#pen game

[dudja]

I love the dip dip dip dip 😂 #petergriffin #dip #comedy #writing #familyguy #funnymemes #pen #lois

[kydrogendragon]

💕🖊🖊🖊

Freshly written words, right off the press! (Cont. Here)

The restaurant is just down the road from his flat, not that he plans to tell Hob this. He types back his reply, agreeing to the time and place and lets the phone fall onto the cushion beside him. Morpheus leans back, head resting on the back of the couch as he stares up at the ceiling. It has been three days since his initial liason with Hob Gadling. It has been three full days of his questioning this bet with his sister. And now, with this more standard date planned, Morpheus mentally prepares himself for the tangled mess of expectations that come with it. Granted, his time with Hob—the fifteen hours he spent in his company—has proven that any script he has will be ill-suited. The notion only makes the unease towards the situation worse. Or perhaps that is simply true in the comfort of Hob's flat. Perhaps in public, it is different. Will Hob expect Morpheus to lead as Calliope had? Or does he expect him to be arm candy, nodding in agreement with his words as Thessaly did? These roles, at least, Morpheus is familiar with. He does not know where he stands with Hob just yet. He does not enjoy that fact.

Send me a 🖊 and I'll post some freshly written lines of a WIP

[princessbrunette]

hey babe, when will gooner rafe be making a comeback?!!! 💖💖💖

it’s always when will gooner rafe make a comeback and never when will gooner rafe come on my back…. 🖊️ 🔥

[brokeandfamouseu]

styles // 2022

[abalonetea]

🖊🖊🖊🖊 because i'm greedy. ~writerlina

oh oh oh! thank you! be greedy! 

1. Midnight paints. she paints the places that used to exist, on the other side of the End of The Map, and she paints the places that she used to go with her wife when the summer air was sweet and mild and the sun shined down on them; and the castle wonders how she comes up with such strange and unusual things!

she won’t forget it. the rest of this land might have forgotten Twill, but Midnight will die before she forgets where she came from.

_-_-_

2. Locke has hot chocolate at the house, and then he has his Special Hot Chocolate, meant for special occasions, like when it’s so dark outside and Blue can’t sleep, hands shaking from nightmares that he won’t talk about, and Locke knows it’s about Kee and the resetting time loops but he can’t actually say anything.

so he makes special hot chocolate with little marshmallows in it and they sit on the couch together listening to soft music and pretending things are okay.

-_-_-

3. Red doesn’t have anywhere near as big of a sweet tooth as Bolte does, but if you give him something bready, he will love you forever. biscuits, rolls, cinnamon buns, doughnuts! anything bread is instantly a favorite of his

and if sometimes Bolte manages to get a few extra pieces of hard tack and leaves them on the dining table as he leaves, instead of in his Inventory, well, that’s not something either of them talk about.

_-_-_

4. Motti’s wardrobe is almost totally made up out of clothing that she’s stolen from other people so pretty much none of it fits. it makes her look awkward and slouchy under her lab coat, which also isn’t hers, and also doesn’t fit, and sometimes when it’s late at night Mottie tries to piece things together.

because these people are supposed to be her family, right, but Blue’s sweatshirts are always the most comfortable, and when she’s trying to look nice she wears one of the vests that she’s stolen from Locke, and that makes her feel more at home than anything else.

[kydrogendragon]

🖋🖋💜😊

This is me being responsible and trying to focus on a single wip! (Cont. here)

Hob, playing the gentleman, pulls Morpheus' seat out for him with a tinge of red upon his cheeks. He makes sure to show his appreciation for the act—and for the hint at how the roles are divided—by trailing his hand along Hob's arm. He bats his eyes twice as he speaks a quiet thanks before sitting down. Hob pushes him in and makes it to his own seat. "Are you one for wine?" Hob asks, grabbing the relatively small list from the table. "I have been known to indulge," he replies, making something of a show as he holds Hob's gaze and unbuttons the cuff of his shirt. Deft fingers free the fabric from its restraints. He folds it, neat and crisp lines, and rolls each sleeve up just before his elbow. Hob's eyes do not leave him, trained on his forearms as they are. He watches Hob's gaze follow the movement of his hands to his neck and smirks as Hob's throat bobs when he flicks open a single button there, allowing more of the pale expanse of skin to show.

Send me a 🖊 and I'll post some freshly written paragraphs of a WIP (the more pens, the more paragraphs!)

[kydrogendragon]

🖋️🖋️🖋️

Extra extra! Read all about it! *Tosses more words like a paperboy on the streets* (cont. here)

Morpheus stands outside the small Italian joint, thumbs in the pockets of his pants. He had turned over what would be appropriate wear and decided the white dress shirt sans jacket would be acceptable, alongside his usual black slacks. It would also mean he did not need to go home to change after his meeting with Lucienne. He debated rolling the sleeves up. They stay, at the moment, enrolled. Should Hob show he wishes Morpheus to lead, he would keep them down. Should he wish for simply an attractive and agreeable partner in public, he would roll them up. Perhaps undo an extra button. "Oh! You beat me!" Hob's voice calls to him. Morpheus looks up to see the man smiling as he approaches. He takes the time to size Hob's appearance, seeking any clues that may help Morpheus choose his role in this story. The brown suit jacket implies one thing, but the graphic tee (as subtle as the design is) implies another. The jeans, the loafers, and the styled hair but lack of jewelry all tell equally conflicting stories. As usual, Morpheus is left fumbling for a familiar road with this man. "It appears I did," he replies, stepping closer. He watches Hob's throat bob. At the least, he has succeeded in being enticing. Small victories. "I was not waiting long, however. Shall we?" "Gladly." Hob pulls the door open, waving Morpheus through. He is immediately hit by the savory smell of garlic and fresh baked breads and plentiful herbs and oils. It has been some time since he has been here, though he is uncertain if it is good that he is back.

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[kydrogendragon]

🖋 :))

Aaaaaaaaaand more of this WIP xD was gonna just be the one paragraph but I ended up finish the scene so have extra!

He laughs. He does not mean to laugh and feels guilty when he sees Hob's face tense—likely both at the fact he laughed in response and towards the sound of his laugh as well. Morpheus cannot remember when he last laughed. "I apologize," he says, clearing his throat. "I did not...I was not laughing at you nor your suggestion. I simply find myself in a similar situation of. Uncertainty." That is, perhaps, putting it lighter than it truly is. He straightens, sliding hands in the pockets of his jeans, feeling more at ease in the path that the evening may take. "Taskmaster sounds perfect. Perhaps with that dinner you promised." Hob's shoulders drop as he smiles. "Sounds like an excellent idea to me. Come on," he says, waving Morpheus down the hall. "I'll clear off the couch and grab the take out menus. We can figure out something to order. Call it a proper date." He stutters in his walk and turns back towards Morpheus. "If. If you want it to be a date, anyways." "I'd be amenable to such." "A date it is then." And only nine more to go.

Send me a 🖊 and I'll post some freshly written lines of a WIP