#i can feel myself wanting to leave this in wips land but no. i need to finish it. it'll turn out good i can feel it

[mars-ipan]

cooldown doodle bc i'm done drawing for the night. i work hard to provide for you all

#martzipan #marzi #working overtime to bring my followers faggotry #'ohh i wanna put real effort into this one! with like proper anatomy and character interaction and' i was a fool. art takes so long #i can feel myself wanting to leave this in wips land but no. i need to finish it. it'll turn out good i can feel it #i swear i take longer than a week on smth bc i am a college student and i'm like 'hm. i don't wanna do it anymore' even tho i STILL wanna #it's ok. it'll get done. i've done most of the hardest part

[try-set-me-on-fire]

fire/743865538051227648/hm-amnesia-happily-married-buck-hes?source=share i can already picture this being such a bang the way you write them being in love i'm thinking of eddie unwavering support in the fic where buck sees people start to disappear when they are going to die and he starts to, so i'm already being like oh yeah this would be so so good. (now i'm will go off to read you most recent bang i need to finish some homework and i can finally start reading it i'm so excited)

(Post) Endless love in his heart for that man!! Was working on this a little last night, thought I’d share for tease tidbit tuesday/wip Wednesday

Buck lays down like someone unused to sharing a bed, all stiff and careful, cautiously contained to his side. It's another little heartbreak because Eddie knows this man in sleep, knows that only a few days ago he woke up and nearly fell out onto the hardwood with how much Buck had wrapped around him, inching them closer and closer to the edge of the mattress. Come here, Eddie wants to say. Be greedy for me. You can take all the space you want. If I fall, I fall.

“You need anything?” He asks instead. “I put your painkillers on your side table, did you grab your water?”

Buck looks behind him. “I assumed the one with all the frog stickers was mine.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, sort of a laugh. “There was… last spring there were some frogs living in our yard. Actually, uh- toads. Western Toads are most common around here, you and Chris are pretty sure that’s what they were, but you got into amphibians generally for a while there.”

Buck nods, still looking at the bottle. A stormy blue YETI, Eddie had given it to him as a kind-of birthday, kind-of anniversary present, those two dates so close together as they are. He’ll be 35 this year, and they’ll have been together for three years. They’d been thinking of taking a trip somewhere to celebrate the milestones. Eddie tries to remember when in the year the hand sanitizer factory fire was. Before Buck’s birthday, he’s pretty sure. 29, waiting to be 30. They hadn’t done anything big when it came around because Jee-Yun had been born and Albert had his accident and Eddie had been shot.

“You're sure it's okay that I'm sleeping here?” Buck asks it up to the ceiling, quietly, body tensed like he’s expecting to be told to leave.

“Yeah, Buck.” Eddie's hand rests in the no man's land between them, and he wishes he could just reach out and touch and be sure of how that touch would be received. “It’s absolutely fine. Unless you don't want to-”

“No, that's the fucking thing, Eddie.” Buck rolls back over to face him, a helpless kind of frown weighing on his features. “I- you have no idea how much I want-” he cuts himself off, digging his palm into his eye, just breathing for a few long moments. “But I guess you do,” he sighs eventually, lowering his hand and blinking at Eddie across the pillow cases. “You know… all of this already so- so I guess I don’t have to- I can just tell you…”

“You can tell me anything,” Eddie promises.

Buck searches his face and then blinks, hard, like he’s steeling himself. “Eddie. I-I love you, so much, but I- right now- o-or, back then? I thought I was going to take that to the grave. But we’re…” he looks down at Eddie’s hand between them. His left hand, his ring shining in the warm light of their bedside lamp. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how we got here, I don’t know how- how you could be in love with me, e-enough to marry me? I still feel like- like you’re going to say just kidding any second now. You deserve- more, I- why me?”

“Buck.” It comes out as a whisper, not entirely intentionally. He moves his hand forward, enough to tangle his fingers in Buck’s shirtsleeves, he can’t help it. “I… You know I was in love with you back then, too?” Buck's eyes widen in surprise, and Eddie hangs on tighter. “I'm sorry I couldn't say it yet. I could barely even admit to myself. But… half the time- most of the time I was with Ana I just wanted to come home to you.”

“Ana?” Buck raises a questioning eyebrow.

Fuck, right, that hadn’t quite happened yet. “Uh- a very nice girl who’s time I wasted. What I mean is- You are loved. You have been, the whole time. By me now, by me then. I don’t deserve more, Buck, all I ever want is you.”

Tagging @eddiebabygirldiaz @lover-of-mine @shitouttabuck @jeeyuns @buckactuallys @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @chronicowboy if you have any wips to share this week!

#amnesia buck #asked and answered #tag games

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday 📝

Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 & @thewolvesof1998

All the love for my last snippet from my Fantasy AU got the writing beans going and I got 2K written for it today ☺️.

A lot of you were so curious what happened to Bobby, so here is a snippet that explains things a bit. It’s set before the prev snippet I shared. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone and it’s a rough first draft so hopefully it reads well and makes sense. I really really wanted to share the whole 2K I wrote today because this girl loves validation, but I restrained myself so enjoy this long snippet instead xx

A pained groan from their right has Eddie shooting up quickly and moving towards-

“Bobby!” Buck is scrambling to his feet, feeling a bit like a newborn baby deer on wobbly legs as he closes the distance between them. He falls to his knees besides Eddie, who is helping Bobby sit up against a large rock. The arrow sticking out of Bobby’s side is surrounded by a sea of red that has spread across Bobby’s shirt. Eddie rips the fabric of the shirt open to reveal the entry wound, the smell of blood flooding Buck’s nose causing bile to rise in his throat that he quickly swallows back down.

“Shit.” Eddie hisses as he inspects the wound carefully.

Bobby winces in pain. “Eddie, you need to go.” His voice comes out strained, breaths sounding heavy with exertion and Buck is fucking terrified. He can’t lose Bobby. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

Eddie stills his hands, lifting his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby- ”

“More are coming and you can’t fight them off alone.”

“I can fight.” Buck says with determination. Bobby made sure Buck was skilled in combat, and now Buck understands why. The soldiers hunting them aren’t going to stop if they best him. No, they’ll go for the killing blow. They’re battle hungry and fighting for a cause that they truly believe in, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, not the weapons or magic they’re wielding, though that certainly doesn’t help. Buck won’t deny that he’s scared, but he will not stand back and do nothing. “Bobby, I can fight. Let me protect you.” He pleads, blinking away the tears that have been building in his eyes. They trickle down his face, feeling warm and heavy with with grief.

Bobby smiles sadly at him, Eddie getting to his feet and stepping back to give them some space. “I know you can, Buck.” His hand lands on Buck’s neck, thumb a comforting weight on the hinge of his jaw. “But there’s fifteen more armed soldiers coming and the two of you can’t fight that many, not with so much at risk.” He looks pointedly at Buck now and Buck wants to scream and yell at whatever deity dealt him these cards. He closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears. “You need to go. Eddie will protect you and keep you safe.”

Buck shakes his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not leaving you.” He won’t leave Bobby here to die alone, he’ll die with him if it comes down to it. Bobby saved Buck all those years ago, has been saving him every day of his life just by existing and loving him, now it’s Buck’s turn to return the favour. He opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s with a new sense of determination. He is not leaving him.

Bobby looks over Buck’s shoulder and gives a small nod of his head before strong arms are wrapping around Buck and pulling him away.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” Buck fights against Eddie’s arms, thrashing and kicking out, desperately trying to get back to Bobby. He is not leaving him. “Bobby! Don’t do this! Dad!”

“May Elrus guide your soul, Robert Nash.” Eddie says, Buck feeling the vibrations from his voice along his back before Eddie tightens his arms around Buck and then the ground beneath his feet is gone, air whipping around them as they shoot into the sky.

Buck yells, clutching onto Eddie’s arms, stomach swooping like he’s on the drop of a rollercoaster. A strong gust of wind blows and sends them soaring through the air, the shape of Bobby growing smaller and smaller until Buck can no longer see him through the haze of tears freely falling from his eyes.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @ladydorian05 @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @weewootruck @steadfastsaturnsrings @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz

#fantasy au #daffi writes #buddie wip #buddie #I feel like I don’t get into Buck’s head enough but also don’t want to just be drowning in his thoughts if you know what I mean? #also should I spoil whether Bobby lives or not? 🤔 #buddie fantasy au

[thevioletcaptain]

WRITING MEME: *steeples fingers* talk to me about a WIP you've got goin' on

This is such an impossible open-ended question for my indecisive brain because I have far too many works in progress and just choosing which one to talk about is hard 😭 But let's give this a try.

Gonna take the roulette approach (opening my WIP folder, closing my eyes, scrolling up and down several times, and then clicking without looking) to save myself from The Initial Struggle.

OKAY. The WIP I landed on is an as-yet-wholly-unpublished DeanCas fic titled One More Chain Does the Maker Make. Whoo!

Here's an assortment of bullet-point notes about it!

The premise: 15.06-adjacent alternate canon fic! Jack kills Chuck before they even know he's been resurrected, and his influence on the world--and on Dean in particular--lifts away. Dean leaves, fearing that Cas won't feel comfortable coming back to the bunker to see Jack if he's still there, and also because he feels the need to be on his own for a while as he figures out who he is without Chuck pulling his strings. He goes no-contact, and ends up working on Jesse & Cesar's ranch, where he eventually realizes that he's gay, and that Chuck's manipulations ran even deeper than he'd thought.

Yeah, that's right -- it's a gay!Dean fic, which I've wanted to write for a while. It's been a really compelling concept to explore, considering everything else I've written has been bi!Dean, and once I started thinking about it from the Chuck-manipulation angle I knew I had to write it.

The title is a lyric from The Maker Makes by Rufus Wainwright, which I didn't realize was written specifically for Brokeback Mountain until right now when I went to find a youtube link.

It's a rare fic for me in that Dean legitimately doesn't already know that he's in love with Cas. He's felt it for a long time, but Chuck has been fucking with him so intensely that it's very much been an allegory of the cave situation. He's been looking at the shadows of his love, but now that the chains are gone, he can look at it directly.

Dean stays on Jesse & Cesar's ranch for several months overall, and when he eventually reaches out to Cas it sets off a long period of writing emails to one another, then texting, then calling. The epistolary section of the fic is HEAVY on the pining and it's been a lot of fun to write.

This fic also features a favorite trope of mine: namely that Dean looks at Cas in his ill-fitting suit and dumpy trenchcoat and sees an absolute brick house stud, while the person he's just been gushing about him to looks and sees Just Some Guy.

Dean! Befriends! A horse!

There's also a subplot with a radio show, but I'll save further details on that for when I eventually post it.

I hope this was at least somewhat interesting! Thanks for the ask <3

If anyone wants to know more about this fic, or another WIP, or something I've posted on Ao3, feel free to send an ask :)

#ozonecologne #replies #cass writes fic #writing meme

[todderwodders]

WIP WHENEVER

I’m coping with thanksgiving. This is coping. Tagged by @mightymizora this one felt thematically adjacent to your beautiful post today, so I had to use this one.

“I am divine, yes. Evidently to you I am also a common slut whose No can be persuaded. How I hate you for having to remind you of what still lay between us. I, in your eyes, am divine slut, my father’s apocalyptic whore. But remember that first I am king of myself and beloved of my father - you should feel so lucky to want me and be denied kindly instead of culled.”

He pushed it. Enver feels his insides turn in on themselves, a rat king of twined intestines, desperate to escape The Urge’s gaze. The rounded eyes in that perfect face seem to eat the torchlight, seem to focus only on him. Enver feels his legs begin to shake, his own weight suddenly too much—

The door ten paces to the left, the third story window behind him and two paces to the right that leads into the sea below, if he can manage to miss the strip of land between this house and the waterfront.

No. Ignore that. The Urge feeds on fear, on the little piece of almond shaped brain in his head that begs him to run, rabbit, run—-

He must think. He must say something clever, and charming, and almost sweet to sooth his monster-friend’s ego.

“Come now, taker of my heart I—“

A white hand, clamped over his mouth. The power in the other’s hand will never cease to both impress and frighten him. The nails that prick his cheeks and the breath that ghosts over his face will never cease to stir him.

“Do not insult me further.” A direct order that has him going rag doll limp, insides flash flooding with a heat that would make a less experienced man beg. Wisely, he does not.

Enver feels himself shaking, feels apologies crawl up his throat, so close to breaching the deadlock of his teeth. “Do not deny me then,” he wheezes, breath hot against his palm. “Moonface.” Flattery. He feels that dangerous press of fingers on cheekbone.

“I deny you nothing of import. I am tired, and I am sore.” The Urge says, giving nothing away as they let up their grip.

“Then let me give you pleasure. I am owed at least the attempt.” He feels the mistake and the damage it does even as the Urge’s face refuses to show even a flicker.

“The only debt I owe anyone is to my lordfather.”

“I had only wanted to touch you.” He says soothingly. He kisses the palm of his hand, he runs his heart finger over the ridge of The Urge’s jaw, let’s the ring depicting their joined hands rest at his chin. He pretends his hand is not shaking. “I can never seem to love you enough.”

The Urge shifts, releases him, and for a moment, Enver sees candlelight in his eyes. Yellow, syrupy reflections of oil-water. He’s slipped the noose.

“I know what you want.”

He kisses him, so feather light that Enver’s lungs go empty, waiting for a nail to dig into the thick hide of his trachea or for his head to be smacked so hard into the wall it cracks. The violence does not come. The Urge smells of caramel and coffee and hickory. He opens his mouth to take more of him in, and is met with resounding emptiness.

“Too bad I am not in the business of giving you your every desire. Mother and father to you, I am not.”

A kiss to the forehead. A nail pressed to the scar on his skin, lovingly wedging itself into the indentation. He doesn’t need to open it up down to blood and soft tissue to remind him. Be wise in the words you say to me. Know thyself.

The Urge leaves him in a blink. Enver slumps to the floor.

Tagging @nullshocked @baneschosen

#Enver finds the urge’s scarf and uhhhhhh 💦💦💦🥛🥛🚬 #wip #wip whenever #enver gortash #durgetash #the urge

[henryspearl]

thank you @onthewaytosomewhere for the tag!! i was actually excited for this wip wednesday!! here’s another small snippet from my bridgerton au for @aroyallybigbangrwrb

“Let’s head back,” Henry faces away from the sky. “We need to find the others and make way.”

Henry trumples over the leaves and does not look back to see if Alex is following behind, but he can hear him through the sound of his strides that are following him. Though, he does get his definite answer that Alex is following close behind when he steps hastily on a bit of mud, where the pouring rain has made it wet and without hesitation has caused him to slip, falling flat on his arse with a loud groan and his rifle landing next to him.

And then there’s Alex, looking down at him with a witty smirk on his lips and chuckling.

Ah, there’s that irritating knobhead.

“It is not funny,” Henry growls. “Do not just stand there and shed your amusement.”

“I apologise,” Alex smirks. A long breath elicits from his lips and the laughter dies down, “Do you want a hand getting up?”

Henry looks unimpressed as he is now faced with Alex’s offering hand…and his long fingers directly held out in front of him. He gulps. “I am perfectly capable of getting up myself, thank you very much, I am not an invalid.”

“I never said you were as such,” Alex argues. “I just cannot imagine a prince getting on his hands and knees that is all.”

You would be surprised. Henry says to himself, but instead he huffs out exasperatedly and grabs hold of Alex’s hand and feels the force of him pulling him up off the ground.

And he was so close until Alex misplaced his footing and ended up slipping himself, tumbling with him to the ground. And just as Henry’s luck goes, Alex falls on top of him. In the worst position imaginable. The rain has clearly washed away the alignments of the stars because even though Henry did not fall flat on his back and is sat fairly upright, Alex has somehow ended up straddling his lap. And the even worse thing is that neither of them has made absolutely no hesitation to move.

no pressure but tagging: @sunnysideprince @callumsmitchells @anincompletelist @theprinceandagcd @fullsunsets @inexplicablymine @jmagnabo92 + open tag

#my writing #wip wednesday #rwrb

[ladytanithia]

Writing WIP Wednesday (10/18)

I shared a different snippet of this chapter a while back, and I'm about to post it sometime today, so it almost doesn't qualify as a WIP anymore (unless you're counting the whole unfinished story). This is from Chapter 27 of Out of the Ashes.

Tagging my talented writer friends: @dirty-bosmer @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

Teldryn insisted on keeping his helmet on until Geldis had delivered their snack and Miranja had closed the door and locked it. She felt rather honored being given the key, even if only for a few moments. She sat down and laid the key on the table between them as he removed the helmet and fluffed out his sweaty hair with his fingers.

“Is it just me, or does Raven Rock feel weird now?” Miranja asked, taking a sip from the bottle Geldis had already uncorked for her.

“Raven Rock’s always been rather uncomfortable for me,” Teldryn admitted. “I’ve always felt something like an outlander myself here, despite being a Dunmer. In all the time I’ve been here, you’re the only one who’s seen my face. People don’t come right out and voice their suspicion, but they don’t go out of their way to talk to me, either.”

“Isn’t that lonely, Tel?”

“Yes, but I’ve felt it necessary. Especially knowing there are still MT assassins on Solstheim looking for you.”

“Which is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Miranja growled, shaking her head. “I visited the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary ONE TIME, helped myself to one of their sexy leather uniforms and one of their not-so-sexy mage uniforms, never took a single contract from them, and never went back. Yet the MT thinks I’m a member, and how they even got that information is beyond me.”

“Well, whether they’re misinformed or not, they still come here. As long as you’re living here, it’s not safe for me to reveal my identity.”

“I’m sorry, Tel. Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome here. I have plenty of properties in Skyrim I could move to.”

“Or, as I think you mentioned once, I could move to one of them. Or ask your steward if he’d be willing to sell his old cottage in Riverwood. Maybe we could both move to Skyrim.”

They looked at one another for a long moment, just considering their possibilities.

“I’ve made arrangements here, set up trade between Raven Rock and Skaal Village, rented some untainted land for a small crop to share, things like that. I’d have to either end that arrangement or find someone who can maintain it if I leave. I know that Argis has started a relationship with Bralsa and she nearly lives at Severin Manor now, but I don’t know if Argis would want to stay here if I left. He does have the advantage with the Skaal of being a full-blooded Nord, so they trust him.”

“If I left, you wouldn’t have to.” Tel stuffed a large chunk of cheese into his mouth.

“We don’t have to make this decision today,” Miranja said, taking a swig from her mead bottle. “But I will talk to Argis, probably tomorrow, and see how attached he is to Solstheim – and to Bralsa. I’d be happy to leave him in charge of the manor, maybe even sign it over to him eventually if I don’t see myself doing anything more than visiting here. Right now, though, my brain hurts. I might even forego dinner tonight and just go to bed early. Tomorrow is the first of the month, and I’ll need to accompany Argis to Skaal Village for our monthly trade.”

“Well, if nothing else, I can say that my curiosity has been well and fully satisfied.”

“And?”

“And I understand for myself why you’re so well-loved here – and in Skyrim. I can’t say you don’t have a dishonest bone in your body, but I can say that you do have a conscience about it when you do have to be dishonest. You care about people probably more than is good for you, you’re talented, and you’re unapologetic about sharing pleasure with whoever you choose. I’m very glad to have gotten to know you, Miranja.”

Miranja had looked down at the table modestly as Tel had listed off the things he appreciated about her. Now she looked up at him and smiled sincerely. “I’m glad to have gotten to know you better, too, Tel. Even if that isn’t really your name, I still feel like I’ve gotten to know the real you. I’d like to keep you in my life, one way or another.”

“Count on it, my dear.”

Once they’d eaten and drunk their fill, Tel stood with Miranja to hug and kiss her tenderly before escorting her to the door.

“I’ll see you soon, probably tomorrow afternoon,” Miranja promised.

“You know where to find me,” Tel replied with a wink and a crooked, saucy smile.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #miranja #teldryn sero #fanfic #ao3 #dunmer #tes #solstheim #raven rock #retching netch

[wildhexe]

TESCheer Week Two

It's that time of the year! The holidays are upon us and so is @tescheer! I might post week one at another time, but for now I hope everyone enjoys week two.

The prompt I chose was mountain with a bit of gray thrown in and an almost-kiss. This is set in a completely random time that doesn't follow through with my main fic, Cursed Dawn.

Also landed close to WIP Wednesday, so I'm gonna tag @friend-of-giants, @boethiahspillowbook, @elfinismsarts, @thana-topsy, @v1ctory-or-sovngarde, @umbracirrus, @bostoniangirl21, @arisenlicious, @vivifriend, @thequeenofthewinter, @mareenavee, @lucien-lachance. If you guys wanna participate in TEScheer, make sure to tag me! The prompts are so, so, so good and I want to see what you guys write. Love you all and happy holidays!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Entirely in Vilkas POV. No warnings apply.

My knees ached as I trudged up the mountain, the snow crunching under my steel boots. Snow fell down leaving a fine layer atop the seemingly eternal blanketed mountain - The Throat of the World. A foolish feat to get to the top, yet I found myself more and more eager to take a peek at High Hrothgar. Entrance, of course, would be denied. But to have simply a glimpse at the looming structure atop the highest mountain and knowing of what legendary men were beyond the doors was enough for me.

A frustrated grumble was heard behind me and I turned only to roll my eyes as I was met with my clumsy shield-sister, the eternal pain in my side, as she had sunk knee deep into a snow mound. I couldn't help but chuckle as I reached out to grab her hand and yank her up in one swift motion, a sheepish smile crossing her features as she dusted off her thick leathers.

"Stop underestimating how deep some spots are, else you're gonna be doing that a lot more." I spoke with a firm, yet amused tone. She had every right to come with me on this journey, yet she was making it more of a chore than a thrilling trip. Her company, however, was not completely unwanted, though I would never admit it to her face.

"That's what?" She shook the snow off the thick cloak I had loaned her the day prior. She hadn't needed it, for vampires don't feel the cold, yet something inside me knew she needed that added layer of protection, if not to only feel normal once again. "Five times already." She finished in between shakes, the snow blowing directly into my face.

"Can you put it back on and stop waving it around? Bound to catch the attention of a mountain troll with all the noise you're making."

"Sorry." She spoke, though there was no indication that she actually was. I snorted before turning on my heel and continuing up the mountain. I could make out the shape of High Hrothgar. We were close.

It was silent again for a time, just the soft crunching of snow. It didn't last too long. As we rounded a steep corner, it took everything in my power to still my heart as Caterina slid and only stopped herself from toppling over the edge by shoving her back up against the thick trunk of a spruce tree. Something raged within me. An anger I had known very few times. Though why? I wasn't sure. I should be worried. Relieved that the tree had caught her. But I discovered the anger was stemming from fear. With no hesitation, I stomped my way towards her, my height and thick armor making my weigh too much to be dragged down the steep edge. That was something that the breton needed to be aware of; that no matter what, she was not made for these conditions.

It had been some time since I let my emotions get the better of me as I loomed over her figure pressed against the tree, both of us just a step away from sudden doom. I glanced behind the tree and was met with nothing but the gray night - snow and fog from the mountain making it look as though we would be jumping into a bed of fresh snow and not to our deaths down the rocky edges below. Cat held no fear in her eyes as she glanced at me with a cheeky expression.

"That would have been bad."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" I began, my eye twitching as I stared her down, her eyes quickly diverting away from me I was hit with an immense amount of frustration. In one swift motion, I placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet my steel gaze. Her eyes held a surprised expression as she parted her lips as if she were about to speak, but quickly closed them as if deciding against pushing my buttons further. Smart girl.

"I'm going to say this one last time." I lowered my voice as I inched my face closer to hers. "Be careful."

I gazed at her lips. Thin and so pale of a pink that it almost matched the tone of her skin. The only hint of color was the slight inflamed area of her lip that she sucked in her mouth to bit down on when she was nervous. These days, it came all too often and I caught Serana scolding her many times for her careless action.

Caterina looked at me expectedly and seemed to inch closer towards my face, triggering something within me. Empathy. Relief. Perhaps even affection. Wait. Affection? Absolutely not. As much as I wanted to pull her into my embrace and take those slightly damaged lips and press them firmly against my own… no. Yet my mouth was so close to her own that I could make out the sharpened points of her teeth as she parted her lips slightly as if she needed more air. In a quick motion she closed her lips, smiled, and affectionately pressed the tip of her nose against mine.

"It's Saturalia." She mumbled softly, her sudden voice taking me by surprise.

"What?" I opened my eyes and stared down at the breton as I yanked her from her dangerous position at the base of the tree. She made a soft noise at the sudden movement, but recovered quickly as we reached flat, non-dangerous land much to her relief.

"Saturalia. We need to hurry and get back before this coming up night, remember? I don't think anyone would ever forgive us if we missed the gift opening ceremony." She laughed as she rubbed at her cheeks before quickly placing her hands at her sides as if realizing that she still can't feel the cold.

"Phantom sensations again?" She only nodded in response. "And don't worry. So long as you don't get into more trouble, we should be able to make it."

"Good." She spoke with elation. "Because I have a really good present for you."

"What's that?"

"Me, of course."

"Wait, what?"

Her laugh was infectuous. "I'm only kidding. I'm not for sale and even if I was, you couldn't afford me." She joked. I couldn't help but smile at her impish behavior. "Now come on. Let's hurry. We have a party to get to soon."

And so we both continued, but for reasons unknown, I didn't want this time to end. I didn't want to share her with the others. I wanted her all to myself this day and had absolutely no plans on hurrying. Neither did she for that matter as she suddenly found herself getting stuck in another mound of snow.

I smiled.

#tescheer #tescheer2023 #week two tescheer #elder scrolls #skyrim #Caterina motierre #vilkas #the companions #one-shot #my writing #cursed dawn #vilkat

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Untitled Fantasy Wip Ch.2

What it says in the title, this is a rough draft for a piece I'm working on. I already know that there will be things changed in the final piece but I'm hoping putting a little of it into the world will be enough to motivate me to keep working.

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Chapter 2

Discord is actually up well before dawn. If the new high spirit is so dangerous he did not want to risk his name being known, and spent the early morning sealing it away behind wards of his own. A paranoid practice perhaps, but one does not become a Witch because they have a healthy relationship with boundaries or magic. He hides his name, charms his clothes against the cold, and then steps out of the house. He starts with the wards around the clearing. This is all tedious work, but not difficult work. It's a matter of feeling along the connection to the land and air that surrounds this section of the forest, how each of those little tendrils keeps the strangeness of the spirits and monsters inside and away from the thin trail that splits it in half. It's thirty miles of forest to tend to. Not insurmountable, a full day of travel to go to the farthest edge, but he will have to do it before the snow comes and makes it more difficult. He secures the eight wards around the house. Those are simple and he needs to have somewhere he is sure is safe before he starts to venture further out. Then he goes back inside. The house has been enchanted thoroughly by previous tenants, the kitchen spelled to always provide, the bath upstairs always full of hot clean water, the hearth never dies, the oil in the lanterns never runs out. 

He packs enough rations for the day as well as a generous portion of salt, figs, and two wrapped, raw pheasants. Hopes he won't need more than that today. Then he exits the house again and starts to make his way in the direction of the furthest wards from the house. It will be a full day, probably a little into tomorrow as well, but he will take a day of rest if he can make it all the way out and reinforce those wards well before the first snow. 

Discord has only been walking for an hour before he smells lilies again. He pauses this time, waiting. The nymph steps out from behind a tree with a wide grin. 

"Will you talk to me now?" 

"Are you going to say something interesting?" He counters lazily. She looks beside herself with her joy. Can't step onto the path he's following, but just like yesterday, gets as close as she can and moves parallel to it. 

"I'm Thylia, what's your name Scholar?" 

"I can't introduce myself to you before meeting the new High Spirit," he tells her. Based on the slight sharpening of her eyes, she's well aware of that fact. "I'm also not a Scholar." He adds absent-mindedly. 

"What are you then? You don't smell like a Druid." 

"Witch." 

"That's just a Scholar who doesn't like books." He hums, a simplistic explanation, but he's not going to start a debate on the arcane arts with a nymph. "Do you have offerings?" 

"I do." 

"Vigil was stingy on his way out, are you going to be more generous?" 

"Not until after I've met the High Spirit." 

She whines. "Ugh, if you want to see him so badly I can show you his cave, but he's not gonna like you." 

"He doesn't need to like me." But he actually pauses and gives her his full attention. Getting to the furthest wards is important, but establishing some kind of communication with the High Spirit is equally so. If only so he can know for absolutely certain how badly he will be screwed if he fails. "Alright, you can escort me safely to his lodgings and I will leave you something at your tree after my business with him is finished." 

She brightens considerably. "Deal!" Thylia takes a sharp turn and Discord takes a slow breath before he steps off of the path. The cutting above the hearth should keep him safe, but he can't shake the little thread of wariness as he leaves the relative safety of the reinforced wards along the paths. If he has time, if he finishes with all of the others before the snow comes too heavily or if it melts early enough in Spring before his contract has ended, he'll make a new set and path going to the High Spirit's dwelling. If only to make things a little easier for whoever ends up assigned this station after him. 

Thylia chatters as they walk. She points out other sections of the woods where dryads and other nymphs live, tells him that there were elder awakened trees who called a section of the forest home, but who have decided to settle into a long sleep with Caterel gone. There are other monsters too. Large beasts, wild animals, displaced spirits of travelers who never made it out of the woods despite the wards. Things he would expect from a place steeped in so much magic. 

It takes the better part of two hours for them to slowly break away from thick trees and underbrush to what appears to be a rock quarry that spills out into jagged stony hills. She can't go much further once his feet move from grass to dirt and rock and she lingers at the edge, "Follow the trail and you'll find the entrance." She tells him. 

The trail isn't a path as such. It is scattered belongings. A broken pocket watch here, a scrap of torn fabric there, he's already more than on edge by the time he starts to see the fragments of bone. It becomes more than fragments as he sees the looming entrance of the cave, each picked clean and discarded. He stops a few feet from the dark entrance and steels his nerves. This is not the first hostile spirit he has encountered. 

"High Spirit, I have come to seek an audience as the new Order Bringer of the Valchill Woods." There's a long pause and then a frigid wind comes from inside of the cave. He doesn't hear the creature move, but after a moment he emerges from the shadows. 

The spirit, he can immediately see, is likely some form of ascended ghoul. He is far too solid to simply be a ghost. His aspect is also apparent in each line of him. They stand at the same height but his skin is truly the pallor of death, tinged with blackened frost-bitten skin around his eyes, across his cracked lips, along his long fingers and creeping up his arms. His hair is long and wavy, hanging to his collarbone in messy layers, white as fresh snow. His build is more solid than his own, muscle corded along his arms, across his chest and stomach, exposed save for a tattered woolen cloak clasped around his neck in a deep indigo. Dark trousers over his lower half, feet bare and equally frost-bitten. His irises shine silver as they roll over him, taking him in as much as he is doing for the other. The spirit is ethereal, beautiful as all spirits are, but there is something monstrous in the damaged frost-bitten skin that speaks of what he was before he became this. 

"Your audience has been granted, Order Bringer." He speaks and the air goes colder, speaks and Discord can see two rows of sharp white teeth behind his frost-bitten lips. His voice is flat and uninterested. 

He bows slightly. "Thank you. I have brought you several offerings--" he starts to reach for his bag, for the pheasants and figs. 

The spirit sneers at him, all sharp fangs on display. "I do not accept." 

He blinks, pausing and turning his attention fully back to the spirit. "I don't understand." 

The spirit's eyes drag over him assessingly. "I do not accept offerings." 

"What do you mean? You have to--" 

"No, I don't." He waits but Discord fails to find his words. "I am the Grasp of the Frozen Death, High Spirit of the Valchill Woods, and I accept no offerings from you nor any other Order Bringer who pollutes my domain." 

"If you don't accept then I can't make offerings to any other spirits within the woods." 

Grasp of the Frozen Death smiles, a slow, cruel thing that looks painful on his cracked lips. "I am well aware of that, Witch." 

Discord's temper spikes. "How long has it been since you ascended? You can't refuse offerings. If you don't accept then the lesser creatures bound to the land will starve--" 

"Yes." 

He is nearly gaping at the creature. "You are the High Spirit of the woods! It's your responsibility to care for the others bound to serve you." 

Discord realizes his misstep a split second too late as he's suddenly standing nearly nose-to-nose with the spirit. Didn't even see him move he did it so fast, and the air around him is so frigid that his breath escapes him in a cloud of white. So cold that the heating charms on his clothes feel like they're shuddering from the force of the raw elemental magic coming off of him. "I am the High Spirit and I will care for my charges in the way I see fit. Famine is a hardship that they will endure at my command. You will not change this, Order Bringer." He hisses the title like a slur. His breath smells like blood and snow. Silver eyes drag over him again. "I cannot kill you while you are bound here, but make no mistake, Witch, I can certainly make you suffer should you forget your place." 

He sneers back at the spirit, grabs a handful of salt and throws it into the scant inches between them. It hits the spirit's flesh and immediately begins to hiss and sizzle with fresh burns. Grasp glances at the burns, takes a step back and brushes the salt away from his skin like it's nothing. It practically is nothing to a spirit as powerful as him, but it made his point very clearly. He may not be able to use his magic against him for as long as he's bound here as Order Bringer, but he is just as capable of causing other slights and harm as the spirit is threatening. 

"I leave this offering," he snarls, taking the pheasants and three figs from his bag and placing them on a stone large enough to act as a table. "As the new Order Bringer of the woods. May we keep balance between the world of man and world of spirits." 

Grasp considers the offering, considers him. And then he takes another step closer, reaches for one of the pheasants. His movements are slow and deliberate as he wraps four fingers around its breast, his index finger held deliberately aloft. And then that finger drops too. The reaction is instantaneous, frostbite seeps out across the bird, turns the meat and flesh as black as the skin across his hands, freezes it so solid that Discord hears it crack with the cold. And then the High Spirit tightens his grip and the frozen body shatters into a million little shards of desecrated meat. "I do not accept this offering, as High Spirit of the woods. May you find no balance or respite in the world of spirits or man." If he wasn't bound, Discord is fairly certain he would have been cursed. 

"If you don't eat, the forest will die." The Valchill Woods are old, centuries old, teeming with raw, natural magic only found in a handful of other regions across the continent. The death of this forest would devastate the natural order. 

"I will eat." The spirit says, deadly hand wrapping around each of the other offered items and destroying them with the same easy touch. "But I will not be fed, Witch." He turns and starts to move back into his cave. "What false title am I to call you?" 

He grits his teeth. "Discord." 

"Aptly chosen for what you will bring to this land." And then he's lost in the dark shadows of the cave and he is left, fuming and confused outside of it. Doesn't dare call the other creature back. 

///

He follows along the path back to the edge of the woods where Thylia is still waiting, but she's laying facedown over a shrub now. 

"He didn't accept it." 

"How long has he been starving you?" Her, the other pixies, dryads, nymphs, and awakened greenery. 

"Since Caterel died, two moons now." 

Full moons, he imagines, two months of this. Two months. He's shocked she even has the energy to leave her tree at this point. "Why is he starving himself?" 

"I don't know, he's never been chatty." She sits up, pouting. He reaches into his pack and gives her a fig. It won't fill her stomach, not while the High Spirit is abstaining from food, but it will taste good and he made a promise. "Thanks," but her voice isn't as bright as it was before. Knows as well as he does that this isn't going to make her feel any better. "Vigil thought he was grieving, let it go on a whole cycle before he sent for you, but Grasp didn't even like Caterel." 

He rakes a hand through his hair, looking back out at the quarry. He's never met a High Spirit that would choose to starve their subjects. "I need to reinforce the wards throughout the forest." He tells her, "but I will make a point of bringing new offerings every day. I can't force him to eat, though." She grumbles something in a language he can't understand, but she doesn't really protest that. There's nothing she can do about it either. She is bound to the will of the High Spirit. Unless, "Why has no one challenged him?" 

Thylia winces. "No one wants to challenge him. We like Grasp." 

"He's been starving you for two months." 

"We like him." She insists stubbornly. "He has a reason. He's strong. We can endure until he chooses to share it." A disturbing level of loyalty really, but he's not in any position to try and convince her otherwise. He doubts she would even be able to challenge him in her current state. Doesn't know if a nymph could be a good match against something that was once a ghoul, let alone with a rot powerful enough to destroy anything he touches. 

He sighs, gives her a second fig and then starts back towards the path he was supposed to be taking. "You didn't introduce yourself!" She calls after him. 

"Discord," he tells her over his shoulder, but he keeps going. He still has a lot to do today, long distances to travel, and will need to be rested enough to make it back here again tomorrow with a fresh offering. He takes a breath. The wards are his primary responsibility. He needs to ensure safe travel through the woods. If the High Spirit wants to assist in that by killing his charges that is technically not his problem. He will still be paid one way or the other. But there is something deeply uncomfortable about the idea of the Valchill woods dying on his watch. 

As Discord continues on his way towards the furthest reach of the wards, he finds himself wracking his brain for any offerings that he thinks might be more tempting for a winter spirit.

///

He ends up getting back to the house barely two hours before dawn, kicks off his boots, barely manages to shuck his clothes, and get into his sleep stuff before he's face down on his bed and gone with the pull of sleep. 

Discord doesn't wake until well into the following afternoon and when he's finally up again he's immediately starting towards the kitchen. Raw pheasant and figs wasn't good enough so maybe something else, something warm, maybe? Winter spirits are always cold. Maybe something warm would be more tempting. He spends two hours making stew. It's been a long time since he's had a kitchen at his disposal, longer still since he was in a position to have access to any ingredient he could want with barely the whisper of the thought on the edge of his mind before the enchantments inside make it appear. So he certainly isn't begrudging the time it takes to make the pot. It fills his temporary abode with the smell of a home he hasn't known, hasn't even thought fondly of, in a decade. When it's finished he packs some for travel, charms the bowl and cover to the Sanguine Lake and back to make sure that it stays hot, and goes to get his boots and cloak back on. 

The sun is long set by the time he starts on his way back to the quarry. He doesn't pay it any mind, it's a matter of seconds and a negligible amount of magic to produce a globule of pale blue light to guide his way. He can hear other creatures moving through the trees, but none stray into his space as he goes. It's an hour walk to his destination and when he arrives he sets the bowl back on the stones and calls into the cave, 

"An offering for the High Spirit," before he turns to go. Would like to go back home and have his own meal before settling in for the night because tomorrow will be an early day again, another long one as he finishes the far wards on the other side of the woods. 

"I do not accept it." 

He startles slightly, glancing up. Grasp is on top of the jagged hills, makes his way down with a few practiced jumps that barely shift the air enough to make sound as he lands back on the path with him. Discord rolls his eyes. "Indulge me. You may change your mind." 

"I won't." 

"Is there a particular reason you're starving yourself or are you just being an asshole?" 

Grasp snorts a little which is a more merciful reaction than he'd really expected. "Would it matter either way? You've made your offering, you're not obligated to do anything else, Witch." 

"Would help me explain why the whole forest died unexpectedly when I leave this post." 

The spirit considers that with a slight tilt of his head. Discord tries to not shiver. He doesn't know if the spirit is chilling the air on purpose, but it's suddenly cold enough he's longing for his gloves and heavier cloak. "And how long will you be at this post?" 

"Through winter," he replies carefully. "I can recommend a Druid for the next Order Bringer if you would prefer that." 

"I don't care what magic you or any other Order Bringer practices, none of you are welcome within my woods." 

The little globe of blue light pulses and crackles slightly with his agitation. "An awakened forest has to have an Order Bringer, even if you starve the entire forest to death, a new one will come to watch over the corpse." 

Grasp clicks his tongue derisively, reaches for the bowl of soup and picks it up in a careful four fingered grip. "You cooked?" 

"Would be more than happy to bring you things like that," rather than the more traditional offerings of raw meats and fruit, "if you'll eat them." 

But Grasp is putting the bowl back in his hands. "You can bring me whatever you like, Witch. I won't accept any of it. Now shoo, I'm sure you have better things to do than bother me." The spirit steps out of his space and starts to move back towards his lair, the charms broke as soon as he laid hands on the offering, and the warmth is slowly being leeched out by the cold night air as Discord watches him disappear back into the shadows. 

He goes back home, ladles out a fresh portion of stew for himself, returns the cold bowl to the pot and places it into the pantry spelled to preserve all of its contents in a timeless bubble. It's been a long time since he's made this. It tastes exactly how he remembers it. Just the first few bites has his stomach heavy and warm. Can't fight off the rolling sickness of the nostalgia though and he only manages a few more bites before he has to stop. Doesn't know if he'll be able to eat any more of it. He finds the little shelf hanging near the spice rack, a collection of hand-bound books, messy uneven pages all written on different scraps of paper and in different handwritings, and starts to flip through. Recipes left behind by the other Order Bringers who lived here before. Food that he can make without being mired in memories. He still has at least three more days of the far wards to reach. He'll bring traditional offerings until he's finished, until he can dedicate more time to this kind. 

He finishes his meal, turns in. Five and a half weeks until the winter solstice. The first solstice since the forest took a new High Spirit. Grasp of the Frozen Death will become one with the land completely then. If he hasn't eaten by then the reaction could be immediate. The forest will already be weak and dormant from the cold, that connection solidifying could kill all of the younger spirits, will absolutely kill the smaller trees and plants. That surge will also be the moment where the wards will fully lock in on him too, will ensure that his influence is bound only within the bubble they create around the roads. If he is bound and determined to kill the woods then making sure the wards are solid is the most important thing he can do. 

It still takes him a long time before he manages to fall asleep. 

#my writing #original writing #fantasy writing #m/m romance #m/m fiction

[writercole]

3 WIP Game

Rules: Create a new post and share snippets/screenshots/etc. from three of your WIPs!  Art or Fic! Tag as many people as you like! (created by @limetimo)

Oh, @a-reader-and-a-writer, yours sound so great! I guess I can pick just three...

Blurred Insufferable Try Again

Blurred

Two long arms caged her against the bar, a woodsy cologne filling her senses and giving her all she needed to place who was behind her. “What’s that on your neck sweetheart?” Bob asked, his voice in her ear and his chest pressed against her back. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied as she shifted her hair to hide the spot. “Yes you do,” Bob growled, “or you wouldn’t be trying to cover it. Why is there a mark on your neck? Is that a hickey?” “What? No, it’s a -” “A hickey that I didn’t leave?” he interrupted. “I cannot let that slide now, can I?”

Insufferable

“It gets you that hot when someone takes control?” he taunted as he teased my folds. “Never,” I moaned with my head tilted back, bracing myself with my hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he tutted, “I can feel it. Is this the first time someone’s taken control?” “No.” “Oh, then they didn’t do it right. Well, let me show you how good it can be when someone takes you apart piece by gorgeous fucking piece.” That was it. I swear I could smell my brain short circuiting after his promise but I wasn’t sure with the way he slipped a finger inside of me and curled it along my walls, coaxing a low, drawn out moan from me. “You are going to have to be quiet,” Fritz commanded. “If you can’t do that, I’ll have to give you something to stuff into your mouth.”

Try Again

The old nickname made him chuckle while making his heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t realize how much he missed her until his eyes landed on her moments ago. “I’ve been better,” he answered honestly. “Can I, uh, give you a hand?” “It’s just clean up. You don’t have to,” she shrugged. “I didn’t ask because I feel obligated. I’d like to actually talk to you, see what you’ve been up to the last fifteen years. Find out how you ended up here.” She studied him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. With a sigh, she said, “okay. I’d ask what you’d been doing but I can see it’s been all work, Admiral. Some things don’t change.” Beau ducked his head momentarily before raising it slightly, looking her in the eyes. “I know I messed up with us. And I will forever regret it. But how did you end up back here?” “An old friend called in a favor. Her sister teaches here and they passed the project at the last school board meeting. Penny knew that I had the skills they wanted and then some so she called me.”

Tagging: @blue-aconite @navybrat817 @wkndwlff

#cole writes #writercole #wips #wip game #works in progress #bob floyd #fritz avalone #beau simpson

[avatarskywalker78]

It's Six Sentence Sunday and I've been working on more than one wip, so this week you get three extracts! Firstly, part one of my Aquafam AU, which I'm hoping to get finished this week but I'm not promising.

“It’s important. At some point you’ll have to go up there, you know – wouldn’t you rather find out things in advance? You can’t ignore half the world just because you don’t like it, and the best way to combat prejudice is to do research.”

“I don’t plan on visiting anytime soon.” Orm said dryly. “I’d have to leave my cell first, and there’s still some months left before I can do so outside of my reparation duties.”

Arthur was working on that as well, but that was taking time and he didn’t want to get his brother’s hopes up for an early release that might not happen.

“I’m sure you’ll like it.” Was what he said instead. “I’ve got so many things I wanna show you, little brother, and you’ll love the food – we’ve got steak and cheeseburgers and tacos and—”

“None of that means anything to me.”

“You’ll learn!” Arthur declared, feeling cheerful about the prospect and clapping Orm on the shoulder. “You’re gonna love it, I swear.”

“I shall take your word for it.”

(Orm does suspect Arthur is up to something, by the way - he's not very subtle)

Next, the 'Tory is a Barnes' AU and I've written the whole fight scene, so here's a snippet (in other news, I hate writing fight scenes, why do I do this to myself?!)

“Tory, please, you don’t need to do this—”

“This has nothing to do with you!” Tory snarled, eyes alight with a wild fury. “I dunno who the hell you are, but you’d better get out of the way—”

“What, so you can continue with all this? With the brawl you started?” Elaine made sure she was standing between her cousin and Sam as she stepped back. “Look what you’ve done—”

“She had it coming! She deserves what she gets and no one’s gonna stop me!”

Then Tory sprang forward, faster than she was expecting, and landed a sharp kick to Elaine’s chest that sent her crashing into the lockers and fucking hurt, and Elaine fought to get her breath back as Tory let out a yell before going after Sam again—

“No!” Elaine had to stop her, and as the girls crashed through the door she tackled Tory from behind, hauling her away from Sam and ignoring the shouts and hollers of the other kids.

Lastly it's the 'Lissa Blackwood' AU - which I've been rewriting and also debating on whether to have it as a longfic or as a series of fics (if it's the latter, this fic will be up this week)

He gave her a concerned look.

“Lady Blackwood, we…were asked to find you as well. By your family and…by the Kingslayer—”

“Jaime. His name is Jaime.” Ned valued honour above all - that was the Stark way, she knew, and of course he would also dislike Jaime on principle…

But she’d just seen one of her oldest friends die, and she wasn’t going to listen to her other friend be talked about like this, not after two months of it from the Kingsguard.

“Jaime.” Ned acquiesced – unhappily, but he acquiesced, and Melissa took a deep breath.

“I’ve been through much, Lord Stark,” she told him, “and today has been one of the worst days for all of us. I…do not feel ready to talk about my return.”

She's not stalling - this point she honestly hasn't decided what she's going to do (but it doesn't take her very long)

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @dream-beyond-the-fantasy

#Six Sentence Sunday #wip: aquafam au #Arthur Curry #Orm Marius #wip: tory is a barnes au #OC: Elaine Barnes #Tory Nichols #wip: lissa blackwood au #OC: Lissa Blackwood #Ned Stark #Jaime Lannister (mentioned)

[stevebckley]

About me!

Hello, I’m Iri!

If you have come here from my Stranger Things twitter or my AO3, welcome.

I’ve been around fandom for a long time and on tumblr for longer but I wanted to start fresh here.

I’m a multishipper to my core. I love Steddie in my grubby little rat heart but I’ll ship anyone with Steve, Eddie or many combinations of my little barbie doll characters. 

I have no tolerance for any hate. I’m into a lot of Dead Dove concepts, A/B/O and I refuse to tolerate ship or character slander.

I’ll be accepting prompts and headcanons as I love interacting with people and bouncing ideas around.

I love to write and I’ve been trying to push myself to write more so I’d really love to be pushed out of my comfort zone to write! I have no preferences really on dynamics or top/bottom so if you’re interested we can bounce ideas around!

My AO3

My Twitter

Links to my current works!

Choking Loneliness to Hope : (Complete) A study of Steve Harrington through the years and his fascination with the hands of everyone around him

Make Me an Offer (I Cannot Refuse You): (OneShot) Steve just needs weed for this party and Tommy sends him instead. When Eddie tries to overcharge him for it, he figures the can work something out but he ends up getting a bit more than he bargained for when he makes too much of an open ended offer.

It's Crazy What You'll Do (For a Friend): (WIP) A season 4 that we could have had if they'd just let Gareth be dragged into everything along with Eddie because he would've smacked Eddie upside his self sacrificing head, I just know it

I Don't Like Anticipating my Face in a Red Flush: (Complete) The five times Eddie Munson kissed Steve on the cheek and the one time he didn’t

The Bat of it All: (OneShot) Kas survives the upside down and becomes the leader of the bats but there's a catch when his friends stumble back into the upside down

Love Comes Hand in Hand: Ongoing Series

I Want You (like you want me too): (Pt 1) Chrissy Cunningham and Steve Harrington are a cheerleading power couple but they have a secret life that no one knows about. When Chrissy looks a little closer at how her boyfriend looks at Eddie Munson, she devises her own plan to make them all happy.

In Good Hands: (Pt 2) A sequel to I Want You (like you want me too) from Wayne's point of view when he comes home in the morning

Raccoons, Cheese and Other Surprises: (Pt 3) Eddie finally got the boy AND the girl. No one told him he was dating a pair of Disney princesses though, complete with the wild animals that come with them.

You Can Leave Your Manners (at the door): (OneShot) Eddie just wants to take a shower before going home but Steve has other ideas for him.

The Adventures at Hawkins Park: (OneShot) Stobin Month - A chance meeting in the park

A Needle to the Nose: (OneShot) Stobin Month - Steve gets dragged with Robin to get her nose pierced but a chance jewelry spotting means there's a change of plans

the reason comes (on the common tongue): (Oneshot) Eddie keeps Steve from succumbing to isolation syndrome after the fight with Billy and Steve offers to pay him back in a very creative way. (Omegaverse)

i will grow bold (in a barren and desolate land): (Oneshot) Tommy walks in on a scene he never expected in his own parents bedroom, luckily he's invited to stay

Something New (for me, for you): (Oneshot) Eddie knows that Steve Harrington has a penchant for helping people lose their virginities and he’s finally feeling brave enough to anonymously throw his own hat in the ring. Unbeknownst to him, Steve has plenty of plans of his own.

#About Me #Masterlist #Steddie Writer

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Hi ❤️

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Hello, my love ❤️

(This is my best friend who is brilliant and talented and please go follow her for the highest quality Spencer, Emily, Tara, Alex, and Ralvez fics).

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Of course you would pick this one. My writing makes me very happy. It serves for a cathartic release whenever I need one most, and I am lucky enough to know that many others agree with me. My writing makes people feel things, and that's all I could ever ask for 😇

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Below you can find an extended sneak peek of my GradTA! Spencer/Undergrad!Reader fic titled "Extracurriculars."

I had many reasons not to trust women like her. I had been burned in the past, with ropes and blindfolds that still felt paralyzing. But in that moment, those cruel memories felt worlds away.

She had just seemed so… calm. So happy to flaunt our intertwined fingers no matter how many familiar faces we passed.

“What were you doing in a place like that, anyway?” she asked.

I laughed before I thought not to.

“Did I seem that uncomfortable?” I muttered under my breath.

“Weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I was.”

The admission didn’t seem as humiliating as I’d expected it to. The girl swaying closer with each step seemed pleased at the answer. I realized that she might’ve carried her own concern that perhaps she had overstepped bounds by assuming she was doing me a favor.

“Thanks for saving me,” I reassured her.

“Please,” she sighed, “I was looking for a reason to leave.”

It was a genuine, if not puzzling statement. Although I’d failed to realize in the moment, I would come to learn that we had both arrived at the party with the exact same motivations.

“Why’d you go then?” I asked.

The glitter on her face paled in comparison to her eyes among the streetlights. While she stared at me, I lost myself in the mesmerizing cascade of fluttering incandescence among the backdrop of her irises.

It was not the alcohol in my veins that made my cheeks tinge pink. It was not the bitter heat of the drought, nor the fear of whatever was making my shoes stick to cement.

It was the sound of her sigh and the way she looked at me like I might know the solution to the problem that landed us there together.

“Hell if I know,” she laughed solemnly. “Lonely, I guess.”

That makes two of us, I wanted to say. But it could be zero. If you wanted it to.

#answered #answer #ask game

[halleyuhm]

~WTW Ghost Gala: Days 1 to 8~

I just found the event and I'm several days back, so I'll try to be brief. I'll be using my WIP The trees don't let you see the forest because I think it's the one I'd like to try for NaNoWriMo and the aesthetics fit with the season.

It tells the story of a young witch cursed with blindness due to a failed spell and her journey to find the way to reverse it, aided by friends, fought by foes, and realizing the might be more important things than getting her sight back. It will be a challenge to write using every sense but vision! I have written the synopsis here, if you are interested. Yeah, I should probably do an official WIP intro.

So there we go, under the cut.

(Divider by @cafekitsune, go check her work out!)

🎃 Pumpkin Carving - You have to kill off a character: Who do you choose?

Right now, without having planned much, I choose Mauve. She's the secret keeper and sooner or later the past catches up with everyone.

🦅Raven - Create a tagline for your WIP

"Things we lose aren't lost: they remain with us, albeit in different shapes".

🔮Crystal Ball - Outline a scene, act or your entire WIP.

Let's just try the first scene so we can compare what I plan with what will later come up:

1. Juniper wakes up and sees nothing. Elowyn is there tending to her wounds. Crying, stress, oops she messed up so bad, she can't be a Sun Sage anymore. But she deserves it, and Mauve, her mentor, lets her know. Periwinkle, the cat, is silently judging June so hard she can feel it.

2. Laurel comes in, distraught because he played a part in the situation (unknowingly??). Maybe he argues with Elowyn and Mauve because of inner guilt + they accuse him. But June crashes against something and they focus on stopping her from falling head-first into a boiling pot.

3. Same scene or after some struggles?? Mauve (or Periwinkle, why not) mentions the Wildfire Hollyhock, the burnt lands, and the town there, but doesn't tell what happened in those cursed places.

4. June wants to go, Laurel joins, and Elowyn is told by Mauve to go with them because she is the BEST. There are obvious reactions. Witchy stuff.

5. I'm bad at this.

🍂Fallen Leaves - Create a playlist for your WIP

Work in progress but here it goes.

🎇Jack o' lantern -Share an interesting fact you found while doing research for your WIP

There is a flower that only blooms after wildfires. The seeds lay dormant under the surface until the soil is burnt and then they sprout. They don't last long, just enough for bees to pollinate them and drop seeds which will stay dormant until they are awakened.

You can read an article here, for example.

🧄Vampire - Tell us where you find inspiration or motivation.

This is what I struggle with the most (along with planning).

Inspiration comes in dreams, random shower thoughts, a single word in an extensive paragraph, Pinterest aesthetics, little things I see in my daily life, name generators (that I never end up picking), and simple things. Like, "Oh, this would be fun to write about."

Motivation uh, comes when my brain hyperfixates on an idea. And reading. Reading lots.

💀Skeleton - Have a favorite plot structure? If not, share how you plot.

I have no idea how I plot. Usually, I start writing and let the story take me where it needs to go (yeah, there's lots of editing later). I get ideas on the go, maybe a whole scene, and I add it to my evergrowing list of ideas waiting for the auspicious moment when it comes into play. Somehow, I managed to be very cohesive, though. And I surprise myself with how everything seems to flow as if I had previously planned it.

🍬Trick or Treat - Set some writing goals and milestones for your WIP.

This crashes a bit with the last answer, but I really really want to be more disciplined and focused. I just want to manage to plot the story and get to the NaNoWriMo final milestone. Let's do it!!

If you've come this far, thank you! You are my hero 💜

#WTWEVENT #WTWCOMMUNITY #wtwevent #wtwcommunity #am writing #preptober #nanowrimo #writeblr #writblr #WIP: June #ghost gala

[mcbangle]

Snippet game

I was tagged by @hullomoon thanks! Choosing snippets from my WIPs with the following words: smile, sun, grow, run, cry

I cheated a lil' bit because I couldn't locate five different WIPs that include these words, so I had to double-dip on a few of them.

“Oh.” Booster scratches the back of his neck. “Did I not tell you? Things weren’t really working out in Metropolis, career-wise, so I decided to pick up stakes and move to Gotham City. I just need a place to crash until I can get myself established in the biz.” He runs his fingers along a drawer handle then leans both elbows on Ted’s kitchen island and shines his most charming smile at Ted.

From a no-capes AU Boostle fic that I'm increasingly suspecting I may never finish (but maybe! Someday!)

Jack has no idea how long he sleeps, but when he awakens the sun is bright and high in the sky. He stretches, still sore but feeling much better after a long sleep.

From an unfinished prequel to We Flow Together

Jack doubles over the bluff, wheezing into the narrow green leaves that grow straight out of the ground all over the top of the bluff. They scratch at his face and tickle his nose, but he can barely summon the strength to lift his head. It finally hits him that he’s all alone in a strange land with nowhere to go. He’s going to die of exhaustion and hubris, surrounded by foreign plants in a foreign land.

From the same prequel

Shitty laughed heartily. “No, somebody to do odd jobs. You know, like run messages between me and the staff, pick up litter, refill the towels, and…” he circled his arms in the air. “Circulate. Talk to the staff, see what’s up, help out where help is needed.”

From a Check, Please! water park AU.

“Then… I’d probably ruin the best thing going in my life right now.” Even as he says that, a thrill runs through Ted’s chest. He doesn’t know whether to cry or to laugh.

From that Boostle no-capes AU.

New words: evening, spell, color, slow, blue

Tagging: @redneterp, @ereshai, @tardis-stowaway, @andthatisnotfake, @running-rabbit and anyone else who wants to play

#wip game

[vacantgodling]

author tag

thank you mj ( @mjjune ) beloved <3

i’ll do these for paramoiiiiii (which is pronounced para-MWAH bc i’m kissing it)

1) What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

oof. paramour has a lot of things going on in it, a lot of which are unintentional but evolved as i began to piece together the characters and the narrative. i don’t think paramour can be boiled down to a singular “main lesson” because i don’t think there’s really a lesson to be HAD. you can definitively read paramour for all of the deep thoughts i have about religion, masculinity, sex, gender presentation, and societal expectations, as well as like the horrors and suffering that greed can bring… or you can just read it as two guys who take the most stupid roundabout way to realize maybe the sex does have feelings. maybe the porn in fact has a little plot.

a lot of the messages woven into paramour have been marinating and maturing in me since 2020 tbh when i really started to allow me to be yknow. MYSELF. and so because i love them they got the projection beam as ya do.

2) What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

paramour is inspired chiefly by steampunk, rococo fashion, and france. lmao. the entire universe that paramour is in (which includes wips like alizath, teardrops, and that one wip that is new and budding but doesn’t have a name yet) is inspired by me bastardizing and colorizing (aka making every mc and all the characters black) europe bc i’m tired of fantasy, mythology, and history and all the things that i enjoy as a person being dictated and delegated to white people. so a lot of it is also “writing the story that i want to see” etc etc.

paramour specifically was also inspired by (but has moved away from QUITE a bit): hamlet, crimson peak, beauty & the beast, gothic literature (that aspect has heavily stayed) and stuff like that. it’s original name was beauty and the crimson hamlet and it was more of a haunted house thing vs what it’s evolved into now lol.

3) What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

hya is honestly trying to achieve being left the fuck alone and he doesn’t succeed LMAO. i’m not really trying to achieve anything with hya particularly (again you can read into all the things that i put into him and the narrative or he can be just some guy and both are correct tbh) — other than extreme wish fulfillment. though it may not seem this way because hya is a raging dick, he’s ideally what type of person i want to be like in Extreme fantasy land. i wish i was joking but i ain’t. and as such, he gets forgiven of a lot of the things that he does by the narrative or gets his own little happy ending and reasonings why he’s like this which i know some or many people will take issue with. him leaving a corpse in the foyer for example—many will describe him as cruel and callous and “problematic” and they’re right! love that for him 💛 i’m not trying to inspire anyone but myself like when i tell you that paramour is a wip written by me and for me i mean it LOOOOOL like idgaf about what anyone thinks of it 💀 (though i am so happy so many people love paramour as much as i do i didn’t think anyone would care about these assholes but many of my dear friends and other followers have proved me wrong and it’s validating tbh lol)

4) How many chapters is your story going to have?

current outline says 27 but i’m thinking it’s gonna lean closer to 30 just because as i write i realize i need to add in a filler chapter or two. so i’ll say it’ll probably end up being 30–at MAX 35 chapters probably.

5) Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

original 💛 and i still don’t particularly know where i want to publish it meaning idk if i want to go for indie which makes more sense or tryyyy to get trad published but. with the content paramour is and the way the publishing industry is i somehow highly doubt i can get it trad pub. so nothing but snippets online (tumblr) for now. maybe if i go indie i’ll make it readable on a website or whatever cuz i’m not really keen on putting it on amazon. but i may just for the reach. idk! i’m just trying to finish it first.

6) When and why did you start writing?

if we’re talking generally speaking i’ve been making stories since i was like 3 years old. paramour in itself however i made juneteenth (6/19) of 2021. i can’t remember WHY i started it so much as i remember just wanting a wip inspired by crimson peak perhaps? and we have gone WAAAAY off from that but yknow. we move lol.

7) Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

honestly just write for you. take all advice with a grain of salt and don’t worry about what others think of your writing/your ideas/whatever. there’s something for everyone and you’ll find your people.

other writeblrs/artists/creators whatever i follow and would recommend (and tag to do this if ya want no pressure) are: @kudzucataclysm @henrike-does-writing-sometimes @kazenokaori @magic-is-something-we-create @void-botanist @outpost51 @isherwoodj & consider this an open tag if you would also like to do this :)

#about renjamin #s: paramour