#wip excerpts

[jiubilant]

recalled in a flash that viarmo spends his retirement reupholstering and rehoming desperate furniture

#wip excerpts #viarmo #oc tag #ravi

[gribbo]

outtake

#wip excerpts #lae'zel #voss

[landwriter]

Throwing vague Hobrinthian inspiration your way. You'd write them so deliciously.

Thank you!! Back in January I wrote 8K of them - I think it's honestly my favourite thing I've written or close to it <3 Just Like Love. The Corinthian comes across Hob in a hotel bar after he's stood up in 1989. Things don't go as planned.

Here's an excerpt from the continuation of that 'verse:

---

Hob Gadling isn’t his boyfriend. Hob is better. He’s a soldier, a hunter, a haunted man, and it makes every grain of the Corinthian sing to know that one of the ghosts rattling around in there is him. Of course it is. He’s memorable. Doesn’t change how good it feels, though, to have been followed across the Atlantic by something almost as hungry as him.

Hob is holding a plastic bag, and the Corinthian can smell the meat from here.

“Fresh from Lancashire,” he says, all fucking casual-like.

The Corinthian walks over, hooks a finger into the bag and pulls it open to see what it is. Black pudding, he thinks. He’s standing close to Hob, close enough to feel how Hob notices it, how his pulse quickens a little. He still smells like airports. He thinks Hob will wrap an arm around him, pull him in. Kiss him filthy right here in his kitchen. Hob doesn’t do anything but let him inspect his gift. He looks up, and pretends he’s disappointed about the offering instead. He should be.

“I’m not a fucking reptile in a terrarium. You don’t need to buy me crickets.”

“Well. Thought this was more on the mice side of the scale.” And then his face does that hideous English thing, where he’s obviously hurt but smiles and pretends he isn’t, which isn’t half as fun when it’s just his feelings. “But you don’t have to-” he starts, all fake cheer, and the Corinthian grits his eyeteeth.

“Stop making that face,” he says, and snatches the bag away. Sees too late Hob smiling a little, and realizes he was playing at being injured, just to get him to come closer. He sets it on the counter, and feels Hob close right up behind him. There’s warm breath on the back of his neck for a moment before Hob speaks.

“You sure? Maybe it’s a bit like feeding wild foxes. Shouldn’t do that.”

The Corinthian turns and uses his height to bully Hob against the fridge, presses him there, then murmurs into Hob’s ear, threatening, just the way he likes. “You think I’ll forget how to feed myself?”

Hob is already hard against his thigh and he tilts his head up, to kiss the side of his neck. His heart is thumping so steady and strong the Corinthian wonders if he’s got a bigger heart working in there, one to power all his hunger. A horse heart, crushed into his ribcage.

“Maybe I’d like it if you forgot,” Hob says. “Maybe I’d like to spoil you. Maybe I’d like you to try eating out of my hand. See if you don’t like it better, to be fed by another.” He says it flirtatiously, covering up the tenderness there with hunger, because he knows the Corinthian’s mother tongue. But he hears the tenderness in it still, and it ripples over his instincts like a different kind of threat. A different kind of snare. Still wire-sharp. He knows he’d draw blood if he struggled in it, even if Hob would let him go the moment he really did. That’s why he stills, he figures. That’s why he goes all limp, submissive.

Hob feels it. Hob knows exactly what he’s done, and he runs a soft hand over the back of his neck, like he’s tamed him. The Corinthian finally twitches away roughly.

“Kinky.” He grabs the forgotten sausage and starts slicing it to be fried. And Hob just laughs, like it was the joke they were making together all along.

---

Twenty minutes later, he’s kneeling on the floor, still wearing his apron that says #1 Grill Dad, and Hob is feeding a cut-up piece of fried black pudding to him. It’s overcooked. They’d gotten distracted. He licks a stripe across Hob’s palm and feels the small muscles twitch under his tongue. Hob’s hand withdraws, and comes back a moment later to stroke the back of his head, dull nails scraping invisible tracks along him. It feels good. He hates it, he thinks.

He leans forward, and nuzzles against Hob’s crotch. The denim chafes his cheeks. Hob groans and ruts into him, his idle hand on his head turned greedy, knotting into his hair. Hob pulls him off, and he looks up, mouth hanging open.

“You going to bite it off if I let you?” he asks.

“Will it grow back?”

Hob sucks in air through his teeth and pretends like he’s considering it too. “You want to take the chance and find out that it doesn’t?”

“Nah,” he says, and Hob laughs and unbuttons his jeans.

---

He blames it on being fucked stupid for the first time in weeks. He blames it on being dark in the room. He blames it on Hob wrapped around him from behind, possessive. “You’d really care for me, huh?”

Hob scoffs, then seems to realize he’s not fucking around. His hand comes around and finds the Corinthian’s throat, and he strokes a line along where his pulse should be. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course I would.”

“You can’t save me, Hob,” he says.

Hob huffs a laugh against his shoulder blades. “Well, then you won’t mind me trying, will you?”

#asks #the sandman #cob! #the corinthian #hob gadling #realizing one of my favourite corinthian headcanons is that he falls faster and harder than even hob #gets it from his maker yanno #wip excerpts #my writing #just like love #hobrinthian #(but really cob)

[angelsdean]

hi they are in love. smitten smiley fools.

#need 2 finish writing this little fic #so i can get back to writing my longer wips #but also so u can all see them be in love. in new jersey #this is not thee njnatural coming of age au that lives in my mind but this does borrow elements of it #there's a pizzeria and the beach and a horse farm. not something you'd think abt being a jersey thing but where i'm from we got FARMS #wip excerpts

[cgan]

been a minute since i posted here...here’s an old wip excerpt

back when i first read these books i wanted more than anything to see a) some interiority in the dragon characters and b) a nuanced exploration of the bond between rider and dragon. i’d like to poke around with both of those in this piece about lessa and ramoth (assuming that i finish it)

#pern #lessa #dragons #wip excerpts

[pearlypairings]

❤️-hellfire camping!

this one was a cute little writing exercise with a prompt from Losty when I was feeling creatively stunted. Just a cute Eddie-led camping trip (punishment xP) for the Hellfire club.

❤️ here's a bit of silly dialogue from post-Eddie rallying speech:

Lucas perched up on his feet first, squatting above the dirt floor and leaning to grab Gareth’s shoulder next to him. “Let’s go grab some sustenance from the van–uh, wagon.” Their hands slipped into a tight grip, so Lucas could help pull Gareth up onto his feet. “Alright, man, let’s go get those s’mores.” Eddie looked about as pleased as punch at his underlings, breaking into a wide smile. He spoke in a deeper baritone, making the devil horn sign. “For Hellfire.” In unison, Gareth and Lucas replied with a nod, repeating the call. “To the fires of the abyss.”

take a dip in my asks, too....the water's just fine :)

200k Celebration WIP game

#thanks anon!! #wip excerpts #writer milestone #wip game #ask pearly #pearly answers #anon ask #hellfire club #hellfire boys #lucas & gareth #eddie munson #open asks #ask me about a wip & emoji #I'm celebrating 200k words posted :)

[superliz6]

🌹

 In the years since they had met they shared plenty of awkward moments, but to Lin’s knowledge this may have been their first awkward silence, made even more awkward by the fact that Kazuo, who normally cannot stop talking to save his life, didn’t seem to be capable of breaking it. 

#linzuo #kazuo #lin beifong #WIP excerpts

[awritingcaitlin]

🤨 Share a line that makes no sense out of context.

Trying to find one that makes no sense is proving difficult, have this one! (I ended up going for vague)

The fact that they’d taken her implied she was but…

Thanks for the ask!

#my writing #the brewing war #ask games #wip excerpts

[halcionic]

XX, XX, XXXX

God comes in the form of a dead boy.

God comes in the form of a dead boy rising from his grave, the fog hanging low in the trees and suffocating the ruffle of loose leaves in the autumn wind a singular witness to the act of necromancy, a miracle, a sin.

When Nickei gasps, the world shakes; wind howls in tune with his chest and the earth shakes when his red-stained nails touch soil. A coffin lies clawed open with a broken belt buckle aiding the escape of the dead and dirt clings to long, dark lashes in clunks.

“Nines,” says the woman sitting cross-legged on the dirt next to him, a heavy coat protecting white pants from the ground. “Nines, are you? How intriguing.”

Nickei goes to speak, finding a blockage where his vocal cords should be, choking on the heavy, thick spit clinging to the inside of his mouth - coughing, hacking up soil and grass roots with screaming lungs and heaving breaths - the best he can manage -

“Nines?” he says, raspy and heavy, deeper than his voice used to be. “What do you mean, nines?”

The woman smiles, kind and welcoming, her nails lacquered with a deep, bloody red and a sandy yellow, a rotting ribcage captured in her hands like a trophy. “Nickei Nines. That’s you, is it not?”

Nickei Nines.

That isn’t my name.

That isn’t my name. My name is -

“I know, it’s hard to imagine,” the woman continues kindly, “It’s been a very long time since you’ve been here.”

#cherri.txt #writing #writeblr #wip excerpts #its a little one bjt it is genuinely the most ive written in like. a year lol.

[winterandwords]

Last line tag

Thanks to @indecentpause for tagging me

This is the last bit I fiddled with and added some words to in Project Frequency.

“They have strange ways of owning people.”“How many times do we have to have this conversation?” There’s impatience in Gillen's voice, frustration, but it’s not a rhetorical question.“Clearly more than we already have," says Amira. "I’m not telling you to pretend you haven’t suffered. I’m just asking you to let it define you a little less, perhaps.”

Tagging @marigoldispeculiar, @writingpotato07 and @bookish-galaxy (and anyone else who would like to do it!), if you'd like to share some recent lines 💜

#writeblr tags #last line tag #my writing #project frequency #wip excerpts #writeblr #am writing

[wildswrites]

find the word tag ;

thanks for the tag, @avrablake! these are so fun to do now that i have a 65k wip in a single document to search through!! tagging ; @thearchangelwrites ; @sleepyowlwrites ; @arionawrites. my words ;  metal, dash, outer, pressure, and frown. your words ; spring, market, pepper, listen, and grudge.

metal (only occurrence)

We are on the property proper before we realize that something is amiss. The apartment buildings are bigger than I had realized from a distance, giant and towering above us. They are peppered with regular balconies, one for each apartment. The next building over has fire escapes instead, as if we are in New York City rather than small town America, metal walkways climbing up three stories high.

continued beneath cut.

dash (two occurrences)

Another step. Another. Another. And now I can see the shed out of the corner of my vision. I can see Sienna standing outside, and I call out, “Get inside! I’m coming!”

“The door is locked!” she calls back, and my heart lurches hard in my chest. 

“Okay, okay, okay, hold on!”

I ignore every single one of my instincts, screaming in harmony to a painful cacophony - I turn my back on the woman and the girls, dashing over to Sienna to pull her around the side of the shed.

“Why don’t we just run?”

outer (zero occurrences)

“Calla, watch out!”

One moment I am looking death in the face, and the next I have a face full of grass and a sharp pain in my upper arm; Sienna has grabbed me, throwing me to the side like I am nothing, and stepped into the place that was meant for me.

pressure (four occurrences)

She is shaking, great heaving gasps as she squeezes me harder than I have ever been squeezed, bones creaking beneath the pressure. I hug her back just as hard - would have with anyone in my family, but my sisters especially because they are the ones I have missed and worried for the most. I feel the weight of Anna’s wolf form pressing against the back of my legs, apparently also desperate for the contact that will let them know I am truly here, truly with them, truly safe. Over Maggie’s shoulder I can see Sienna come to a stop just a few feet away, but she is not upset by the interruption; no, she is grinning from ear to ear, tears running down her cheeks.

frown (three occurrences)

“Stop it,” he snaps, and I freeze in place just as quickly as the rest of them. “Let the woman talk.” It is moments like these that remind me that no matter who wears the metaphorical pants in their relationship, my grandparents are an alpha pair at the end of the day. He is tall and imposing, each and every hint of my loving papa washed away by the stern look on his face. Lowered brow, deep frown - he seems angry and disappointed at once, but he does not say anything else.

#writing #find the word tag #writeblr #wip excerpts #amwriting #cl

[jiubilant]

wip excerpt ft. The Doorknocker

thanks @wispstalk for the wip wednesday tag!

#big wip is still in the works. could maybe put the first few chapters on ao3 if that's something people would be interested in? #wip excerpts #big wip

[gribbo]

some excerpts from upcoming stuff <3

#back to focusing on tes but i haven't forgotten the dream team #wip excerpts

[landwriter]

oh menacing writer of the land, I bow to thee. forgive me for my intrusion, for I come to you with great reverence. might I be granted with the holy scripture of the musician!dream x professor hob au? I bring an offering of information on touring, musician life + music industry insight, should you so graciously answer my prayers 🙏

a handsome gift! the least I can offer is more twitter beef au!! most of this was written right in my tumblr drafts when I was still labouring under the delusion that was I was doing could be called "describe the fic you would write" - hob learns about The Diss Track. in his introduction to english lit class:

On Thursday morning, Hob is walking to his lecture, wearing his one sweatervest, because he can, thank you very much. Morpheus hadn't posted in over a day, and he supposes that's just the speed of the internet, and their little battle of wits is over. When he gets into the hall and sets his bag down, every single one of his students looks up at once. And several young people who - who are not even his students, he thinks.

"Right, hello class. Good to see you all here and keen on our last lecture before winter break. And welcome to the new faces as well. I can only assume you're here because of your interest in Marlowe."

"Oh my god," someone says at the back, loud enough for Hob to hear. "He's wearing the vest." He firmly reminds himself this is exactly what he wanted.

Amanda, who sits at the front and always does the readings, raises her hand. Hob calls on her in relief.

"Uh. Professor. We love Marlowe. But haven't you seen it yet?"

Hob had forgotten to silence his phone and it's started buzzing. He ignores it.

"Seen what," he says, very levelly. Smiling firmly. Not at all panicking. Ignoring his students' exchanged glances.

"The song."

"It's a diss track," says another student.

"Sorry, yeah, the diss track."

The entire lecture hall is faintly vibrating with anticipation.

"Is there swearing?" he asks, "I mean, more than I do in class. Anything particularly offensive?"

"No, professor," she says, understanding immediately.

"Well, I suspect I'll find it pretty quickly if I check my phone just now, and that only half of you are here for Marlowe anyways, so let's just put it on, shall we?"

Some kids actually cheer. "Enough of that," he says, "We're going to have a rigorous academic discussion about it afterwards." Then, because he cannot and will not help himself, he adds, "Presuming, of course, there is sufficient subject matter to engage with."

He pulls out his phone and fails utterly to hide his grin at the chorus of ooohs. Someone in the back actually shouts, "Get him, professor!"

Sure enough, the same video has been sent to him half a dozen times. He pulls it up, gets it displayed on the lecture hall's screen, and presses play.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see what all this fuss is all about.”

He has enough professional goodwill from years of teaching to do this kind of stupid thing, and it's nice to cash it in, sometimes. He likes to be the cool professor when he can. Even in a sweatervest.

He leans back against the lectern to watch. It's not Morpheus on screen, but a woman that Hob distantly recognizes. She's gorgeous, and apparently, given the rapturous whispers behind him, also at least a little famous. She's surrounded by takeaway containers, fiddling with her phone until music starts playing. "Good job, baby brother." She takes a sip of her beer and then wipes her mouth, and grins brightly right at the camera. "This one's for you, prof," she says, laughing.

Afterwards, the entire lecture hall is silent. Hob is silent.

"Holy shit," says a student, and Hob turns around, face burning. "She murdered you."

Hob gathers himself. He feels a little dizzy. It might low blood sugar. Or love.

"Indeed. Right. Well. Certainly a lot to unpack there." His hands are a little sweaty. It's definitely love. "This isn’t a classics class, but I know some of you are classics students and would be happy to educate us, so let’s start with that parallel made right at the start between the Lotophagi - that’s the lotus-eaters from The Odyssey - and the concept of academia as an ivory tower. Who wants to talk about that?"

Five different hands shoot up. "Wow. Okay, okay," he laughs. "Tristan, start us off."

In the next 80 minutes, he hardly gets a word in edgewise. He is, absolutely gloriously, playing discussion moderator instead of lecturer. Hob knows, feels it in his gut even now, that he will look back on this as one of the best classes he’s ever held. Students are twisting around in their chairs to engage with each other.

It is, he thinks, absolutely worth a bit of murdering.

#asks #the sandman #dreamling #wip filename ask meme #twitter beef au #wip excerpts #my writing

[angelsdean]

he's so so stupid, your honor. like, thee smartest genius babygirl but also a HUGE idiot when it comes to being jealous of himself. we love that abt him<3

#wip excerpts

[charlesjosephwrites]

Find the Word Tag!

I was tagged by @writingpotato07! Thank you!

I've got a couple more find the word tags to get through, so expect some more little snippets at some point soon!

My words are record, city, kick, suitcase, and peace!

I couldn't find the word peace in my current draft of The Magician, but here are some little snippets for the other words!

Record

“Well, fine then,” I said. “You can write it yourself.” The editor’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. “W…write what?” I gave him a good shove. He stumbled a few feet backwards towards his desk before he managed to steady himself again. “Something to set the record straight,” I said. “Let all those fuckers know that I’m not the kind of person that they should be messing around with.”

City

“Hello, everyone!” I held out my arms as wide as I could, and I gave everyone a little twirl. “Sorry I’m late!” An aisle in the middle of the sea of folding chairs led the way right up to the podium where Mayor Redwood stood staring at me. On either side of him stretched out a large wooden table, where the other members of the city council sat behind little plaques with their name and position on the board written in bold letters. I didn’t give a shit about any of them. Most of them were probably assholes anyways. I had my gaze laser-focused on the podium, and I marched on down the aisle ready to take my rightful place. “Um… excuse me…” Redwood shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He straightened his tie and leaned in a little closer to the microphone. “Could you please take your seat?” “Why don’t you take your seat?” I came to a stop just on the other side of the podium, crossing my arms with a little huff. “I have some shit to say.” “We’ll have plenty of time for open mic after—” “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.” I slipped a knife into my hand with the flick of my wrist. I lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the wooden podium right between where his hands rested. “Get out of my way.”

Kick

“Hey!” Maybe it was stupidly impulsive of me, but I gave the door a good swift kick just to make sure I had his attention. “Call me a bitch again and I’m gonna grind your bones down to make confetti!”

Suitcase

Edgar’s scowl deepened. “How the fuck did you get a new girlfriend before I did?” “You jealous?” He hummed. “She must’ve been desperate.” “Fuck no she isn’t. I’m a real catch.” “Sure.” Edgar chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot as my smile fell a little. I knew I shouldn’t let that asshole get to me, but his words sure did sting. “Whatever.” I shot him a little glare. “Just get me my money or else I’m gonna kick your ass so hard all your bones turn into liquid.” Edgar stared at me for a long moment before he finally started moving. He knelt down on the floor to lug a large black suitcase out from under the bed.

I'll tag @writingonesdreams, @poore-choice-of-words, @ghost-town-story, @did-i-do-this-write, and anyone else who sees this and wants to jump in!

Your words are lift, step, yes, love, and sorry.

#wip: the magician and ms. psychic #find the word #tag game #wip excerpts #writeblr