriMo has kicked my ass so we're compromising lol
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Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 6
And this is it. The last part of a short little idea that kept me up all night that turned into this beautiful story that is one of my favorite stories I’ve written.
WIP Wednesday allowed me to finish this up for you before I went to bed. I got a job that I will be starting on Monday which will slow my writing down some, but I will still try to keep up on the stories I have. I love writing these stories for you guys and wish I could make it my job. But alas, capitalism.
Also this is for all the people that wished to see what the Corroded Coffin boys would say and for all the people that wanted to have Erica actually apologize. I was like “if you guys can get her to apologize, great, because I couldn’t!” But then I realized that there was someone who could get her to apologize. Robin. So here you go.
Thanks to that anon for the barbecue idea. That’s here too.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
*
After Max, Lucas, and Erica had gone, Steve sat with Eddie, El, and the Byers boys.
“I think all in all,” Eddie began, “those were some pretty good apologies.”
The other three nodded.
Steve sighed. “It doesn’t change the fact that it took an actual honest to god intervention to get them realize they were wrong.”
“No it doesn’t,” El said. “Which is why I told them that they’ve been grounded from Steve for two weeks.”
“Uh...” Eddie said, “what now?”
“It means,” Will explained. “That if they want to hang out with him they have to do on his terms, not theirs. No begging for rides, no stopping by for food and then bailing, and just no taking advantage of Steve.”
Steve blushed. “Thanks, guys. I mean it. It was nice knowing that there were people that weren’t going to threaten me and took this whole seriously.” He gave Jonathan’s knee a squeeze. “I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped by. But I’m really glad you did.”
Jonathan squeezed his shoulder in response. “Me, too. I hope they learned their lesson.”
“That is the hope,” Will said.
Steve scratched his cheek. “Why don’t we have barbecue at your guys’s place after the two weeks and see how they fair?”
Will brightened. “I like that idea. That way if they are still having problems we can talk to them about it.”
“Do you think your mom will go for it?” Eddie asked.
Jonathan grinned. “Hell yeah, she would. She’s been wanting to show off her new house to everyone for awhile now.”
El grinned too. “We have a plan, then!”
*
Steve was pleased to see that the Party actually started to make actual changes in how they treated him.
Lucas invited him out to play basketball at the rec center and biked himself there. Steve offered him a ride home after, which he happily took as they were both sweating afterwards.
Dustin made sure that Steve knew he was joking when he was making comments. And Steve made sure to snark right back unless it really bothered him and then they would talk about it.
Robin and he had a longer talk about the gay vs bisexual thing. She admitted that she had been wrong to assume that because Steve was bisexual that it would be Eddie getting his heartbroken and not Steve. She had some ingrained biases that she had to get over and was really sorry she didn’t have his back when he needed her to.
There were a lot of little changes but the final major change came a couple days after the intervention when Jeff, Gareth, and Brian all walked into Family Video together to properly apologize to Steve.
“Hey, Buckley,” Jeff said, “can you give us some space?”
Robin straightened her spine and wiggled her shoulders. “Steve has had apology monitors to ensure that it’s an actual apology, and as Eddie or Will or Jonathan aren’t here, it’s going to have to be me.”
Steve laughed and shook his head. “Apparently there are certain people who think I’m too nice,” he explained to the other boys, “and let people get away things that I shouldn’t so they took it upon themselves to be my guard dogs to make sure it’s an actual apology.”
“Have they met you?” Gareth asked, incredulous. “You’re the original bitch.”
Steve laughed again. “Who let Tommy and Carol walk all over me. I tend to roll over for friends.”
They blinked and then nodded.
“Yeah, okay,” Brian said. “That tracks.”
Steve just smiled. “So how can I help you fine gentleman today? May I interest you our latest releases?”
That got a couple chuckles out of them.
“No, man,” Jeff said, “we’re here to talk about the whole shovel talk shit.”
Steve leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “You do know I don’t fault you guys for that, right? You guys are Eddie’s best friends. I didn’t really fault Wayne, either. But the execution of that one...” he winced when Robin gasped. “Poor choice of words, sorry.”
“What he do?” Jeff asked.
“Borrowed Chief Hopper’s shotgun and cleaned while we talked,” Steve said with a grimace.
“That ain’t right...” Brian said, shaking his head.
Gareth looked at Jeff and then back to Steve. “Yeah, but here’s the thing about our shovel talk...”
“It wasn’t necessary,” Jeff finished for him. “We’ve had time to get to know you before you and Eddie started dating. We knew that you two would do anything for each other even without being a couple.”
Brian nodded. “It’s just...something we thought best friends did. The whole ‘break his heart, we’ll break your knees’ kind of thing.”
Robin looked down at her feet and cleared her throat.
Jeff sighed dramatically. “Please tell me she wasn’t one of the ones that gave you the shovel talk. Because that’s messed up, man.”
Steve looked over at her and then back up to Jeff. “Yeah, she knows.”
“By the way,” Gareth said, waving his hands, “Eddie doesn’t know we’re here. So I don’t want thinking this is a forced apology or anything.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
Brian cleared his throat. “I mean he did threaten to kill off our characters if we were mean to you, but he didn’t tell us to apologize or anything.”
Steve laughed. “That sounds more like the Eddie we all know and love.”
“But we would have come anyway,” Jeff said. “Because our shovel talk added to a heaping pile of bullshit that you didn’t need. And definitely didn’t deserve.”
“So this is us saying we’re sorry that everyone you knew decided that you were going to break Eddie’s heart,” Gareth said. “And that we made you feel like you weren’t worthy of dating Eddie. Because you are, man. Like seriously the only guy Eddie’s brought around that we actually want to be friends with.”
“Hell yeah,” Brian said. “You’re so cool and you love to take care everyone. We’d want you to stick around because we like you, too.”
Steve’s eyes blurred and he cleared his throat. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot to hear you say that.”
They all came up and gave Steve a hug, blocking him from outside viewers so he could cry. Once they were sure he was going to be okay, they let him go.
They said their goodbyes and walked out, leaving behind a stunned Robin and grateful Steve.
*
Just before the barbecue started Robin brought over Erica to Steve by holding her ear.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Erica was yelling as she was half dragged over to him.
Robin sat her down and said, “I learned that this little hobgoblin didn’t properly apologize for her shovel talk. And Eddie let her get away with it.”
“God, what’s your problem?” Erica huffed up at Robin. “They understood. Why can’t you?”
Robin grinned. “Green ooze, little girl. Green ooze.”
Erica’s jaw snapped shut. If Sherlock Holmes had his phrase for humbling him when he got too proud, this was Erica’s. She was going to drink it before it turned out to be acid. Like literal acid.
She turned to Steve. “Shovel talks aren’t right and no one should be giving anyone shovel talks because it’s a pointless exercise in latent hostility. So I’m sorry I contributed to an archaic practice used by bullies and abusers. I won’t do it ever again.”
Erica looked up at Robin, who gave her the thumbs up. Erica hopped up and ran off to play.
Steve blinked up at Robin in shock. “Like how the hell did you manage that?”
Robin just batted her eyelashes and said nothing, walking away with a whistle on her lips and a swagger in her step.
Eddie came up to him in shock. “Did I just witness an actual apology from Lady Applejack?”
Steve nodded mutely.
“I think I’m more afraid of Robin, now,” Eddie muttered and Steve could only agree.
*
Eddie was starting to see a trend. One that made him laugh the third time it happened.
The first, though? Claudia Henderson.
“Eddie!” she greeted warmly. “I haven’t seen you around much. How have you been?”
Eddie smiled at her. Even before the Upside Down, Claudia was one Eddie’s favorite people. She was bright and happy and loved her wacky son with all her heart. Something that Eddie could absolutely get behind. “I’ve just been busy. But name the date, and I’ll be there.”
She smiled back. “That’s sweet, dear. You know you have an open invitation. But why don’t you and your uncle come over for Sunday dinner. Steve has already said yes for himself.”
“Sounds great, Mrs Henderson,” Eddie agreed.
“How are you and Steve?” she asked gently. “Dusty was telling me that Steve hadn’t been doing well lately.”
“We’re good,” Eddie said bobbing his head. “Things got a little rough a couple weeks back, but we’re on firmer ground now.”
She patted his cheek. “You really need to be taking better care of that boy. He looks tough on the outside, but he needs someone who can take care of him, yeah?”
Eddie smiled. “Of course. Taking extra good care of our Stevie is my number one priority.”
She nodded and went to go make sure Dusty was eating enough.
The next one was Karen Wheeler of all people. Ted was suspiciously but expectedly absent. She came up to Eddie and introduced herself.
“You must be Eddie!” she said with smile that reminded him of that Dustin Hoffman film.
“Oh hello,” he replied a little confused.
“Nancy has told me all about you,” Karen said with that same smile. “She’s always going on about how Steve finally found the person he was meant to be with and what a great person you are.”
Eddie smiled back. “Nancy’s a great girl.”
She sighed a little, her smile turning into something a little more genuine. “I miss having Steve over. Jonathan is great boy for my Nance, but Steve sparkled where Jonathan only shines.”
“I won’t argue with you on that one,” Eddie said. “But then Jonathan isn’t my type.”
She swatted at him playfully. “All I’m trying to say if that Steve is a good boy and deserves only the best. So you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” It was sweet and sincere, but a hint of steel. And suddenly Eddie knew where Nancy got her backbone of steel from.
“Always,” Eddie promised, hand over heart.
“See that you do,” Karen said and wandered off to compare brownie recipes with Joyce.
The third was a squirrelly looking balding guy with thick glasses and far too knowing stare. He had come with Chief Hopper and had spent most of the night watching Eddie. He had asked Nancy who he was and she said his name was Murray Bauman and he was a conspiracy theorist. Which really didn’t clear anything up for him, but this rag-tag group of rebels and fighters were all a little weird.
He wandered over to Eddie and looked him up and down. He said in a clear voice, “I have seen things you wouldn’t believe, I’ve done things that would make your hair curl on end,” he stopped for a moment, “make it curlier and I know where the bodies are hidden. If you hurt Steve, you’ll be the next one.”
“Murray!” Hopper yelled. “What the hell was that? Why would you say that?”
Murray blinked at Hopper and then tilted his head. “Because we love Steve?” He says long and slow like he’s talking to a stupid person.
Eddie burst out laughing.
“No, no,” he said between giggles. “It’s fine Hopper. It’s all fine!”
Murray looked him over again and then nodded. “Yes, you’ll do.” And then he wandered off back into the house as if he had done what he had come to do.
A few minutes later Steve came up and sat next to Eddie. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what that was.”
Eddie giggled and bumped their shoulders together. “It’s fine, sweetheart. It’s actually kinda adorable.”
Steve frowned. “What is?”
“That it’s the moms plus Murray here,” Eddie said jerking his chin in the direction Murray had wandered off to, “that are the most protective of you. Both Mrs Wheeler and Henderson have told me under no certain terms am I allowed to hurt you and that I’m supposed to take care of you.”
Steve blinked and searched the crowd for Claudia first. She spotted him looking at her and she waved at him. Steve smiled and waved back. Then he searched for Karen. She didn’t look at him directly, but merely winked and went back to talking to Wayne about something he couldn’t quite hear.
“Oh.”
“But don’t you worry, darlin’,” Eddie purred. “I’m gonna take very good care of you.”
Steve kissed him, slow and deep. “And I will always take care of you, Eds.”
“Perfect.”
It really was.
***
Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @bookworm0690 @mysticcrownshipper @i-must-potato @pnk-lemonades
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WIP Wednesday
Thank you @daggerbean for the tag! And welcome back, consider yourself tagged back if you have something else! <3
Another slow week, a last-minute project took me away... Next I'll have something more, hopefully.
Some Cullavellan, it's been a while.
Cullen tried again at challenging her to a drinking game. She was raised Dalish with home-brewed spirits and can't be beaten, just brought to sing.
Whale AU shenanigans, the original one: bed-ridden raccoons are a delight to have around when you're writing the essay of your life, absolutely. (traditional from my sketchbook!)
Some writing under the cut, I'm slow these days but I'm working on some silly thing.
Tagging: @salsedinepicta @ndostairlyrium @dungeons-and-dragon-age @melisusthewee @dreadfutures @pinayelf @whimsyswastry @sapphireangelbunny @flotttemotte @underneathestars
It was all going well, and she was chatting with Josephine and her sister Yvette about Antiva and vernissages, when the weird dish appeared.
A waiter stopped by the trio, perfectly still with a silver tray balanced on his gloved hand. He cleared his throat, once and twice, and when Aisling finally turned and asked him with a smile what she could do for him, the waiter lowered the tray with grace.
And presented her with a small china bowl, richly decorated in blue hunting scenes with gold details… Full of salad.
Aisling took the bowl with one end, the offered tiny fork with the other and thanked the waiter. She didn’t miss how both Montilyet sisters gasped, ad viewing the content of the bowl. Josephine with worry, Yvette with excitement.
Aisling looked at them and found the same emotions on their faces.
She had no idea about why such a gesture could elicit such a reaction from them. Looking down at the content of the bowl, it was just filled with arugula leaves, so freshly green they must have been just picked, and neatly washed before being served.
It was a little weird that there seemed to be no other ingredient to the dish, and no dressing whatsoever, but it also was true that Aisling wasn’t the best judge over how Orlais preferred to serve its rocket salad.
It was definitely weird how the whole of the west side of the upper corridor in the ballroom had stopped to look at her. Which explained why Josephine wasn’t telling anything about how she should behave right now, with a bowl of arugula in her hand.
She looked around, felt the expectation radiating in waves and directing at her.
Months ago, she would have been spooked by all the eyes on her.
Months ago, she hadn’t been the Inquisitor for months.
Without any clue about what the Game expected her to do with some salad, she just shrugged and did what it felt a good logical solution.
She dipped the tiny fork in the leaves, picked up a dainty little morsel -little and graceful, just as Josie had taught her- and brought it to her lips, taking a mouthful.
Other people gasped, Aisling just chewed. Spitting now was not an option, she could see it too.
Beside, she quite liked arugula, the bitterness mildened by the spiciness.
It wasn’t the best, unseasoned and alone, and this one came clearly from a greenhouse, for in the wild it would have been too soon, but it was fresh enough and tasty.
And under the scrutiny of half the ballroom, not knowing why exactly everyone had stopped to look at her and now apparently also called their friends and their grandmothers, she ate it all to the last leaf.
“Well, that was refreshing.” She smiled at the crowd when she was finished. “Can I know who sent it? I would really like to thank them for the lovely treat.”
It was, apparently, a good thing to say: some ladies started to giggle, and she could glimpse both the Dowager and Madame De Fer smiling under their masks, brief flashes before they turned away.
Something good must have happened, but she still didn’t understand the start from the end.
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WIP Wednesday
Thanks to @walkinginland and @flyinghome-againstthewind for the tags last week! I've been making some progress lately, so here's a longer excerpt than usual.
In some ways, it is easier to keep her head down, not only because it keeps her from being overwhelmed by the amount of work ahead of her, but because if she spent too much time considering all of those here that she cannot help, she might not be able to continue trying to help the others. The most maddening thing is that so much of the care that they need is so terribly simple: more and better food, air which is fresh and uncontaminated by the drift of coal and dust which covers so much here, water which is safe and drinkable.
That is the hardest thing, breaking the news over and over that too many of these people will not get better -- cannot get better -- in this place as it is now, knowing that for nearly everyone there is no option to go elsewhere. These people were recruited to come here from other countries, preyed upon by Jack Randall, and brought somewhere which did not offer them the life they deserved but instead trapped them in a place where they might not speak the language, where their bodies and spirits could not thrive but where they had to remain to work off their ever-growing debts regardless.
Dwelling on that for too long makes Claire have to clench back a scream, especially knowing that she will have to return to the house where Randall lives tonight and for so many nights in the future. So she does what she can instead: bandages a wound, pulls an abscessed tooth, offers the volumes and pamphlets from her stock to those who have the energy and interest to want something to read. She doesn't truly recognize her own exhaustion until a hand comes down on her shoulder and a familiar voice says in her ear, "This might no' be served on fine china, but it's hot and it'll keep ye going while you travel home. 'Specially because, unless I miss my guess, ye havena exactly been focused on keepin' yerself fed today."
Claire accepts the bowl that he holds out to her, almost blurting that she hadn’t thought he’d be back until it was dark before she realizes that it is already dark outside indeed. Mrs. FitzGibbons -- Mrs. Fitz; she had told Claire around noon that everyone referred to her that way -- must have lit the lamps while she was absorbed in her work.
Even with the late hour, she sits down and savors the warm stew instead of racing to finish. Frank has honestly seemed relieved by her late and changeable hours, taking advantage of the new schedule to work later himself. Even if he has made it back earlier tonight, he can manage without her well enough and she knows that it will only be harder to share a meal with Randall and pretend courtesy after seeing the conditions here.
"How can you stand it?" she asks quietly, then, as if the emotions are fully hitting her after hours of packing them away so she could keep her focus: "How can you fucking stand it, Jamie? A whole town, generations of families, who he's killed slowly through neglect that he pretends is protection -- and that's if he's not endangering them outright!"
She doesn't realize that her hands have pressed so tightly against the bowl until Jamie gently loosens her grip. At the feeling of his fingers smoothing away the tension in hers, she takes in a deep breath -- more startled than relaxed at first, but her breathing soon falls into rhythm of his and of his careful movement. He stops just after, setting down her hand and standing.
Tagging my eternal meme bud @lavellenchanted! I'm not sure who else might be writing something, but if you are and want to share, consider yourself tagged too 😊😊😊
#fic memes#fyi the soundtrack of the Great Depression fic is just different versions of You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive
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Hello😆😆 I hope you're having a nice week! How does a WIP Wednesday sound, if it's not too much to ask?
Hey anon!! This week I've been working on the next chapter of As Fate Would Have it (aka the morning after 🙄) It’s close to being finished and should be up later this week!
“Good… morning,” Patroclus replies hoarsely. He sits up on the furs and accepts the cup of steaming tea Achilles offers him.
“Drink this. It will help with the…" He pauses, visibly struggling for words. "It will help,” he says at last.
Patroclus brings it to his lips; it’s just short of being scalding, but Patroclus is so parched that he doesn’t even mind. It is light yet soothing, sweetened a little with honey. A few sips of it are enough to clear his mind, ease some of the heaviness of his limbs. Patroclus downs almost half of it with a few gulps while Achilles watches him silently. It is several moments later that Patroclus realises that he’s still stark naked; he covers himself hastily, searching for his tunic in the furs and drawing it over his head.
“Thank you for the tea,” he mumbles when he is somewhat decent, giving Achilles back the cup.
“It was my honour to prepare it for you, illustrious son of Menoitius, dearest of companions," Achilles says, accepting the cup with both hands. He is sitting so very stiffly, and his words are stiffer yet. In the months they’ve spent on Pelion, Achilles has slowly but steadily stopped addressing him like he used to in the palace, choosing to be more with him instead. Patroclus secretly prefers that side of him; the formal greetings always made him nervous, and now, with Achilles’ impassive expression and hardly blinking eyes it makes him even more uneasy.
Achilles takes in a long, slow breath, his eerie eyes never shifting from Patroclus’ face.
“You shouldn’t have come last night.”
The words are spoken clearly and matter-of-factly, without a thread of emotion. Patroclus blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You should not have come here,” Achilles repeats stonily. "You should never have come."
“I don’t understand.”
Achilles pauses, looking at him levelly. “Why did you come here, Patroclus?”
Patroclus lets out an incredulous huff. “Is that a serious question?” When Achilles doesn’t respond, only continues staring at him, Patroclus shakes his head. “I was looking for you. I was worried about you. You had been… acting strange all day, and then you stole away into the night without a word, without telling even Chiron where you were going. What did you expect me to do?”
“Did it not occur to you that I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I did not want to be found?” Achilles asks peevishly. “You had—no right. No right to come here.”
“Hold on— is this a joke? Are you joking?”
Achilles’ hands on his knees tighten into fists. His nostrils flare, a muscle playing by his temple when he locks his jaw.
“You asked me to stay here," Patroclus presses when Achilles doesn’t speak. "You were sobbing, begging me to stay. You wouldn’t let me go. I tried to leave, and you—”
“That’s not the point!” Achilles’ voice is sharp, a little shrill. His colour is high, a vivid blush touching his cheeks like a brilliant sunrise. He takes a shaky breath, composing himself. “I didn’t want you here. Didn't want you to— see me like this.”
Patroclus doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. He leans towards him, trying to peer into Achilles' eyes which are stubbornly cast away from him. “Why?" he asks softly. "What happened to you last night? You seemed… different.”
The crackling flames are his only answer. Achilles doesn’t meet Patroclus' gaze; he stares at the fire between them as if the cave is empty save for it. So long he stays silent that Patroclus thinks he won't speak at all.
"My mother calls it anthos," he says after a long while, so quietly Patroclus strains to hear him. "It means 'to bloom.' What you witnessed last night… that was me in the throes of it. I had no control over it. None at all."
#patroclus is... yeah he's not having a great time#nor is achilles for that matter#they're so silly 😩 god#patrochilles#tsoa#the song of achilles#hades game#omegaverse
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WIP Wednesday
Doing this early because it's -3 degrees out and I literally said "oh that's the warmest morning this week!"
This is from the upcoming chapter in my TK's growing up years fic - 💝
2010 -
“You hear that?” Sophie asked. “I think someone’s at the door”. TK sat up on his bed. He heard it; someone was knocking at the door. “You think it’s Mom?” Sophie asked.
“She usually uses the intercom,” TK said, shaking his head. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was just a little after eight thirty. “Plus, Dad said she’d be here at nine. She’ll probably be early, but… not this early”.
“She has to lecture both kids,” his sister pointed out. “She might want to be early for that”.
“True,” TK nodded. He rolled off the bed and poked his head out. The bathroom door was closed; his dad was still in the shower. “I’ll check the door,” he told his sister.
“Dad said to stay in our room until Mom gets here,” Sophie reminded him.
“Well, he should have thought of that before he went to shower,” TK called back. Plus, he thought to himself, after last night, he couldn’t imagine he could possibly get in more trouble from just answering the door.
At least, not until he saw who was at the door.
“Hunter!” TK exclaimed. He glanced behind him quick; bathroom door was still closed. He turned back and said without thinking, “Am I dreaming?” To check, he reached out and took Hunter’s hand. Even though he had last seen Hunter nine hours ago, he had painted his nails since then.
“Yes, yes you are,” Hunter joked, his eyes twinkling. “I was dreaming that someone very cute on the seventh floor was stealing all of my hoodies and I had to invade your dream to get them back”.
TK looked down at his chest; he did still have Hunter’s Fall Out Boy hoodie on. “Well, that’s your own fault,” TK giggled. “You’ve been to way more concerts than I have”.
“Well, I’ve been telling you we should fix that,” Hunter smiled so TK could see the barbell in his tongue. “But,” Hunter said, interlocking his fingers with TK’s, “after I got back downstairs last night, I texted you. And then I did again when I got up. I wondered if your dad took your phone”.
“He did”. TK sighed. With how pissed his dad was last night, TK wouldn’t be surprised if his dad had put his phone down the garbage disposal.
“And I wanted to see you,” Hunter told him. TK blushed at that; he couldn’t help it. “And I knew your mom would be by early,” Hunter added. “And stopping by when you’re over there might be more… dangerous”.
“Yeah, it would be”. TK nodded. “Still,” he added, “coming up here is hardly safer after last night”. He smiled at his boyfriend. “You’re very brave”.
“Not the word I’d use, kiddo,” a sharp voice came from behind TK. TK turned and saw the bathroom door had opened and his dad was standing there, not looking too pleased.
“Hi, Dad!” TK said brightly. He dropped Hunter’s hand. “Hunter was just—”
“Leaving?” Owen finished, taking a step closer. “Cause that’s really the only thing Hunter should be doing. And TK should be going back to his room".
“Dad,” TK said, “can we talk for just a minute? Please?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.
Owen sighed. “Okay. One minute”. He leaned back against the kitchen table, crossing his arms.
“Are you… going to stand there the whole time?” TK asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Yep”. His dad nodded. “You’ve got fifty four seconds now, by the way”. As TK turned back around, Hunter reached for his hand again. Now TK felt pressure to come up with something really good to say.
“Oh”. He thought of something. “I think my mom called your mom and left her a message about last night”.
“She did,” Owen said from behind TK.
“Did she say anything to you?” TK asked.
“She’s not up yet”. Hunter shook his head. “So we’ll see. She should be cool about it, though”.
Behind him, TK heard his dad muttering, “Well, teenagers unsupervised with drugs, who wouldn’t be cool about that?”
“Dad,” TK whined. He looked back at Hunter. “Thank you for coming up here,” he said. “I know we probably won’t be able to hang out for a bit, and—”
“The words ‘probably’ and ‘a bit’ really don’t belong in that sentence, bud,” Owen interjected, putting a hand on TK’s shoulder. “Time’s up”. He looked tiredly at his son’s boyfriend. “Hunter, I can’t make you go home, but I’m only going to ask you once to get the hell out of my doorway”.
“Dad!” TK squeaked indignantly as Owen slowly pushed him back. He looked at Hunter one more time; he hadn’t moved. “I’m sorry, he—”
“It’s okay”. Hunter said. “We’ll talk. Hold on to my hoodie for me?”
Despite everything, TK, blushed. “Yeah. I can do that”.
No pressure tagging; I tag @sznofthesticks @dreamingofmickeywaffles @anewkindofme @snowviolettwhite @actualalligator @lochnesswriter @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom @reyestrandd @firstprince-history-huh @carlos-tk @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @liminalmemories21 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @thisbuildinghasfeelings @kiwichaeng @goodways @jesuisici33 @strakksilva @thebumblecee @celeritas2997 @eclectic-sassycoweyes @tailoredshirt @kiloskywalker and anyone else who wants to do it; open tag 🫶
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WIP Wednesday Cleaning Spells
It's been a while. Life has been hella hectic of late but I'm here with one of the many WIPs I've got cooking away. This one is inspired by a tweet that spiraled into I don't even know what. Thus I present a small taster of Dragon!Kinn in a Magical!KP AU. Have fun kiddos.
Kinn is trapped. He’s confined and diminished by the man he’s been bound to and he rails against it. For thousands of years, he’s overseen the spirit realm, acting as the North Wind, and now he’s here, bound to a puny magic user he deems unfit. The injustice of it all makes his whiskers itch.
In his diminished form he wiggles across the human’s skin. Porsche, his name is Porsche. His claws scrape the man’s sides, getting the man to flinch. “Stop that.” Kinn hears the man hiss quietly as he hefts another crate.
Kinn slithers across Porsche’s skin, unhappy with where he settled before, and drapes himself across Porsche’s shoulders, peering out from the open collar of the man’s shirt.
“Would you just settle down,” Porsche sighs for the umpteenth time. Kinn ignores him just as he has the other times.
“Baby, are you talking to yourself?” A voice asks and Kinn perks up.
“Fuck,” Porsche whispers quietly and then buttons up his shirt so Kinn can’t see anymore.
That won’t do. Kinn slithers up his neck to peek over the collar.
“It’s no one,” Porsche tells a woman who walks behind the bar, slinky pink shirt showing off her collarbones where Kinn spots a jungle sprite with her brightly colored wings perched on her skin. She’s pretty and he sends a tendril of spirit magic as a greeting. She responds warmly in kind.
The woman walks close to Porsche and then gasps, yanking at Porsche’s collar to get a better look at Kinn. “Porsche Pachara Kittisawat!”
Ah, so that is his bonded’s full name. Kinn tucks that information away for later.
“You’ve been bonded!” The woman is still going. “Your magic manifested, and you got a dragon.” The last bit she says with the appropriate level of awe for Kinn’s status. He preens a bit at that, letting his long-form coil in pleasure. Porsche squirms at his movements. “Can I meet them?”
Kinn can feel Porsche clamming up, the tension in the man climbing higher and higher. He wants out. Kinn pushes at their bond, knowing that Porsche will feel his call. The man hisses and then the blend of Porsche’s magic and Kinn’s allows him to stretch out into the corporal world and take his true form.
Kinn curls into the air in the little bar, twisting and winding his lithe body to show off to the other magic user. The awed gasp is pleasing. Porsche is just scowling at him, with his arms crossed.
“Oh, Porsche. He’s magnificent. It is a he isn’t it?” Yok addresses Kinn’s bonded again and that rankles Kinn for some reason.
“I’m known as Anakinn,” he rumbles to the other woman.
SP is on break again this week cause I was traveling last weekend but it will update next week! Aiming to finish that bad boy up before the end of September!
💜'Cat
#my fic#wip wednesday#cleaning spells#magical AU#dragon kinn#magical porsche#kinnporsche#kinn/porsche#kinn theerapanyakul#porsche kittisawasd#kinnporsche fanfic#kp fanfic#kpts fanfic#kinnporsche the series
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WIP Wednesday Thursday
Tagged by @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @inquisimer @greypetrel and @plisuu - Thank you for tagging me! I fear many of you have already done your thing for the week, but for whenever @dreadfutures @pinayelf @zenstrike @dungeons-and-dragon-age @vakarians-babe and you!
Not fandom things, but I am still working on my yarn project (shawl? lap blanket? idk, I'm having fun).I had to pull a bunch of lines to fix something, but I'm making progress again and loving how this is coming out.
Writing-wise, I just finished a first draft of an Exchange piece (hard-won) and I've been looking over a Zevwen thing I started a few months ago. The research bit is the reason I set this aside instead of finishing it a few months ago, but the heart of it is steady.
This is part of one of my favorite scenes so far (700ish words):
Water sloshed in the tub behind her. Zevran’s fingertips brushed her elbow when he stepped past, and she adored the comfort of it even as she silently willed him not to ask.
“Do you know,” he said. “I know that we were convinced to leave the alienage, but—what do you think of find a way into that clinic in the morning?”
Wen turned to look at him, running the cloth through her wet hair, and he smiled at her.
“I do think we can take them, should we bring the correct people,” he added. “These words about some sort of illness are clearly all lies, whatever they say.”
Oh—the realization had hit her more than once, swift and unerring as an arrow to the chest, but she had it again now: she loved him. Perhaps she would explain the feeling away later, perhaps she would shove it off for some other day. It didn’t matter. But right now—right now his hair clung to his face in a distinctly unattractive way, he was making an odd face while he dried his neck, and the skin on his hands was wrinkled with water.
He was the most beautiful thing in the whole of Thedas and she loved him unequivocally.
“Alright,” she said, and turned away again. “Yes. We should.”
Her hand ached when she pressed her thumb to the wound, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Wen bound it before she climbed into bed. She’d hesitated to ask Zevran to stay—after all that, she’d no idea what she might say or do next—but he’d followed her to the massive bed anyway and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him to leave her. Instead, she twined her bare legs with his and wrapped her arm around his waist. If she laid her head on his chest, she couldn’t see him looking at her.
They’d doused the lights. Only the warm light of the fire remained, dancing over the fine golden hairs over his chest. Wen watched them, listening to the steady beat of Zevran’s heart. His hand lifted and stroked through her hair after they’d been lying still for several moments. It felt nice, soothing, relieving some of the ache at the base of her neck. Just as she’d begun to doze, he spoke again.
“I will not ask,” he said, and she tensed. “I said that I will not, mi vida, unless you tell me otherwise. But—why did you not tell me?”
One of Nelaros’s eyes had been open. She remembered that. One open, one missing. You could see all the way through it to the stone floor beneath. When she’d taken the ring from his hand, she’d wondered if it would fit perfectly inside, as if it had always been meant to frame a wound rather than adorn a hand.
“I didn’t know how,” she said, and it was the truth. She still didn’t know how and she’d already done it. But—it wasn’t the whole truth. She’d gone this far without outright lying to Zevran; there was no sense in stopping now.
“I—didn’t want you to see me any differently.”
“Truly? After everything I have told you?”
There was a rumble of a chuckle in his chest. Wen steeled herself and lifted her head to look at him. His eyes glinted in the firelight, flashing gold, and as hard as she searched she could find no recriminations in them.
“Alright,” she said at last. “It was stupid.”
“I did not say so,” he pronounced, pressing a hand to his chest.
Wen bared her teeth at him and he laughed at her, tipping his head back against the pillows. She loved his laugh, even when he was laughing at her; she loved the long line of his throat and the way he smiled at her when he didn’t think she was watching and she loved his grace, loved the way he wove through a battlefield like he anticipated every move of his opponent. She loved his hand in hers and the way he smelled and she loved him.
She loved him.
“I hate you,” she said, and tucked her face against his neck so she could nuzzle the soft skin there.
#wip wednesday#arianwen tabris#zevwen#shivunin scrivening#i love them your honor#i need to either replay the fight w loghain or find a decent video reference for it so i can finish this piece lol#because i love how it's framed#and i think so many of these parts are beautiful and worth sharing
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WIP Wednesday but it’s Bill and Frank because I’m still freaking here
“Have you always lived alone?”
The question comes so naturally, so unexpectedly, that the spoon Bill is using to ladle au jus over the venison he’s cooked tilts, dripping into the flame of the stovetop.
Frank has been here about a week, and though he shows no signs of leaving in his gentle, calming manner, Bill isn’t fully ready to admit that he would prefer he stay. Still, years of solitude are seeped deep into his bones. He’s still not quite used to…this. Company. Early companionship.
Warmth.
He jumps back from the stove just slightly as the flame crackles and spikes, looking over his shoulder at Frank where he stands on the opposite side of the kitchen island. There’s a bottle of Côte-Rôtie stationed in front of him, uncorked and breathing, flanked by two small crystal wine glasses from the same set they’ve been using on and off the last seven days.
When he uncharacteristically entrusted Frank with the task of finding a wine to pair with their dinner over at the liquor store, he didn’t expect him to return with something so perfect. Then again, everything about this last week has been entirely unexpected.
The Beaujolais and subsequent decadent reds are just additive.
Maybe Bill is overindulging in this, but he’s been allowing himself to do so since everything crumbled and he carried that case of Caymus into his dining room. He knows how to moderate his resources, sure — he’s a survivalist, after all — but he’s never had a guest. So, perhaps, overindulging and showing off his homegrown culinary prowess isn’t the worst thing in the world.
And there are worse things out there.
Still, the question startles him enough for Frank to huff a small laugh and ask once again.
“It’s a big house,” he says observantly, looking around with the tiniest smile. “Three bedrooms, original hardwood flooring and crown molding. Everything’s well-preserved. Well, minus the dust.” He laughs again, clear as a bell, and Bill has to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from grunting. He woke up three days ago to find Frank polishing the mantle with an old rag he had found, making it look good as new. Strangely, he didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.
“So,” Frank continues, settling on his elbows, “have you always lived alone?”
Bill closes his eyes, turning back around. “No.”
A beat. “Family?”
He lets out a low and slow breath and turns the knob until the flame flickers out.
“It’s okay,” Frank says, almost in a whisper. “You don’t have to answer. I don’t mean to pry.”
Bill silently finishes plating their food, sets the pan in the sink and grabs their plates. With them in hand, he looks back across the room at Frank. “My mother,” he finally replies. It’s tight, rough, like sandpaper.
A flicker of realization comes over Frank’s face. “She died before the outbreak.”
“Summer of 2000. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She was a smoker,” Bill dismisses, awkwardly pushing backward through the door into the dining room and holding it open for Frank to follow. “She was eighty-nine.”
“A long life,” Frank notes with a chime. He sets the glasses and bottle down, settling into the chair at the head of the table that he claimed during that first lunch as Bill places a plate in front of him. “A beautiful home.”
“We made it what it needed to be.” Bill hesitates a moment, watching as Frank pushes a glass toward the seat directly to his left. He’s still standing as the wine is poured and Frank, with an open palm, gestures for him to take a seat beside him.
He does, running his hands over his jeans trepidatiously. A week, yet even a civilized meal between the two of them is something he’s still finding himself adjusting to.
Again, solitude…
Frank pours himself a glass, twisting the bottle so the wine doesn’t drip from the lip. “Was it just the two of you?”
“I moved back in with her when she refused to move into assisted living.” He cuts into the venison. “She was a stubborn woman.”
Frank chuckles. “I can see where you get it from.”
Bill looks away. “She took care of me. No siblings, there was an aunt that lived with us for a little while, my old man fucked off before I even made it to high school. But,” he nods toward their meal, “the bastard did teach me how to hunt.”
“Which, might I just say, is once again fucking incredible,” Frank tells him, pointing at his plate with his fork, root vegetables speared on the prongs with a piece of meat.
Bill hums. “You’re kind.”
“It is one of my gratuitous traits.”
He looks up and there it is again. That brilliant, almost blinding smile that Bill swears he’ll never grow accustomed to.
“So it was…a comfortable home, then?” Frank asks, and just like everything with this man, Bill is taken aback.
He’s never really focused on how to describe this place outside of “home.” Four walls and a roof, a picket fence and overly-friendly neighbors he steered clear of solely because he wanted to.
But, sure. “Comfortable,” he repeats as if he’s testing it. “There are worse words.” He takes a sip of wine, letting it bob against his lips before continuing. “Thank you for not saying ‘loving.”
“Well, that’s not for me to assume, is it?” Frank replies. He raises a brow. “But who knows…maybe it could be.”
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Fanfic Friday!
I still don't completely understand it, so this week I'm just gonna reflect on things that happened while writing this arranged marriage longfic, some of which I posted about on here and some of which I didn't.
I gave up on the Soup Paragraphs that were haunting me and realized I can introduce them later if I must.
I got in some "let go and let god" practice when I realized I don't have to get every little throwaway detail right, especially when it slows down my progress/makes writing miserable.
My therapist wants me to see about applying this Free Yourself skill in my non-writing life, to which I say I know you are but what am I
Characters put themselves in situations without my input and it was great!
Ceremonies are hard to write but at least I now know what Ed and Stede would be like if they were kids in a school play.
I started watching Rome again after thinking about it last week in the wake of the cancelation (I've had it on DVD for years). Still problematic in the way something made in 2005 will be, but otherwise it holds up incredibly well.
I've also stopped caring as much about all the people using the world's problems as a bludgeon against OFMD fans and the campaign to to save the show. For all the reasons other people have already articulated well but also, on a personal note, because of what this show has done for my relationship with writing.
I won't get into too much detail but suffice it to say I have a lot of baggage around writing, because of all the "gifted" nonsense of my childhood and my MFA experience as an adult. I don't blame anyone per se, but unhelpful social frameworks were unhelpful. Let's just say that when Pop-Pop said "if you were ever good at anything go do that" to Ed, it didn't not remind me of feeling obligated to do something that used to be rewarding but isn't anymore because it's what you're "supposed" to do. Anyway.
I wrote three short (<2000 word) fics between seasons 1&2, the first fic I've felt like writing in over a decade. It was liberating as hell to write again in a low-stakes environment, and with blorbo motivation to power me through the difficult parts. I never, ever thought I would write anything longer than 2000 words, but for the past (several?) weeks now I've been alternating between two drafts in tropes I can't get enough of, the shortest of which is around 10,000 (admittedly unedited) words.
The other is longer, and every time I work on it I keep having to break shit up so the chapters stay under 5000 words. This is unprecedented for me, and I've wanted to share it so much that I'm running out of shit to post on WIP Wednesday that won't reveal the plot or require too much context. I've never been in a fandom as creative (and creatively inspiring) as this one, nor have I every written so much in a single fandom before.
My relationship with writing wouldn't be healing like this at all if it weren't for this show and this fandom, and in particular I want to highlight the freedom in embracing the "David Jenkins School of Historical Inaccuracy." In fact, I've been keeping a running list of AO3 tags for the fic I've made the most progress on, and there are several "David Jenkins School of ________" tags, including Archaeology, Theology, and Comparative Politics. Thanks to seeing DJ's philosophy at work it's now possible for me to move on from certain details when I get stuck because they're "inaccurate" for the setting or whatever in a way I never could before. Now I feel empowered to move on from tricky details by asking myself:
Is it funny?
Is it related to the plot?
Is it character-building?
And if the answer to all of those is no, then so is the answer to question 4: "does it matter?"
Assuming I finish these longfics they'll be the longest creative pieces I've ever written and beyond the longest works of fiction I ever thought I would write, and for that I'm eternally grateful. Even if the world we live in is a crumbling disaster. Especially if the world we live in is a crumbling disaster.
#ofmd#our flag means death#renew as a crew#save ofmd#fanfic friday#WIP it good#edward teach#ofmd meta#fandom meta#writing process#writing woes#fic writing#arranged marriage AU#ancient rome AU (sorta)
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WIP WEDNESDAY GAME
Taken from @kedreeva.
It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.
Here’s how it works:
In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.
Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!
After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.
That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!
If you’re reading this, you’re invited!
If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.
file names:
call me cute and feed me sugar
when I see myself, I always know where you are
I'm all yours but you're all mine
a fake cryptid and a real romantic
when you don't believe, that's why you fail
Well, I did "think pink" last week, so it's only appropriate to do all the other DC WIPs I've got going on AO3 this week, right? There's five of them right now, it's just natural! Can't be helped! Totally has to be done!
And just to remind you all, I’m totally cool with people requesting multiple WIPs, but I’d prefer if you sent them in multiple asks! Just a little easier for me that way.
snippet from “call me cute and feed me sugar”:
Tim is pretty sure the date went well, since Kon seemed to enjoy playing with the sensory exhibits, cleaned his plate at the restaurant and finished Tim’s own entrée before going back for dessert, and spent half of the planetarium show star-dazzled and the other half of it making out with him in the back row, and then gave him a goodbye kiss he still hasn’t emotionally recovered from. Like, that seems like a successful date? Or reasonably successful, anyway.
Planning ahead with a side of psychological analysis has once again paid off, Tim is pleased to note. Definitely worth making the fake IDs.
Tim snuck way too many pictures, probably, but it’s whatever. Kon didn’t seem to mind, the times he’d caught him. Now he’s gone and set a standard, though, so he’s not sure what he should do for their next date. He’s got to plan it, obviously; he can’t expect Kon to.
Tim is in his room and already three layers deep into the corkboard he’s planning date options and gift ideas and “is Kon getting enough calories?” math on when Kon texts him, and he stops in the middle of listing the pros and cons of a smart watch as a second-date present to read it.
He may or may not have given Kon his own text alert and ringtone, but that’s his own damn business.
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Weekly Update
8/20/2023
Announcements
- A Bit Dodgy is almost finished -
The chapter coming out this week is the second to last chapter for the series. It’s such a bitter sweet thing, ending a series, especially one that I’ve built such a community around. I’ve written 5 novel-length fics over the course of the last year, and A Bit Dodgy will be number 6. On 09/04/2023 it will be my one-year anniversary of writing fanfiction since coming back after not writing for about a decade and l can’t believe it. Holy CRAP. I’ll take the time to reminisce about my numbers and statistics on my one-year mark, don’t you worry lol. There will definitely be a celebration.
That being said, ending a series never gets easier. Even though I write for these characters all the time, Steven, Marc and Jake in this case, I’m still closing the book on this version of them. It’s sad, but I’m also very ready to move on to other stories and other versions of these characters. I also think I’ll write some headcanons and one-shots as I feel the desire to just to take the edge off when I’m missing them. I’ll talk more about this when I finish A Bit Dodgy. <3
- Requests are officially closed -
I’m not sure if I’ll ever be in a position to take requests again or not. My WIP list is a mile long, and right now (summer) is a VERY busy time for both of my jobs. I’m lucky if I get one day off a week. All this to say, it’s not feasible for me to continue taking requests when I can’t even handle the fics I have currently in the works.
I’m not saying I’ll never do requests again, it’s just not realistic right now. There will still be follower celebrations and birthday events and things like that in which I may take limited requests, but as far as the regular ones go, I gotta stop taking them for now. - THIS IS THE LAST TIME I'M MAKING THIS ANNOUNCEMENT. PLEASE READ IT.
Fic Updates
Disclaimer - I never know which way the winds of inspiration will blow. Timeframes aren’t a promise/guarantee, they’re a goal.
Fic Updates Legend:
Blue - Update this week
Pink - Update in progress
Red - Backburner Fic (not currently working on. See WIP list for status)
You can find my current WIP list here
Chaptered Fic Updates
A Bit Dodgy - Chapter 17 is coming this week, but I need more time. So it won't come out tomorrow, it will be out Tuesday or Wednesday instead! Thank you for understanding!
Always Yours, Never Mine - Chapter 3 is done! Just need to finish editing! I'll be putting it out Saturday bbs <3
The Fractured Moon - My primary focus this past week has been getting A Bit Dodgy finished, and also working on getting the requests and stuff for my 2k celebration done. I'll be working on part 4 of TFM this week to hopefully post next week!
Mini-series Updates
Feeling You Can’t Fight - Chapter 3 is done! I just need to finish editing and posting hehe.
All on the backburner for now but will get additional chapters soon:
Not a Doctor - Part 2
Worth the Risk - Part 3
AI Character Bot Updates
I currently have the following bots on my list that I’m working on. If you have any suggestions or additions you’d like, please feel free to ask! I won’t make every single one I get asked for but I’ll make some of them as I get time!
DBF Jake and Steven (I already did Marc...did I ever post him? I thought I did but maybe not)
Patient Steven and Marc
Moon Knight Rescue scenario
Miguel AI Assistant Scenario (inspired by @missdictatorme's Halo fic).
Am I missing any? Don't see one on the list that you want to add? Send me an inbox or private message! No promises, but if I like the idea I'll make an AI bot.
Requests
I'm finishing up all the inboxes from my 2k Follower Celebration! I'm almost through those so please bear with me.
There are 2 regular requests I have that will both be released this week! Exciting! - Those are the last 2 I have. Starting next week, the "request" category of my weekly update will be gone!
I think that's all for now! Much love!
Don't forget to follow my other blogs:
@melodymakesart - My art blog
@lockandkeynovel - The blog for my original fiction novel, Lock & Key
@melodyreadsfanfiction - The blog where I reblog works I intend to read, a good place for fanfic readers to follow!
@melodygatesupdates - This is where I'll reblog any chapter updates for my fics and whatnot. This is what I use instead of a tag list!
#moon knight#steven grant#jake lockley#marc spector#melody talks#melody gates weekly updates#melodys weekly updates
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WIP Wednesday/Thursday
I was tagged by @pedroshotwifey and @theywhowriteandknowthings ❤️ ❤️
It was hard to decide which two WIPs I was going to do snippets of because I have so many. 👀 If I mention starting any more series and not just one shots, smack me. I should not have 11, I kid you not, 11 ongoing series. I went through my masterlist thinking it was like 5-6. 🤨 I was very wrong. Like Geez.... I gotta finish something. 🫣
Anyway, snippet one - from chapter 2 of Roc & Doc not finished yet:
Your face hardens at your friend’s joke and you start nervously pressing your hands together. At least it wasn’t the trenchcoat one she likes to make, thank goodness. Tim looked back at the door and stood up, shaking his head. “Hey Kim. Just knew Doc would want to hear how the case turned out. I’m going to head out Doc. I’m going to go make sure Stevenson isn’t still working on the homicide from last week. He makes fun of my chicken scratch, but he types slow as hell for someone fifteen years younger than me. Good night Doc, don’t steal anymore pens. I know she’ll be your accomplice.” Rockford nods, gives you a smile and once at the doorway, cuts his eyes at Kira before leaving.
Kim plops down across from you and snickers. “Did the famed detective get a bit pissed at me because I came between him and his dear Doc? For shame and I guess I did know you were taking his pens. To be fair, I did tell you to stop several times.” She playfully tapped her own hand as if she was being reprimanded. You sat back in your chair and shook your head. She’s been teasing you about this for as long as you had stolen that man’s pens well after. Tim didn’t tease you as much anymore, well sometimes when you got in the car and he asked to see your hands to make sure you didn’t remove anything from his glove box or console.
Snippet two is from a series I plan to start in March. It's for a Pedro character I only recently started writing for. 🥸 (Is included in the 11 series - that number still freaks me out. like that many unfinished ideas. 😭)
A moonbeam. It’s the first thing he thought of when he saw her. She was wearing a white nightgown - if he had to guess cotton with a thin robe about her shoulders that she decided to slip off. That’s a good choice, it’s a bit warm out tonight. Her hair is under a purple bonnet which she removes as well and sets it on top of the robe, both are on the back of her rocking chair. Black voluminous hair fell around her shoulders, it looked pillowy to the touch like the rest of its owner. Her substantial legs carried her to a small table beside her where she lit a candle. The minimal light makes her face glow. He can make out full lips, round cheeks and bright eyes behind her glasses. She eases down into her rocking chair and pours herself a brown liquid that looks similar to his and orange juice maybe? Well she could be one for mixed drinks. He wonders why she would be up at this ungodly hour drinking? She couldn’t have similar demons to him could she? Maybe some unknown fears or known fears? Could she be separating herself from someone inside the home?
I wonder which character it is? ☺️
Honorable mentions: Dave/Santi, Pero/Jack, Weddings 101 with Dieter, Jake Lockley fic, Santiago angst/fluff, Disco Dieter.
These aren't any less important, my motivation waxes and wanes, very often. 🤔
NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @perotovar @daddy-dins-girl @trulybetty @joels-shitty-puns @magpiepills @gemmahale @tinytinymenace @movievillainess721 @alltheglitterandtheroar @grogusmum @soft-girl-musings @ilovepedro @beefrobeefcal @agentjackdaniels @javierpena-inatacvest @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @reallyrallyauthor @saturn-rings-writes
Sorry if you've done it already. ☺️
(Nerdie trying to think of how she's actually going to finish all the series she started - an entire mess of her own making) 😂
#WIP#WIP Wednesday#WIP Thursday#Nerdie is a day late#Nerdie has way too many open series#Tell her to finish some of them and to focus#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#fanfiction
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WIP Wednesday - so I guess we're supposed to tag our friends on these? Still a Tumblr noob, sorry! let's see... @skyrim-forever, @gwilin-stay-winnin, @thequeenofthewinter, @mareenavee, @dirty-bosmer - I'd like to tag Topsy but he's been awfully busy lately...
Out of the Ashes, ch. 27
“The Dragonborn returns victorious,” Geldis cried when she descended the stairs, and by the tone of his voice, Miranja could tell he was bursting with pride.
Playing dumb, she said, “I defeated Alduin last year, Geldis. You’re behind the times.” She took a seat at the barstool next to Teldryn and ordered a Cyrodiilic brandy.
“I’m talking about the war over there, me gell,” Geldis scolded with a grin. “Heard you took out that racist bastard who was keeping our people in squalor in Windhelm.”
Miranja’s chest tightened, and she turned accusingly to Teldryn. “You told him?”
Teldryn held up his hands in a warding gesture. “He already knew. He asked me about the firsthand details, and I filled him in, but he already knew the general story.”
Miranja turned back to Geldis questioningly.
“This one’s on the house,” he told her, not pushing the brandy toward her across the counter but lifting it before her like a toast. “Gjalund told us when he brought supplies last week. Of course, being a Nord, he wasn’t very happy about it, but at least he doesn’t blame you in particular, and I daresay he’ll get over it. Very little will change in his life, but our people over there have hope now, thanks to you.”
“Gjalund and I had a little talk on the ship after we left Windhelm,” Miranja acknowledged. “He knows how terrible I feel about it, and that I truly wish it could have been different. I think it’ll be okay.”
“You feel bad about killing the man who was holding the Dunmer and Argonians back?”
Miranja cringed a little under Geldis’ indignant look, but she held her ground. “He was still one of my mother’s people. He wanted Skyrim to be free of the Aldmeri Dominion and for people to be able to freely worship Talos, but he was holding the Empire responsible for the ban, even though it would have happened sooner or later. I understand where he was coming from, I just didn’t agree with how he was going about everything.
“It’s a long story, Geldis, and I’m tired. Suffice it to say that he is one of very few people I’ve killed whose names I’ve known. They were all trying to kill me first, of course, but Ulfric…” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence, not sure if Geldis – who was usually open-minded – would think less of her if he knew that she had been intimate with Ulfric once. Only once, but it was enough. She took a large mouthful of her brandy and swallowed it in one gulp, and it occurred to her that her twisted friend hadn't judged her for sleeping with Ondolemar; he'd helped her reenact it.
Geldis didn’t need the rest of the sentence; he made some other assumption about how she would have finished it, and he reached out and took her free hand in both of his. “Of course, you’re tired, luv. I know you used your best judgment. I’m sorry it was difficult for you.”
Teldryn had remained silent during this exchange, but when Geldis took her hands, he reached over and squeezed her thigh briefly, then left his hand on her knee, caressing her comfortingly. He’d definitely gotten better at the comfort thing during their trip.
“I’m just glad the war is finally over,” Miranja said after shuddering from the burn of the brandy. “But now…” She glanced back and forth between her friends, hating to make her admission even though she was quite close to both of them. “I’m not entirely sure I know myself anymore. I have a lot to think about, and decisions to make about who I want to be from now on.”
#skyrim#elder scrolls#miranja#fanfic#ao3#dunmer#geldis sadri#teldryn sero#tanithia writes#wip wednesday
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It's WIP Wednesday again!
Alright, the tag game didn't work super great either, but that's okay. I got one person to play and they've got a really cool webcomic wip so it's all good lol
So, no art wips this week, but I do have an announcement.
The first chapter of To Catch a Hedgehog will be posted on AO3 next Thursday (probably after I get home from taking my chemistry exam)! After that, until such a time as it has been completely finished, I will update monthly, on the 1st of each month. I'm super excited to share this fic with all of you, and I hope you enjoy it! If you're looking forward to it, mark your calendars for February 1st! ^^
Now, here's this week's tag (go follow them, they're really cool) @deadrabbithq
And here's this week's progress! (that I totally didn't do late last night nope)
Shadow: "Sure. Let's go with that."
Shadow: "On another note, how attached to your job are you?"
Rouge: "0_0"
Rouge: "Nah, I'm sitting this one out. You have fun. I'll try and cover your tracks."
Shadow: "I didn't ask you to do that."
Rouge: "You asked me if I was willing to be fired. I'm not. I'm compromising."
Shadow: "Fair enough."
There was another chime, and a new email address appeared in his inbox. No profile picture. The name was a string of nonsensical numbers and letters.
yy783y7hhuqq7ht: "Would have come up with something cooler if my roommate had let me but oh well. It's me."
Shadow rolled his eyes before he replied.
Shadow: "What would you have come up with?"
Sonic: "idk, fastest.thing.alive? Oh, wait... fuck, that's my ex's email. DAMN IT WHY'D HE TAKE THE COOL ONE?"
Shadow bit back a laugh as another message from Rouge came through.
Rouge: "Look, just be careful, okay? It's not just losing your job you'll have to worry about."
Shadow: "I know."
He closed the window with their chat and turned his focus back to Sonic.
Shadow: "Anyway, who is it that's gone completely 'Netic?"
Sonic: "...Alright, here's an idea. It would be easier if I showed you. But since I can't trust you not to try and shoot my brains out, you come unarmed, and I bring back-up."
Shadow: "Alright... but come where?"
Sonic: "The Mobius Strip. It's an Xtreme racing track. I used to race there not too long ago."
Shadow: "Why did you stop?"
Sonic: "Eh, dated a guy I met there for a little while, but he's just kind of a douche, so I try to avoid him."
Shadow recalled the green-feathered hawk he'd seen talking to Sonic the night he followed him and Knuckles down to Station Square, and his quills stood in revulsion as he shuddered. If that was who he thought he was, he could see why Sonic would want nothing to do with him.
Shadow: "Do you miss it?"
Sonic: "Well, yeah, I guess... It was decent money for me too. But I couldn't trust that he wouldn't sabotage me because we broke up, so I cut my losses..."
Shadow: "I take it you won quite a bit then? Or were you a foul player?"
Sonic: ">:( Rude, man. I race fair and square. Not my fault I'm aerodynamic."
Shadow: "I've seen you on your gear. That's abnormally fast."
Sonic: "Okay, yes, but that was after I quit. I had a friend juice it up for me. Better for running from the Hounds. And you. Oh, wait... you have those stupid rocket boots."
Shadow: "Implants. Got them shortly after the Council died."
Sonic: "Dude, just say they were murdered. We all know they were. Hell, you might have even done it."
Shadow: "Now who's being rude? I didn't. That was somebody else. At that time I was still in college."
Sonic: "You went to college?"
Shadow: "Had to drop out before I got my bachelor's."
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WIP Wednesday
I'm home all day today, so I'm excited to get some writing done!
As always, credit to @kedreeva
Here’s how it works:
In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.
Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!
After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.
That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request! Also, if you send me an ask, I'll look on your page to see if you'd like one back. This works best when we help each other!
If you’re reading this, you’re invited!
If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.
Filenames
Reverse Big Bang (Secret Project & Top Priority)
Chrissy Woke Up Ch 8 [1-7]
He's All That Ch 9 [1-8]
Merman Eddie
Snippet: I have exclusively written on my Reverse Big Bang fic this week, so I had to write this from Crissy Woke Up specifically for this post. Not bad motivation to keep working on ongoing projects while I have one to focus on specifically.
“Bye Max,” Steve said softly as he looked toward the bed. “I’ll be back soon.”
Chrissy stayed silent as the two of them left the hospital room. Even when they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind them, Chrissy and Steve said nothing. That silence persisted as they walked out the front doors and Steve led the way to his car.
Once the door shut behind her, though, Chrissy sighed. “Where are we actually going?” she asked.
Steve raised his brows, shoulders lifting into a shrug. “I probably should go home and shower.”
Chrissy glanced toward his attire, feeling a tinge of embarrassment that she was just now realizing he’d dressed in a mish-mash of things that he’d probably borrowed at the hospital.
“I was thinking,” Steve continued, “that we could stop at yours so you could pick up clothes and whatever you need to shower. Maybe even pack a bag if you’d like to get away from home for a while. That way I haven’t technically lied to your mother, but also you are nowhere to be found when she gets home.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’ve played this game before.”
Steve snorted. “Too many times to count. But that sound good to you?”
“Yeah,” Chrissy said and watched as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Would you mind if I wrote her a note that I was with you? I’m sure she’ll start talk, but—”
“She won’t be looking for you as soon,” Steve finished for her. “As you said, not my first rodeo.”
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