Discover Top Posts Tagged with #egg's wips

there should be more gordon freeman x grigori out there..... cmon guys..... #icumonguys

#egg's art #egg's wips #fanart!!#hl2vrai #gordon x grigori #hl2vrai gordon x grigori #gordon freeman x grigori #idk what other ship tag to use !!!#edit: ty ppl in the reblogs #freegori

I NEED more Match Made in Purgatory and One Warm Line content P L E A S E!!!!!!!! snippets of the girlies with their old men??? 🥹👉👈

FAKJDLHFADKJ ask and ye shall receive my dear jojo.

so yeah. Match Made in Purgatory is easily my most fleshed-out WIP for Lamb x Lyons. The concept is simple: Everyone finds out they are fucking after a little early morning delight in the office. Absolute anarchy ensues. Also really fun to get into the head of some of the characters about it (especially Louisa and Standish. Love making them squirm a bit with conflicting emotions. and of course River freaks the hell out) Here's a Snippet of Louisa's perspective that I really liked writing lol:

Louisa only had one thought running through her head when Chuck had stormed out of Slough House: “Thank fuck it wasn’t like that with me and Min.” It wasn’t the most shameful thought she’d ever had, sure, but it certainly made the top ten. It was an easy thought to have, since Lamb was always on their arses about their relationship. To this day she remembered every “minuisa”, every back-handed comment about them. But all of that was nothing. It didn’t make any of the rest of them really see her or Min any differently. But in the minutes since River had caught them, Chuck had gone from whatever counted as a well-respected colleague to the office pariah and poor pitiful victim. And Louisa couldn’t stand the thought that all that stood between the reality of her relationship with Min and Chuck’s apparent shacking up with Lamb was a few decades, a stone or two, and some rather arbitrary paperwork somewhere that said he was her boss. And thinking those… absolutely horrible things on top of what she knew… that made her grit her teeth. “Are you fucking kidding, River?” she’d said after the impenetrable fortress door had been slammed shut, reverberating through all 3 floors and even into the Italian restaurant just below. River looked about as full of a clue as a pigeon (and not one of those city pigeons that knew to fly away when a car was barreling towards them). “What?” “Are you really that fucking bored that you’re starting to stir the pot for kicks?” “Sorry. You’re on their side?” “Don’t have to be on anyone’s side to know when someone else is being a prick.” “And what do you mean ‘sides’? There’s no fucking sides in this.” “None of this is normal though.” “Maybe not, but a lot stranger has happened at Slough House, and who the fuck are you to judge?” Which is what brought her down to Aldersgate, about a half a block away from Slough House to see if Chuck had gone for her usual spot or had just skipped out on all of them altogether. She wondered for a moment why Lamb wasn’t doing this, but instantly thought better of it. First of all, it was Lamb, which would be reason enough in and of itself if it weren’t for the second: Lamb tended to play Moscow Rules. It made sense for them to apply even in this most mundane of situations. He was probably deflecting the rest of the fallout back at Slough House as she stood here. River was one thing and probably easily dealt with, but Standish… she would have some choice words for all of this too, and Lamb would have to be the one to reckon with that. Standish wouldn’t want to blame Chuck for this, but even with her chequered history this sort of news was not going to be easily accepted. And besides, if they were as intimate as she could glean from what they had learned from the morning’s events, then Lamb probably knew better than anyone, then that Chuck was perfectly capable of taking care of herself without him. Wouldn’t need him to run after her over all this fuss when it was clear that all she wanted was to be left alone. It was actually quite… thoughtful. Normal. Respectful, even, now that she thought about it. Lamb turning out to actually be something of a feminist in all of this certainly wasn’t in her bingo card. But it was as she said: stranger things have happened at Slough House.

AS FOR LADY TERROR AND OUR DEAR FRANCIS!!!! admittedly I haven't written anything new for them in a little while BUT!!! since it's you Jojo, have a little snippet of a scene from a certain aftermath of a certain main character death that has been knocking around in my docs for ages and that jesus christ I need to edit so bad but fuck it. we ball.

He saw her before he was in full view of the tableau that awaited him over the next ridge. A singular dot of navy blue and a mess of brown hair against the snow. Her scarf lay behind her now, a perfect, neat trail leading to her like a train for a dark bride, left at her altar, and already half buried in the storm. The men behind him stood stock still, haunted by the image before them, but Francis moved with renewed speed to approach her. When he stood beside her, she didn’t even so much as flinch to the presence of his boots, crunching the snow beneath them. Her eyes remained locked on the berg ahead of her, staring as though piercing through a great and vast distance, entranced by the beauty and horror of all before her. Francis felt his heart jump with pity. “Sinclair…” he said gently, as though talking to a spooked mare so as not to startle her. She didn’t even move to look at him, as though all he’d said was a whisper on the wind, and nothing more. Now he realized, this was more than a mere fright, but shock itself that had taken her out of herself, and it was up to him to bring her out of it. He knelt down beside her on his knee, which ached to do so, to get a better look of her, lifting his hand to part the loose tresses that curtained her face from view. Only then did she startle, as though a shot had ripped through her, and her eyes snapped to Francis, revealing her pale face, save for her nose and cheeks that burned a bright pink in the cold. She made to rush back and away, to crawl, to run. But Francis caught her with steadying gloved hands on her shoulder, holding her fast, forcing her eyes to his. “Sinclair, it’s me. It’s only me, Francis.”

#Slow Horses #Jackson Lamb x OC #The Terror #Francis Crozier x OC #egg's wips #ask games