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notinmyvocab · 5 months

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the prologue that isn't going anywhere. I just had some Joan Ferguson feels because I'm rewatching Wentworth

Isabel stared up at the ceiling, the details of the crown molding around the perimeter obscured by her reading glasses. She was on hour four of writing and was starting to feel like she lost her mind.

There was a light knock on the door frame of her study. Isabel took off her glasses and met the eyes of her housekeeper who came bearing a sympathetic smile and a warm cup of tea. “Take a break,” Moira urged the author, placing the cup of tea on the corner of the desk. “The story can wait.”

“No, it can’t.” But Isabel closed her laptop anyway and took the cup of tea, letting the China warm her palms. “Especially after that explosion; everyone is gonna go after this story.”

Wentworth Correctional Facility was the hottest gossip and everyone across the world wanted a piece of the action. But none of them had Isabel’s insight. None of them were friends with Vera Bennett.

“And how is your friend doing?” Moira asked, knowing what was on Isabel’s mind. “Doing alright?”

“She called last week. Said she was safe but that she’s stepping away from corrections.” Not that Isabel could blame Vera, especially with baby Grace. An explosion at the workplace was more than a good enough excuse to leave a job.

Moira tilted her head to the side, sensing the words hiding on Isabel’s tongue. “And what else did she say?” she asked gently.

The rim of the teacup rested against Isabel’s upper lip as she contemplated telling Moira the truth. Vera had said the baby was fine, that she was leaving Wentworth, that everything seemed to be falling apart yet falling into place at the same time. But that wasn’t what haunted Isabel. What haunted her were the three simple words Vera had told her.

“Joan is gone.”

She hadn’t asked for elaboration. She didn’t pry for details despite wanting desperately to ask a million questions. She just let the statement hang in the air, her imagination running wild. Joan was gone. Had she died in the explosion? Vanished into thin air?

“Isabel?” Moira’s gentle voice pried Isabel from her thoughts.

The pair were interrupted by a knocking at the front door. And Isabel suddenly found herself alone. Moira was gone. The ghosts were hiding. The house was silent.

Isabel took another sip of tea as the knocking continued. She swallowed and rolled her shoulders back, feeling her bones pop and shift. She stood up from her desk and went to the front door.

She hesitated a moment. There weren’t many people who would come knocking on her door, and the feeling in her stomach wasn’t exactly surely. Her hand rested on the handle, fingers itching to pull away.

She opened the door.

It had to be a dream. There was no other explanation. This couldn’t be real. Yet Isabel knew it in her heart to be true. And the truth was confirmed when a firm kiss was pressed against her lips, hungry and apologetic, a hand weaving into her hair and pulling her close. The kiss was meant to suffocate her, consume her.

And when she was allowed to finally take a breath, there was only one thing she could say.

“Joan?”

#wentworth fic #joan ferguson #my writing

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c-nv-s07 · 9 months

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Wentworth (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Allie Novak/Bea Smith Summary:

A hair dresser, a prostitute, a laundromat, and a mutual understanding. This is my take on Bea and Allie meeting before Bea tries to kill Harry. Basically Ballie pre-Wentworth. (Fair warning, this is a WIP and it's very possible that I will not finish it - this is entirely my fault, I am not proud of it - so if you do choose to read this, feel free to enjoy and do know that I will try to, at the very least, end it on a high note.)

#Started another Wentworth fic #Wentworth #Wentworth fic #ballie #bea smith #allie novak #Bea Smith x allie Novak

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tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 2 years

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The dilemma(s):

I also do not want Wentworth Miller to have to play straight characters anymore.

I don’t want to watch more queer trauma stories.

Wentworth Miller cries so fucking pretty

(Exhibit A)

Possible work arounds so that I can watch more roles of this man crying:

(i) A character whose trauma is existent but unrelated to his queerness, so we can still see his eyes well up. See, Leonard Snart. Result: Good.

(ii) A character without any trauma, but who still has some setbacks in life that get him emotional enough to spill a few tears. Result: Better.

(iii) A character who is just really invested in the outcome of a local charity hockey game who by the end of the story ends up married to the head coach and can’t make it through his vows without choking up. Result: I would pay twelve real dollars to see this.

#wentworth miller #michael scofield #leonard snart #captain cold #coldflash #sort of #mostly i'm thinking that I'm Sorry Barry moment which?#*chef's kiss*#yes i made this post instead of starting on the next chapter of my fic #what of it?

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eddiekaspbrakirlsblog · 3 months

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i cannot be stopped

part four is up !

#eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it 2017 #reddie #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #maggie tozier #wentworth tozier #reddie fic #reddie fanfiction #reddie fluff

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ambrossart · 7 months

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Paper Men Poll: Vote for Your Favorite Characters!

I realize this isn’t everybody, but I only have 12 spots. Everyone else will be in the next poll.

#bowers gang #losers club #richie tozier #maggie tozier #wentworth tozier #original characters #it stephen king #it 2017 #it fanfiction #fic poll #paper men #ambrossart

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oldshrewsburyian · 2 years

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This Persuasion fic just perfectly captures all the yearning of the original.

I am extremely flattered by your asking the impossible, thank you. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I arrived at 250 words of yearning/angst via thinking slightly too hard about history.

*

Dorset, 1827

Anne finds her attention insufficiently absorbed, even by Beethoven. She has been accustomed, when playing the piece for Frederick, to think of it as restful, half-dreamlike. And she has been accustomed to think that, if there is melancholy in it, it is only that caused by the sort of beauty which is never quite within our grasp. She does not think so now. Now the pattern of the sonata beneath her fingers feels inevitable and pitiless as that of history.

In the bedtime stories she tells, her absent husband is the hero of tales like those of Robin Hood and Dick Whittington. The earnest question — what do you suppose he is doing now? — is one she could, of course, answer with unsatisfactory precision. Thanks to the months spent aboard with him, she knows his habits of checking measurements, of testing the wind, of rising in the middle of the night. She knows his tuneless humming as he shaves (she had asked him, early in their marriage, what it was; “The Ballad of Anne,” he had said, and left the shaving half-done for a delicious hour.) But nothing of this is in the tales she spins, in which he comes safe through storms, the half-unfamiliar vocabulary of ships soothing her audience; or in which he outwits his enemies and beards the sultan himself.

For Teddy, these tales are still plausible. For Hope, they are still reassuring. And Anne sits alone and wakeful in the autumn night.

#persuasion #asks and answers #why wouldn't frederick wentworth be at the last battle fought primarily with sailing ships? i asked myself #i suffer in niche ways #reverse engineering fic!

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the-orion-scribe · 7 months

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Day XVII. Encouraging someone to achieve a goal

Fandom: Gravity Falls Chapter summary: Pacifica recounts how she screwed up during her first days working at the Diner.

Written for Day XVII of @flufftober

#flufftober #flufftober 2023 #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #my fic #gravity falls fanfiction #pacifica northwest #mabel pines #susan wentworth

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foxgloveinspace · 8 months

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If I start Dinotopia tonight I might fucking…. Start a passion project fic… after putting it off for like a year and a half😬

#very much so #dinotopia #project give Karl a hot farmer boyfriend. he’s gonna have biceps so big from lifting hay. and he will be sooooo good to 26. rock her like a #baby and Karl will look at him with heart eyes.#anyway. might watch Dinotopia #my sister got it on dvd and I adopted it and listen. it’s everything to me #David Thewlis is in it!!!!#and Wentworth Miller!! we lover Wentworth Miller!!#anyway. been watching this series for years and like. it’s such a comfort seires for me #I….. ugh….. I don’t need to start a new long fic tho #especially when NO ONE will read it #‘for years’ btw when I was a KID like I’ve been watching this since I was a baby and I used to sit on the floor with my dad and watch it as #kid. like tiny as fuck like 7-8 #maybe younger #and my mom would make me close my eyes when Karl drew the dinosaurs fucking on his desk #anyway. tiny tiny

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nikarie5 · 7 months

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Sandwich de la rondelle - Snippet with a guest star

Rating : General audience, no ships but bad French

General description : Sirius, Théo Angevine, and Frederick Wentworth (borrowed from @amarguerite's most excellent Persuasion Skating AU) take part in a cooking segment for the morning news at the Canadian TV studio at the 2022 Olympics. (Yes, yes, I know NHLers didn’t participate, but this is an AU, shhh!)

Pardon my French in the first part, I don’t think I’ve written in French for over a decade? Some of the English version is at the end, will maybe post the rest eventually?

Thanks to @lumosinlove and @amarguerite for the characters, @noots-fic-fests for organising the fic-o-ween prompts, and @hazelnoot-analyst for the archiving :)

⚜⚜⚜

“Bienvenue à Salut Bonjour aux Jeux Olympiques, édition cuisine! Je suis Corinne, et nous avons avec nous aujourd’hui trois des fils les plus connus de la Belle Province. Ils sont ici pour nous montrer quelques unes de leurs petites astuces pour garantir un bon match et pour faire part dans une petite échange culturelle. Vous les connaissiez: nous souhaitons la bienvenue à Théo Angévine, des Vegas Golden Knights; Sirius Black, des Gryffindor Lions; et Frédéric Wentworth, des Habitants et capitaine de l’équipe nationale. Les trois ensembles forment la première ligne à l’attaque pour Canada pour ces jeux à Beijing.

Alors, Théo et Sirius, on me dit que vous avez tous les deux un rituel d’avant match très, mais très similaire. Qu’est-ce que c’est qu’un sandwich de la rondelle et comment se fait-il que vous en fassiez tous les deux un avant chaque parti?” “Bon, d’abord”, Théo jette une petite sourire au studio, “pour commencer, il vous faut du pain de mie, de la beurre, une banane, une petite cuillère de cannelle, du sucre blanc, et l’incontournable beurre de cacahuète.”

“Crémeux, ou croquant?”, interjette Corinne.

“Crémeux.” “Croquant.” Disent Théo et Sirius en même temps.

« Et vous pouvez utiliser du miel au lieu du sucre blanc si, pour une raison ou un autre, vous n’en aviez pas. L’important c’est que votre sandwich à un gout sucré. » ajoute Sirius.

Les trois joueurs prennent chacun une banane dans la main, et commencent à le couper en petits tranches. « Comme des rondelles, tu vois? Ensuite, on les trempe dans le miel ou sucre, puis il faut les saupoudrer avec un ‘tit peu de la cannelle. Puis dans la poêle pour les caraméliser. Ça prend, quoi, trois minutes? »

« Entre temps, fait griller le pain, puis étale un peu de beurre sur chaque côté, et saupoudre avec le reste du mélange sucre cannelle, or qu’avec de la cannelle si tu n’as pas de sucre. »

« Étale une des tranches de pain avec ton beurre de cacahuète croquant » Sirius jette un regard un peu compétitif vers Théo, qui assiste Frédéric avec la caramélisation des rondelles de banane.

Théo reprend, « Quand vos rondelles ont une petite peau dure, c’est le temps de les étaler à leur tour sur le beurre de cacahuète bien crémeux. Fermez le sandwich, et voilà! » Un sandwich de la rondelle.

« Pour les petits, c’est tout aussi délicieux sans caraméliser les bananes, et comme ça il ne te faut rien qu’un grille-pain. »

Corinne leur demande l’origine du sandwich, puis prends une grande bouchée du sandwich préparé par Sirius.

« ‘Fin, quand nous étions des Peewees, Sirius et moi, nous étions sur la même équipe pour un saison ou deux. Sirius était deux, trois ans plus jeune, et il avait toujours l’air affamé avant chaque parti. Un jour je lui ai offert un part de mon sandwich – ma mère m’en faisait toujours trois. Aussi simple que ça. »

Tous les yeux tournent vers Sirius, qui hausse ces épaules. Frédéric lui donne une petite tape, comme pour dire Parle, connard. Sirius ajoute, « Oui c’est ça. Je crois que j’avais sept, huit ans? C’était la première fois que j’avais gouté un sandwich sucré. C’était le sandwich parfait, croquant, sucré, pain bien dorée. J’en mange un avant chaque match. Hé, tu en avais trois? Tu m’en donnais qu’un demi-sandwich et tu en avais trois?! »

« Merci Sirius, Théo. Maintenant, passons à l’échange culturelle. Frédéric Wentworth va nous démontrer une des recettes traditionnelles de chez lui à Kahnawake, le pain frit…. »

⚜⚜⚜

The next morning, Sirius, Théo, and Freddy find themselves back in the TV studio, behind the counter of the cooking set, this time with the hosts for the English morning show. Lisa LaFlamme, hired back as a special reporter for the games, greets the three then jumps right into introducing the segment.

« Good morning Canada! This is Lisa LaFlamme in the Team Canada studios, and I am joined today by the sharp end of the first line of the men’s national hockey team, winger and Captain Frederick Wentworth, center Sirius Black, and winger Théo Angevine. They are here to recreate yesterday’s viral cooking session for our English viewers. In case you missed it, Theo and Sirius are going to share one of their pre-game rituals with us, and then Frederick Wentworth is going to show us all how to make a celebratory staple from the Kahnawake reservation.

Theo, Sirius, you two share a remarkably similar pre-game ritual. How did this happen, and what is a puck sandwich? »

…

#lumosinlove #fic fest #fic-o-ween #hazelnoots #frederick wentworth #skating au #théo angevine #sirius black #sweater weather fanfic

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hillnerd · 1 year

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Wentworth/Anne Elliot - Summers day

(Thank you!)

Anne closed her eyes, letting the orange red light through her eyelids take over and spread through her, leaving her nothing but warmth and calmness. The breeze just managed to keep the heat from being stifling, and the faintest whiff of cinnamon kept her rooted in Morocco.

“Anne?”

Her eyes fluttered and she smiled.

She turned to behold Frederick, resplendent in his military attire, his arms overburdened with a multitude of parcels.

“What are you up to?” she asked, reaching out to relieve him from some of the brown packages.

“I saw you admiring the fabrics, and couldn't resist procuring them before our departure.”

“And you deemed it necessary to gather them personally instead of entrusting the task to another?”

A petulant frown tugged at his lips. “There was only that young boy there, and he couldn’t leave his booth unmanned… And you showed keen interest in these. I couldn't bear the thought of you enduring two months without anything beautiful. Who knows what will lie at the next port?”

She shook her head. On the deck of a ship he was Captain Wentworth, nothing but the most decisive of leaders, calm and collected, and every inch of him a fearsome commander. On land, and in the confines of their small private quarters, she got to see Frederick; the thoughtful man who fretted about her comforts, and sulked when his reasoning was challenged.

Many of the fabrics she had admired were undeniably luxurious, surpassing the requirements of their modest lifestyle. While she reveled in their beauty, she saw no necessity in acquiring them.

"I did admire them," she admitted, gingerly unwrapping one of the practical fabrics he had also obtained. Meeting his gaze, she expressed her gratitude. "Thank you, Frederick."

His sun-kissed countenance flushed slightly, despite their six months of marriage. "It is my pleasure. Is there anything else you desire before we embark?"

"Only the opportunity to etch this moment in my memory a little longer," she replied, nestling her head against his arm and once again surrendering herself to the blissful respite of closed eyes.

#anne elliot/frederick wentworth #persuasion #my writing #fan fic

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years

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As my date has been set for posting for WIP Big Bang I can now start posting chapters, I have posted 4 today, the next 4 will be out next Saturday, and the remaining three chapters will come out August 8th.

Chapters 6-9: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37050160/chapters/101494554

Fandom: The Outer Worlds (Video Game) Rating: Mature Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto, Female Captain/Maximillian DeSoto, Female Captain/Chairman Rockwell (The Outer Worlds) Characters: The Captain (The Outer Worlds), Female Captain (The Outer Worlds), Maximillian DeSoto, Chairman Rockwell (The Outer Worlds), Ellie Fenhill, Nyoka (The Outer Worlds), Parvati Holcomb, Felix Millstone, Original Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Freakshow, Physical Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst Summary:

Circus/Freakshow AU in which Ava Mueller (Captain of the Unreliable) is now a contortionist/acrobat for a circus company run by Charles "The Chairman" Rockwell.

#fan fic #tow #the outer worlds #the outer worlds fan fiction #circus au #ava mueller #maximillian desoto #vicar max #nyoka ramnarim wentworth iii #ellie fenhill #felix millstone #parvati holcomb #chairman rockwell #sophia akande

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losersclublol · 2 years

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“but staph why did you make stan a kpop fan? that’s such an odd thing to add. it has no relevance”

BEN HAS TO FIND GIRL GROUPS IN SOME WAY OR ANOTHER AND THIS IS HOW I CHOSE HER TO FIND THEM

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tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 2 years

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Me: Ugh, New 52 is so dumb

Also me: Oh no, he’s pretty.

#leonard snart #captain cold #i'm writing a coldflash fic #and can't decide which version of len to use #appearance wise i mean #because i know most coldlfash fans usually picture wentworth which fair he's fucking gorgeous #but on the other hand #barry running his fingers through that hair?#fuck yeah #hell LEN running his fingers through that hair?#fuuuuuck yeah

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eddiekaspbrakirlsblog · 3 months

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guys I got too silly 🤞🤞🤞part three is up !

#eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it 2017 #it 2019 #reddie #reddie fic #reddie fluff #it chapter 1 #maggie tozier #wentworth tozier

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sorin-sunchild · 2 years

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The nature of sadness | IT | Richie Tozier/Tozier Family

Richie Tozier returns home to attend the funeral of his father, support his mother and muse on the nature of grief. Semi-canon divergent. CW: death mention, funeral mention. Length: Very short (718 words)

Her arms around him were familiar, though with a small shake in them from the tears she was crying. It was weeks since Wentworth's funeral, but it seemed like Maggie wasn't completely over it. Richie could understand that. He missed his father a lot. Even though he lived apart from them and had for years, the fact that his parents existed somewhere in the world brought a sense of stability and comfort to him anyway. A feeling of rightness. Now one of them was gone and something felt off in a way he couldn't explain. His mother was crying because she was glad to see her adult son come home when he was often so busy but she was also crying because his presence reminded her of how lonely she was now. How empty the house was. "I keep expecting him to walk in the door," Maggie said over tea in the living room. Richie didn't like tea. He was a coffee man. He drank his tea.

Richie watched her eyes wander, even now, up to the doorway as if Wentworth really would come back from the dead and walk in because she said so. Richie felt a lump in his throat that tea would not wash down. He'd never been so quiet in his life. This was his mothers time to talk but he did so wish she'd change the subject.

It wasn't that he didn't feel grief at his father's death, of course he did. Richie loved both of his parents dearly. They'd raised him, taught him good morals, nurtured his passionate but often fleeting interests and although they often did not understand him they weren't any stricter than they needed to be to keep him line.

The funeral for Wentworth had been something Richie almost missed. He didn't want his last memories of his father to be how small the coffin was and how surely all of his dear father did not fit inside a box like that. He'd slipped in at the back, forcing himself to fly over and attend. He saw how much it meant to his mother and that's why he did his best to visit her more often now. "You know, if not for you and the church, I think I'd just give up." "Mom!" Richie spluttered into his tea. "What? I'm not a young woman any more and I-...it's a big house to live all alone in." "Then get a cat or something, don't talk about dying like that, jeez..." Richie huffed, pouting dramatically. Maggie smacked him lightly on the air, smiling. "Ok ok. I get it. You're still a mommy's boy even after all these years." "Maybe." Richie grinned back.

They did talk about other things then and Richie decided to stay the night. His old bedroom had been converted into a spare bedroom (spare for who, Richie had no idea) but the bed was still in the same place. It didn't make him feel young again, but it was strange to be there. He supposed it would only be stranger if they still lived back in Derry. Richie couldn't remember much of Derry, so assumed nothing too significant had happened during those formative 12 years. At 2am or near about, Richie took a trip to the bathroom. On the way back, he stopped. There was the gentle sound of crying coming from his mothers room. He stood there outside of her door, hesitating. Unsure of what to do. He felt like there was a vice squashing his heart and guts.

Did he go in and comfort her? Would it embarrass her to know he had heard what she was clearly trying so hard to hide?

Richie took the cowards way out and went back to his room. He didn't sleep though. He wished he could do something, anything, to help her. The absence of his father, the misery of his mother, it had opened some deep wound inside of him. Sadness, Richie realised, never really went away. Once you were hit by enough of it, it just sat in the bottom of your heart with a lid on it. That lid couldn't contain it forever though. Sadness could become a deep chasm over the heart. Deep enough to drown in.

Richie got up and went to comfort his mother.

#it stephen king #richie tozier #maggie tozier #wentworth tozier #it fic #it fanfiction #long post #short fic

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ariestess · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wentworth (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Joan Ferguson/Brenda Murphy Characters: Joan Ferguson, Brenda Murphy, Joan Ferguson's Mother Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Literal Sleeping Together, Lullabies, Greek Language, Swearing Summary:

There's a low buzz of sound, a murmuration that she cannot understand. It continues on, incessant and soft, wrapping around her like the warmest comforter until she fears the loss of it. Her limbs no longer feel the need to strike out; her throat quietens in order to hear the sounds that must be words, even if she can't understand them.

#screak #joan ferguson x brenda murphy #wentworth #my fic

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