Hi!
The next chapter of A Tide in a City won't be up tomorrow as scheduled. We are hoping for later this week.
Apologies.
@rexisnotyourwriter / rexisnotyourwriter.tumblr.com
Hi!
The next chapter of A Tide in a City won't be up tomorrow as scheduled. We are hoping for later this week.
Apologies.
by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming
After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.
Read on AO3
Catch up: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*
Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab
The bell rang. Her peers bolted from their desks and flooded the hallway, grabbing at their coats and bags, before running down the hall, towards the door. Towards freedom.
She waited, at least until there were only a few remaining children gathering their belongings, before getting up from her desk. The teacher gave her a smile, but it felt off somehow in a way she couldn’t quite place. She smiled back anyways.
By the time she reached the hall, her coat had been knocked to the floor. A partial footprint was left on the arm. She picked it up and brushed the dust off. The tread marks were still visible. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and went to the washroom.
The stall doors were all open. Empty. She lifted the sleeve of her coat near the sink and ran the tap slightly warm. Then, with a wet paper towel, she gently dabbed at the dirt until it was no longer visible. The sleeve was damp, but she reasoned she should be able to conceal that from her mother until it dried. She pressed a dry paper towel into it as best she could. It would have to do.
by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming
After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.
Read on AO3
*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*
Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab
The bell rang. The class full of children emptied in a flurry of squeals. The teacher breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped when she noticed she wasn’t alone. A pair of mousy braids sat by the window watching her peers spill out into the playground like ants under a log. They scattered, dispersing themselves amongst the jungle gym, the hopscotch marked concrete, and the small patch of grass they called a field.
The teacher softly called her name.
They’d had this conversation before, usually ending with her forfeiting her smoke break to stay in the classroom.
The girl didn’t turn around.
“You have to go outside today,” she added. “It’s a beautiful day. And look at those clouds. I think that one looks like a cow.”
The girl didn’t move.
by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming
After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.
Read on AO3
*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*
Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab
The girl watched the toast pop up from the mint green Burlington toaster mere seconds after emitting the smell of the now charred breakfast. The toaster almost perfectly matched the vinyl covering on the kitchen chairs and the geometric pattern on the off-white linoleum flooring. The whole house, in fact, looked like it came straight out of a magazine, which, in all honesty, it had. Her mother had dog-eared the pages of the latest styles before they even bought the house. The kitchen, as noted, was mint and off-white themed. Clean and crisp. The living room, which flowed out from the kitchen, featured wood flooring adorned with a large ornate rug with a velvet baby pink couch and loveseat. The one piece that didn’t quite match the room was her father’s green-ish recliner. It was the sore thumb of the room that he refused to part with. The fireplace was surrounded by a brick mantle, on top of which was a wooden clock that ticked loudly. It was very nearly time for her to be on her way to school.
She sat in her usual seat at one end of the table watching her mother, who looked at the slightly charred toast with little regard and tossed it onto a plate. She watched as her mother haphazardly slathered it with strawberry jam. She was doing it wrong, again.
Across from the girl’s place at the kitchen table was a full breakfast plate - two fried eggs, two pieces of (unburnt) toast, buttered, and three sausage links - next to a cup of coffee. The sun shining in from the living room illuminated the steam willowing out from the top of the mug like smoke from a chimney. It curved and swirled upwards, slithering almost, until it disappeared.
Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.
I was tagged by the talented @fadewithfury
Posting this on my main, but fyi my (inactive) writing blog is @rexisnotyourwriter
WALLY. not that where we begin isn't great otherwise, because it is, but I literally cannot think of anything but 'WALLY' any time I see you or scout posting stuff of domnhall lmao
WALLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Sometimes I feel dumb for loving my own secondary character that much but then I remember how fucking great he is and stop caring
Emotional pre-Broadchurch hardy oneshots, Ten splitting into tiny Tens, and Ten the Time Lord having to squeeze his bum into a hand shaped chair while getting froyo
omg I totally forgot about that froyo fic lol
either staying up till 2 am helping figure out make-out logistics, or literally slamming my laptop shut and taking a walk bc i was so mad lmao
lmao ain’t that the truth
Reblog if it’s okay for your followers to leave you an ask telling you what the one thing is they remember you for as a writer. Is it a scene or a detail or a specific line? Is it something like style or characterization? Is it that one weird kink they never thought they’d be into, but oh my god wow self-discovery time?
prompt: what’s something you would sketch for BC3 to make it come true?
She turns to look at him He’s never seen her dressed up like this before Her hair done, make-up on In a dress that she probably hasn’t brought out in ages but still looks as if it was made for her “What?” She asks “And I love her” the song replies He smiles “Nothing” he says “Do you want to dance?”
so yeah i would like to formally request the above scene at dirty brian’s wedding and everything else from this texting exchange based off of events after this fic and maybe there’s a playlist and also here’s the dress :)
So, I was reading The Day by @rexalexander the other day and I couldn’t stop thinking about Hardy in the doorway. And this happened.
I FINALLY FINISHED RENEGADE! I CAN'T GET OVER IT! BEST CROSSOVER EVER! NOT JOKING! I'm still stuck in the universe. Gah I love it so much. The ending is golden. I just ahdjskahf. Also the song renegade came on during the time I was reading it.
thanks :)
#the reason Hardy almost always wears blue suits#when he was a kid his parents took him to a fair#he won a fish at one of the games#all he wanted was to impress his dad#it was never about winning the fish#but he was glad he got it anyways#not immediately though#he begrudgingly carried it around until they got home - stopping at the pet shop on the way to get food and a bowl and such#it wasn’t long after that that the fighting started#he’d sit in the corner of his room#knees brought up tight against his body#arms wrapped around them#and stare at his fish swimming around#it distracted him from the shouts#one night it was particularly bad#the walls seemed to shake#the fish bowl sat at his feet#the top of the water rippling while the fish remained calm#Alec fell asleep on the floor in the corner#when he woke up the fish was dead#(he had named it Moby#his dad said it was just a fish#but it wasn’t#it had a name#and that made it even harder to say goodbye - he couldn’t flush it; he buried it#and never named another living thing until his daughter was born)#hardy#hardy headcanons#this got sad oops#broadchurch (via @rexalexander)
“To everyone else it’s just another day, but not to him.” -11:54 pm: How Alec Hardy spends his daughter’s birthday (post divorce). Part 10 of the Before the Flood series by rexisnotyourwriter.
Happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day
Hello, I am writing a book about how to write good fanfic on wattpad and I was wondering if I could use your story Where we Begin as an example of good writing? Don't worry, I'm not bashing anyone and I would give you full credit.
Hi! Yeah for sure, as long as there’s credit, go ahead!
I keep thinking about Ellie's troubles with getting a diverse and realizing IT'S NOT CANNON AND WHY IS IT NOT? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?
I’M SORRY but also like I’m going to be mildly annoyed if that fact isn’t addressed in s3 tbh