#wip excerpt

[avonleaastra1]

What do you do when your blood makes you prey and your heart makes you a target? A dark YA werewolf romance where wolves aren't fluffy and h

🌕 Dead End & Everything

an excerpt from my WIP:

✦••┈┈ 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙠𝙞𝙣 : 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙤𝙨 ┈┈••✦

His pupils were still blown wide, swallowing nearly all the amber. Only the thinnest rim of gold clung to the edges, like the sun during an eclipse. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in sharp, irregular spasms.

His eyes weren't on my face. They were fixed on my hand, on the scraped skin and the thin line of drying blood.

Instinctively, I moved to cover it.

I knew I'd made a mistake the moment my other hand touched my sleeve.

A visible shudder ran through him, sharp and involuntary, like I'd yanked on some invisible rope wrapped around his torso.

"Don't do that," he said, voice low and ragged. It wasn't a threat, but a plea and a warning in one. "Leave it."

I slowly lowered my hand, exposing the cut again.

His breath hitched. He took half a step forward, the smallest of movements, yet the entire corridor seemed to compress around us.

"Ethan," I whispered, my pulse hammering, "what is happening to you?"

He shut his eyes. That frightened me more than anything else, because it looked like surrender. Like holding them open required effort he no longer had.

His voice scraped out, raw. "Stop it. Fear. Just… stop."

I shivered. It wasn't comfort. It was a warning.

"I… I can't help it. You're scaring me!" My voice came out higher than I expected.

The muscle in his jaw trembled. For a second he looked like he was going to be sick. "I know. Just… ride it out."

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself.

.......

I stayed perfectly still. I knew I shouldn't look at him, and yet... I couldn't look away.

Minutes passed, stretching into eternity.

His breathing slowly evened out. His shoulders eased, just a fraction. When he opened his eyes, the amber ring was thicker. His pupils, still huge, were no longer devouring everything.

He leaned back from me slowly, inch by inch.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. For the first time, it sounded like actual Ethan, not whatever it was he'd been holding back. He diverted his gaze, looking genuinely stricken for a moment. "I know I scare you. I don't mean to. I didn't choose this." He took in a labored breath. "If it's any consolation, this is so much worse for me."

"What are you talking about?" I exclaimed, then, when his eyes snapped back to me, I lowered my voice. "Ethan…" I whispered. "What the hell just happened?"

He swallowed hard and shook his head. "It's my fault. I underestimated them. Let it build up." His jaw tightened. When his gaze lifted to mine, something in it pinned me in place. "It won't happen again."

"That's not an answer," I said. "Why did it happen at all?"

A sad, pained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Because of you."

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn't land as a surprise, but it left me desperate to understand why. Why me?

"Me," I repeated. "What about me?"

He blinked, slow and deliberate.

"Everything."

✦••┈┈ 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙠𝙞𝙣 : 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙤𝙨 ┈┈••✦

Read online free:

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/405890153-bloodkin

Inkitt: https://www.inkitt.com/stories/1625354

[word-ghost]

Hawke’s shoulder brushes his as she leans into the wall. Her breath is sweet with honey wine, eyes bright and mischievous.

Their color reminds him of the thicket at the edge of Lake Calenhad where he rested after his long swim from the tower, summer sun winking through gaps in the canopy. Gazing into them, he’s struck with the same giddy excitement as that fleeting prospect of freedom.

This is not a good idea.

Anders pulls in a long breath. It’s a mistake. She fills his lungs and, with a shaky sigh, leaves him hollow.

She watches him in quiet consideration, eyes resting on his lips before flickering to his.

“You don’t want this,” he murmurs.

“What could you presume to know about what I want?” She rolls her eyes, a smirk curling her full lips.

A chuckle rises in Anders’s throat that he swallows when she hushes him. His smile lingers until the clamoring overhead grows louder. The two press against the wall, almost sure they won't be seen from overhead.

“What were you like?” Hawke whispers. “Before the blight?”

A laugh puffs through his nose. “Before Justice?”

She shrugs like it's the furthest thing from her thoughts.

“Rebellious,” he admits. “Impulsive. Reckless.”

Her mouth splits into a scandalized grin. “You mean you used to be fun?”

“When the rare opportunity presented itself.”

She holds his gaze, expression relaxing as she leans nearer. In silence they both share in wondering what remains in him of the man that would not only recognize the opportunity she now presents, but seize it.

[shelaar]

Another Chance Ch 12 WIP

[Ben]

With the Mand’alor tucked beneath his arm, helping him traverse the halls, they began the journey to his quarters. He was grateful that Jaster was helping him, since he highly disliked the idea of being put on a gurney and had no desire to anger the medics further. Even though he honestly believed they were fussing over nothing. He’d had to walk with far worse injuries before.

Glancing down at the ruggedly handsome and very physically fit man pressed against his side Ben had a hard time keeping the heat from his face. Coupled with Jaster’s sharp mind, firm kindness, and stubborn determination to be a good man… Ben couldn’t help feeling doomed. Especially when the man continued to surprise him with his easy acceptance of the Force.

The way Jaster had denied the Darksaber, the one thing that could supposedly legitimize his reign as Mand’alor, had spoken of someone with both honor and integrity. And to top it all off the way he treated Jango had something inside Ben’s chest turning warm with desire. The way he spoke to his son, and how his son responded, was very telling about his character. Jaster adored the boy and was fiercely protective. In turn Jango was devoted and wanted nothing more than to make his father proud.

It was a little concerning just how endearing and enticing Ben found that combination. Then again he had always been accused of having some sort of fixation on Mandalorians, or warriors in general.

“Thinking deep thoughts?” Jaster asked with a small chuckle, his voice so close to Ben’s ear it was like a caress.

A shiver ran down his spine and he had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Just wondering how I’m going to spend my time confined to bed for the next eighteen hours.” He said dryly, trying to turn it into a joke.

[angelsdean]

ok so like, i knoww i probs shouldn’t share excerpts for something that won’t see the light of day for ages but, well, i want to share what i’m cooking

[kaatiba]

(i'm behind but ah well) today's kiss comes from The Storyteller, The Djinn, and The Prince, my main wip! i am...kinda sorta challenging myself to write kisses that aren't kisses between people lololol length: 279 words

 ↳ in which Hira joins a hopeless quest to rescue a child from the djinn who have taken him, Intisar refuses to give into despair, Raoul is tangled in a web of love and loss, and there are many stories

Trembling, I lifted the lid of the trunk and immediately, the familiar scent of oud and sandalwood billowed over me.  Jeddo.  Reverently, I pulled the mantle out and buried my face against the wool. If I tried hard enough, I could almost feel the scratch of Jeddo's beard when he kissed my forehead the day of my wedding, could hear his voice as he wished me joy.  It had been the last time that I saw him, and neither of us had known it. Eyes burning, I exhaled shakily and lowered the mantle to pool in my lap, heavy and grounding, and turned back to the trunk. All that was left inside were his prayer beads, worn smooth from years and years of use, the string fraying, and next to it, a slim leatherbound volume.  I took it up, opened it—and bit hard at the edge of my tongue to stifle a sob. Inside, in his fine sprawling hand, were invocations. All the ones he had taught me in my childhood and new ones besides, with notes on their myriad applications and benefits in the margins in green ink, and the number of repetitions and recommended ritual movements in blue. It was a book that by law had to be burned. None of this was knowledge that was allowed in Mourra any longer. I closed the book and pressed a kiss to the cover. My grandfather had left it to me, despite that it was treason for him to have it, or that it was treason for me to keep it. He'd left it to me. I would treasure it forever. (And that was before it saved my life.)

[amidnightjen]

The man who opens the door is not her brother. He’s just as tall as she remembered Evan being but he’s dark haired and brown eyed and a complete stranger.

He’s also holding a baby in one arm. It’s the baby who holds her gaze. Soft blonde curls, startling blue eyes and a tiny little birthmark.

“Can I help you?” The man asks, growing at her and then shifting his baby slightly further out of her reach as though he’s worried she’s going to snatch the little girl and run.

“I’m looking for Evan,” she tells the man.

“He’s not here.”

“Oh. Sorry, I, uh - he lives here, though? Evan Buckley?”

“Yeah,” the man confirms slowly. “Who are you?” He still sounds wary and she feels so wrong footed. She hadn’t really thought much beyond running, beyond finding her baby brother.

“I’m Maddie,” she says, and even as she does, she wonders if it will even mean anything to this man. This man who is holding a tiny little baby version of Evan.

But the man’s eyebrows shoot up and he takes a step back, not to protect himself further, she realises, but to give her room to come inside. “Oh, wow, uh, you should come in.”

“I can wait out here,” she offers, still remembering his earlier caution.

The man snorts. “And let him come home and find you waiting outside? Nah, he’d kill me.”

“He might not want to see me,” she cautions because she has to prepare herself for the the possibility that he won’t want to see her.

The man snorts. “I’m Eddie by the way,” he introduces, shutting the door behind her. He bounces the baby in his arms gently, adding, “This is Maddie.”

The sob that tears out of her is unplanned and raw.

Maddie.

Evan named his daughter Maddie.

[blackberrysummers]

Greetings all :) I’ve had some big, unexpected changes this week. Remember when I said I like being surprised because it means I’m not at the end yet? Well, I still feel that way, actually—the changes in question aren’t of a pleasant nature in and of themselves, but it’ll be the start of new adventures. I’m feeling pretty good overall. It’s starting to feel and smell like autumn here, and waking up to that is just about the best.

I was really happy to have it suggested to me that I write a Watford-era fic based off a line from Working from Home, the one where Baz imagines having used a ‘stay put’ spell on Simon back in their roomie days. I liked the line when I wrote it, so it was cool to know it caught other people’s eye as well. I’m now plotting a fic for that out, as well as still trying to finish Time Will Lie Down and Be Still, and I’m also doing the Exchange this year. Despite or maybe because of having so much in the works, I have of course begun noodling around with another separate fic idea. The plan is that Simon is going to inadvertently cast a spell that causes him to become Baz’s (still human) Familiar. Baz’s magic won’t work without Simon close by, and Simon really won’t be able to function at all without sticking by Baz’s side (not much change there, lol). Here’s a snippet from the opening, wherein Baz is barely holding onto his sanity due to Simon’s slovenly housekeeping (dormkeeping?) skills.

“These,” Baz is saying, holding a pair of my boxer briefs aloft with the end of his biro, “are completely unacceptable, Snow. Have you no decency?”

I squint, trying to follow what he’s saying. Does he mean that my pants are indecently short, or worn out, or is he upset that I left them on the floor? It’s hard to concentrate, because I’m utterly knackered after a day of clearing loverboybug nests from the Mage’s cabin. (That’s what he wanted me for. Loverboybugs sing increasingly treacly pop ballads while stinging the daylights out of you. The Mage said I should practise my pest-removal spells, but of course I just used my sword.)(It wasn’t very effective even after I cut the nests down. In the end, I had to drag them out to a clearing and set them on fire.) (I can’t quite forget the plaintive crooning emanating from the flames as I walked away. ‘My heart’s on fire, giiir-rllll!’)

I jolt back to the argument at hand when Baz waves his pants-draped pen under my nose. ”Snow! Are you even listening to me? Why are you bopping your head like that?”

“No reason,” I lie.

Enjoy the rest of the week! No pressure tags and hellos to: @rimeswithpurple @thewholelemon @monbons @best--dress @beastmonstertitan @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @bachusekart @bookishbroadwayandblind @cutestkilla @larkral @bookish-bogwitch @leithillustration @letraspal @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @j-trow-95 @iamamythologicalcreature @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @skeedelvee @wellbelesbian @shrekgogurt @raeny-day @nausikaaa @valeffelees @roomwithanopenfire @mooncello @ileadacharmedlife @the-beard-of-edward-teach @stitchy-queerista @prettygoododds @drowninginships @orange-peony @alexalexinii @forabeatofadrum @fiend-for-culture @confusedbiqueer @cows4247 @ivelovedhimthroughworse @asocialpessimist @toc-the-scrambled @tiarrrita @sillyunicorn @captain-aralias and anybody else who’d like to jump in!

[intangible-effigies]

WIP Wednesday!

so i have a bad habit of forgetting tumblr exists these days because my mobile app has been glitched out for like 2 months now and i just. don't think to open it on my computer 💀 BUT! the lovely @bringbackmaes14 and @calif0rnication both tagged me for WIP Wednesday, and i purely coincidentally happened to open up tumblr today, so here i am :,) thanks, y'all!!

i'm still in the middle of chapter 8 of Where Life Escapes Us (which is already almost 50k words??? holy shit??????), and i also have an exhibitionism fic in progress, and an Eddie/Volt/Zoey/reader oneshot half-finished, and about 1000 words of a college professor AU started, and another 1.5k of a fic where Beverly and Volt catch Eddie and live wire fooling around in the bar before opening, and at least one sequel to the tarot fic on the backburner, AND i still want to write my goth AU someday... so needless to say i've been busy! lmfaoooooo

anyway! here's a little sneak peek of where i'm at with chapter 8 of Where Life Escapes Us <3

By the time you were done taking in your surroundings, Volt had at least pulled on a shirt, and he was now holding out to you a teal silk banyan decorated with a black brocade motif of flowers and foliage. It wasn’t one you’d seen before—but, you realised, the only time you’d actually seen either of them wear a banyan was the night you’d arrived, when Volt had come downstairs in his amaranth one, which you believed had a matching brocade. Clearly, he liked the pattern. “Put this on for me, mon amour?” he requested gently. “I want to take your measurements after you’ve eaten, and it’ll be easier to do so if you wear something you can shrug off.” You took the jacket from him, pulling it around your shoulders and over your arms. The luxurious fabric made you feel like you were being wrapped in a cloud. “It’s so soft.” Volt grinned. “I refuse to adorn mes amours with anything less than the best.” Coming up behind him, Eddie—still naked, you noticed, your cheeks heating up all over again—tucked Volt’s hair out of his way before wrapping his arms around his waist and planting a kiss against the side of his neck. “It’s for your own benefit as much as ours,” he teased; “you wouldn’t find it half as fun to undress us if our clothes were lesser quality.” Volt caught Eddie’s eyes over his shoulder. “And is it so wrong of me to want my beautiful gifts to come in equally beautiful wrapping?” With a smirk and a raised brow, Eddie replied, “Am I meant to believe you wouldn’t rather your gifts be laid bare?” The man flushed. “Of course I would,” he murmured. “But seeing our spark in your banyan, I suspect, will be the next best thing.”