Rules: post only the titles of your WIPs and anyone can send an ask requesting a snippet from one of them.

thank you so much for the tag @tex-treasures! here's xyr post for my followers to check out and send xem some asks.

I've actually just finished Blood for Blood so that one is off the WIP list and I should make a post promoting it sometime, but for now here's my current WIPs and their associated fandoms:

Avalon Rises - Trollhunters

Out of Time - Trollhunters

Inksekai - UTMV

Lavender Mornings - UTMV

Flight - UTMV (set in @valrayne-faeu's universe)

Threads - FNaF/DCA (OCs)

Don't Push Your Luck - Star Wars

she/her, 28

"Oh - okay - we're hugging about this, okay." - Gentle Care Writing Prompts @soulnottainted

Ship: My Blood (🧭🩸)

Clancy exhaled as he pushed his way through the heavy underbrush that hid away the Bandito camp from plain view. The foliage revealed the bustling nest of tents around the major bon fire everyone gathered around at night, the occasional flicker of other fires caught his periphery. Though it was early in the morning, the sunrise hadn't broken through the forested treetops yet.

The twists and turns in the road were almost enough to lull him to sleep. Key word being almost. He was trying his best to stay awake, trying desperately to savor this moment. The sound of his favorite music coming from the radio, the comfort of being able to lean against one of the men he’s come to know as ‘dad’, and the beautiful starry sky that twinkled down on them, the moon gracing them with its silvery shine, making everything seem to glow.

His gaze drifted out the window, eyes partially lidded and fighting to stay open, trees and roads stretched as far as he could see. Everything was a bit blurry without his glasses, sure, but there was always something special to him about how pretty everything looked at night. The branches dappled in moonlight, the rolling fields covered in shadows, even the occasional car light was a welcome addition to the scenery.

“The greener grass grows where the wild fires fertilize, with ashes of sparrows, peppered moths, and butterflies.”

William perked up a bit. One of many songs he adored from that album. He was listening to it through the speakers of the car without a speck of shame for once, no one made him feel like he was weird for liking this music. Jake and Steven didn’t even put up a fight when he asked if he could hook his phone up to the car and play it. That’s why he loved it here. That’s why he was trying to savor the moment. He felt safe.

His head fell back against his dad, earning a soft chuckle from him. His chest swelled with joy. Despite how tired he felt, he couldn’t help but laugh along. He would kill for everyday to be like this. These gentle moments where he can feel like a kid again.

“Ghosts of trees and termites, bloom in the beanstalk, and if you get light-headed when standing too fast, as if from shaking off the weight of phosphenes and past, salt deposits on warm little rivers that burst from our words.”

His eyes finally shut, the music filling his ears. He could faintly hear his dad humming along to the tune with his ear pressed against him like this, had he been listening to his son’s music taste to get a better understanding? The thought alone brought tears to William’s eyes. The thought that someone would care enough about him to try and get to know the things he likes better.

Fyodor’s nicknames reek of possession, no matter how sweet they come off. There’s always an air of condescension in them, he has to put himself above others in even the smallest of ways— he has to somehow make me feel weak, that I am an object. His desire is me to see him as the god he believes himself to be, and I his loyal little apostle. But at the same time, there’s an expectation of purity, for me to be the saint to his god. He will always use ‘мой’ or ‘my’ as a prefix, to remind me that I am his despite how hard I may fight it.

“Куколка”-doll

“mýshka”-little mouse

Ангел мой- my angel

малышка-baby

Even after I manage to outsmart him using ✨meta knowledge✨, the nicknames shift—while still diminutive, he does at least acknowledge that I have intelligence.

умняшка-clever one/clever girl

lisíčka -little fox

Dazai’s on the other hand, while still possessive, are much more earnest and endearing. I didn’t have to prove I have a functioning brain to him or that I was more ‘predator’ than ‘prey’.

Hence, occasionally calling me ‘kitty’ when I, say, get distracted or snap out of a hyper focus. Cat’s can’t be controlled, cats are independent, and it’s a privilege when one chooses you.

On to the most overused one I’ve seen in reader inserts, “belladonna”— while in Italian it means beautiful woman it’s also the name of a poisonous flower of the nightshade family. It’s still an object, a non-autonomous thing it still has the power to kill someone if they aren’t careful.

Imagine it, you’re going about you day until you suddenly come across someone. They seem normal enough, maybe a little bit confused , but you can’t shake the feeling that something is just off about them. It makes no sense, they look and talk like any other person but something in the most primal part of your brain is screaming at you that this person is wrong.

Then you notice how they’re looking at you, like they know you down to every minute detail. Even the parts that you’ve never told anyone, that you’ve kept hidden for as long as you can remember. Why are they looking at you like that? This person is a stranger yet looks at you with such intimate familiarity and it makes your stomach churn.