#wip wedneday

[strandnreyes]

wip wednesday

thanks @catanisspicy @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @reyesstrand !

I lied. I’ve still been poking around at the AIYWAMT sequel since sunday. if you haven’t read that and don’t want to know what the twist is, look away because this has spoilers

TK’s cheery demeanor that was present the whole way here starts to fizzle out as Carlos pulls into the parking lot of the church. He shifts in his seat once, and then twice, before rolling out his shoulders and stretching his neck to the side. 

Carlos tosses a glance in his direction as he parks the car. “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he brushes off. “I can’t believe Tommy’s getting married.”

Carlos lets him have the deflection for now. “I know.” He reaches over to squeeze TK’s hand. “First wedding we’ve been to since ours.” 

TK smiles and then shifts again. He looks uncomfortable and Carlos wants to really ask him what’s wrong, but then Marjan is pulling into the space next to them and TK is getting out of the car to greet her. He puts on a good show, acting like everything is fine as they head inside, but Carlos knows him. He gets more and more uncomfortable as they file into the pew next to Nancy. 

There’s quiet music playing and low chatter around them as they wait for the ceremony to start. The stained glass windows glisten, there are beautiful flowers scattered about, and everyone’s buzzing with happiness for the couple. Except for TK.

His foot bounces on the floor so violently that Carlos thinks everyone in their row must feel it and when Carlos looks at him, his jaw is clenched so tight that the muscle is straining. 

“TK?” Carlos asks with worry. He rests his arm on the back of the pew, placing his hand on TK’s tension filled shoulder. 

TK shakes his head once, staring straight ahead. “I’m fine.”

Carlos doesn't believe him in the slightest and he keeps his hand on TK, feeling helpless. TK’s clearly not feeling well, but he seems adamant on toughing it out. Another minute passes where his muscles twitch like he’s trying to hold back from something and then his eyes squeeze shut. 

“I think I need to go,” he says just loud enough for Carlos to hear.

Carlos frowns, worry spiking. “What?

“I can’t be in here,” he murmurs as he locks eyes with Carlos. When Carlos sees that TK’s jaw is clenched together in a way he knows means TK’s trying to keep his fangs concealed, it clicks.

tagging @lightningboltreader​ @welcometololaland​ @rmd-writes​ @basilsunrise if you have anything to share!

#fully aware this isn't going to be everyone's thing #but i'm having fun doing something different for a change #tarlos #wip wedneday

[jtl-fics]

FINALLY write what makes you happiest right now bc that makes me happy!!! a dealers choice please!!!!

WIP Wednesday - 10/4/23 (Closed) | Dealer's Choice: All Hallows' Day

Kevin narrows his eyes and knows immediately who the culprit is.

Neil Abram Josten that son of a bitch.

He goes back to the fridge and has to put blue berries into his oats and it's going to throw off his breakfast meal plans for the rest of the week if he doesn't go to the store today and replenish his supplies.

He eats his oats as he makes up a grocery list of what he'll need for his next week of meals.

< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >

#FIC: All Hallows' Day #AFTG #AFTG Fic #Kevin Day #Dealer's Choice - All Hallows' Day - 07 #10-4-23 WIP Wednesday #WIP Wedneday #46

[palfriendpatine66]

WIP Wednesday - Sithywan edition

Look, I don't actually know that I have it in me to write a plot heavy, multi chapter fic set in a galaxy far far away. This may or may not happen. All I know is that I have *ideas* about what would happen if Obi-Wan joined Dooku after Geonosis, and I had to write this intro to get it out of my head. Read more for the angsty intro below

Obi-Wan watched helplessly as Dooku’s crimson blade slashed through the air and made contact. The air filled with the scent of burning flesh and Obi-Wan was filled with horror as Anakin’s body, now short one limb, was tossed carelessly aside as though he were a rag doll. 

A wave of despair, of anguish, swept over him as the Count, the traitor, stepped forward to finish the task he had started, his blade raised against the last of his lineage.

He slowed his advance and cocked his head to the side as though tasting the pulse of anger that radiated through Obi-Wan at the thought. The pause gave them a moment of reprieve, nothing more, but it was a moment that changed everything.

Anakin stirred against Obi-Wan's side, a pained whisper of apology on his lips before he lost his battle to maintain consciousness against the pain from his wound. “I’m sorry, Master.” 

Dread turned to certainty. Obi-Wan couldn’t lose another to a Sith blade. 

He wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t watch helplessly as his padawan was run through, just as his master had been. 

He wouldn’t cradle the boy he had promised his master to protect as his presence left his body to become one with the Force. 

No. He refused to do it. And he didn’t have to, he realized, awash with relief. 

There was always a choice. 

Obi-Wan's mind raced. It was a terrible choice, but one he had to take.

“Wait, Dooku!” he called out desperately.

The Count smirked, so sure that everything was going as he had planned. Obi-Wan would do whatever he had to do to let him think that. He had to.

“I see now, the power you have. So much more than I knew, then the Jedi taught me. Teach me. Like you taught Qui-Gon. Become my master as you were his. Show me all you have discovered of the ways of the Force. I would know it all.” 

One elegant eyebrow rose skeptically as the distant sound of ships reached their ears. There wouldn’t be more time to decide. 

“You would join me, padawan of my padawan? Submit to my teaching, become a learner once more?” 

It went against everything he was, but Obi-Wan knew he had to. 

For Anakin. 

For all the Jedi who died this day, senselessly, because of him. 

For all those who would fight in the war to come. 

If he could learn the enemy’s secrets while he learned from Dooku, he could end this war. If he could touch the dark side, but somehow stay in the light. If he could just -

He would do it.

He had to. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Yes.” 

“There will be time for discussion later,” the Count observed blandly, as though remarking on the weather and not his window of opportunity to escape capture and possible death. 

Obi-Wan had the strange sensation of being lifted and carried to the Count’s solar sailer with the Force, his injured arm and leg dangling uselessly, his head lolling back to the sight of Anakin’s still body splayed on the ground. 

He had stayed in the light for Anakin once before, after Naboo. That had only been a moment where he had brushed against the dark side, not a continual battle to keep it at bay, but he had. He would do it again, he vowed as they rose from the landing platform and the battle raging below grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared. 

He had to. He’d made his choice.

#wip wedneday #sithywan #sith obi wan jedi anakin

[distressednoise]

WIP wednesday

Back on my bullshit (sad brassian in under-described liminal spaces) and actually have a WIP on WIP wednesday for the first time in ::checks calendar:: we do not speak of it.

In which Cassian hits a snag on the way home from Mimban, but luckily Brasso has terrible taste in men.

The code sending the comm belongs to Pellan, a hook up from months ago; a Pre-mor flunkie on a stopover between outposts, half out of uniform when he met Brasso and keen to lose the rest.

The face when he opens it, though, is a stretched-out, scruffed-up version of - “Cassian?”

“Yes! I fucking told you.” This is to someone off screen, presumably Pellan, and in a voice several tones lower than Brasso expected. In profile, Cassian's face is sharper and grubbier than it first seemed, and framed by an embarrassing set of adolescent mutton chops that dream of one day becoming a beard. It'd been Brasso's situation, the last time they saw each other. Maarva has a holo of them from that time, and looking at himself in it makes Brasso feel old.

“Do you know this person?” Pellan asks, shouldering his way on screen.

He doesn't know Pellan that well. He can't tell where they are from the background of the holo: it's just their faces and a patch of suspiciously sterile patch of wall.

“He does! Brasso, you know me and you know how sick my mother is -”

“Stop talking.” Pellan's tone isn't mean enough to raise Brasso's hackles. It's the tone he remembers everyone taking around - fucking hell, Cassian - back when he was mouthy and undersized and keen to bite the underbelly of every bigger kid on the block. “Just. Sit down again. Brasso -” 

There's some shuffling and a floating shot of Pellan's jaw as he takes himself and his comm out of Cassian’s considerable range of interference. It has the same mutinous set Brasso remembers from the bar.

“We have a slight situation here, and I do not want it to end up as a full situation, because in full situations I fill out sixteen different scandocs and people with ‘sector’ in their job title learn my name. Your friend is trying to get through the corporate border on a military pass, which is legal but -” a tired grimace “- against company policy, so I'm supposed to tell him it's faulty and he has seven days to fix it, after which I can bust him for loitering if he doesn't find a new chip or falsifying access information if he does, and he'll go to Imperial custody and toward my arrest number, or he can lodge an appeal under the long term residency exemption, which will automatically be approved but he'll be on an undisclosed Imperial watchlist for five years and someone will have to file a report on his movements every forty five days, and that someone will not be me, but that someone will unlock a cross team performance incentive if they achieve a ten per cent uplift on watchlist detentions cycle on cycle, so good luck with that. And then of course you're a named associate of a detained watch listed individual, so you go on the list, and someone reports on you every forty five days, and you also count toward our detention uplift target for the quarter, so.” 

There's a pause for Brasso to react. When he doesn't, Pellan feels compelled to add, “That's bad.”

“Right.” It was almost definitely the wrong call to answer this comm before getting dressed. 

“Right! So I suggested maybe he'd had his scandocs stolen and I could issue him a temporary pass if he just had a few key details, but they were issued when he was in prison - I should not have heard that he was in prison, Brasso, that's 101 - and he's never seen them, so he doesn't know the most basic things -”

“His mother will have -”

“His mother is apparently deathly ill and cannot possibly get on a shuttle to bring him anything, which would be terrible if it were true. My sympathies to that woman, in potentia. However, because he is technically an unaccompanied minor for the next, uh, seventeen hours, I can notarise an individual known to the family to collect him and produce a copy of his stolen documents on her behalf. So this is me officially notarising you, and also letting you know that if you take seventeen hours to get here I'm going to strangle him.”

Brasso has several questions about an unaccompanied minor being on a military pass and that not being a flag unto itself, but at least he knows how old Cassian is now. “Where are you?”

“Gate B, so like, two moons from you? Hey, should have called more, sorry neighbour. But seriously, whatever operation you're running needs to tighten up because ‘prison’, pri-son, is an extremely automated red flag and if I had bothered to do any basic system maintenance in the last six months there would be a half dozen alerts on their way to Pre-Mor by now.”

Operation, Brasso mouths, dully. He's starting to think he and Pellan remember that night very differently.

#wip wedneday #brassian #my writing #this is largely a deranged corporate monologue for which i can only apologise but will not stop

[chicgeekgirl89]

WIP...Thursday?

Thanks to @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @carlos-in-glasses, @whatsintheboxmh, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @bonheur-cafe, @strandnreyes, and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut for the tags!

Okay, it's barely even Thursday anymore...but I have finally written words after intending to write them all week, so they are yours to enjoy!

“Noooo!!!”  There’s a collective shout of protest from the entire group as Mateo snatches a mug full of handmade chocolate from Paul and returns smugly to his seat on Owen’s sofa. “I got it for you boo,” he says, smiling up at Nancy with such a lovesick expression that it prompts another groan from the group. “Cap that’s not fair! People shouldn’t be allowed to steal gifts for other people!” Marjan protests.  “You’re just mad because now Paul’s gonna steal your bath bombs!” Mateo tells her, looking not sorry in the least. “Yep,” Paul says, hopping up and plucking the bag of bath bombs from her lap. “Cap!” Marjan protests again, trying to pull it back and failing. “There is nothing in the rules that says you can’t steal a gift with the intention of giving it away once the game is complete,” Owen says calmly. “Is there anything that says how unfair it is that the couples get to take home two gifts?” Marjan grumbles, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair petulantly.

#White Elephant Fic #911 Lone Star #WIP Wedneday #WIP...Thursday?

[sidhelives]

Thanks to the tag @fiannans! LOVE YOU ❤️

I haven't been writing much, slowly hammering away at the next chapter of Listen Closely (a lot of in game dialog to incorporate into this one so it's taking me a while) but I did start drawing again. I'm currently working on a portrait of @dazedogdraws's Lavellan and I'm very pleased with how it's going.

Tagging: @kittynomsdeplume @the-cryptographer @cassipie @lrmeland @sugawara-kkoushi @jrastegar @noire-pandora @rosella-writes

#wip #wip wedneday #dragon age oc #Lavellan #abuse that flip tool like whoa #ibispaintx

[gaydryad]

3 sentences on setting swap please!!

you get four! congrats?

Still fuming silently Delta had cut through the dark back home, thinking morosely on the best course of action before at last tossing off her slippers in frustration and collapsing back against her bed. It was of no use going to see Zeta then; evening was falling over the island and her sister would likely be either asleep or temperamental at the disturbance. Delta closed her eyes; tried to stymy the anger in her heart.

decided to give up temporarily on the scene I was writing and start a new one. this is the start of the new scene

#from the writer's den #void talks #attwdc #my writing #wip wedneday #I don't think I have a tag for delta bc she's a comparatively recent addition to the character lineup #(by recent I mean like 2019.)

[formosusiniquis]

Can I please request some cake but longer for WIP Wednesday?

Here you go!

WIP Wednesday | Make Me Write

“Sorry Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

#wip wedneday #ask game #cake but longer

[heartstringsduet]

is it the creeping darkness of the approaching fall or why so many of our snippets so angsty?

#i love ittt #wip wedneday #tarlos

[likesomekindofcheese]

WIP Wednesday- Some Work In Progress previews!

Here is where I will share some of what I'm working on!

This first preview is for a request asking to write about the BohRap Boys with an ENFP Capricorn Non-Binary Reader for Ben's bit...

You love to hang out somewhere and people watch- you point out all of your observations to Ben and he is like “huh! Really!” and you come up with whole stories of strangers just from people watching.

He is SUPER protective of you. He corrects people when they misgender you and doesn’t put up with bullshit. You feel safe with Ben all the time.

2. This second preview is Roger with a fem! Readers wait out the results of a pregnancy test as they recall memories of their relationship together. This flashes back to Roger saving Reader at a bar when they first meet.

You met together at a bar. It was dark and there was that odd smell that came with beer- like you could smell bread baking from the wheat that was concocted inside the drink. It was that mixture of bakeries and bars- something delicious was being created to be consumed and enjoyed.

But you could not enjoy that beer in peace. A man who looked far older than you and quite odious slid up to you. He was smiling and trying to get your attention.

“Excuse me…I’m just not in the mood tonight. Would you leave me alone, please?” you asked politely.

“What?? Don’t you like a free drink?” he asked, peeved.

You felt your blood run cold when you heard an “Hey! I’ll get you anything you want, and you leave her alone!”

You turned around to see…maybe not the most handsome man you met, but the most beautiful. You almost dropped your jaw. He had large blue eyes with thick lashes, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful, silky blonde hair you had ever seen. And he was walking up to you.

This third preview is a Fic that I just intend to publish on Archive of Our Own (my username there is Vasalia the Wise! Show up and follow me since several of my works are there! Here is the link) This is because it's kind of not much of a shippy fic (and it's not a reader insert or OC) but still indulgent but in a different way.

The fic is Stella of Essex, or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed based off of The Essex Serpent which I love to hate because of the internal misogyny and they did my girl Stella Ransome dirty. She is a sweet, saintly, proper, good, and even self-sacrificing wife of a vicar in 19th century England who gets sick with Tuberculosis, and despite years of a happy marriage to the vicar she devoted her life to, her husband cheats on her with another woman as Stella lays sick and dying.

In Stella of Essex, we get a Fix-It-Fic. The story from her perspective (like how Lisa Klein wrote Ophelia about Hamlet from Ophelia's POV), how she became an obedient, submissive wife to make her husband love her, her discovery of the actual affair and mourning of it, and eventually how she gets revenge on her husband for his repulsive act and rescues herself.

The third chapter deals with her courtship and marriage which are all happy and romantic. Then at this end, she encounters some grim foreshadowing of the events to come

One unique flower seed he gave me was that for a Star Lily (“A star for the miss who is a star!”). I planted it and it grew into one beautiful blossom.

One day, it was mid-morning, and I was tending to my flowers. I looked everywhere for the star lily and could not find it standing up.

Looking down I shrieked in horror and shock.

There was a green garden snake right on the grass. It was twisting around the Star Lily with it’s long body. It squeezed the flower, like one wringing a cloth. The blossom shook and fell to pieces.

Uselessly, I sat there. The creature terrified me. I could not even as much as find a stick and poke it away. So I laid there, retreating from a distance.

The flower was broken from it’s stem from the weight. It began to bite and tear at the Star Lily, and squeeze at it, reducing it’s stem. Petals fell away, limp and lifeless on the grass.

The snake gave a final destructive squeeze, killing the flower. It’s bloom fell and it was already wilting speedily for just being plucked. It chewed on the petals, breaking anything beautiful or treasured about it.

The serpent finally slithered away, leaving behind the destroyed Star Lily, left to whiter and die on the ground.

@queenlover05 @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @seraphicmercury @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @henrithedreamboat

#WIP Wedneday #Carrie speaks #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic #wips #WIP

[hashileio]

trying something different with his tentes :3c

#hashiart #undertale au #nightmare sans #nightmare!sans #mafia!nightmare sans #i can never figure out the right tags but like idk IM TRYING dfjkshdkfj #ANYWAYS #it is currently wedneday and he is in queue hell #hi rayne i hope u enjoy the tentes #wink wonk #i enjoy teasing wips then not posting them for days until yall forget hehe

[jtl-fics]

If u happen to have anything on my boy ichirou (math nerd au) for wip Wednesday

WIP Wednesday (Closed) | Math Nerd AU

Andrew feels like he should be surprised to find Ichirou Moriyama standing in his dorm room but considering the number of suspicious men he'd seen around campus it wasn't that shocking.

"I was sure it was you." Ichirou says and Andrew tilts his head but doesn't say anything. "You were the first and only favor that Neil asked for." he says.

"What do you mean?" Andrew can't help but ask.

"Drake." Ichirou says and Andrew stiffens and then his shoulders lose a bit of tension he hadn't realized he was carrying. "He did the final blow himself of course, I wanted leverage at the time and he seemed more than fine with it." Ichirou says as he inspects one of Nicky's more...eccentric pride flags.

#Math Nerd AU #Sorry it's laaaaate #AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #Ichirou Moriyama #WIP Wedneday Ask Game #Math Nerd - An Understanding - 01

[jerzwriter]

Lil Angsty WIP Sneak Peek

So, @lucy-268 @a-cloud-for-dreams and @cariantha... this is how I'm starting this off... my goal is to make it hurt.

Tobias/Casey one-off AU

It was a crisp autumn morning. The kind where the grey sky hangs so low, you feel like you can touch it, and the still, frigid air assaults the lungs as wickedly as any weapon ever could. The leaves had all fallen; not a single splash of crimson, ochre, or gold to offer the slightest consolation for summer’s end. Stick season, the old timers liked to call it. A time when the calendar may have decreed that it was still autumn, indeed. But anyone caught in the bustling crowds on Boston’s lonely streets knew better... the specter of winter had already consumed them, and in Boston, winter sprung eternal.

She sat in a familiar antiquated wooden chair. A stark, mission style she had never found aesthetically pleasing and providing creature comfort failed to be its saving grace. She would have heaved it in the rubbish years ago if he had let her. A bitter scoff escaped her as the walls of the empty room welcomed the only sound they had heard for days. If he had let her... as if he would.

Being held captive in the chair's grip wasn't pleasant, but it felt right. Its discomfort was as befitting of the day as the abject silence that surrounded her. She had another half-hour to kill and may as well spend it as she had the half-hour before, perched on the edge of a chair she despised as she studied the somber, greyscale sky beyond the window of the place she once called home. She was desperate. Desperate to find beauty where there was none. A spark of hope amongst a pile of discarded, wet leaves. Something... anything... that could bring meaning or solace to this day. But as hard as she tried, she came up blank every time.

"Are you ready?"

An unexpected voice echoed from down the hall, and she jumped to her feet. The small, performative smile she had perfected emerged on her lips.

"Absolutely not," she replied, devoid of emotion. "But I suppose I don't have a choice in the matter." She walked to the bed and retrieved the purse she had discarded hours before. "Let's go," she ordered. It was time to move this along.

~~~~~

Randomly tagging 15 people - do you have any WIPS to share?

... and I really think I need to do a Carolina/Trystan version, too.

@inlocusmads @lilyoffandoms @storyofmychoices @cadybear420 @thosehallowedhalls @liaromancewriter @aria-ashryver @tessa-liam @mydemonsdrivealimo @dutifullynuttywitch @icecoffee90 @delmissesryanandcassi @coffeeheartaddict2 @secretaryunpaid @aces-and-angels

#wip wedneday on friday #open heart #choices fanfic #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #sneak peek #bring on the angst

[quordleona03]

WIP game

So, I was tagged by @marley-manson to post a snippet of my WIP in progress, and a scorching July seems appropriate for this Christmas in Missouri moment:

Mildred ran Christmas like a four-ring circus. Madge, Evelyn, and Jeannie were the other ringmasters. "I made eggnog," Mildred offered. She poured him a glass.

"Does Cory still collect stamps?" "I don't know," Mildred said. "He did last year. Better save the good stamps for him just in case. Oh, I'm expecting a call from Evelyn about Christmas Eve, so would you field it and tell her I'll talk to her after supper?"

"I'll tell her we'll have Christmas Eve on 24th December no matter what she has planned, and you'll talk to her tomorrow," Sherman said. "I have plans for after supper."

Mildred beamed at him. "I never get tired of hearing that," she said, and handed him the eggnog. "We'll be eating inside an hour."

Madge had always come to Mildred for Christmas since her Bill had died, and since Evelyn was grown and married and Jeannie married Tom, as Mildred had noted kindly, she'd been planning family Christmases with Madge for thirty years when they couldn't count on him even being home for Christmas, and now they had a daughter and daughter-in-law, each with families of their own. Logistics and planning were Mildred's job. Sherman got the small chores. Like cinnamon, and addresses.

The snug was where Sherman smoked cigars and where they both watched television, though Mildred was talking about getting a bigger set for the sitting-room. The sofa facing the television was just big enough for two, and the other half at this moment held nothing more exciting than a pile of empty envelopes with address, and the Christmas card address book, and a spare envelope to save any interesting stamps for Cory, just in case. He was fourteen now, after all -

Sherman mentally corrected himself. Cory was now sixteen. He'd be going to college in two years. Well, he would be if his grandfather had anything to say about it. Boys who didn't go to college were getting handed draft notices awfully fast these days, and Sherman had been given reason to remember what could happen to boys who got drafted to a war that wasn't a war.

The telephone rang at his elbow. Sherman picked it up. "Hello, sweetheart," he said.

"Darling. Hello." said a very damn familiar and unexpected voice.

"Hawkeye!" Sherman nearly dropped the phone. "I was expecting - I thought you were my daughter - " "I always thought I was like a son to you," Hawkeye said. "But daughter, fine, I can do that too. How are you?"

"Fine, fine," Sherman said. "We're all fine here. How are you?"

The rules: post a snippet of one of your WIPs. The tagged:

@bbjkrss-blog @machihunnicutt @jaelijn @allcanonisrelative @cplredberet

#sherman potter #mildred potter #hawkeye pierce #m*a*s*h #mash fanfic #my wips #wips wednesday #fuck it friday but on Wedneday #fuck it friday #fuck it fourth of July? #yeah that works

[aparticularbandit]

junko stays dr1 end rewrite for WIP Wednesday please

WIP Wednesday Game

I'm picking and choosing memories to share; don't judge me.

Heart breaking over my kiddos here.

After The Tragedy.

Outside, the sky bleeds.

She needs a few minutes outside every day, now that they’re allowed out, and she stares up at that open wound like it’ll pour life into her mouth, like the pitch black clouds will drip anything other than toxic sludge.

There isn’t much to enjoy outside anymore, but Kyoko likes the way the feeble breeze pushes through Junko’s hair, pushing it back like the memories of better days.

Most of the time, they’re quiet.  The outside world demands that now.  There are no birds, no squirrels, no racing cats.  Everything is devoid of life.  Just them – and sometimes, just out of reach, the surviving classmates.  Some chosen to stay in the old building, her father’s the headmaster’s hope for a brighter future when all of this is finished.

(It will never be finished.)

“What do you think I should do?” Junko asks into the silence, voice quieter than a hush but cracking through the silence all the same.

Kyoko squeezes her hand into a fist.  She stares down at her leather glove, hears the creak as the leather tightens, as it releases.  “If you don’t stay,” she whispers, “you’ll die.”

Junko snorts, the softest of laughs.  “Sometimes, I don’t think death is such a bad thing.  Everyone’s so scared of it.  But I’m sure it tastes so sweet.”

The feeble breeze carries the faintest scent of lilacs back to her.

“I’m not sure I want to be locked inside for the rest of my life,” Junko murmurs, staring out at the broken world around them.  “All the windows covered.  Barricaded.  Unable to see the world heal.”

And blue raspberries, sometimes.

When she says it, Junko doesn’t look back.  Can’t, maybe.  “But if you want me to stay…I’ll stay.”

Kyoko breathes in air that tastes of ash and fire and breath.

“Stay.”

#auburnlaughter #musings #bandit writes fic #bandit answers questions #wip wedneday writing game #wip wednesday game #dr1 end rewrite fic

[kidsomeday]

"Til Somebody Wants You Dead", this week?

I apologize that this is almost a month late. I think it's been about a month. I currently do not have a good concept of the passage of time. However, never let it be said that I let a WIP Wednesday ask go unanswered. Thank you for your ask and for your patience. -

Jack didn’t have a witty rejoinder for that. Well, he did, but not one that was going to be  useful. “At which point I think I can be somewhat forgiven for just saying ‘fuck it’ and getting the make-out session that was coming for me. Plus some extra. Listen, you’re hot, and I’ve been daydreaming about getting your fingers in me since I first saw you interviewed. It’s been a difficult few days and I apologize for nothing.” It was hard not to preen under this knowledge, but Rhys was giving him this look that indicated saying anything might be a bad idea. It was an interesting counterpoint to how gently Rhys was bandaging up his hands. Jack opted to remain silent since he still had tweezers, a small collection of glass shards, and an aura of peeved bitchiness that he somehow managed to make work for him. “Then we work for an hour and it’s almost like everything is back to normal, except for the whole fact that we ended the day by you telling me your tragic backstory, including a dead wife, siren daughter, and a truly staggering amount of fucking up as both a parent and a human in general.” 

“Way to soften the blow there, princess,” Jack said, because there was no way he was going to let that slide.

#wip fanfiction #wip wednesday #wip writing #wip wedneday game #my writing #my fanfiction #wip rhack fanfiction #rhack fanfiction #Rhys being a little bitch is one of my favorite versions of Rhys #and a joy to write #is it cathartic to write jack in a sitting down and shutting up? #yes #deeply yes