#WIP: necromancer

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Unhinged Character Bingo

Thanks for tagging me, @avrablake! :D

Blank template here. I'll do this for Ilaran from TPATG:

Tagging @emelkae, @italiangothicwriteblr, @faelanvance, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

#tag game #writing #my characters #my WIPs #WIP: necromancer

[pulzerizedpeaches]

finally getting into a mood to draw goth fits for harrow! bones and lace c:

#harrowhark nonagesimus #harrowhark the ninth #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #necromancer #wip #fanart #locked tomb fanart #artists on tumblr #gay artist #human artwork #nona the ninth #work in progress

[venacoeurva]

drawing a lad for a break piece

#he’s a necromancer hunter #wips

[spielzeugkaiser]

GAUNTER AND JASKIER oh my GOODNESS I am like 👀

[MASTERPOST] For this to make even a semi kind of sense what happened in the Flowers Comic is not unimportant. And I did draw Jaskier and Gaunter here too. Necromancer!Jaskier is also still my favorite de-aged baby; I mean he is an adult, but he's still younger than Ciri - if it's not Geralt who will go full protect mode it's her!

Ironically I have something in the queue for later that makes it somewhat clearer why Gaunter could have some interest in Jaskier.

#necromancer!jaskier #wip art #jaskier #geraskier #gaunter o'dimm #geralt of rivia #Shani is also there in the background #as this is the heart of stone wedding quest (which I love) #which would make sense to have Jaskier there too #they don't even need some body possession for Vlodomir here Jaskier can easily snap him alive for some hours #this is a necromancer!Jaskier day #I see #gosh I love him still so much #I should draw him more often #the other wips will now get into the queue! That has been so much fun guys

[canopicgirl]

will i ever finish these

#art #artists on tumblr #digital art #fanart #oc #original character #clip studio paint #tes #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #altmer #mannimarco #vestige #necromancer #wip #work in progress #my art #i de-peepaw-ified mannimarco but its ok ill fix it i promise #skyrim #oblivion #daggerfall #eso #elder scrolls online

[kaegee]

WIP - Yew

Necromancer, Bhaal’s Chosen, Myrkul’s Fallen.

#dark urge #my tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dnd #baldurs gate 3 #my art #dark urge x gortash #character art #dnd character art #necromancer #bhaalspawn #bhaal #myrkul #the dark urge #wipart #wip #bg3 tav #sketch #oc: yew #kae art

[kydrogendragon]

Palms of life and death! I’m so excited for where that story goes!

Yessssss, so this one I've gotten a lot of world building notes on and some high level plot point, but not a ton of actual writing yet. It's been on the back burner, simmering for some time, but I do have some initial Chapter 3 notes!

Dream wakes up the next morning feeling groggy at best, sickly at worst.

He heaves himself from bed, strips out of his robe and shift, leaving him bare chested and only in his pants. He slowly unwraps his hands and massages the pain in his palms and wrists. They are raw as are parts of his upper arms. The magic that flows through him leaves a toll.

He shuffles to the bathroom and uses the pyromancy trick he learned from Destruction to light the few wall candles. He draws a bath (powered by runes to pull forth and heat the water). He waits, sitting on the edge of his tub, staring off into the distance until the bath is drawn.

He slides in, groaning at the creaking joints and aching muscles. He relaxes, enjoying the peace and comfort the warm water brings. At some point, he ends up falling asleep in the tub. The runes keep the water warm.

When he wakes again, he slowly dunks his head under the water, enjoying the feeling of being submerged. He lifts his head back out and begins the ritual of cleansing his hair and his body. Soap across the body. Specialty products Calliope had insisted on their necessity. (it’s basically just shampoo and conditioner)

He uses a pitcher to wash the remaining product from his hair and steps out of the bath, wrapping himself in the fluffy towel that hangs beside.

Some bit here about needing to shave, he can feel the scruff on his chin already. Bit about needing to be presentable for the remaining Burgess rituals.

He goes back to his room and puts on a pair of loose clothing (pants that fall just to his calves? Billowing shirt?) and makes his way to the kitchen.

The bread on the counter has long gone stale and hard. He pokes it. Inedible, save maybe for the birds. The icebox is mostly full of decaying vegetables or long since spoiled leftovers his sister has brought him. There is, however, a fillet of fish that, upon sniffing, still seems good.

He tosses it into a pan with a bit of oil and begins to cook it. The smells draws Cat forth, meowing and pawing at Dream’s arm. He talks with the cat while he cooks.

Plating the fish, he sections off a chuck for Cat, who he converses with and decides to name Prophet. He ends up pawning more fish over to her than he really should, especially given that he needs the food for himself. He nabs an apple that’s still firm and takes a few bites of it as well as Prophet finishes off the last bit of fish from the plate.

He leans against the counter, his legs feeling better than they were before, but still wobbly. He puts the apple in the icebox, sets the plates in the overflowing sink with a promise to himself that he’ll clean it... next time, and then goes back to bed.

He wakes once, sometime still in the day to a weight on his stomach. Prophet is curled on his body atop the bedding. He gives her a few pets before nodding back off.

He wakes in the middle of the night, needing to relieve himself. He downs a glass of water as well before going back to bed.

The next time he wakes, it’s around midday. Prophet is gone, most likely out hunting field mice or relaxing in the summer sun. He gets out of bed, cleans his face and teeth, relieves himself, and stumbles to the kitchen. There is just half of the apple left, but little else. He needs to go shopping, much to his own dismay.

He’ll go later, when the sun is not so warm. He finishes off the apple as he lies on the couch, staring up at the painted ceiling, reminiscing on its creation.

Also a few random snippets in this universe from before the story's main plot.

Hob's POV

The fields near the shores of the Outerlands were calm, for once. The Crown’s forces have manages to push back most of Hell’s Legions a few clicks past the water’s edge, so they’ve been able to set up camp around here. Hob sits, in a small meadow nearby, listen to the sounds of steel and shuffling armor, of words of magic and song, all wafting from the main camp just down the hill. The grasses here are soft. Flowers pop up all over, their blues and reds and purples and yellows making a stark contrast to the rest of the rolling greens fields and golden grains of sands from the beach just over the short cliffside. A wind washes over the land, cool and salty from it’s journey across the sea. A few leaves, freshly fallen from the trees nearby, swirl like a funnel, upwards towards the heavens. It’s peaceful, almost. This war has been dragging on for far too long, if you asked him. Hell, if you asked anyone here, save the Crown and maybe a few die-hards. And for what? No, nothing was worth the price innocent blood as already spilled. Yet Hob remains. He sighs, pulling his knees towards his chest, resting his arms on top. He’s due back to the mainland soon. Just a week more then he gets to return home from his fourth campaign in a row. He’ll be required to take a rest after this, to find life in the city again. Hob’s not sure he’ll know what to do, but he’s adaptable. He’ll figure it out... eventually. For now? He’ll sit here and enjoy the breeze.

Dream's POV

The duvet is warm. It curls against his body like a second skin, holding close the heat and comfort he desperately craves. It has been two weeks since Calliope left. It has been just over three since Orpheus... since he... Dream pulls the fabric impossibly closer. The wall across from the spare bed is blank save a single scratch in the wall made by Orpheus many years ago when he’d been running through the house. His wooden toy bird was in his hand, outstretched, when he’d ran it into the soft wall on accident. Orpheus had been so sad, so afraid that he and calliope would be angry with him. Now Dream wishes he’d made more marks, more stains and stories left around so that the house didn’t feel so empty without them both here. The bed has slowly melded to his body. He can feel it’s press against his bones. He must have lain here for quite some time. Dream knows he has watched the sun peer in through the doorway rise and set many times. He has barely moved, save for the most basic of needs. But he finds him home back buried into the sheets and the warmth and the dark, away from it all. He aches, and yet, is numb. It is a strange sensation. He stares at the faint mark in the wall and closes his eyes, feeling the wetness underneath his lids. There is little solace to be found in his dreams. He prays to the Creator for a peaceful night, though he knows well he does not deserve it. The room falls away as sleep washes over him in his exhaustion. It is dreamless. It is a blessing.

The WIP Title Game

#ky writes #wip game #in the palms of life and death #dreamling #cleric x necromancer au

[pottersfieldcustodian]

#ianthe tridentarius #wip #Sometimes the best character is simply a woman who is a bit of a pathetic bastard and more cannibalistic than the average necromancer #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #ianthe the first #i have no idea whats going on with the shirt #my art #digital art #portrait #tlt fanart

[dirty-bosmer]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: the ever-talented @thana-topsy and @thequeenofthewinter. Once again, I had nothing prepared, so thank you, friends, for the motivation to write <3

Tagging: @gilgamish @atypicalacademic @justafoxhound @skyrim-forever @chennnington @inkysqueed @dumpsterhipster @kookaburra1701 @snowberry-crostata @nuwanders @wispstalk @sylvienerevarine @sheirukitriesfandom

Snip from my Skyrim necromancer fic, Slither and Writhe

The carriage hit another rock, and Sylawen lurched forward, praying silently that this time the whole damn thing would fall apart. Or maybe just a wheel. A wheel if she was lucky. Oh please, Stendarr? Is one loose linchpin so much to ask for? 

But no matter how fervent or how sincere the plea, the carriage trundled on, and Sylawen was forced to realize (not without a note of bitterness) that she did not in fact bear Stendarr’s favor, and the only way left to avoid reaching Skingrad was to throw herself out the carriage door. Fathis had doubtless informed Loriel he was bringing her home. Knowing her mother, she was at the stables already. Sylawen could see her in her mind's eye, the vision as clear as spring water— Loriel pacing wildly, Loriel waiting in agony, Loriel gnawing her nails down to blood-crusted quicks, another handful of hair gone grey from worry.

At the image, Sylawen’s stomach curdled inside her. She pulled the sleeping draught Fathis had given her out of her purse, threw it back, and imagined she was elsewhere. 

Not half an hour later, her consciousness was somewhere between the top of her head and the carriage roof when Fathis’ voice pulled it back into her braincase. “You know,” he said, flipping the page of The Courier, reading by the dim glow of his magelight, “you could always enroll at the College of Winterhold.”

Sylawen squinted. “Wha?”

“I could write your recommendation. Really, it would be my pleasure.”

She scoffed groggily, her mouth tasting of sleep. “Only the desperate and the damned go to Winterhold.”

“Is that so? My son happens to be the Arch-mage there.”

“Eh, Mother says Savos was kind of weird as a kid. Said he failed most of his classes first year too.”

“You’re one to talk. Loriel mentioned your near perfect record of absence in Illusions first semester.”

“Well, that doesn’t count because it was Illusions and no one actually needs illusion because It’s the laziest, most useless of all the schools. I was not about to spend all of fall quarter fiddling around in someone else’s mind, because let me tell you, most people have nothing interesting in there anyway.” 

An ageless grin stretched across Fathis' face. It had a way of crawling under Sylawen's skin, making her feel he knew something she didn't. “If your grandmother heard you talking like that, she’d weep.”

Sylawen flushed but rolled her eyes, then shut them. Illusion. She hated Illusion. She wished she could tell him illusion was for the weak, a field of mind games and emotions, just alteration without the grounding laws of physics. Alteration for people who were bad at math. Illusion required Sylawen to be too close to others' emotions, and though she hated to admit it, sometimes she simply didn't understand how other people were supposed to feel. What was angering to other people? What was calming? Calming was her mother’s voice in the study as midnight valerian simmered in the retort. Sylawen, did you know a land dreugh will regrow its limbs with every molt? Did you know scribs breathe through spiracles that pull air directly into their tissue? 

Calming to Sylawen was verifying each of her mother’s words with her own eyes, the silence of her makeshift laboratory at the edge of Father’s property. The sharp sting of alcohol. The smell of fresh blood. A scalpel in one hand, rat-tooth forceps in the other as she peeled back the skin of a freshly snared hare. Calming was the scratch of charcoal as she sketched every nerve and every vessel, each striation in the muscle that her mother had conjured into her mind when she'd said, Sylawen, did you know a rabbit’s hindlimbs are so powerful it can jump over three feet in one leap?

But when Sylawen focused this image and reflected it onto the minds of her classmates, it hadn’t soothed them. It made them prickle. It made them break out into cold sweats and cringe inwardly until they were slumped over in their seats and dry heaving. She’d gotten in trouble for that on the very first day of tutorial. All her classmates had assumed she’d been playing a cruel prank. Her Illusion professor had made her stay late to clean the chalk boards, and after the third time it happened, Sylawen simply stopped showing up to class.

She didn't tell that to Fathis, of course. Instead she snorted quite uncouthly. "Illusion, pah," she muttered out with the last of her breath, and then she fell soundly asleep.

#wip wednesday #skyrim fic #slither and writhe #CW blood #a sprinkle of magical head cannons #necromancer #sonny writes

[mysticstarlightduck]

Six Sentence Sunday

I was tagged by @pluttskutt for this one! Thanks for the tag!

Six Sentences from the chapter I'm currently working on from Enchanted Illusions (it's titled Date with the Soul-Snatcher, for anyone wondering)

The six sentences in question:

[...] “Where are we going…?”  Harriet asked with a light chuckle, tilting her head as she followed him.

Augustus turned to her with a twirl but did not stop in his path, only walking backwards. There was a mischievous smile on his lips and an uncharacteristically cheery glint in his eyes as he tapped her on the shoulder before turning around again. “You’ll find out in a bit, darling. It’s a surprise, after all.”

“We’re not hiding a body, are we?” [...]

+ Bonus Snippet/Continuation (for context and because I love this scene/interaction so much)

Her question was playful, spoken through a smile, though there was the slightest hint of seriousness behind it. Augustus laughed, shaking his head while meticulously arranging the lapel of his suit for the third time.

“Oh, dear, no. Not this time - of course, unless you want to, you know I can always be convinced. Depending on the person, if they're bad or annoying, sure then - but later!”

Harriet gave him a deadpan glare, to which Augustus seemed oblivious, merely continuing his bouncy walk down the sidewalk, humming a tune. She knew he really meant it - and at this point, it wasn't as concerning as much as it was just one of the weird "perks" of living and traveling with a necromancer.

“No, never mind! Lead the way.” The girl shook her head with a sigh, a strange habit she realized she might've started to pick up from Vincent, but smiled as she gestured ahead.

Tagging - @oh-no-another-idea, @clairelsonao3, @rickie-the-storyteller, @little-peril-stories, @memento-morri-writes, @inky-duchess, @doublegoblin, @gummybugg, @dreaminggoblin, @your-absent-father and @lola-theshowgrl + OPEN TAG

#wip: enchanted illusions #this scene gets so romantic and sweet later on I swear lmao #it's just that Augustus doesn't know how not to be concerning - he's a necromancer it kinda comes with the job #but it's okay #he's trying his best and is so nervous about trying to make this date be perfect #six sentence sunday

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Manuscript Search Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @primroseprime2019, @ahordeofwasps, @eccaiia, @macabremoons, and @oh-no-another-idea! :D (Can you tell I've gotten really behind with tag games? :P )

Words: alright, hungry, tree, kiss, embark, dark, spark, mark, kind, purpose, trail, delight, strip, slice, chop, partake, school, stumble, spill and silk. These are from The Power and the Glory and Like Snow on Hungry Graves.

Under the cut because this is loooong:

Alright:

On his way out of the Silver Palace he had to hastily jump out of the way of a messenger on horseback. Unfortunately it was a messenger who clearly subscribed to the "pedestrians are nuisances who must be taught a lesson" school of thought. Arafaren stumbled back and fell into the hedge. He glared after the messenger, who didn't even have the courtesy to look round and see if he was alright.

Hungry:

The sun had set and the stars were twinkling overhead by the time Hariye reached the road. He was dusty, his clothes were coated with dried mud, he was terribly tired and hungry, and now he saw that he couldn't reach the sea from here unless he wanted to jump off a cliff.

Tree:

Before going downstairs he paused to look out the window. The house was built in the middle of a small forest. Beyond the trees he could see a green hill rising up steeply. On the far side of it, even steeper and looking like something out of a painting, was a huge snow-covered mountain. Hariye had seen snow before -- contrary to popular belief Çarisar winters were in fact cold enough for snow -- but he'd never seen such a mountain before. Bare rock showed black through the white coat. It was beautiful but it scared Hariye in a way he couldn't explain. He shuddered and turned away.

Kiss:

If it wasn't for the fact he was still lying in the ditch he could have dismissed the last few hours as a nightmare. But he knew no nightmare would have made him go to sleep in a muddy stream. Anyway, he could still feel Ketevan's kiss lingering like a phantom pain.

Embark Disembark:

At least when they disembarked at Veiteos there was no longer much chance of Shizuki asking him to go flying. Maybe that was why Irímé now had time to notice something was wrong.

Dark:

For as long as he could remember Hariye knew there was something odd about him. It wasn't just one thing; it was a lot of little things that added together to make… something. He didn't know what yet. All his life he'd loved baths, which had been very unusual in a toddler but was now just mildly bemusing in a teenager. He had no idea who his mother was, which wasn't unusual when his father had twenty concubines. He could see in the dark better than anyone else in the palace. And he was forbidden from ever going near the sea.

Spark Sparkle:

Abi opened her eyes. The ground was far below her. She was above the tallest trees, above the palaces, even above the Silver Palace's watch-tower. From here she could see the entire city and beyond. All the buildings were so small they looked like dolls' houses. The sea sparkled in the distance. A cloud drifted overhead. There was no noise except the wind and nothing near her except a crow flying beneath her. It gave her a bemused look then veered off in a different direction.

Mark:

Captain Gobalijë welcomed her aboard. Ketevan didn't tell her who she really was, but she knew her formal speech and accent marked her as someone of consequence, someone it was worthwhile listening to.

Kind (warning: contains Ketevan):

When he came back to himself he felt Ketevan's fingers combing through his hair. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp. He knew she meant it kindly but it made his skin crawl.

Purpose:

"What are you doing?" Abi asked, stared at their odd paraphernalia. The only purpose she could think of for those things was writing a letter. A lengthy letter, judging by the amount of paper. But who would drag their writing equipment around with them when they could just sit down at home and write in peace?

Trail (follows directly after Kind):

"It's a good thing I met you," she murmured. "If anyone else knew what you are they'd…" She trailed off and continued stroking his hair. "So you see, you must stay here. You'll be safe as long as you don't go near water. I'll make sure no one finds out. You just have to stay in the fortress."

Delight:

Something heavy pressed against his side. Hariye reached into his pocket to see what it was. His fingers touched cold metal. At once his eyes snapped fully open. He bit his lip to stop from giving a delighted exclamation. Until now he'd completely forgotten about the knife Rusudan gave him.

Strip:

Lian shook his head. "It's not true teleportation, but I can travel through the Void. I don't recommend it," he added warningly when he saw Abi sit up and look intrigued. "Things live there that you don't want to meet. It strips all illusions away and shows you as you truly are, or maybe as your soul is, and it can be an incredibly gory spectacle. My own is horrifying. And Death also uses it to travel. So do her servants. I've have some very awkward encounters with them."

Slice:

She handed him back the loaf. He noticed there was something odd about her left hand. Although she could move it to hold her slice of bread, the fingers seemed stiff and she didn't close them fully around the slice.

Chop Cut:

An ear-splitting shriek rose from the entrance hall. It was cut off abruptly as the parasite was wholly consumed by blue and white flames. Within seconds it disintegrated. All that remained were specks of ash and scorch marks on the floor.

Partake Take:

Some of Abihira's strange ideas were useful. Others… Well, no one was ever going to forget the Incident of the Mechanical Cake Mixer. Mirio was currently away visiting his mother's family, so Kiriyuki had to take his place as Abihira's designated babysitter and ensure there was no repetition of that incident.

School:

The last time Arafaren got a telegram it had been from the headmaster of his school warning him that if he didn't immediately improve his work he wouldn't be allowed to come back after the holidays. Most of the other telegrams he got were of a similar sort. So when a servant handed him one, his first reaction was to think of all the people he had offended recently.

Stumble:

It wasn't far to the beach. Ketevan stumbled out onto dry land in a way that even she had to admit was clumsy -- though only to herself. She turned, expecting to see the mer had gone back to the sea, and got yet another shock.

Spill:

The people who had already gone upstairs on their way to the roof now realised that something had gone wrong. Curious faces appeared over the banisters. Abi's father was one of them. He started violently when he saw the grotesque figure in front of his daughter. In the process he spilled half his wine glass over his clothes.

Silk:

Abi and the boy looked round. A tall, thin woman in a brilliant green dress frowned down at the boy. There was something faintly familiar about the woman's face. She would have been beautiful if she hadn't looked as if she had a lot of worries. Her fine silk dress and carefully-styled hair suggested she was someone very important. Yet her face had the suggestion of a shadow over it. For some reason she couldn't explain Abi felt sure this woman was unhappy.

Tagging @zmwrites, @isherwoodj, @mysticstarlightduck, @words-after-midnight, @acertainmoshke, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D Can't be bothered thinking of new words, so take your pick from mine! :D

#tag game #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: necromancer #WIP: snow

[abthauntedhouses]

WIP fanart for my favorite trio <3

#the lone necromancer #fanart #webtoon #current wip #art wip #i love these three so much #lowkey #theyre soulmates #idk #i dont make the rules

[kirnet]

tagged for wip wednesday by @nsewell and also @mrs-theirin last week!! tagging whoever wants to and sees this bc its late :3

wrapping up actium chap 3 and also im working on a grave and weep rewrite!

”Who was that guy?” you whispered to him when you pulled yourself into the cab, worried that he could somehow hear you over the distance. “You can’t think working with him is actually a good idea.”

Henry huffed out a breath that meant he agreed with you, but he was going to argue anyway. “You’re not getting paid to ask questions, kid.”

You slapped his hand away before it could turn on the radio. The last thing your thin thread of sanity needed was a twangy guitar solo at ear-bursting volume. “You’re the one always telling me to go in with as much intel as possible.”

”Don’t throw my own advice back at me.” His hair was near matted when he pulled off his baseball cap, his fingers unable to work through the tangle. “You want to pay your mama’s debts? Then you need to get comfortable taking jobs you don’t want to. This is the life you chose.”

”I’m-“ Scared. You were scared. Whoever - whatever - Henry’s contact was, a beast with manic eyes and yellowed teeth, you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him. With sinking disappointment you realized that you yearned for comfort, that you wanted him to reach out and tell you that hey, it was going to be okay. He wouldn’t put your life in danger needlessly. A good mentor would never aim for his student’s injury. And maybe he realized it, too, the way his lip curled in disgust, like he finally just saw you for what you were: a trembling teenager fumbling with your seatbelt, not some bastion of untapped power. “I’m just letting you know that I’m getting my ‘I told you so’ ready, alright?”

It was a good moment to finish the argument as you usually did, with you conceding and Henry never acknowledging the tense silence. Instead, after a long moment of consideration where he almost shifted the truck into drive, he turned to you. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted, eyes dark. “You don’t either. Good. It means I finally beat some intuition into you.” He scratched his neck, the sound of his scruff making you cringe. “I’m not bringing you on as surveillance for the team, I’m bringing you on for me. To watch my back.”

If Henry thought that moment of vulnerability was going to put your fears to rest, he was wrong. It had a distinctly opposite effect. “You think he’s gonna try to kill you?” you snapped, lurching forward when he finally started the car forward.

The truck tumbled over curbs and potholes, finally connecting to an actual side street. He shrugged. “Always a possibility. Nature of the job.” With a casualness you loathed, Henry reached a hand out and smacked a palm against your forehead, never looking away from the road. “But I got you, yeah? You’re my ace. You just worry about making sure your frozen mice are appropriately thawed and I’ll take care of the rest.”

#i started out doing the g+w rewrite as oh im just gonna spruce up the individual chapters #but the whole reason i stopped updating was bc i was frustrated that i hadn’t done enough work to introduce things in an earned way and i ha #had written myself into some corners #so im restarting with mostly the same framework but just with more intentional buildup #and part of that is more necromancer and henry flashback scenes :) bc i care abt them :) #anyway i’ve written the first chapter 3 separate times and i keep scrapping it lol. we’ll get there eventually #ramblings #wip #wip wednesday

[amarearts]

I’m pretty bad at uploading WIPs and sketches, so here’s a big dump of random shit. It’s a mixed bag of @gabedoodles and my own OCs in different universes.

#swtor #gw2 #DnD #art #sketches #WIPs #tiefling #necromancer #jedi #trooper #imperial agent #just a whole mixed bag haha #Omar Demir #Samir Sharma #Darliev Kavok #Mira Lane #Davin Sullivan #Agent Sullivan #Agent Zaharian #Zaharian Kavok #mermaid #etc etc #Amare goes big dumpy dumpy #just a bunch of shit haha

[noxnthea]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @thotpuppy. thank you for including me!! <3

I am mostly done with the sequel to 3M (my TW/Criminal Minds crossover) -- to the extent that I finally sent it to my beta today, so here's an excerpt from the first chapter of that!!

There’s a smirk fighting against the contemplative turn of Derek’s lips. Stiles wants to bite it. Damn him. “You’re punishing me,” he says, turning away to resist temptation. He stabs the shovel into the ground, stepping on one side to dig it deeper. “This is just because you’re grumpy about not getting to use that bed one more time.”  “Or maybe I just thought you could do your own digging for once.”  “You’re the one with werewolf strength!”  “You’re the one who wants to dig up graves in the middle of the night.”  “But I’m just a poor, pitiful, puny human. Don’t you feel bad for me?”  “Not really.”  Stiles attempts to throw the dirt in the shovel at Derek. He misses by a good three feet. “You suck.”  "As you've pointed out," Derek drawls, raising an eyebrow, “not tonight.” 

low-pressure tagging: @geekmom13, @there-must-be-a-lock , @daisyapples, @bittercape, @wyxan

#nox writes sterek #wip wednesday #the title of this fic [in order to complement the first] is abbreviated as 3F #i do not yet have a third F #but there will be one!! #i am SO EXCITED to be mostly done with this fic. #it has haunted me -- lol -- for months #necromancer!stiles

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

Was tagged by the talented  @neonponders thank you 💜

It's not Wednesday but what do I care. Here is lil thing from some future chapter of I'd Sell My Soul To A Devil starts in a flash back and then moves into the present.

Warning for attempted flesh eating

-

“Man do you ever shut up?” Steve huffs around the mouth of his beer, taking a big gulp from it before it spills across the ground as Billy throws himself onto him. “What’s your fucking problem?” Steve groans, head hitting the floor again as Billy shoves him down. His voice is low enough that even the folks occupying the front yard and the back cannot hear him over the pulsing music. They're in the shadows enough that it could almost pass for alone.

Billy is not sure, just wants to push down everything and forget about it for a while. Steve goes lax, giving up bucking him off with another groan from his pretty mouth. Billy will blame the weed and the beer he has not touched tonight if asked for a reason as to why he would do something so stupid as to make a move on a guy he fought a few short weeks ago. Who by all accounts cannot stand him.

Billy crashes their lips together, hands on Steve’s shoulders so he can feel when it is time to defend. He is not expecting the way Steve kisses him back just as hard, does not push away when arms snake around him dragging him down until Billy is laying on top of him. Billy gives into the heady urge to roll his hips down against Steve’s, rewarded with his mouth dropping open in a moan that he takes advantage of, tongue delving in.

The door slams open pulling Billy from the memory and right back to the kitchen where Steve’s teeth are making progress gnawing through his finger. Billy tries to rear back again but all that does is tear more flesh, and bruises his back as he hits the edge of the counter. He has panic soaring higher, sure he is going to lose that finger and resigned to it not wanting to hurt Steve.

“You can’t just let him eat you, idiot.” Eddie marches forward and grabs Steve by the throat, using the hold to shove him back so hard he knocks into the coffee table in the living room. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing!” Billy snarls taking a swing at Eddie. How dare he hurt Steve.

“Saving your life, for fucks sake.” Eddie pushes him back as Steve climbs to his feet with a feral almost animalistic growl bubbling up. His eyes have gone darker, almost black as he shifts looking ready to pounce.

Billy’s heart is pounding, unsure of what to do. He does not want to have to hurt Steve but he does not look like himself right now, is not acting like himself. What did he bring back?

Tagging @edith-moonshadow @steviespanties @aeon-of-neon @dragonflylady77 or whoever else wants to do it.

This is the only harringrove fic I'm still actually working on at the moment since my desire to write for this ship has nose dived. Hopefully working on this will get me back into it 🤷‍♀️

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #wip #fanficiton #st fic #billy hargrove x steve harrington #necromancer Billy Hargrove #reanimated Steve Harrington #Demon Eddie Munson