#tentative title

[marcheriest]

fairy and wizard

[kicksnscribs]

whatever, go my TADC x transformers crossover bullshit

[bucketofdeltav]

Woke up in the middle of the night to a twelve year old Obi-Wan metaphorically bouncing excitedly on my bed eager to tell me all about this mission that happened and how he was awesome and Qui-Gon kind of fucked up and Dooku fixed it, and a twenty-five year old Obi-Wan sitting in my desk chair looking very tired and saying and then I'll tell you what really happened.

So I'm typing those stories up now.

[ghouljams]

making little mood boards because I am dry on words for the hades au but still wanna pick at it

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tags @noblecorgi, @rimeswithpurple & @monbons ❤️❤️

What’s up kids we’re on day six of this hyperfixation I’ve written 25k things are dire. In the best way.

Okay, but the exciting part of working on a WIP none of y’all are going to read (a very valid choice, no judgement) is that I get to share one of my favorite scenes! Normally I’d keep this close to my chest to save the surprise but there is no surprise look at this I wrote it I LOVE IT what joy:

Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t start something you can’t—”

Buck bolts down the hallway with a whoop.

“—finish,” Eddie laughs, taking after Buck, skidding in his socks on hardwood floors as he rounds the corner to catch Buck in the kitchen.

Buck’s already got the fridge door open, a can of Ready-Whip in one hand poised to shoot.

“Oh no you don’t,” Eddie warns.

Buck shakes the can and grins.

Eddie snaps into action, tackling Buck by his waist and spinning him, pushing him out of the kitchen; the can of whipped cream falling with an impotent clink on the kitchen tile as Eddie gets Buck across the threshold.

“Eddie!” Buck giggles, joy echoing off the high living room ceilings as Eddie continues to push and push, catching the back of Buck’s knees on the edge of his sofa and pinning Buck to the cushions beneath.

“Gotcha,” Eddie says, grinning down.

Beneath him Buck’s red-faced and panting, something wild in his eyes and that’s when Eddie realizes what he’s done, what this looks like.

Buck’s eyes flick down to Eddie’s mouth.

Shit.

Sexual tension be tensing. This fic now holds the dirtiest smut I’ve ever written and this from the bitch who brought you lightning mccream.

Also, why does this line slap so hard:

“Yo, you got us some Welch’s, bro?”

Hope you all are having a fantastic Wednesday! Tags & hugs to my 911 (the show not the tragedy) hyperfixation subjects (thanks for letting me talk your ears off about this one day I’ll be normal) (lol jk NEVER): @sillyunicorn, @martsonmars, @raenestee, @thewholelemon & @bookish-bogwitch

I am once again not tagging people who don’t go here but you can tag me if you want to share your WIP with me 🥺

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

“Excuse you? I’m on your fridge.”

Regulus sputters. “That’s not relevant.”

“It is. Fridges are prime real estate for important events and important people. I am on your fridge, thus, I am important.”

[annnmoody]

Another plastic painting done and dusted, s/l/a/t/s

[new-eyes-extra-colors]

@leavingautumn13 here. a fic snippet for @1-800-hellyeah featuring that deer hunting scene we were talking about, if you are still interested.

tw for animal death, gore, and blood. i cannot stress enough that an animal dies. also, dawn is like, 24 years old in this.

Dawn whistled, short and sharp, and the deer froze as its head jerked up and towards her, ears twitching—

Ori pounced in a perfect arc, flaring her wings at the last second before her talons slammed into the deer’s back. It squealed as its legs buckled under her full weight, and Dawn heard something crack as it hit the ground. The rest of the herd was gone in a heartbeat, bounding up the trail into the forest with white tails erect, sending birds scattering upwards across the clear blue sky.

The deer thrashed, eyes rolling and wide enough that Dawn could see the whites even from here, kicking its legs in a feeble attempt to throw off the gabite on top of it. Ori sank a talon into the back of its neck and her head arched towards its throat.

Dawn looked away.

Something crunched and then splattered.

It wasn’t any different than her sylveon hunting field mice, really. At least the gabite didn’t play with her prey.

Another heartbeat passed, and another, before Dawn could stomach looking down. Ori was standing still, one talon still gripping what was left of the deer’s neck, head tilted in Dawn’s direction but not making eye contact. Waiting for her flock leader. Right.

Dawn stood, noting impassively that her hands were shaking. She slid carefully down the embankment, and stepped around the rapidly widening pool of blood, moving warily toward her gabite. Ori was being remarkably still, and not hissing or booming, which was a good thing. She knew they were a team. Wasn’t going to turn all that ferocity on Dawn.

Ori chirped expectantly, peering at Dawn’s face for approval. Blood slicked her heavy jaw, and scraps of skin dangled from her teeth. Dawn reached out and placed a hand on her head, between her eyes, which squeezed shut. “Good girl,” she said quietly. Ori chirped again.

Now for the hard part.

Dawn untied her satchel, took off her jacket and gloves, and draped them across the low branch of a nearby tree. She rolled up the sleeves of her undershirt and plucked her knife from her belt. Turned it over in her hands. She could do this. Vertical slit from pelvis to breastbone. Let Ori deal with the offal and help crack the ribcage. Pack the body cavity with snow, drag it back to camp with the hide still on. Don’t get blood on your shoes.

Easier said than done.