can the plot for my ya wip please stop changing every couple months? thanks.
seen from Germany

seen from Germany

seen from Nepal
seen from United States

seen from Yemen
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from India

seen from Netherlands
seen from Indonesia

seen from Netherlands
seen from China

seen from Netherlands
seen from Spain
seen from China
seen from T1

seen from India
seen from China
seen from Romania
can the plot for my ya wip please stop changing every couple months? thanks.
What can I say, I’m merciless...
WIP INTRO | PAGE | TAG
e x c e r p t from when the city is lonely —
It’s the clattering racket of Rory’s bedroom window being forced open that jolts them awake from where they’d fallen asleep studying at their desk. Jasper’s raspy morning voice drifts in from outside where he’s standing on his best friend’s rooftop, peering into the room. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” he whisper-hisses.
“Jesus! What the fuck are you doing?!” Rory scrambles to grab their glasses and put them on. They whip their head around to squint at the numbers on the glowing alarm clock on their nightstand. “Jasper Hope.”
“Yes?”
“It is four o’clock in the morning.”
“Please don’t be mad,” Jasper begins, sighing. “I know. I couldn’t sleep and then I missed you.” He’s already crawling into bed beside Rory, sliding underneath the covers, to sleep away the last two hours before they actually have to wake up.
“Stop falling in love with me,” Rory grumbles, tossing a pillow in Jasper’s direction.
“Never.”
She stood and watched, a dot of darkness against the otherwise grey crowd. Her face felt numb as she stared up at the poster hanging from a series of cobblestone houses. It was hand-painted, someone having put in a great deal of effort into showing that they’re a bigoted fool.
It was blue, a depiction of the ocean, and in that mass of blue was a woman hanging upside down, a thick iron chain that lead to an anchor was tied around her paled throat. It was an image pulled from memories no one should have any more. But here it was. The greatest punishment a witch could face, and the cruelest words she could’ve ever imagined were written above.
Bring back the Hangings. Destroy the Witches of Hell. End the War for The One True.
okay I think my troubles with my ya wip’s worldbuilding are finally solved so that’s nice
um about 26k words of my wip sound like trash and procrastination
Nicholas Vance Moodboard
Name- Nicholas Gilbert Vance
Age- 17
Birthday- March 13 (Pisces)
Favorite Season- Winter
Favorite Holiday- Christmas
Favorite Animal- Racoons
Favorite Color- Black
(Images come from Pinterest. Message me for credit or removal)
I’ve been productive as FUCK today. I wrote like 500 words on my WIP (getting out of my writers block), posted on my Instagram, posted on my Instagram story and I am now posting on my tumblr, all while watching like 20 episodes of dance moms...