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An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on you WIP(s)

I am also procrastinating actually writing. If you’ve multiple works in progress you can give a different answer every time!

🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

🍄Decriscribe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

Enjoy!

#ask game #let's do it #maybe it will make me write

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It's @rwrbficrecs 1st birthday and RWRB's 5th birthday this month! 🎂 🎉

To celebrate we're putting together a new Readers' Choice Rec List 🥰 For this double birthday celebration we're asking for a double fic rec submission 🎊

Theme: 'Then & Now'  Get nostalgic and rec the first fic that brought you into the RWRB fandom. Then rec a fic you've recently read and loved 💕

If you’d like to participate, fill out the form here to submit a fic rec nomination for the Readers’ Choice Rec List 😊  Submissions will close on Tuesday 28th May 11PM AEST!

#fun #i love this #to page 98 of my ao3 history i go #rwrb

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the imperfect perfection of being | T | 10.1K

“And what about you?” “What about me?” “You’re gay, you only like men.” “Alex, let me take care of my own labels,” Henry explains calmly, his tone slow as he allows every word its own time, as if that could engrave them in Alex’s mind. “And let me tell you that I will still love you, that I do still love you. It doesn’t matter who you are, or who you are not.” Alex takes a deep breath, letting his head fall pressed into Henry's shoulder as one of the other man’s hands comes to rest on the back of his head. “Okay,” Alex breathes out, “okay.” or a non-binary!Alex fic and the way they discover something about themselves.

With a beautiful moodboard by @havanasroses for @aroyallybigbangrwrb a labour of love and projecting on fictional characters, a fic for all of those that cried reading The Pairing ARC.

read here

#reblogging for the night gang #was going to wait 12 hours but i have to go to sleep #rwrb

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the imperfect perfection of being | T | 10.1K

“And what about you?” “What about me?” “You’re gay, you only like men.” “Alex, let me take care of my own labels,” Henry explains calmly, his tone slow as he allows every word its own time, as if that could engrave them in Alex’s mind. “And let me tell you that I will still love you, that I do still love you. It doesn’t matter who you are, or who you are not.” Alex takes a deep breath, letting his head fall pressed into Henry's shoulder as one of the other man’s hands comes to rest on the back of his head. “Okay,” Alex breathes out, “okay.” or a non-binary!Alex fic and the way they discover something about themselves.

With a beautiful moodboard by @havanasroses for @aroyallybigbangrwrb a labour of love and projecting on fictional characters, a fic for all of those that cried reading The Pairing ARC.

read here

#red white and royal blue #fanfiction #rwrb fic #fanfic #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #fic non-binary alex #rwrb #a royally big bang

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LIKE LOVING THE STARS THEMSELVES

by @kiwiana-writes

[rated E, 7,219 words]

When he emerges out the other end of the alleyway and almost runs straight into a solid blue wall that wasn’t there last time he visited this area of town, Henry assumes his wandering thoughts have conjured an illusion. He blinks, and blinks again, but it’s still there: NORA’s unassuming back wall, the broken chameleon circuit now over thirty centuries out of date to blend into her surroundings the way she’s supposed to, her anomalous presence a wrench in Henry’s carefully laid plans. Alex is here.

Or, Alex is a Time Lord, and time is complicated; Henry keeps meeting him out of order, and it's been a while.

Read it now on AO3!

Note: you absolutely do not need to be familiar with Doctor Who, or with the episode The Husbands of River Song, to follow this fic! I got multiple non-DW folks to read through it to make sure 😁 If you ARE familiar with Doctor Who, though, there are definitely some easter eggs in here for you!

#I AM FERAL #I AM GOING INSANE #LA VIDA ES MÁS HERMOSA #EL PASTO MÁS VERDE #Y EL LUNES YA NO ES UNA TRAGEDIA #THANK YOU MJ

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It's my turn to post for @aroyallybigbangrwrb!

Thanks to @read-and-write- for the absolutely GORGEOUS banner and @celeritas2997 for beta reading like an absolute champ

Nora’s supposed to be doing her stats homework. Supposed to be, being the keyword. Unfortunately for her, the view from her window is more than a little distracting. Because just across the side yard that separates their houses, June Claremont-Diaz is furiously pacing her bedroom. She’s on the phone, and, if the frustrated gestures are any indication, she’s talking to her plain Saltine-cracker of an on-again, off-again boyfriend—Evan—again.

read the rest on AO3!

#junora my beloveds #i love em man #rwrb

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“I’ll just write this short little fic”, the author says, not realising they’re doomed by the narrative

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two mimir

#verdaderamente #two mimir #amo aquí #red white and royal blue

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Writing is so much fun! You can be like "I should process this" and just go nuh-huh, see, I'm going to make up a guy and have them process it for me. Not me! It's the guy I made!

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Seven Sentence Sunday

God it's been a while hasn't it? they say as if this wasn't the 3943 time in the year they have dissapeared but ANYWAY i am back to writing after a brief distraction and now on a countdown since there's a deadline looming ahead (and i already changed what i will do on that deadline in the hopes i will actually finish it)

Thanks to @kiwiana-writes @myheartalivewrites @affectionatelyrs @magicandarchery @14carrotghoul @theprinceandagcd and @suseagull04 for the tags!

So, remember non-binary Alex? They are still alive! And a little bit contemplative about themselves and hopefully soon to be done.

“And what if I don’t know that? What if I really don’t know who I am?” It’s a confession and Alex knows it, it is at least the closest thing to the full truth that Alex is able to admit. Henry furrows his brows but the gesture only lasts a second before his expression resolves into something much more soft.  “Then you don’t know, Alex,” Henry starts, Alex looks up at him. “You don’t have to know everything, it’s not a test. You can wear what you want and maybe get it wrong and decide that’s not really what you want but you tried it and now you are a little closer to what will be right.” “And if nothing is?”

I have no idea who has done this or not but also sunday it's almost over HOWEVER if you see this and want to do a last minute save take the tag, it's yours and show the world!

#red white and royal blue #fanfiction #tag game #seven sentence sunday #fic non-binary alex

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fic pride friday! :D

thank you @kiwiana-writes for the tag! this is by far my favorite tag game, not only to get to see everyone else's bits that they're most proud of but also to check in with my own writing versus the LAST time I did this challenge and what's changed. thank you thank you! it's always a pleasure to read your words <3

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

Tags: I CANNOT STRESS HOW !OPEN TAG! THIS IS BUT ALSO: @wordsofhoneydew @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @msmarvelouswinchester @nocoastposts

@firenati0n @daisymae-12 @read-and-write- @magicandarchery

@affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @heysweetheart-writes

@littlemisskittentoes @sparklepocalypse @getmehighonmagic @firstsprinces

@priincebutt @cricketnationrise @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead

@whimsymanaged @anchoredarchangel @captainjunglegym @thinkof-england

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from How To Get Blood Stains Out of Your Linen (And Other Ways To Fall in Love):

Henry doesn’t wonder. He mourns. He grieves for things that haven’t even happened yet, for the happiness that he assumes he might’ve had if he’d been brave enough to reach out and grab it with his shaking, stained hands.

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from somehow I'd get by:

They start with dinner. Watching Alex cook for him has always been somewhat of a spiritual experience but tonight, perched on the countertop with Alex between his legs, feeding him a taste of each and every ingredient, like he’s hardwired to want Henry to be a part of his routines and his hobbies and his life, it feels like even more.   The first few buttons of Henry’s shirt have been undone, the heat from the stove beside them making his skin pleasantly warm. Alex’s own sleeves have been rolled up to his forearms, his tie long gone somewhere by the front door, both of their shoes with it. Henry tucks a socked foot around his calf and draws him in even closer, stealing a kiss that tastes like Saffron and the wine from the Spanish market downtown, the wooden spoon forgotten between them.  It’s curious how the day just seems to tumble on, the eve ning elongated as if the minutes have doubled themselves. Somehow it still isn’t enough time with Alex, and Henry finds himself surprised once more at how he physically misses him, even when he’s close enough to reach out and touch. He’s oddly aware of the space between his rib cage, the gaps and vessels surrounding the marrow, an emptiness he’d never cared to notice before. Behind them though, his heart is wonderfully full.  As if he knows the feeling, Alex never strays too far from him. Not when they finish up the food and move to the dining table to eat, not when he tugs Henry so close he’s practically on his lap, feeding him by hand and then with his own set of cutlery, sharing the same plate. The vacancies fill up with the food, wine, and Alex’s sweet words, piece by piece, a lifetime of inadequacy replaced with love instead.

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from Something Borrowed, Something Blue:

(I had to try to find a non-spoilery one jsdhkjhfk)

“It’s the southern charm,” Alex argues, still a bit in shock. “It’s irresistible.”  “It’s you,” Henry corrects him softly. “And I wouldn’t trade out a single thing about you. Your honesty or your energy or your words.”  “But your words are important. You always think through everything you say before you say it. And mine just— just come out like David’s vomit.” Henry laughs quietly beside him. “And sometimes I can tell that I should stop but I just keep going.”   “That doesn’t make your words any less important,” Henry says. “You know how to speak your mind. There’s a lot of people that don’t. It doesn’t make you too much or annoying. If anything, it means that you’re brave.”  Alex snorts lightly. “If I’m brave, then what are you?” He glances sideways at Henry. “Untouchable?”  “Terrified.”  The breath Alex had been halfway through taking halts in his lungs. Henry’s eyes are wide and so blue underneath the moonlight, a shade Alex hasn’t seen them yet before. He rushes to take it all in, committing the look to memory— Henry here, in his space, trying to speak a language Alex understands. 

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from treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet:

Alex writes about forgiveness a lot, especially on the days when he mourns for the once clean, normal mark he used to have. Sometimes he thinks about how simple things could have been. The fairytale story that he’d wanted so badly as a kid, had prayed for beside his bed at night and wished for with every shooting star that passed overhead.  But with every stroke of the pencil on the page his eyes fall to the skin just above where he’s holding it, the intricate pattern of the scarring tha t Alex knows he could draw accurately even in his sleep. He’s memorized it with his fingertips, with his eyes, with his lips. It’s a part of his person, so it’s a part of him, too.  And Alex has never been particularly good at self love, always moving too quickly and trying to make his family and friends proud, thoughtlessly making sacrifices at his own expense if it meant that some of the burden was taken off of someone else. By the same token, he’s always given love freely.  It comes as no surprise to him when he first says it, whispered against the gap in the line, right next to the jagged edge of where one end of the line has broken through his skin. He writes it in the notebooks, thinks it in his head: I love you.  Two years passes and with every day, Alex realizes he loves himself a little more too. 

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from there were pages turned with the bridges burned (everything you lose is a step you take):

Back in his room, he locks the door behind him and walks over to his desk, everything mostly left untouched from before he’d gone to the hospital. He hasn’t been able to go through it yet, to see the evidence that he was healthy and capable of excelling at things that, at least right now, he couldn’t dream of doing. Not at the same level, anyway.  Blinking harshly, he takes his lower lip into his mouth and finds the list of resolutions he’d pinned to his corkboard above it, not one of them marked off yet. There’s no way he could have predicted what this year would have brought.  Gently, he takes the thumbtacks out of their spots at the corners and folds up the paper, slipping it into a drawer. Then he retrieves the packet of skittles and pins them up in its place.  One day at a time, Alex thinks. 

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from I want you to have me like I've never been had, you get all my wild parts:

Gently, Henry presses forward into him again, lets himself appreciate the way it feels when he’s not busy chasing his own release. Alex sighs sweetly and widens his legs a bit, his fingers still achingly soft, dancing across Henry’s shoulder blade.  It really, really shouldn’t be this easy. Not the dynamic, but— Alex.   Henry stares at him, most likely cross-eyed for how close he is but uncaring at the moment, tracing a fingertip through Alex’s drying curls, down the slope of his nose, his top lip, the smile line carved into his cheek. Marvels at the way Alex lets him.  He wants to bathe in it. Wants to keep it locked up just as much as he wants to show it off. Wants to care for it—care for him, wants to round up anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of seeing Alex this way and rip the memory from their greedy, ungrateful, undeserving hands.  Keep it for himself instead, where it’s beginning to feel like it belongs. 

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from avalanche:

“Love is patient, love is kind,” Alex murmurs, the scripture replaying clearly in his head— el amor es paciente, es bondadoso. His grandmother's words, then his father’s, now his own, translating them from the way he learned them so that Henry can understand. He presses his lips to Henry’s jaw, solidifies them there. “It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” El amor no es envidioso ni presumido ni orgulloso. He slides a hand over the little scar on Henry’s shoulder, touches it tenderly with his fingertips, only a fraction of the pain he’s endured. “It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” Henry’s tears wet his cheek when he emphasizes them here; no se comporta con rudeza, no es egoísta, no se enoja fácilmente, no guarda rencor. “Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” El amor no se deleita en la maldad, sino que se regocija con la verdad. “It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Todo lo disculpa, todo lo cree, todo lo espera, todo lo soporta. Reaching down to fill in the gaps between Henry’s fingers with his own, Alex pulls back enough to look at him properly. Henry’s always kind of taken his breath away, but Alex can see the shift happening in real time— how every word, each passing minute that he spends here, finally where he wants to be, is recharging him. And how much of a marvel is it that where he wants to be is with Alex?  Henry leaving had felt like an ending at first. The conclusion of a year long fever dream in which all of his own fears and desires had been finally recognized and tested to their limits. No matter what Henry had chosen to do in the end, he’d changed Alex for the better. The proof was all there, written in fine print for the world to see. Alex would have been okay, eventually, just knowing that.  But now he can see that it hadn’t been an ending at all. All of the cracks in Henry’s shiny, practiced, impenetrable exterior are crumbling; shattered first with Henry’s valiant initial swing, the excess gently peeled away with Alex’s fingertips. It’s visible now, everywhere that he’d left his mark on Henry. Everywhere that he’d poured just as much into him as Henry had into Alex.  He’s always been capable. But Alex knows, just as much as Henry hopefully does now, that sometimes it’s difficult to get past the litany of weaknesses until someone finally comes along and recognizes them for strengths instead.  “El amor jamás se extingue,” he whispers against Henry’s knuckles, his own eyes blurry. “I forgave you a long time ago, amor.”  

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from it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands:

Henry leans forward to set it aside before he seals himself further into George’s side, an arm propped behind his back as he strokes his knuckles over Alex’s cheek. George turns away to allow them a moment to themselves, but it doesn’t rid him of the intimacy of it all from his position right in the center of it, especially as Alex moves closer, his own fingers dropping to move some of the hair from George’s forehead where it’d fallen haphazardly into his eyes.  It takes George even longer to find his voice again, nothing but a rasp when he summons the courage to insert himself into their familiar back and forth.  “Why are you doing this?”  Henry halts whatever he’d been about to say, dropping his gaze down to George in between them. “We take care of each other,” he says.  “Hen has a lot of days like this too,” Alex adds from his other side, his thumb stroking soothingly over George’s brow. “We’re glad you came, George.”  His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs. 

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xx

#i may have opened several tabs and that's between me and God #i love this game

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just curious as they're always things i've never questioned just doing but people in my life are often surprised that i don't mind doing them alone

🔁 pls reblog for sample size

#only one would be the concert #mostly because crowds alone terrify me #but with a friend to hold my hand it's fine #i eat alone at restaurants a lot #i haven't gone to the movies because that bitch is expensive

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happy wednesday! :D

HELLO I know I have missed at least the last one (if not two) rounds of tags but I have the brain space to share today so THANK YOU @onthewaytosomewhere @welcometololaland @littlemisskittentoes @kiwiana-writes

@suseagull04 @msmarvelouswinchester @priincebutt @itsmaybitheway

@thinkof-england @thedramasummer @nocoastposts @agostobuwan for the lovely tags! I am very much looking forward to reading through all of these this afternoon! <33333

today's snip is a bit longer, so I'll slip it under the cut! I *think* this is the first time I've debuted this guy so.... enjoy? kdjhfkjhsgkfhjg

hope you're all well! xx

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“So… I guess you’ve probably seen the news,” Alex says from the doorway, more so to his shuffling feet than to Henry himself. 

“I usually try to actively avoid watching the news,” Henry tells him. “You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Right. The, uh, Claremont-Diaz-for-2040-thing?” 

“Ah, yes,” Henry nods, his fingers twitching where they’re tucked underneath his crossed arms. “Your dream come true. Your parents must be so proud.” 

Alex’s face twists up into an odd half-grimace, half-smile, a divot between his brows as he surveys his wringing hands. “Anyway. I was kind of hoping that…” 

“If you’re looking for some kind of endorsement or political favor I’m afraid I’m not involved in any of that anymore.” 

His gaze finally snaps to Henry, shaking his head. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t— I just…” 

He sighs, dropping his hands, lifting one to drag through his curls, much longer than Henry remembers and a little silver with age. He’s always been able to tell when Alex was overthinking, even if they were never close. That much, at least, hasn’t changed. 

“I was wondering if I could live with you. For a little while. Here,” Alex says finally. 

Henry blinks. “Sorry?” 

“I was wondering,” Alex huffs, his eyes rolling briefly, “if I could live with you.” 

It doesn’t make any sense. Alex is a well known politician back in New York, the primary presidential candidate for the upcoming election. Henry presumes he could likely stay just about anywhere he’d like, and he has an exceedingly difficult time believing that that place is in the foothills of Finland with the ex-prince he’d made very clear on several occasions he, quite emphatically, disliked. 

The damage control hadn’t worked, because Henry was damaged enough for the both of them. The avoiding was better. He’d thought he could be rid of Alex for good. Could finally put to rest the feelings he’d had in his youth, shove them under the years that have built up between them since then and pretend they never existed in the first place.

Staring into his wide, hopeful, bottomless brown eyes, the same fire in them from years past, Henry thinks he really should have known better. 

“I’m sorry,” Henry murmurs, his throat tight, “it sounds like you’re asking me if you could live here.” 

Alex only shrugs. “Well, I mean. It should, probably. Since that’s what I’m doing.”

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no pressure, of course, and OPEN TAG!

@wordsofhoneydew @firenati0n @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @affectionatelyrs

@cha-melodius @anchoredarchangel @rmd-writes @read-and-write-

@magicandarchery @happiness-of-the-pursuit @getmehighonmagic @junebugclaremontdiaz

@bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @inexplicablymine @whimsymanaged

(here's hoping the tags work friends jshdkjshgkfhjg <333)

xx

#i am #staring #i am looking #i need more

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WIP Wednesday

So I totally lied about actively writing Celestial AU. Oops. I took a break and wrote something for not Firstprince and then got distracted for a couple of weeks. My bad.

Anyway. I'm picking it up again, and hopefully will be making progress. Until then uhhh have sad shit. Bc this fic is heavily focusing on grief and loss.

“What’re you thinking about, Hen?” Arthur’s voice pulls him into the moment. Henry smiles, sadness pulling at the corners. His eyes stay trained on the window for a second after he turns his head to face Arthur. “The next time we’ll be able to go look at Orion,” he replies after a moment . Heat rises to his cheeks, taunting his eyes into watering again. Henry knows he’s kidding himself, but the lie slips out easily.  Arthur doesn’t respond immediately, the knowledge that Henry’s statement will never come to fruition hanging heavy in place of an answer. Instead, he takes Henry’s right hand. It was hanging limp over the edge of the railing on the outside of Arthur’s bed. There’s little resistance when he grabs it-Henry willing and able to let the contact occur. His hand is turned to be palm up, his fingers curling slightly as they relax. Arthur presses a thumb to the centre of his palm, then drags it down toward Henry’s wrist, stopping only when he reaches the pulse point. With the extra pressure, Henry is made aware of his heartbeat, blood rushing beneath the loose grip of his father. From the sound of it, Henry’s races when compared to the slow rhythm of Arthur’s.

Thank you to @littlemisskittentoes and @msmarvelouswinchester for the tags

Open tag but also my loves (apologies if y'all have already done it today): @read-and-write- @galitzine-nick @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rockyroadkylers @44whispers @gayrootvegetable @songliili @leojfitz @inexplicablymine @affectionatelyrs @firenati0n @hypnostheory

#OUCH?????? #(more)

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love has a voice (and it's yours) | T | 2k words

A voice note right after leaving the classroom, ten seconds long. Hey man, it’s Alex. I'm messaging you so you can have my number. I think we can meet up Friday and Saturday, or tell me when you're free, I'll make it work. Another voice note, Wednesday at 9:37pm. I know class isn’t until tomorrow but there's another project coming up, do you want to team up again? I think we make a pretty good team. or the way voice notes can tell a love story featuring the voice of @happiness-of-the-pursuit

Read and listen here

#rebolog for the morning gang

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#arepa de queso #no se diga más

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love has a voice (and it's yours) | T | 2k words

A voice note right after leaving the classroom, ten seconds long. Hey man, it’s Alex. I'm messaging you so you can have my number. I think we can meet up Friday and Saturday, or tell me when you're free, I'll make it work. Another voice note, Wednesday at 9:37pm. I know class isn’t until tomorrow but there's another project coming up, do you want to team up again? I think we make a pretty good team. or the way voice notes can tell a love story featuring the voice of @happiness-of-the-pursuit

Read and listen here

#red white and royal blue #fanfiction #rwrb #rwrb fic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor