#wip;

[queernightly]

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I have FLUFF in my drafts! I can't believe it.. chengxian fluff..

[k1ll-v-maim]

posting a wip actually! a treat for myself on my birthday :) continuation of whatever we got going on here and companion post(?) to @madm4chine's ficlet Become Like We Are. Maybe eventually i'll come around and fully finish/edit it into a ficlet too? it's already at 1,6k words which. is amazing considering i'm a bit rustyyyyyyy. but for now, just a lil' wip!!! (you can't be mad at me it's my birthday i'm just a little birthday guy heyheyheyyy)

The apartment is silent. The ventilation hums softly, along with the machines plugged in all around the place, a light buzzing, soothing sound. The TV is on as she left it, low volume, voices unintelligible, overlapping. Antinea takes a deep breath. Her hands grips the edge of the chair to ground her as she comes to herself. She blinks, her optics struggling to adapt to the dim lights of her place; feeling still halfway in the ‘net, legs and hands tingling as if they were warming up. It dawns on her. Everything went so wrong, so fast. “V? Jackie? Bug?” she calls out, but no one answers. She feels sweat running down her neck, her back. She tries ringing them again—Bug, Jackie, V, V, Jackie, Bug, Jackie, V— “Please, please, answer, please…” Her hands shake and she slides off the chair to sit on the ground, her head buzzing and spinning. (They’re gone. You know Corps don’t play nice, ‘specially not Arasaka. You heard T-Bug. What do you think happened to her? You know what happens to netrunners. You know her brain got fried and that’s what was coming for you too. Alone in her apartment, just like you. What do you think will happen to Jackie, to V, now? You’re only alive because V told you to leave. You could have done something. You should have done more.) Her hair clings to her forehead, to the layer of sweat on her face. She tries to breath, nails digging in her thighs. (focus: inhale, exhale) The whole apartment is spinning—or is she the one spinning? (inhale, exhale?) Nausea pools deep in her stomach, she feels out of breath, and she doesn’t know if it is a side effect of getting out so fast or something else entirely. She needs air. She needs to do something. (They’re gone. They’re gone. What’s the point of doing anything? It’s too late.) She tries to block out the thought, focusing on the floor beneath her legs (cold, hard) and her breathing (inhale, exhale, again). (You can try and convince yourself, but you know the truth. They’re gone.) Antinea rubs the skin around the monowire on her wrist as her thoughts overlap and overwhelm her— there must be something she can do. No matter how much she breathes—she needs air. She feels like she’s choking. She stumbles to her feet, to the door—unzip the top of her suit as she kneels to cough and spit—(you need to breath.) before getting up again, leaning on the wall outside her apartment (you need to breath.) The hallway is empty, it is late, and she closes her eyes for a moment; pressing her palms against it until lights dance under her eyelids and it hurts. Taste of metal, of blood fills her mouth. (Maybe it’s just a nightmare.) She tells herself, repeats it under her breath. She does not believe it.

[rayshifter]

smol wip for a ych example 👉👈

[bitway-arts]

stuff from my sketchbook done before work!! its a small one so i cant do too much;; 

[telvildo]

ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ⁿᵉʷ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᴬⁿⁿᵃᵗᵃʳ~ᵂᴵᴾ 

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢᵗ

[scene118]

i rlly like this gordon i drew ::)

[d3dans]

did I share this wip too?? i dont think i did

god help me I cannot figure out what I want for this piece,,