My current writing schedule and a little exert from the gift-fic I’m currently working on ( @everyday-im-preaching, this ones yours! ). I’m having trouble balancing my spare time right now being that I’m going to conventions this month but I’m still working on it, Stan promise! ( some exclusions apply ).
1. Gift-Fic ( Still Untitled )
2. At My God’s Feet chapter 7
3. Drabble
After this, everything is up to debate but I still have one more gift fic to work on too! For now though, have a little sneak peak at what I’m working on because I’m bad at keeping to a schedule~
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Rain fell in thick sheets, the downpour sudden and unexpected. It cascaded off the old roof, slipping through weather worn cracks, the stone floor of the shrine gathering puddles like offerings. A thunderous crash shook the building to it's foundation and a forgotten wind chime swayed somewhere off in the distance, the song of it's wooden bells dull and monotonous.
Keeping watch, despite the weather, the ancient world goddess stood, proud and resolute, the rain falling over her worn scales like hundreds of tiny rivers. She remained unmoved, her stony face firm in her conviction; she would not yield and neither would her shrine. It had seen far worse than a simple thunderstorm.
Bill's ears twitched and he looked up from his lap, eyes narrowing. He scanned the greenery of the woods carefully, inhaling the sweet scent of rainfall and earth. Snorting, he shook his head and returned to what he was doing, clawed hands carefully weaving strands of long grass together. Accompanied by the occasional ring of the temple bell and the rumble of thunder, the guardian of the forest shrine busied himself with his task, back leg swinging loosely. " He's late. " He huffed.
Crossing his arms over his chest, the beast like man leaned back against the stone pillar that supported his lady. His ears perked and he looked up into her face, nose scrunching, " You would say that. "
Shaking his head, unimpressed, Bill focused on threading the delicate stems of the flora he had gathered before the rainfall, creating an intricate crown of blues and whites. Holding it up, scrutinizing the diadem with a critical eye, he turned it over in his hands. Pleased at his progress, he sat it in his lap and continued his work, adding and taking away where he saw fit. His goddess remained silent, ever watchful, and the storm continued in the background with no signs of slowing.
He only gave pause in his work when he heard soft, muffled footsteps.
His lips quirked into a smirk, not having to look up to know who had decided to visit him, so deep in the forest; it wasn't as if they received many visitors, " Hello, Pinetree~ "
