Thursday DE: Now WIP it, WIP it good

[bjornwilde]

Share with us some piece of a WIP you have? Or make one up?

Comments

[shinyhappygoth]

I have been writing all the Good Omens fics lately! I have one current WIP and one basically-done-but-awaiting-Britpicking (thanks, Bethan!). Excerpt from the basically-done one:

The angel and the demon looked out over the city, observing humanity from on high.

“What did you think of me, when we first met?” Crowley asked abruptly.

Aziraphale considered this. "After the initial suspicion? I just thought you seemed a remarkably decent sort, for a demon. And better company than those cherubim they had on patrol, I don’t mind telling you. Four faces, you’d think at least one could hold a conversation."

"I thought, what an absolute mad lad! Gives away his flaming sword to the humans? The same humans he's supposed to use it to stop getting back in? You had one job!"

Aziraphale laughed. "Rub it in, why don't you?"

"No, I thought you were brilliant! I thought, I'm keeping an eye on this one, he may not look like much but he's a laugh and a half."

"Well, thank you, I think. I... what do you mean, 'may not look like much'?!"

Crowley elbowed Aziraphale.

Aziraphale elbowed Crowley.

And excerpt from the WIP:

“Mission accomplished,” Crowley declared, managing a sarcastic little shimmy despite his mostly-supine position. He looked more ready for a Roman banquet than a picnic in the English countryside.

“It doesn’t give you any satisfaction?” the angel asked pointedly, unpacking food and plates. “Deep down?”

Crowley merely smirked. “I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing,” he declaimed.

Aziraphale smirked back; Crowley always had liked the comedies, and showed it at the oddest times. “Are you still afraid for your reputation, sweet Beatrice?” he retorted, pouring the tea. “Trying to preserve your, what do they call it? ‘Street cred’?”

“Touché, Signor Benedick, touché. You are ‘fall’n into a pit of ink,’ and I’m… hmm.” He considered.

“A vat of bleach?” Aziraphale suggested.

“There you go.”

[bjornwilde]

Nice. You definitely have their voices.

[shinyhappygoth]

Thank you! They are so much fun to write banter for. (And I am just so happy with the image of Crowley full-on Lounging™ on a picnic blanket.)

[shinyhappygoth]

I posted the fic!

[aberration]

I've been working on my impossible series to write a fic for every woman in Star Wars but within reason (except not) and I'm currently on Ahsoka Tano. I've been a little stuck on it just because I've reached a particularly... metaphysical? something part of the fic, but. I think I am breaking through it! And someday it will be done and I can move on to *checks notes* "Aiolin Astarte - engineered twin made to replace Vader." um.

This relieved the younglings' silence, and there was a hum of anticipation as Ahoska returned the floor. The others shifted back into a comfortable sitting position. A path-guided meditation was usually more interesting to the young ones – Ahsoka felt that restless trickle of impatience every time she heard the words "clear your mind." She didn't want a clear mind. She always wanted to be going somewhere. She shut her eyes, retreated from the sunlight shining through the windows and tried to quiet the gentle pulse she felt from the plant life that surrounded them. But she soon realized that unlike her, Master Unduli wasn't in any hurry.

"Four thousand years ago," Ahsoka's shoulders slumped already, "long before our Republic of today, and before the Jedi Oder built the first foundations of this Temple, there lived a Jedi Master whom we call Vokara, who left us some of the most influential philosophical writings on our understanding of knowledge, learning, and our own perception. Vokara described her homeworld as rocky outcroppings that reached out above cold oceans. For your guided path, I want you to see her birthplace as she described it.

"First, imagine yourself in a cave."



Ahsoka didn't have to work very hard at it. The shattered stone had collapsed into narrow, happenstance caverns, cutting paths that only seemed to lead her deeper into the cracked heart of the Temple. Survival instincts would say she was going the wrong way. Up, up, toward the little light that still fell in narrow shafts through the caverns. Dig and claw through the rock if she had to, deeper could only mean farther from the light, from the thin, dusty air of Malachor's surface, from anything that could help her live.

[bjornwilde]

Oh, I really like this.

[aberration]

Thank you!

[bjornwilde]

Detective Lechuza cleared her throat and Darran spun to face her scowl. "Why is it, Mr. Glimmervane, that I keep finding you at my crime scenes?"

Darren held his hands up to show they were empty. "I swear, it's just these runes I keep finding."

[shinyhappygoth]

XD

[bjornwilde]

There is more, or will be once these words stop being a bother.

[skyhigh_seance]

No active WIPs, though I keep feeling like I really should work on my Hawkeye-Hit Girl fic, because i like the start. Also I have half-written in my head the Umbrella Academy HP AU no one asked for but may get anyway.

[bjornwilde]

Hawkeye, as in MCU Hawkeye or MASH Hawkeye? Either sounds amazing, tbh.

[skyhigh_seance]

MCU Hawkeye (but really a mashup of MCU and Fraction's run, because I can get behind the protectiveness of Daddyhawk, but I love Fraction's take). But now I'm envisioning MASH!Hawkeye, and thats pretty awesome too.

[bjornwilde]

Cool. And I had meant to say Marvel Hawkeye. = ]

Glad to have inspired.

[ceitfianna]

I have so many WiPs but I'm currently trying to post and get out there too, a college AU and an Ice Dancing AU for Jyn and Cassian. This is from the college AU.

Kes sighed and jerked Cassian from his thoughts, “That was moping, almost brooding. I didn’t realize it was this bad. Leia’s going to be smug.”

“Why would Leia be smug? Leia’s Jyn’s friend,” He’d met Leia, she and Jyn were a powerful pair and slowly bending the anthropology department to their will.

“Because she notices things and said she knew that you and Jyn weren’t fine.” Kes explained before getting up and looking around, “Now, we need to find you a costume.”

[bjornwilde]

Oh I like this.

[childofrebellion]

First chapter went up last night on my Ao3 as Fits and Starts. Though this is from near the end as they've broken up due to lots of work.

[bjornwilde]

I think I started reading that and then got pulled away for work. I liked it!

[chanter1944]

This is a series in progress rather than a single work, but the third of that series is a WIP in itself, so.
I call it the Not Alone 'verse. All the work titles are lyric snippets from the eponymous Olive song.

Familiarity with Miraculous Ladybug's underlying world structure and premise will not hurt if you read this, but knowledge of canon itself isn't necessary. This is pre-canon, AU, and goes more toward reality washed with the fantastic than it does cartoon mechanics, because I do.

[inlovewithwords]

I thought I recognized Duusu's brooch!

[inlovewithwords]

Okay, this needs very heavy editing, but I love it. Just a (long) snippet of a pre-canon Alera conversation between a couple of friends. Needs heavy editing or I'd post the whole thing (which is just one scene out of a much longer work that is so much WIP that there's nothing much worth speaking of).

Sextus smiled back, masking whatever thought he must still be having about the southwestern ruling House. “I lost my excuse to be wandering down that hall at convenient times when Silvius retired,” he said with startling playfulness.

She couldn’t help laughing. “You can be one of the most awful people I have ever known, my lord.”

Though the Princeps’ smile remained, she was a little surprised to see the quality of it change slightly as he took a drink of wine. His pale green eyes flicked to one side with a distant expression. “Almost certainly true.”

Laetitia blinked at him. It was not the reply she had been expecting. Certainly she hadn’t thought he would take it so seriously. After a moment she carefully set her wine down where she wouldn’t knock it over and turned to face him a little more fully. “Sextus?” she asked carefully.

She rarely used his name. Protocol had been drilled into her since before she could remember. Though they spoke more and more frequently, she’d never been his friend the way Antonia and Loukios were. So although he hadn’t ever given any indication of objecting, she almost never stepped over that line into familiarity.

That she did now got his attention, and after a moment he glanced back to her. With a rolling shrug, he answered, his voice deceptively light, “You were the one who noted how little I value sentiment.”

She raised her eyebrows at him in a mirror of one of his frequent expressions. “This from the man who has actively enabled the affair of his two closest friends despite all their families’ objections.”

“It’s more than worth the peace and quiet when we’re saved from the inevitable fires from Phrygia to Aquitaine if it weren’t contained.” Sextus was only partially joking. Everyone knew what would happen if either side got pushed too far.

She shook her head all the same. “You can’t lie to me about this. I’ve seen how you want them to be happy.”

“I’m not the romantic you are.”

“I’m not as much of one as you seem to think. I do understand what duty means for us.” Where the High Houses were concerned, it wasn’t just duty to family. “It’s been years since I had any girlish dreams like that.”

Placing his own glass on the balustrade next to them, he turned to lean on it and look down at her. “And yet you appear to believe everyone other than you should have such an end. You have demonstrated more than once you are willing to do a great deal to give them that.”

She knew he meant any time she had dabbled in politics—whether local Ceresian or some more significant to the Realm—to prevent someone being left in distress. He never entirely understood it—or rather, while understanding the reason, never understood how it could be her primary, sole motivation for acting.

She also knew he nursed an occasional grudge from any time it interfered with his agenda.

That more than anything confirmed that he was doing everything he could to deflect the conversation away from him and onto her. She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Our differing opinions on how to resolve social situations is not relevant to my question.”

“Isn’t it?” She looked away slightly. Holding a debate with him was hard when he made valid points.

“I didn’t mean it that way, you know I didn’t. It was hyperbole, Sextus. I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”

He gave her an oblique look. “Which makes it no less accurate.”