#WIP Tag Game

[ominouspuff]

ooooh can i see something from "the one about gentleness"?

This one is a large/ambitious image, but here is a section. The idea behind it is “gentleness is a choice” — a major hc of mine for Cody in the RepGA fix-it AU, right alongside the “Cody as a military prodigy that could be (and occasionally is) terrifying”.

@lunaemoth @thepatchycat, since you wanted to see this one too (I’ll also address your second choice options, just wanted to include you here as well.)

#artists on tumblr #fan art #star wars fanart #star wars: the clone wars #commander cody #wip tag game #wip art #OmPu ask hours #Repurposing GAR Armor AU #fix it au

[bigfootsmom]

Tell me more about the heat sick fic !!! 💜

heat sick my beloved, someday I will finish it. It's an omegaverse fic with alpha!eddie and omega!buck and buck has a heat that is Wrong™ and eddie takes care of him

(in case anyone missed the omegaverse part, this fic is NOT about heat stroke. it is smut)

The scent of Buck is everywhere, steeped into the fabric of the bedsheets, seeping out of his pores and filling Eddie’s nostrils. He feels drunk off of it, a low rumbling growl building in his chest as he laves his tongue over Buck’s scent gland, chasing more of that intoxicating smell. He’s rock hard in his boxers, cock throbbing as he selfishly lets himself grind down against Buck’s belly just long enough to try and take the edge off.  Buck responds like he’s been electrocuted, hips jumping off the bed as he throws his head back, entire body going rigid. A long thin whine leaves him and Eddie freezes. Did Buck just— He rocks back onto his knees, despite Buck keening like his heart is being ripped out. He can feel a wet patch already cooling on his thigh, and when he looks down he can see a matching wet spot on Buck’s belly.  “Buck— did you just come?”

send me the title of a wip you wanna hear more about!

#wip tag game #ask game #buddie #omegaverse #911 #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #molly writes #theotherbuckley

[mihqorio]

WIP Whenever

I got tagged by @the-rebel-archivist and @kittlesandbugs, thank you both!

I've been trying to figure out a design for Nocturne for a while. Still playing around with hair styles, but but other than that i am quite happy with it.

Tagging: @eydika, @punkranger, @lazyvoyager and @capricule

#FHR #WIP tag game #Fallen Hero: Retribution #Nocturne #my art #One day I am actually going to actually draw the whole main cast at least once #... when I work through the rest of my WIPs

[delta-pavonis]

I would love to hear more about Raspberries and Rum?

*cackles*

OKAY. So this came from a conversation that I had with @wordsinhaled in, no joke, NOVEMBER 2022. And I still haven't written all of it. BUT some of the bits from our conversation are goddamned SOLID GOLD and I am cracking myself up all over again reading the transcript. [Important background science here (just read the title).] Here is me just copy-pasta-ing from Discord with no indication of who is saying what:

hob getting wasted on dream’s jizz because he tastes like a good mixed drink suddenly a thing i need to see Hob as New Inn bartender keeps trying to make a new rum cocktail with raspberry flavor and no one understands why referencing it makes Hob blush, it is just a reference to that cool space data, right? now suddenly need a 5+1 where hob keeps making dream trial raspberry rum cocktails until they find the Perfect One and dream is very bemused Gotta keep going back and comparing to the actual source material apparently raspberry season in the UK starts in june where he’s like fucking. up handmaking raspberry simple syrup in the middle of the night and dream is like “ah, offerings” Because, honestly, he is technically trying to figure out a way to have everyone who orders the drink get drunk on something that tastes like his husband's jizz? And I find that fucking hilarious? Definitely deranged Hob humor mainly because he’s like, do i want everyone to suck your dick? this is reserved for me but do i want everyone to know the JOY of this taste? perhaps However, first time a university student of his orders the cocktail, once it is on the menu, Hob has A Moment of Regret™️  just a moment though i wonder if dream is aware he tastes like this or if he just. came up with the most reasonable taste he felt he would have when composing his physical body, which of course would be nothing like human and of course some esoteric shit like didn’t even think about it once so he keeps trying this drink and being like yes my very competent bartender husband perfecting his fancy raspberry drink i am so proud but hob is looking perpetually more glinty around the eyes each time he gets closer to the mark and dream is like, cottoning on that Something Is Up eventually dream is like “there is some... significance here. that i am missing.” and hob has to turn around and hide his face in his hands because somehow he never thought he’d have to Explain what he was doing especially because i feel like this would be some shit hob would try to do one time in the middle of the night while planning the summer drinks menu and then somehow he’d be neck deep in recipes from google weeks later but then dream is fucking. super out of left field when he finds out like... “you are crafting a libation. to me.” and hob is like uhhhhhhh no???? not actually???? am i??? I mean... just... based... on you? Hob will argue semantics on this dream is like you’re distilling my essence into a drink that all your patrons will imbibe and hob is like uhhh maybe? uuuhhh... maybe I am? okay but dream like THAT’S KIND OF HOT and hob is like I WASN’T TRYING TO BE HOT I WAS BEING STUPID and dream is just. yes. my husband can be very stupid. and very hot "These two things are not mutually exclusive, my dear Hob." of course this has to culminate in “you mean to tell me you don’t know you taste like raspberries and rum? you just made yourself taste all... lovely and you had no idea?” “i had not the faintest idea, indeed.” “you’ve never...?” “i have had no occasion to... sample myself, as it were.” “sample... jesus. alright. what are you, an hors d’oeuvre at the department party?” “no. but it seems i could be its signature drink.” DREAM IS A LIL BITCH hob’s inner exhibitionist cackling at forcing his staid ass colleagues to drink this drink while dream broods in the corner indulgently eyeing his antics everyone like “wow robbie this is a GREAT cocktail mind if i nick the recipe off you” and hob is like “ah no actually, it’s a bit of a jealously guarded secret” NO. Dream overhears and that's how he introduces himself, the little shit "And you are?" "Oh, I am Hob's Jealously Guarded Secret."

Here is the first chapter of the 5+1 that is in that WIP file (under cut because NSFW - cw for drunkenness and blowjobs):

One: May

It starts as a joke. A joke in Hob’s head that he doesn’t tell anyone. Because he knows that after this many years walking God’s green Earth that he can have a slightly warped sense of humor. 

So Hob keeps his motivations to himself and dusts off his bartending skills, back from when he had just opened The New Inn and was still getting the staff up-to-snuff. And then he sets to work. 

He has to figure out the rum first. Actually, Hob knows exactly which rum he would like to use, the second batch of ron miel honey rum by Destilerías Arehucas produced shortly after they opened on Gran Canaria island in 1884, but as far as he can tell there are only three bottles of it left in the world and they are all in his personal collection. 

So Hob called some friends and obtained as wide a variety of current lines of Canary Island honey rum that he could manage. He bided his time until the next Friday night, poured out a shot of each in a row on his coffee table, and proceeded to get fantastically pissed.

(Could Hob have sipped and spit out the liquor as he tasted them? Sure. Was this more fun? Absolutely.)

It was only after Hob was well toasted that Dream sidestepped into his living room. 

Hob was off the couch and on his knees in front of Dream before he even really decided what to do with his drunk-ass self. He was nuzzling into the fly of familiar black jeans and Dream was letting out a surprised hiccup of a moan and Hob was pretty sure his brain had dissolved into giddy bubbles of lust and want.

Long fingers wound into Hob’s hair and held him there as he rocked forward, purring, “Why hello to you, too, Hob Gadling. I did not expect ah!” A gasp when Hob started peeling away the clothing. “Expect quite this manner of hospitality upon my arrival.”

“Gotta…” Hob had the single-minded determination only liquor could provide. “Need to check…”

Dream made a curious hum of an inquiry at that, but Hob didn’t have time to explain. The taste of the rum was already being diluted by all the saliva pooling in his mouth and he needed to compare them. 

It had been just over a year since His Stranger had walked back into his life. Slightly less than that since they realized what absolute idiots they were for each other. It was enough time, given the many many repetitions Hob had to practice, for him to get really fucking good at getting Dream off with his mouth.

Hob, in his infinite need to stroke his own ego, had timed it once. Well, more than once. Many times actually. The current record was 143 seconds from first press of lips to spend. Hob drunkenly thought he could do better than that. Not that he had his phone handy. Ah well, that wasn’t a good reason to not try.

Dream finished getting hard in Hob’s throat, sobbed as Hob swallowed repeatedly. His lover was shaking with it already, Hob preened distantly, and moved to press the tips of his fingers just so into Dream’s perineum. Another press and stroke behind Dream’s balls, this time while Hob sucked with his entire lung capacity as he backed away, and then the Lord Morpheus was coming with a strangled shout right onto Hob’s tongue.

Hob savored it for a moment, eyes closed, cataloging the taste, before swallowing and scrabbling away from Dream to the table. He grabbed the bottle of what he thought was the best flavor match and took a pull from it.

“Oh yeah,” Hob’s ass hit the floor with a thump. “That’s it.”

#WIP Tag Game #Dreamling #Pavonis writes #this is kinda crack

[musewrangler]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: If you are tagged, you have to work on your WIP until you write a sentence that contains at least one word from the sentence given to you by the person who tagged you. Then post that sentence and tag as many people as you want. Tag-backs are not only allowed, but encouraged! >:)

Ok, I have been tagged....so many times and I have not been able to jump in because stupid busy. Thus I am FINALLY getting here. Lots of 'the's' and 'ins' here to count. ;D

I Piett turned back to his friend and gripped Veers’ hand in turn, the two men sharing a look that Matt had seen many times. He knew they hated to be separated when their missions had the high possibility of death. But both of them were incredibly stalwart in their own ways. “Good hunting,” the General said in a reversal of their usual farewell. The Captain’s mouth curled. “Safe stars, Max,” he murmured. “I’m coming for you the very moment it’s possible.” “Force help the Rebels,” Veers replied, and Scraps was glad they weren’t looking at him because he couldn’t stop the smile. 

I started a new thread as well since the other one was quite long.

no pressure tagging @afaroffsong @kraytwriter @lady-merian @chaosgoblinhours @blukoffee @kanerallels @banachtarskiparadox @klarionthewizard @thehappybaker @winterinhimring @thegreenleavesofspring

#wip #wip tag game #writing games #prompts #writing snippets #writers #writing

[patchworkgargoyle]

Okay, Sav, my first instinct was of course to demand more motw just because I am already so fucking invested BUT then I thought I'd rather ask about "Shark Bite Meet-Cute" just because WTF are you coming up with here???? I need to know!

Hi Sandy!! xD That one was inspired by a rant that I thought I would go on if I ever got bit by a shark (highly unlikely) and survived, and then I figured Eddie would say something similar, then thought that it'd be very funny if paramedic!Steve was there trying to help Eddie while he ranted about how it wasn't the shark's fault for biting him.

Not sure if I'll ever finish this one, because I did that thing where I skipped ahead and wrote the scene I wanted to write and that's always the best way to get me to never finish a fic, so. Whoops.

Anyway, here's that rant xD

"It's not the shark's fault!" Eddie shouted as loud as he could manage at the crowd. "Sharks are still great! It's their ocean, we're the invaders!"

"Eddie, please calm down, oh my god," Chrissy said, following the stretcher and wringing her hands.

The unfairly hot paramedic nodded down at him. "You should try to keep your heart rate down, and please lie still."

He doubted his heart could be any kind of normal around this man, but Eddie lowered his voice anyway as they lifted him into the ambulance. "It's true, though, man. They can't help that they don't have hands."

The other paramedic couldn't hold back a snort and the hot one raised an unimpressed brow at her. "He's probably feeling loopy from the shock and adrenaline," he explained to Chrissy.

"No, nonono, you don't get it," Eddie blundered on, only slightly slurred, "they don't have hands, y'know, so they use their mouths to figure out what they're seeing. Like babies, or archeologists. Did you know archeologists lick rocks to tell if they're rocks or bone? It's because bone sticks, it's more porous. So, sharks. Can't help it if they've got some fuckin' sharp teeth. Probably thought I was a weird seal, took a bite and didn't like how my gamey, non-blubbery stick leg tasted."

Chrissy, who'd sat on the bench in the back, hid her face to try and stifle her laughter while he rambled. Hot Paramedic had the prettiest, most baffled smile on his face while he hooked Eddie up to some wires and monitors and the other one actually looked thoughtful while she checked the bandages on his leg.

"I didn't know that about archeologists," she said.

Hot Paramedic sighed. "Don't encourage him, Robin."

"Hey, if it keeps him conscious."

#wip tag game #sidekick-hero #thank you sandy!! xD #steddie #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #snippet #sav scrawls stuff

[theunboundwriter]

Hey Writeblr!!

Could you please interact with this post if it's alright to tag you in tag games?

I always struggle with knowing who to tag lol (and if we're not already mutuals feel free to interact as well!)

#wip tag game #tagging game #tag game #tag games #writeblr #writeblr community #find the word tag #heads up seven up

[curator-on-ao3]

WIP Tag Game

I am so excited that @angrywarrior69 and @divinemissem13 tagged me in the WIP Tag Game! Thank you, thank you, @angrywarrior69 and @divinemissem13! ❤️❤️

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

This isn’t the last sentence I wrote, but it is the one that probably encapsulates the fic:

Number One always stays with her and Will on these walks, a bond among the three of them that hovers just beyond the borders of Una’s understanding.

(Yup. I’m finally writing the Number One and Number One and Number One friendship fic. Well, finished writing, Editing.)

I’m going to push through my usual tag anxiety and tag some folks: @emilie786 @fiadorable @grissomesque @cnrothtrek @seemaunbound @regionalpancake @procrastinatorproject @enterprise-come-in @genius2mania @sun-lit-roses @lorcaswhisky @syrena-of-the-lake @caladeniablue @marymoss1971 @justreckin @meddow @jazzfic @belannaswlonkderfulworm @iamstartraveller776 @starrybouquet @missparker @the-lady-general @kejsarinna @kelloclane @hauntedmoonchaos @baubeautyandthegeek @elephant-in-the-pride-parade @carter-sg-1 @raffaelamusiker and anyone else I didn’t have the presence of mind to tag who wants to play! ❤️🙈

#wip tag game #number one and number one and number one #angrywarrior69 #divinemissem13

[ginoeh]

Dream’s Coat (TM), pretty please??

@chaosheadspace asked for the same! Here you go, lovelies...

This is probably not what you think it is. Or, idk, maybe it's exactly what you think it is? Because both of you know that I'm actually a little dark angst writer at heart lol. 

Okay, so this started a long time ago (read: in March last year) in a wild and hilarious brainstorming session that I saved the transcript of. So far, this is more of an intriguing concept to make Hob suffer and Dream repent - eventually at least. I haven't touched it in a while; I'd have to really dig into Dream's fucking ugly side - the 10000 years in hell side - to get this going.

It all started with a 'what-if' variation of @messmonte 's Saddest Wank (1889 instead of 1989!) because in that drawing, Dream didn't just leave his gloves, he also left his Cloak. Here, this has pretty severe consequences. In SoM, the story gets told of how Dream takes Nada into the Cloak where they have sex unbothered by anyone's gaze. So there we have a ‘magical cloak’ with space-time special features… 

~~~

Now here is Hob, in 1889, drunk and sad and wearing Dream's gloves to get himself off in a seedy room above the White Horse. He took the garments his Stranger left behind in a mixture of spite and pathetic hope that he might come back for them. He doesn't, of course. 

(Snippets and more details under the cut)

(Hob doesn't know that Jessamy *has* actually come back to get them and gets to witness what is going on. This, as well, has consequences)

After, he rolls over onto the cloak he has been gripping, disgusted with himself but still unable to let go of the pathetic need to be close to the Stranger. But instead of falling asleep, he falls into the star-studded folds of the cloak. 

And falls and falls and falls. 

He  barely manages to keep a grip on the strangely wispy fabric. It's what saves him, at first. Because Hob has just managed to accidentally yeet himself into outer space. The cloak is the only thing that's keeping him whole and sustained as a living being, as it were. 

(Jessamy is unfortunate bystander to this. She takes off to the Dreaming immediately and informs Dream of his ‘acquaintance's’ mishap. She's worried - she actually likes Hob and knows that Dream does so, as well. Dream though, is still furious. 

“Let him enjoy this new experience then”, he says and Jessamy recognizes the stubborn curl to her Lord's mouth. “May he experience the meaning of true loneliness for a while.”

Jessamy rather thinks that Lord Morpheus is really tipping his hand there about *who* had it right at their meeting but she'd never dare to point that out. 

She has a really really bad feeling about what this might mean for Hob Gadling, though. Since her Lord is so intent on forgetting that the immortal is, above all else, human and as such not made to sustain himself outside of his own world.

And besides, he is a Dreamer. Lord Morpheus will surely reconsider soon and bring him back.

But as time passes, he does not. 

Hob Gadling is not one of Dream's priorities, after all. In the face of the Universe nearly unravelling, the Corinthian's disobediance and its fallout, Hob Gadling gets forgotten for the better part of a century.)

On the other end of the universe, Hob's life is an unending and undying nightmare. He is neither starving, freezing nor suffocating - not that he knows that he should do the last two - but there is nothing around him but the vastness of space. No sound, no smell, no touch but that of the cloak around his shoulders. He is truly alone for the first time in his existence. 

Until, suddenly, he isn't.

“Oh my what do we have here,” a voice resounds inside his head. His perception slides sideways, something breaks somewhere in his mind and then there is the form of a voluptuous, incandescently beautiful woman that takes over everything around him. 

“A human - here! Covered in my Dream's regard!”

She stretches a hand towards him and Hob thinks that space has decided to cease existing. Maybe he's going mad.

“If I keep you, do you think my son will visit?”

***

Dream does, of course, remember Hob eventually. The horror that rises in Dream, still caught in Burgess’ basement, over what he has allowed a Dreamer to suffer for his own mistake, is as dark and deep and cold as the black hole he has once been cast into. 

After he escapes and has gathered his tools, he searches out his sister.

“Hob Gadling? No, he hasn't asked for me.” 

She falls silent for a moment before leveling a longsuffering and suspicious look at him.

“Is there a particular reason you're asking me this?”

Dream closes his eyes and shreds the rest of the mauled baguette between his fingers.

“He may have. Fallen though an actualized piece of my power. Into space. And I may have been. Too angry to care. At the time.”

There is the rustle of clothes and he feels Death kneeling before him. Her voice, when she speaks, is very soft and very serious.

“Dream? When, exactly, has this happened.”

He opens his eyes. 

“Hob Gadling has suffered my wrath since 1889, sister. I hurt a Dreamer, unprovoked.”

“Oh, Dream.” 

He cannot bear the horrified pity on his sister's face. 

“How shall I -” His words fail him.

“Go and get him back, Dream. Now. Hob Gadling hasn't called for me - yet. If that will help you, though, I don't know.”

~~~

Or: A pathetic wank and Dream's canonically bad decision making skills meets the 'meeting the parents trope' but make it eldritch horror. Then add a magical healing journey afterwards an voilá - you get this.

Yeah I can still make this Dreamling despite their horrifically bad start. Watch me lol.

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #death of the endless #ginoeh writes #wip tag game #edit: forgot to @ messmonte who's art started this whole thing lol

[im-not-corrupted]

oohh!! seer dream!

Hi hi! This one's my lil fairy tale (kinda) fic about an immortal-human Dream who can see the dreams of everybody and make them come true. He lives in a cabin outside of the woods, and eventually, a Hob whose dreams always comes true stumbles upon him. They adopt a couple of ravens too, it's a great time. Here's a little snippet from chapter two :)

------

He bundles the poor thing up in the cloak, cradling it close to his chest. There is a faint warmth as he brushes a finger over silk-soft feathers, as cold as he imagined they would be, and the bird still breathes. Faintly, but it still does, and he is grateful for that. For the chance to do something to help heal it, to give it a place to grow warm again until it can take to the skies once more.

”What is your name, then?” he murmurs quietly, trying not to think overmuch of the biting cold. He will be home in the cabin soon, and that will have to be enough for him.

The name comes to him easily, a faint whisper in the back of his mind. “Jessamy,” he tries, and—yes. It fits. It fits perfectly, and the bird in his hands seems to respond pleasantly. Jessamy it is, then.

The walk back to his cabin is much slower than he would like. He is cold, breath frosting in front of him, and the winter clothes he wears does little for the chill. Still, the bird seems to enjoy being cradled close to him while bundled up so snugly in the fabric of his cloak--its dreams slowly become a tiny bit brighter, even if its desperation to feel less pain still occupies most of them--and so by the time he reaches his cabin, he thinks it is worth it.

It is even more worth it when he sees the man who stands on his doorstep once more, looking more than a little dejected where he stares at the closed door. It is the stranger again, the one who foolishly dreams of immortality, and Dream startles at the sight of him. Truly, he had not expected to see him the last time--at least, not for a reason as innocent and as lovely as simply wanting to offer Dream stories because he seemed to enjoy them the first time they met--and to see him a third time feels...

It feels impossible. It feels a little too good to be true, somehow. People do not visit him. He made this cabin his, far enough away from any civilisation that he will not be disturbed, because he did not want people to visit him. Because he did not want to be used for his abilities, because he wanted to hurt less, because he wanted to exist without such expectations.

Occasionally, there are some who stumble upon him. He is an unwilling legend in these parts, a story that has passed onto newer generations through word of mouth. He knows how they think of him, what they call him, what they want from him. And sometimes, somebody takes their chances. Makes their way towards his cabin on nothing but desperation and dreams alone in the hopes that somehow he exists, that, for some reason that is beyond him, he will make their dream a reality even if he had not done such a thing in centuries.

Yet this man continues to find him. He does not request his dream come true. He makes no demands. He does not even ask--he has requested only water and Dream's company, so far, and neither of these take energy or magic from him.

It is baffling. It is wonderful.

And still, it is hard to trust. A third time cannot be a coincidence, surely. He must know by now who Dream must be. What he must be. Dream does not think the man would be so rude as to outright demand he grant the dream that hangs in the air around him, one he imagines so fiercely Dream can still feel it without reaching out, but his muscles still tense.

After two nights of his companionship, after sitting by the fire with the man in front of him...After having somebody spend time in his company after so many years of the walls of his cabin closing in around him, he does not think he will be able to turn this man away. Not after all of that.

Immortality would be difficult to grant. It would be painful, and would take much from him. He thinks it might be a worthwhile price to pay. "Hello," he greets. It is...softer than he intends, quieter. The bird in his hand lets out a little sound, still in so much agony, and he brushes a finger over her head once more. It appears to soothe her, and he is happy to give whatever comforts he can.

The man whirls around, so fast Dream fears he may hurt himself accidentally. He remains properly balanced, however, staring at Dream with widened eyes as though he hadn't expected Dream to be there at all. Which is...strange. This is where he lives. Where else would he be?

A smile as bright and glorious as the sun breaks across his face. It is a smile Dream would do much to see again, one he wishes to burn into his memory so he might revisit it again. "Stranger!" he greets in return, and Dream thinks he will never get tired of the joy, the excitement, that shines through in his voice so easily. It has been terribly long since somebody has been truly delighted to see him. "I thought you weren't here for a moment."

"My apologies," he murmurs slowly. The man has not asked anything of him yet. He wonders how he has gotten lucky enough for this man to find him. "I had not been expecting guests."

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #the sandman fic #eris writes things #my asks #wip tag game #cuubism #chapter one is going to go up in a couple of days I think!!! #I'm incredibly excited to share it :))

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @cha-melodius

Similar to you, I'm posting art wip. Here are 4 in various stages of development.

I'm also very shy about my art, so I'm about to run and hide.

Also tagged by @kcscribbler

Passing the tag onto @natendo-art @wolfpup026 @rins-love-wins @mobius-m-mobius @lokimobius @alicerovai @hansoeii @raynecreates @kusakichan15 @peppermintkamz

and anyone else who wants to do it.

#loki #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #marvel #mcu #loki art #loki fanart #marvel loki #loki odinson #wip wednesday #my art wips #wip tag game

[ominouspuff]

obviously i’m gonna ask about “A Day In The Life Of A Corrie” 👀 while also bracing myself~

@lesquatrechevrons, here you are! I’ll be tagging you in the other WIP as well.

This one’s an atmospheric study - another slice from the RepGA AU. There are quite a few scenes I’m omitting for spoilers.

In the AU, the Corries don’t stay isolated in the senate for long after they arrive. Fox and co. soon realize they’re working with selective information, and proceed to intel-gather like they’re in enemy territory, building infrastructure and hunting through the lower levels until they hit places most governing bodies have purposefully forgotten about or made completely automated.

Along the way they compete (and negotiate) with criminal syndicates, mostly-forgotten isolated slums, shipping markets, understaffed policing forces, media and news groups, and eventually establishing themselves as a multifaceted shadow-group growing like a foreign, invasive weed under M.C. Fox’s direct command.

It’s a grey war of information, subtle seizure of power, and ugly dilemmas.

#artists on tumblr #fan art #star wars fanart #star wars: the clone wars #commander fox #fix it au #Repurposing GAR Armor AU #wip tag game #wip art

[emchant3d]

also mythical exes for the wip game cause 👀

MYTHICAL EXES my beloved i haven't worked on this one in months but i think about it every day. the gist of it is: Mythical exes to lovers au where siren Steve and vampire Eddie broke up several hundred years ago and haven't seen each other in centuries until they become the frontmen of two different famous rock bands in the modern era. here's a little snip!

But that voice - oh, that voice. Eddie would recognize it in the great beyond, at the ends of the earth and time itself. Never mind that it's been years - been centuries. Ethereal and haunting, rich and beautiful, the sound of it snakes its way through him, ensnares around his heart and demands his attention. He turns from the bar, leaning his elbows back against it, and there he is.

Tall, but stronger than he'd been. Hair that same dark chestnut shade, eyes that same warm brown. The way he wraps his hands around the mic stand is obscene, and his lips, petal pink, have a sheen to them - he'd always loved the cosmetics of his era, it's no surprise he'd been drawn to the pretty, shiny things this day and age have to offer too.

His liner is thick and dramatic, his lashes long and dark. Glitter sits high on his sharp cheekbones, catching the dim lighting of the bar that casts him in beautiful pinks and blues and purples, reflecting off the gems that seem to drip from his frame. Some kind of harness, Eddie thinks, but done in thin, spiderweb-like chains rather than leather, strings of pearls and shiny stones hanging from them and concealing absolutely nothing of the tan chest beneath it. They throw prisms across the bar as he moves, hips swirling in a hypnotic spin to the guitar.

Steve's eyes cut upwards, sliding over the crowd as if he's searching for something before coming to a stop directly on Eddie. He doesn't miss a beat of his song, but a slow, pleased smile slips its way onto his pretty face. He cocks his head, eyes hooded, and Eddie wonders if he'd been summoned here by this creature, by the one being he'd never quite learned how to say no to.

He lifts his glass in a toast and a greeting all in one and watches that smile turn sharp.

#answered #wip tag game #mythical exes #siren steve #vampire eddie

[viennacherries]

WIP Tag Game

omg this is so exciting i've never been tagged in one of these before!! thank you @darkurgetrash for the tag i love u <3

gonna tag a couple of the besties: @cakeboxie @drizztdohurtin @underdark-dreams and all of my other moots who do writing <3 or if you don't write show us your art wips!!!

~~~

It's not like you didn't already know this, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Rolan is not a patient person.

You'd managed to find a spot with a rock outcropping that made a good enough shelter. The problem is, for both of you to fit under it, it's a little cramped. But you didn't want either of you sat out in the open where anything could spot you, so you'd reluctantly backed up to the wall and against Rolan's side.

It's a bit maddening, being this close to him. His scent fills your nostrils (he smells like weave and something musky, like sandalwood), which is incredibly distracting, and up close you notice he's covered in freckles. They cover his cheeks and forehead and climb their way up to his ears. He's also taken his hair down, which is frankly rather rude of him. It looks soft.

What's ruder is the fact that he literally cannot sit still. His legs bounce where they're stretched out in front of him, and every few minutes he adjusts his posture with a loud groan.

When his leg starts bouncing again for the umpteenth time, your hand shoots out and grabs his knee on its own accord to hold it down. He jumps at the contact and whips his head towards you, and the look of alarm he's wearing would be funny if he wasn't driving you insane.

"Rolan. If you don't stop fidgeting I'll stop you myself."

He frowns. "I can't help it."

You arch an eyebrow, "right, so you want me to hold you down for the rest of the evening? Because I will."

His face flushes and he shakes his head no, so you withdraw your hand. You feel his body relax next to you.

"You may as well try and get some sleep. I can keep watch and wake you up when it's safe to move."

He clears his throat, "that won't be necessary. I'm fine."

You scoff. He's definitely not fine, he's been wiggling around since you both sat down. You tell him as such and the blush rises back to his cheeks.

"I'm not- That's not why I'm-" He sighs "I'm fine."

"Ah, yes. People who are fine usually writhe around like worms."

He scowls at you, but doesn't say anything. At that moment you feel a shiver rip through you. His face softens with concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, "I'm fine."

He pulls a face at you. "Ah, yes. People who are fine usually shake like leaves."

Okay, in fairness, you walked right into that one.

"I'm okay, honestly. I'm just a bit cold."

You hadn't really thought about it when you left the inn, hopped up on adrenaline, but now you're sat here you've begun to realise you're not dressed for the chill. You're wearing a pair of light trousers and an old sweater with holes in the sleeves; the clothes you sleep in. It was fine when you were racing around looking for Rolan and fighting shadow creatures, but now that you're sat still with your back up against rock the cold is seeping into your body.

Rolan looks you up and down a few times, then makes a noise of frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've thought to- I haven't got enough magic left to cast anything to keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'll manage. Besides, you're like a furnace."

It's true, you can feel the warmth from his body where his arm is pressed up against yours. You've trying not to think about it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

There's a moment of silence, and a look of hesitation in Rolan's eye, before he lifts the arm that's against you and instead wraps it around your shoulder. You flinch.

"What are you doing?"

He's blushed again. "Well. We- tieflings, that is- we naturally run hotter. And I got you into this predicament, so the least I can do is stop you from catching pneumonia."

You try desperately to think of an argument that stops him pulling you closer, but you come up empty. You're cold and he's warm, and he smells nice and his hair looks soft, and you are a weak, weak woman.

When you don't say anything else, he tentatively stretches his arm back around your shoulder, and places his hand there awkwardly. You pull a face at him.

"That can't be comfortable, your wrist is at an angle."

He shrugs, which makes you sigh. You grab his hand where it rests on your shoulder blade and manoeuvre yourself so that you're resting your head against his chest. You wrap his arm around you and push yourself against him. He freezes.

There's a long moment where you wonder if you've overstepped a boundary, but then he's sinking himself down against the rock so you can better lean on his chest, and pulling you tight against the side of his body. There's a moment of hesitation before you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head.

His scent and warmth wraps around you and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. His chin on the top of your head is a comforting weight, and being surrounded by him like this feels... intimate. You like it.

"I'm sorry, Tav."

You frown, but don't move. "For what?"

He swallows heavily. "I really was unfair to you. It's not your fault Cal and Lia were taken. You're the only reason any of us made it this far in the first place. I lashed out and it wasn't fair."

You give a small shrug, as much as you can without shaking his arms from around you. There's a moment, and then he's moving anyway, turning to face you and holding both of your shoulders.

"Tav, I mean it. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

His eyes are piercing and you struggle to look away despite how intense his gaze is. "You were right. I'm not a leader. I just wanted to do what felt right, but I've put people in danger in the process."

He shakes his head, "I wasn't right. The best leaders are the ones who didn't choose it. They're the people everyone follows because they believe in them." One of his hands comes down and grasps yours, and you feel your breath hitch. "People believe in you, Tav. I... I believe in you."

You don't know how to reply to that, so you don't. Another shiver rips its way through your body, and Rolan wraps both of his arms around you and brings your head back to his chest.

"For warmth, of course." He says it softly.

You nod. "Of course." Your voice comes out quiet and breathless, and you feel Rolan shudder minutely.

A voice in the back of your head tells you that you're walking a fragile line, that you're slowly inching your way over it. That once you cross it there's no going back. The warmth of his embrace must be clouding your judgement, though, because you find you don't care.

#wip tag game #wip tag #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 rolan #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fluff #bg3 smut #baldur's gate rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan x reader #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #rolan #tav x rolan

[wildlife4life]

foaming at the mouth over the nfl au ❤️

I am honestly gobsmacked at how popular NFL Buck is considering American Football isn't the most popular around these parts. So I will never deny sharing a snippet of a much beloved fic. Here is a bit from the Ocean's 911 arc.

Eddie tries his damndest not to squirm under Hen and Chimney's annoyed glares. He shouldn't have said a word. He should have lied and said something along the lines of 'Yea my house was searched too. Was up all night cleaning.' But nope. He was honest to a fault and possibly now considered a traitor. "Why pray tell were you excluded from the search warrant?" Hen asks with a slight scowl. He clears his throat and looks anywhere but towards his fellow firefighters, "I have a good lawyer." Correction, Buck has a good lawyer and the moment he heard about the police wanting to question Eddie, Kameron's car was booked. "Uh huh. The blonde in the Armani pants suit and killer stilettos?" Hen questioned. "Mmhm. Her names Kameron Kane. Do you um, want her card? She could probably help the rest ya'll out." That earned another scowl from Hen and a snort of discontent from Chimney, "Pretty sure we can't afford the same lawyer that represents several professional athletes and other millionaires." Chim remarks. Eddie winces and grips his coffee cup tighter. Kameron was well known now a days, but when Eddie first met her, she had literally barged her way into Buck's room, drunk and bawling her eyes out about Connor, Buck's roommate at the time. She was only a first year law student and didn't even blink at seeing the future NFL star naked in bed with another man. Just stuck her clammy hand out, when she did notice Eddie and said, "I'm Kameron, Connor's-whatever. How the hell did Buck score you?" And became one of their closets friends. Evan hired Kameron the moment she passed the bar and immediately fired the lawyer on Maddie's self-defense case, replacing his misogynistic ass with Kameron. She won, made Maddie a national icon, and insured every dollar of Doug's estate went to the brave woman. Kameron's been building her empire ever since and she was a glaring link between him and Evan Buckley. So he really hoped his co-workers don't follow it to back to the quarterback. "Sorry. Honestly she told them that I really don't have much of a motive." Translation: The detectives found out during their investigation that Eddie was Evan Buckley's partner and robbing a bank for the amount of money that was missing was barely a drop compared to Buck's income. As for the diamonds, more than affordable for the millionaire quarterback (just look at Maddie's jewelry collection). The detectives probably also kept their search warrants away from Eddie after Kameron threatened to sue the entire department if even minute whisper about Evan's private relationship got out. Police showing up to the quarterback's home to search it would have been much louder.

WIP Tag Game

#ashley answers #wip tag game #my wip #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hen wilson #chimney han #ocean's 911 au #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #rich buck #kameron

[f1-stuff]

sex 👁️👄👁️ competition 👁️👄👁️

Pls tell us more

Ask and you shall receive 🫡 Have the first 700 words... -> WIP game

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault.

It starts because of a question he poses during the drivers' parade in Spain, a group of them waiting to be interviewed as the float makes its slow procession around the circuit. 

They’re in the middle of a conversation about how Pierre and Esteban can’t seem to get along lately, their competitiveness reaching new volatile heights, when Alex says, “Do you reckon they fight over who’s better in bed?”

“Probably,” Logan snickers beside him.

“They’ve definitely argued over who’s got a bigger dick,” Lando adds.

For some reason, everyone looks at Charles.

“What? You think I know?”

“You’re friends with them,” Alex says, then adds, “Kind of.” Because he knows stuff with Esteban is complicated.

“Did they ever fight over the same girl?” Lando asks, nudging him. “Like, when you were kids?”

“I don’t know!” Charles insists, huffing.

“My guess is Pierre. For better in bed, I mean.” And then, they all hum, like they’re in agreement. 

Charles rolls his eyes, glancing around for Pierre as if the conversation will manifest him. He’s still at the other end of the float, waiting for Esteban to finish his interview in front of him. Charles smirks, betting he’s pissed off even about that.

“Okay, who’s better in bed: Max or Checo?”

“Max,” Oscar and Logan say in unison, then fist bump each other.

“I am saying Checo,” Charles speaks up, feeling bad for the guy. “This conversation is very stupid.”

“No, no, you could be right,” Lando chips in. “Max is really impatient, but Checo could have the whole passionate Latin lover thing going on.”

“That’s racist. I think.”

“Shut up.”

“Magnussen or Hulkenberg?” Alex chips in.

“Well, K Mag has one more kid than Hulk,” Logan says, as if this is evidence to be weighed.

“Does that mean he’s better or worse?” Lando mutters, smirking.

“Lewis or George?” 

“Lewis, are you kidding? Have you seen the chicks he’s gone out with?”

“Point.”

“Charles,” Alex says, getting his attention, a devilish smirk on his face. “You or Carlos?”

Charles laughs awkwardly, shaking his head. “Mate, come on.”

“What? Look at him, he’s blushing.”

“I am not.”

“I reckon it’s Carlos-” Lando starts, then gets shoved for it.

“Yeah, you would say that,” Oscar teases. “He’s, like- your hero.” 

Then, while Lando sputters about how, ‘I meant ‘cause he’s older,’ Alex says, “Carlos had the same girlfriend for like six years. I doubt he’s actually that good, ya know? Reckon he’s probably got complacent.”

“Oh, big word. Have you gotten ‘complacent,’ Alex?” Logan asks, nudging him. Alex gives a good-natured eye roll.

“‘Kay, fine. That’s probably fair...”

Someone sweeps up behind Charles, and he can immediately identify who it is from the duel hands that squeeze the side of his neck and his bicep, along with the scent of a familiar cologne. (Charles doesn’t really want to examine the fact that he can recognize his teammate by his cologne...)

“What are we laughing about?” Carlos asks, crowding up against Charles, who makes space for him in their circle.

“Who’s better than their teammate in bed,” Lando offers, reaching out to clasp hands with Carlos in greeting. “We were just debating you or Charles.”

Carlos makes an inquisitive noise, his gaze sliding to Charles, who gazes back stubbornly.

“Obviously, I am better-” Carlos starts, overly cocky, inspiring Charles to huff in indignation.

“This is obvious?”

“Well, I-”

“‘I,’” Charles interjects. “The only obvious thing is that, of course, you would think you are better. Just like I will think I am the best. We are not good judges.”

“Okay, then what do you suggest, my friend?” Carlos asks, a competitive arch to his brow that’s accompanied by an amused tilt to his lips. “Who should be the judge?”

“Oh, God,” Alex groans, laughing at them. “We shouldn’t have talked about it with them both here. Now, they’re gonna argue about it.”

“Charles,” Carlos says, ignoring the others. “What do you suggest?”

Charles feels overly warm all of a sudden, rubbing his clammy palms against his jeans, as Carlos regards him with all of his single-minded focus.

“A competition,” he says. Before he can stop himself.

#suffice to say that this quickly becomes homoerotic lmao #WIP tag game #rpf #charlos #anon #ask #sex competition AU