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I’m gonna throw in a “if only in my dreams” for the wip game
aw. the time i got possessed by a demon and pounded out almost 1k of a christmas fic after watching the pacific when i was sick.
It was the night before Christmas 1945, and somewhere near the blazing fireplace of a cozy New York townhouse, Lily Watt sat surrounded by ribbons, wrapping paper, and gifts.
She’d always considered herself festive—the first to haul out sparkling decorations and spend hours searching for the perfect tree while her mother and father sighed impatiently nearby—but this year held a new magic. Thomas was merely an infant the year before, too preoccupied with the next time he’d feed from his mother’s breast to give Christmas a second thought. This year was different. The last several months had brought many firsts—walking, talking, even climbing the furniture Nora had so desperately tried to keep pristine. The thought of her first child opening gifts swelled in Lily’s heart, warming her chest and carrying her through the labor of love that was sifting through flashy colored papers and bows for something toddler-suitable.
Somewhere over her shoulder, the stately grandfather clock struck 9 pm. It was a comforting sound, just as routine as the sound of her son’s squeals of joy and mischief from down the hall where Nora wrangled him into fresh pajamas after his bath.
The ensuing knock on the door, however, was anything but routine.
Lily stiffened, hands curling around the crafting scissors she’d acquired from her mother as she shooed the lingering demons of war from her mind. The war was over. Her father was home. A knock on the door was no longer something to dread.
“Mama?” she called cautiously, dusting stray paper scraps from the front of her dress as she stood. “Mama, did you send for something?”
She stood silently peering outside the study, listening for any hint of someone else venturing to the door. The soft sound of her father’s snoring and the not-so soft sounds of Nora reckoning with Thomas’ bedtime routine were enough to disqualify them from the task. Resigned to her fate, Lily sighed and closed the study door delicately behind her before venturing towards the stairs. Another knock came, sharper and louder than the last. She scowled, mumbling to herself about the state of delivery etiquette in this day and age as she finally reached the meticulously decorated foyer.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” she called out, fingers closing around the knob. “It’s a bit late to be knocking down people’s doors, don’t you th—“
i was tagged by @imogenkol and @simonxriley! thanks y’all. 💜
RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People can send an ask with the title(s) that most intrigue them, then you post a snippet or tell them about it!
now. i don’t (usually) title my wips because i write in the notes app like a heathen, a lot of my stuff is silly stuff not for the public, AND i have several hundred wips stretching back years. so. a smattering of recent ones with titles i came up with literally right now:
alpha male confetti deliberations
if only in my dreams (hey! a real title!)
tree karaoke
how i met your mother at a serial killer ted talk
spilling over the idol (the black and the blue) (hey! another real title!)
how i met your mother at the fort worth stockyards
cultist marital dispute (aka a normal tuesday)
what the fuck do you mean your family likes each other
came back a different me (but it's good to see the same old you) (see! sometime i really do title things!)
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Curious about "what the fuck do you mean your family likes each other" 👀
from as per my last email, when lily decides that somewhere in between taking potshots at each other at work, she’ll be her coworkers Platonic (They Swear) date to his sister’s wedding and gets the full big jewish jersey family experience.
“It’s weird,” she murmured finally.
“I mean yeah, they’re a little weird, but—“
“No, no,” she interrupted, leaning against the counter before gesturing back towards the lively living room. “This is weird. They—they like each other. Everyone wants to be here.”
He was quiet for a moment, opting to chew at his bottom lip in favor of his usual jabs as he studied the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Wasn’t like that for you growing up?”
“Never.”
He frowned, nodding to himself as he took a cautious step forward. His hand outstretched, landing gently on her shoulder before giving it a soft squeeze. “Hey. This too much? We can go on a walk, or—“
from these unquiet hollows! lily mulling over the weird things she’s heard/seen in the woods surrounding the holler. there’s about six million stories in appalachian folklore about whistling/singing/voices coming from the woods at night (animals. it’s usually animals.) and everyone who grew up in the region swears they’ve seen or heard something weird at least once.
She squinted against the blackness, peering further into the tree line as the night’s chill nipped at her bare ankles. When did it get so cold?
“You get lost?” Christopher’s voice sounded from the trailer doorway.
Lily startled, exhaling sharply as she turned on her heel to face him. He leaned there lazily, lanky frame illuminated from behind by the dingy warm light. Hugging herself, she shook her head. “No, I—“ she started, trailing off as she realized she wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. I’m fine, babe. Just got distracted by the woman singing in the woods at 2 AM. “I’m fine.”
He studied her, eyes lingering on the way she’d wrapped her arms around herself like some kind of flesh and bone armor. Raising a brow, he leaned out, craning his neck towards the trees. “What’d you see?”
She blinked.
“Spend long enough starin’ out at the dark, soon enough your brain starts imaginin’ shit starin’ back,” he continued. He descended the trailer stairs, eyes locked on the trees. “Used to see all kinds of shit in the desert at night. Mighta just been sleep deprived, but…”
“I bet,” she murmured, automatically leaning into his warmth as he approached. “But I didn’t see anything.”
It wasn’t a lie, not really. She hadn’t seen anything that night. The dancing lights had seemed to have abandoned her, given up their post amongst the leaves and returned to wherever the hell they came from in the first place. For a brief moment she wondered if she’d scared them off during the last week’s construction, like they were timid stray animals peering at her from their hidey-holes. No, she hadn’t seen anything that night at all.
“Ah,” he hummed. His arm found its place around her shoulders, squeezing her tight to his side. “Trees’re singin’ again, ain’t they?”
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how i met your mother at the fort worth stockyards for the Wip Game 😊
aw. this is from when i was gonna tackle casey’s parent’s love story in a novella style. i might still do it. but. knowing how it ends really, uh—y’know. put a damper on my motivation. (in which casey and his daddy get exposed for having the same smile, which is a very important plot revelation to me.)
“Sorry,” she said finally, much too loud for the narrow corridor. She cringed back, fingers twisted in the hem of her blouse like the cotton could somehow battle back the crimson rising in her cheeks. There it was again — too loud, just like her father always said. “The bathroom. I’m lookin’ for the bathroom.”
The boy nodded, crooked grin somehow splitting his face even wider before he gestured behind him. “Down the hall and to the left. Almost made it.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled. The heat in her face was unbearable now, embarrassment scorching through her veins hotter than the stifling summer air outside. She ducked under his arm, long legs carrying her across the wood floor before a call from behind stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Hey. Blue shirt.”
She turned, unable to hide her own grin this time. “Blue shirt?”
He shrugged, nearly dropping the beat up duffle bag he carried slung across his shoulder in the process. “Don’t know your name, do I?”
She knew better. She really did. There wasn’t a point — she’d return to school, and he’d return to… whatever it was they did here. Fort Worth was temporary, just a hub she was passing through on her father’s quest for her higher education. It wouldn’t be long until she was called back home, and boys in hallways at rodeos she shouldn’t be attending in the first place would be a distant memory. It wouldn’t be sensible.
But her parents were hours away, and what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
LOOK AT ALL THIS HELL YOU’VE CAUSED. — “The Knights,” the sheriff muses, sucking back a sip of coffee before continuing on. “Reclusive, cagey, and if all them rumors floatin’ ‘round town’s true? Heavily armed. Haven’t had cause to find out for myself, and I’d like to keep it that way, son. Been thirty years since Waco. Ain’t keen on havin’ a repeat performance in my own back yard.”
“You really think it’d come to that?”
The sheriff pauses, considering the man before him — an out-of-towner, and outsider with no fucking clue the shit he’s so eagerly inserting his foot in.
“I think they keep to themselves. Only come to town maybe once a year, and only ever the sons even before their daddy passed on. Lotsa nasty rumors flyin’ about the wife, ‘specially with how quick Beau Knight rushed her down the aisle. I suggest you give that man a wide berth. His daddy was nice enough, but…”
“But what?”
“Somethin’ ain’t right about that boy. Never has been.” (x)
Hello! Could I ask about cultist marital dispute (aka a normal tuesday), please and thank you?! 😁
you and @socially-awkward-skeleton had the same idea SO a wee ADT snippet of lily and beau having their weekly (i’m lying. it’s much more frequent.) pissing contest over their lily and jeremiah’s son in front of god and literally half the compound.
She stiffened, her grip on his arm tightening as she leaned in and spoke with a hushed tone. “That is my son. You ask my permission before you put a gun in his hand and drag him around the woods at all hours. He ain’t—he ain’t Ezra—“
“You don’t wanna do this right now,” he warned, eyes flitting to the ragtag squad of men and boys a few paces to his right. They shifted restlessly, hands curled around hunting rifles and buck knives like they were itching for a chance. “Go home, Lily.”
“I—Jesus Christ. Just… bring the guy back to his car, Beau,” she gritted out, nails biting into the flesh of her husband’s arm. “The sheriff ain’t gonna like this.”
“No,” he replied, shrugging off her grip before reaching into his pocket. He withdrew a crumpled photo, gruffly thrusting it into her now-empty hands. “Think he wants to be here.”
Lily frowned as she ran her fingers across the creased folds. Shadows of the nearby forest obscured her, but nestled in the heart of the shot was undoubtedly Sloane. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders like a velvety curtain, framing that familiar penetrating dark eyed gaze.
“Fine. We’ll talk in the morning,” Lily said finally. She gestured lazily, only sparing the man currently restrained in front of her half a curious glance more before stepping towards her son. “Elijah. C’mon.”
scratching at the wall. can u tell me abt alpha male confetti and the kids who say damnedest things. please
alpha male confetti is from a still untitled wip in which lily does what she does best (has an affair) (and yaps with @jackiesarch’s isabel)
Isabel frowned, scowling as some cheaply dressed finance bro’s shoulder collided with her own. “Jesus Christ, dude, I’m right here—“
“Every single time,” Lily mused from a few feet ahead, weaving through Manhattan’s morning foot traffic with ease. “They never move. They always think your, like, divine femininity is going to tell you to delicately glide out of their very important manly way and back into the kitchen.”
“You know,” Isabel started, huffing as they reached Lily’s building. She nodded at the doorman, still unsure exactly what the proper protocol for doorman acknowledgement was. Waving? A solid nod? Shake his hand? Bring him coffee? “Speaking of men, and not that I’m saying he’s an important manly sidewalk warrior alpha male, but—“
Lily sighed, swatting at the “UP” button on the elevator looming before them. “I’ll be sure to tell Adrian you don’t think he’s an alpha male.”
“—but, and I love you, but—“
The elevator dinged.
“This is a lot of qualifiers. Have you considered politics? I can hook you up with Adrian’s campaign manager.”
Isabel stepped into the elevator, squinting at the back of Lily’s slept-in blonde curls as she stabbed a floor number somewhere in the odd 30s. She was quicker this morning, propelled forward by something other than six shots of espresso. She saw it then—pink and silver glinting from between the golden strands. “Why the hell do you have confetti in your hair?”
“What?” Lily’s hand shot up, blindly searching before her fingers finally found purchase and removed the rogue interlopers. She squinted at them for a moment, admiring the way they reflected the fluorescent overheads from where they lay in her palm before unceremoniously shoving them in her pocket. “You love me, but you wanna know why I have confetti in my hair?”
The elevator dinged again.
“No,” Isabel huffed, already hitting a power walk to even try and match the pace at which Lily rocketed down the hall, “I love you, but I wanna know why I’m spending Valentine’s Day with you. As opposed to your non-sidewalk alpha male husband.”
aaaaaand kids say the damndest things is from heaven bent and also happens to feature iz. double italian feature, if you will.
“So,” she started, transferring a sudsy plate to the other side of the sink. “Ava said ‘whore’ today.”
Isabel choked, a strangled sort of hum that echoed into her glass. “She what?”
“Yeah,” Lily responded. Her tone was careful, missing the tinge of amusement her friend expected to find. “One of her dolls is a whore, apparently.”
It wasn’t the first time Ava swore — that honor belonged to the babbled “shit!” she’d let out when her favorite Winnie The Pooh cup went end over end down the outside stairs. Lily had laughed then, unable to stifle the surprise in favor of teachable moment style parenting. She’d wanted to blame Declan, but they’d been neck and neck in terms of their potty mouths since they were kids. Besides, it was cute. Innocent.
Isabel shifted at the table, carefully placing her phone down before asking: “Where did she even hear that? I mean, I’d expect ‘fuck’ before whore—“
“Same place she heard ‘junkie’, I think.”
Silence fell on the kitchen, only permeated by the muffled sound of Ava’s cartoons in the living room. Lily kept her eyes down, studiously scrubbing away at a fork.
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from the very neglected purgatorium! lily was the sole survivor of a notoriously brutal home invasion that left her parents dead when she was a child. several years later she’s a keynote speaker at a convention about true crime where she meets her future husband, a newly minted fbi agent. it’s technically a flashback scene. but.
“I saw you speak,” he said, awkwardly holding up a leaflet with a smile. “You were great.“
He was handsome, she thought — thick dark hair that couldn’t quite stay smoothed back and a brilliant flash of white teeth when he grinned at her. She’d noticed him straight away, three rows back and fully engaged from her first word. It was flattering, especially after two hours of yawns and disinterest.
“Thanks. I try to keep my childhood trauma entertaining.”
i was tagged by @imogenkol and @simonxriley! thanks y’all. 💜
RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People can send an ask with the title(s) that most intrigue them, then you post a snippet or tell them about it!
now. i don’t (usually) title my wips because i write in the notes app like a heathen, a lot of my stuff is silly stuff not for the public, AND i have several hundred wips stretching back years. so. a smattering of recent ones with titles i came up with literally right now:
alpha male confetti deliberations
if only in my dreams (hey! a real title!)
tree karaoke
how i met your mother at a serial killer ted talk
spilling over the idol (the black and the blue) (hey! another real title!)
how i met your mother at the fort worth stockyards
cultist marital dispute (aka a normal tuesday)
what the fuck do you mean your family likes each other
came back a different me (but it's good to see the same old you) (see! sometime i really do title things!)
