#tag game yeehaw

[atinylittlepain]

What's that face? Tag Game

Rules: Pick a situation from one of your fics and post a screenshot or gif of the expression you imagined your blorbo is making in that scene.(highlight the exact part, if you like)

thank youuuu @bettyfrommars for the taggy tag :')

this is a snip from the first part of my new series, For Better or Worse - this is a string of dialogue between Cass and Joel, starting with a line from Cass lol

taggy tags: @pr0ximamidnight @softlyspector @wannab-urs @sempersirens @morning-star-joy and anyone else who wants to play, this was kinda fun and id love to see more of them lol

[atinylittlepain]

Bettyyyyyyyyy thank you for the tag, this is such a fun idea :')

this is a bit from the first chapter of my climber!steve fic, Honey, Baby, Love You, Be Home Soon - really excited to share more of this series soon! (no warnings for this excerpt)

...............................

Base Camp, 1990

Up here, it’s somehow both bitingly cold and quick to heat with the sun bouncing and bending over the snow, prayer flags pulled taut on lines in the thin air. Everyone has stripped down to base layers, faces whipped raw by the wind, Eddie walking around in a bright orange pair of Patagonia baggies and little else, steaming thermos in hand. And this girl, woman, person, Jo, in a Talking Heads t-shirt and an unzipped shell and leggings, and even with her reflective sunglasses on he can tell the exact moment when she catches him staring at her, her head tilting to the side, slight pull of her brow. He’s walking toward her, crunching over rocks and snow before he can think too hard about how she doesn’t really look interested in making friends with him.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.” He gives her his name with a hand extended, and she takes it, if not a bit stiff, skeptical, offering him her name in return with her hip popped to the side. He watches his own nervous smile in the reflection of her sunglasses. 

“You’re here with Art’s team, right?”

“I am, yeah. And you’re here with Robin?”

“And Ed, he’s, well, you’ve probably met him.”

“Oh yeah, we all know Munson. No oxygen on Mont Blanc is pretty impressive, or maybe stupid.”

“I’d say both.” Her smile glints in the sun, a little stunner of a thing and he knows he’d like to see it again. 

“Both is probably accurate. I knew who you were too, by the way, you didn’t have to introduce yourself like that.” 

“You did?”

“Of course, men’s speed record for El Cap. That’s just impressive if you ask me.”

“Men’s? As opposed to–”

“Women’s.”

“I didn’t know there was a women’s speed record for El Cap.” Her smile slants and she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, eyes crinkling and squinting in the wind and the sun. 

“There is, I hold it.” 

“Oh, oh, I didn’t– you– I didn’t mean to–” Foot in his mouth and it might as well be down his throat with the way he’s stumbling over his words. She grins, gives his shoulder a squeeze and a shake.

“You’re fine, man, really, just teasing you a little. Is this your first time on Everest?”

“Yeah, you?” He’s not even standing that close to her, but he still notices a freckle somewhere between the round of her cheek and her eye, watches it jump with her smile. She nods, a glance over his shoulder to what awaits them in these next few weeks. A slog, a perfectly graceless suffering. A climb, a brilliant, beautiful thing.

“I’ll see you out on the Icefall, Harrington. It’s nice to meet you.”

..........................

tagging: @wannab-urs @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and anyone else who wants to join in <3

A wee game I thought would be fun: choose an excerpt from one of your posted fics, 600 words or less, that will make people curious for more. Share it with the title of your fic and little to no context.

I thought this would be a way to let people have a "taste" of one of your longer fics or series, and hopefully they will want to investigate further. Tagging some people, but it's open to anyone. I'd love to see snippets of your stuff.

This is a bit from my vampire Eddie fic Death Becomes Us. Eddie isn't even in this excerpt, I just really miss Hopper and wanted to think about him.

18+MDNI, Jim Hopper, mention of vampire!Joyce, mention of addiction

Tangerine hues seeped through the slats in the blinds at the crack of dawn while Jim Hopper sat at the end of his bed, shirtless, in a pair of unbuttoned jeans, and rolled his neck from side to side. There were empty beer cans on the dresser, and a small glass vile of crimson liquid in the ashtray next to a smashed-out butt with lipstick on it. He groaned as he stood, feeling his age as he fastened his jeans, snatching the pack of cigarettes off the bedside table as he went.

“Age is just a number,” is something Joyce would say, and to that he would reply: “Yeah, well why do I feel so fucking old, then?”

Joyce Byers hadn’t aged in a decade; that’s the one gift vampirism bestowed upon its victims. Being immortal? Living forever? Jim couldn’t imagine a worse fate. If someone turned him against his will, he’d give himself over to the sun and turn to ash immediately.

Joyce had chosen the vampire life, though, and for that—a part of him would never be able to forgive her. Sure, their fling was long over, and she’d been with Bob for a while now, but he used to be able to daydream about growing old with her later in life, and now he couldn’t even do that.

Something fell out of his pocket while he was searching for his lighter and he cursed. It was another small glass vial, but this one was almost empty, and he held his cigarette between his teeth as he bent to catch it before it rolled under the bed. Picking up the vial, he regarded it between thumb and forefinger so he could get a good look at how many drops were left.

God, he hated this about himself. He hated the way he measured the days of his week around how much he had left in the vials. Every morning, he promised himself that he’d quit, as soon as work wasn’t so stressful and he had some time to himself to stomach the withdrawals.

The kitchen was cold, and it sent a pang through his heart, making him wish there was someone there to make a pot of coffee and sit with him for a few minutes before he left for work. He’d give anything to hear bacon sizzling in the pan and smell fresh squeezed orange juice again while cartoons played on the television, but those days were long gone.

Emotions rose in his throat and choked there, making him dig for the vial in his pocket. He knew there was another full one in the ashtray in his bedroom, but he had to make them both last until next week, and it already wasn’t looking good. He tore a tiny corner off of a paper towel, and then bent to unscrew the cap and tap two drops onto the paper, watching the dark red liquid bleed into the fibers. He then placed the square of paper on his tongue and let it dissolve with a hard swallow and some sink water to wash it down.

Tagging: @somnambulic-thing @deadboyfriendd @kookygranger @trashmouth-richie @atinylittlepain @joejoequinnquinn @powderblueblood@destroya2005 @eddies-house @eddiesxangel @thornsnvultures

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Quest Continues...

(part 1- part 2)

[willelworld]

snakebites and bitter tonics

a western, cowboy byler au set in the red dead redemption universe.

word count: 30k

summary: a collection of moments between cowboy Mike and saloon worker Will as they start to understand what they want in life.

art and screenshots by the talented @scapegods! check out the full piece and more yeehaw byler!!

[doctor-octiddius]

hey chat, I rarely post, but I have postal in my brain, so here's gay people 🧡

[moeblob]

March has such a funny energy and I really like him ok

[angelsdean]

was tagged by @bloodydeanwinchester ty jenna<3

i call this queer cowboy dean moodboard

tag game: share the first 6 pins (i did 9) on ur pinterest home page and tag 5 people. (cheated a little for thee aesthetic. these aren't the first ones that came up but they were all on my homepage)

[nonbinarywardenamell]

Thank you for the tag @illusivesoul 💜

I would like to preface this by saying that I don't really watch that many movies, let alone many good ones, also for some of my faves I couldn't find gifs because they're Czech

Tagging: @theelfmaiden @sadgirlzclubxo @butch-alcina @vionetteinthedark @iicarys @thiefbird @motherofmabari @gayasshitye @izziessogay @a-redharlequin feel free not to, though, no pressure

[atinylittlepain]

On Repeat 🎵🔄

go to 'On Repeat' playlist on Spotify, throw it on shuffle and share the first 10 songs you get.

thank you, dear bec @softlyspector , for the taggy tag

Don't Think Twice it's Alright - performed by Joan Baez and Joan Baez only

Moonlight - the Weather Station

The Promised Land - my beautiful wife Bruce

Simple Twist of Fate - Bob Dylan

Sadness as a Gift - Adrianne Lenker

Constants Are Changing - Boards of Canada

Jungleland - my beautiful wife Bruce

Falling Ashes - Slowdive

Mirror Forever - Weyes Blood

Atmosphere - Joy Division

who hasn't been tagged yet, idk, get tagged: @pr0ximamidnight @schnarfer @sweetercalypso @wannab-urs @sempersirens annnnnd anyone else, i love seeing what folks are listening to :')

[tomb-of-flora]

I just started running a new D&D campaign for the first time in a year. It's a space western with heavy fantasy horror elements. Basically trying to fuse the energy of Firefly/Cowboy Bebop's scrappy bounty hunters with Star Wars/The Locked Tomb's sprawling space empires, noble houses, and spooky space magic/undead abominations. The first session was last night and oh my god we are off to such a good start. The set-up for this campaign is just a cocktail of all my favorite things. I'm playing with four of my friends and I am so in love with their characters.

The party is a disgraced reporter that has to work for fantasy Buzzfeed now (rogue), a wide eyed debutant with dreams of writing a novel (fighter), a thri-kreen bounty hunter desperate for work who constantly tries and fails to keep his head down (artificer), and an extremely cursed gothic man scamming everyone he can as he flees to the edge of the galaxy (warlock). I kept the first session pretty chill just giving them a chance to interact and poke into the weird tension building on the train they were on (a train robbery that quickly turned into an intense haunting). I genuinely can't remember the last time I laughed so hard the party banter was so electric. They've really gotten me back into the flow of things I forgot how much I adore being a Dungeon Master. They take everything I put down and make it a thousand times better. I'm editing poetry today but my brain just keeps drifting back to the session and all the horrors I'll get to unleash on these broke gay space cowboys.

We had a deliberately lackluster interview between the reporter and the bounty hunter, the debutant got scammed twice within like thirty minutes, a robot got roughed up by cavalry guys, the characters drew horny fanart of each other in game, and now everyone is about to get eaten by space ghouls.

I can't say much about what's to come because I know some of the friends in this game will see this, so I just want to say: I'm sorry I filled the train with ghosts. Try not to die.

(I'm just rambling about my session at this point, but I had such a good time and I'm so excited to be back in the saddle as a DM. Also I'm so thrilled to get to channel my Locked Tomb obsession into something and this campaign has given me a lot of fuel)

EDIT: I ENDED UP MAKING A SIDEBLOG FOR THIS CAMPAIGN. @yeehaw-in-magic-space is where I'll be recounting details about each session and offering little drops of lore when I feel like it. I think this will be a fun side project and a great way for me to record the campaign for myself to look back on.

[goneinsecondsxo]

💖 (you know what i wanna know 👀🤠)

and 🫘

MOGGET MY BELOVED <3333

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year?

for you specifically i wanna write some more yeehaw, baby where [redacted] ****** [redacted] and maybe [redacted] shows up too bc i did introduce [redacted] and we know how i feel about him. but one thing is for sure and that is that [redacted] is getting to learn the joys of ********

EDITING BC I POSTED BEFORE ANSWERING THE BEANS I GOT TOO EXCITED

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

you know all about fallen angel reg <3 i swear im posting him this year he’s too special to me

[bosspigeon]

see me bare my teeth for you

i know i'm not the only one who thought it was incredibly stupid to let the amoral vampire twink stick his teeth in your neck, so i thought i'd do a rewrite of the bite scene with a Tav who doesn't have the self-preservation instincts of a ham sandwich~

The tiefling’s eyes burn like embers in the dark, and set deeply in the ashen-grey of his skin painted blue-black by the night’s shadows, he looks very much like a vengeful spirit risen from his grave to smite those who wronged him in his life.

But Astarion is hungry.

And now his face hurts, to boot. He didn’t expect the big devil-spawn to be able to move so damned quickly.

But, well, sore jaw or no, the cat’s out of the bag, so he has no choice but to resort to his usual means of survival, however much it rankles–he grovels. He simpers and plays up the pitiful creature, weak from hunger, with all the best puppy eyes he can muster, pouty and sweet.

The tiefling–Pyre–he’s a veteran soldier, with the discipline and strategic mind to match. Astarion watches those glowing ember eyes as they take him in, flickering over him top to bottom, as if ascertaining what sort of threat he is, and how quickly he could eliminate that threat. He hasn’t even bothered to stand up, still sitting on his bedroll, not quite relaxed but as close as he ever seems to be. He doesn’t seem to be so paranoid as to sleep in his armor, but his massive broadsword is lying conspicuously close to his hand.  Astarion curses that he didn’t have the foresight to kick it away before he tried to snack on the big bastard.

He wants to snarl, but he hides his fangs the best he can, however much his stomach protests, however much he wants to sink them into the brute’s stony flesh and feed.

“You tried to bite me,” Pyre rumbles, and finally something in his expression shifts with the slight quirk of one scarred brow. Astarion follows the line of the scar down over his cheekbone, narrowly missing his eye. It is one of many. The man’s face and–as one can only assume–his body are mapped with scars, wicked blade slashes and puckered burns and jagged claw gouges. A lifetime of battles fought carved into his skin like a mountain battered by storms. Still standing, against it all. “How can I trust you?”

“Because we don’t have a choice!” the vampire retorts, with perhaps more desperation than he’d ever care to admit. “Not if we’re going to save ourselves from these worms…” He flails his hand a bit, looking at the ground between the tiefling’s splayed legs and staunchly not at his damnably expressionless face, his burning ochre eyes. From what little he knows of Pyre, he is a man of action. Of practicality. Of making necessary decisions with what little they have. Astarion is an asset to the tiefling, same as the tiefling is to him. “I need you alive. You need me strong.” He meets Pyre’s eyes again, and he almost regrets it. The heat of them settles deep in his belly, making him feel unsettlingly warm and… seen. “Please,” he ekes out, refusing to be consumed. He does the consuming, thank you very much. “Only a taste, I swear. I’ll be well, you’ll be fine, and everything can go back to normal.” It’s all he’s got. He’s already weak. For all his bravado, if Pyre decided to attack him now, he’s not entirely sure of what sort of fight he’d be able to put up.

Pyre is implacable, his expression as blank and unmoving as a grey cliff face from which he seems to have been hewn. He looks to be completely immune to Astarion’s game.

The vampire tenses, preparing for a fight.

There’s a long moment of silence, and in it Astarion swears can hear every pulse of the stolen blood he does have coursing sluggishly through his corpse-cold body.

The mountain of a tiefling shifts. His gaze does not falter. But he nods, once. “Fine,” he rasps, and Astarion will never quite be over how strangely soft his voice is. “But not a drop more than you need.”

“Really?” He reels back, surprised, almost sure the man would either send him on his merry way to fumble through the underbrush until he stumbled across a sickly deer, or put him out of his misery then and there. “I-” He’s certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, however. He smooths his expression, reigns in his untoward eagerness.“Of course. Not one drop more.”

And then they stare at each other, for a beat, then two. Astarion standing, Pyre sitting up, watching him, eyebrows slightly raised and the dim firelight flickering across the contours of his damnably blank face.

“I… Wouldn’t be easier if you…” Astarion purses his lips, eyes flicking up briefly and then back down again. He gestures awkwardly to the rumpled bedroll. “Had a bit of a lie-down?”

“You’re not touching my neck,” Pyre says simply. His gambeson’s high collar is very firmly buttoned. To be quite honest, Astarion’s not sure how he thought to get past it without either waking the tiefling trying to get it out of the way, or gnawing through a mouthful of wool. Before Astarion can ask what he’s meant to do, then, Pyre extends a hand. Without his gauntlets, it is as callused and scarred as one would imagine of a veteran swordsman. His nails are thick and black and look as if they have been filed down to utilitarian dullness from naturally sharp points. He turns his hand palm-up, unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve and pushing it over the swell of his muscular forearm. There, a prominent vein snakes through the tough grey flesh, pulsing temptingly at the thin, vulnerable skin of his wrist. There are scars there, too, but older. Faded to a dull white. Neat lines in a row almost up to the elbow.

Astarion drops to his knees with a pout. “Alright, alright. Ruining my fun…”

“The blood is all the same,” Pyre says flatly, “Don’t complain about where it comes from.”

“Fine,” the vampire huffs, taking the proffered arm gently. As he draws the wrist in, saliva pooling in his mouth the closer that tantalizing vein comes to his teeth, he feels Pyre’s other hand at his shoulder. He freezes when it shifts, and strong, scarred fingers curl firmly around his throat.

His eyes flicker up to meet Pyre’s, staring at him with a coolness that belies their fiery hue. The fingers flex, but don’t squeeze.

“An assurance for me,” the tiefling rumbles, the grim line of his lips firm and implacable, jaw squared. “And a reminder for you.”

He’s not sure what he expected of his first time feeding from a thinking creature, but the reality is… more than he could have imagined.

It’s nothing short of rapturous.

There’s a squirmy weight of anticipation in his belly that sinks deep, and before he can make even more of a fool of himself, Astarion sinks his teeth into the tender skin, and a gush of dazzling heat floods his mouth. He almost moans at the taste. Almost. It feels almost too hot, like it’s going to leave his mouth feeling numb and tender, the skin peeling. And so rich. He drinks, and drinks, and drinks, wanting to lose himself in the taste, the heat of it, and never stop drinking until there’s nothing left, but he can feel the weight of Pyre’s hand around his throat every time he swallows, his thumb against his pulse, can feel yet more heat radiating from the man’s stout body, not touching his beyond the necessary points of contact, but still so close.

He takes another long, languorous pull, eyes rolling back, and when he swallows the hand on his throat squeezes hard, and he jerks away, blood rolling down his chin.

For a moment, he sits there gasping and dazed, staring wide-eyed up at Pyre, who has him by the neck. His own hand rises almost of its own accord, trembling, to his lips, fingers hungrily pushing the stray droplets of blood into his mouth, eyelids fluttering with bliss. He does moan then, and Pyre jerks his hand away, as if he’s the one who’s been burned. As if he’s the one with a burgeoning, blistering heat working its way from his belly to his extremities until his fingertips are tingling with it. 

Astarion licks his fingers shamelessly, and the scalding weight of those eyes doesn’t feel quite so stifling now that he’s full of warmth. “Apologies,” he pants around the finger in his mouth, “I was just… swept up in the moment. He stumbles to his feet, head light and floaty and bright with the fresh blood slowly working its way through his body, waking it up. “But it worked!. I feel good. Strong. Happy!” He offers a mocking little bow.

Once again, Pyre looks at him as if nothing untoward has occurred between them, even as he pulls a ragged scrap of fabric that might have once been a piece of an old shirt from his pocket and wads it up to press over the wound in his wrist. He doesn’t offer any response.

“I didn’t kill you, did I? That’s what matters.” Astarion happily chatters in his stead, rushing with newfound energy, feeling as if he could take on the world. A part of him (perhaps several parts of him) are struck by the urge that he could pounce on the tiefling now, and have a fairly good shot of taking him down. Astarion would be out a powerful ally, but oh, what a meal he’d be…

He shakes himself and beams, hands on his hips. “And look what you’ve gained! Together, we can take on the world!”

Finally, finally, Pyre cracks something that could almost be called a smile. Just a slight twist of the mouth, a touch wry, and he lowers his heavy lids a bit more. “I hope so,” he almost chuckles. “I look forward to seeing you fight.”

“Shouldn’t take long,” Astarion chirps, delighted. “So many people need killing.” He offers another stilted little half-bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more… filling.”

And he turns on heel and struts out of the circle of the fire, off towards the woods. There’s a swagger in his step. He feels ready for anything. But he stops, and turns back slightly, the weight of those eyes fair burning a hole through his doublet. “This is a gift, you know,” he offers. “I won’t forget it.” And then off he goes, disappearing into the trees, and only when he is certain Pyre can no longer see him does he lean heavily against the trunk of a nearby tree until he can convince his damned knees to stop trembling. He raises a hand slowly, and brushes his fingers against his own throat, eyes closing and exhaling a shaky sigh.

[magdaclaire]

tagged by beloved unnamed mutual tags:

i love to have fun

tagging: whoever wants to do it if i'm honest

[terrainofheartfelt]

@anneofgreengaybles tagged me to post the top ten songs on my "On Repeat" playlist and I LOVE music talk so lets gooooooooo

10. Dirt - Julien Baker & TORRES

9. Last Hope - Paramore

8. Anywhere With You - Maggie Rogers

7. Getaway Car - Taylor Swift

6. Bottom of a Bottle - Julien Baker & TORRES

5. The Giver - Chappell Roan

4. Coyote feat. John Moreland - Ken Pomeroy

3. Gasoline feat. Taylor Swift - HAIM

2. Sugar in the Tank - Julien Baker & TORRES

YIPPEE-KI-YAY feat. T-Pain - Kesha

tagging: @insistonyourcupofstars, @ernestonlysayslovelythings, @balkanlila, @cancara, @himbobisexual, @heathercollinsmd, @doctorobinavitch and anyone else so inspired (no pressure though <333)

[birdhousematerial]

Tagged by @annadante to share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have fewer) and tag ten people.

(I have been wanting to do this and just kept getting distracted/forgetting so, here we go.)

1.) Moments

“It’s springtime, which seems like something that would have gone by without mention before, but now, even the change of season seems special.”

2.) Who We Are

“This isn’t happening.

It was easier that way, even though he’s far too self-aware to convince himself of the lie, he’d been determined to give it his best.”

3.) (I Want To Fucking) Tear You Apart

“After graduation, it just made sense that Megumi and Yuji moved in together.”

4.) Heart-Shaped Box

“After a long and taxing day of far too much paperwork, reminding his students about the importance of training —even during slow periods— and trying to keep from getting sucked in to any weekend missions in the freezing cold, all Megumi really wants to do is collapse into his bed.”

5.) Just A Friend

“This sucks.

That's really all Satoru could think about it, glancing out the window at the vast and barren landscape around him, void of any signs of human life— or any life, for that matter.”

6.) Look At Us Now

“When Megumi was younger, he'd clam up in uncomfortable silences. Turn inward, searching through the quiet for purpose or meaning to it, whether it was because of him or someone else, he'd always place blame for the discomfort he'd find in it.”

7.) I Hear You Knockin' Baby, Come On Up

“It started with a two-week long mission.

Something typical, routine. Yuji got the order, packed himself a sparse bag of strictly clothes and necessities, pressed his lips tightly to Megumi’s right before daybreak, and left to catch the first train out.”

I love opening lines, they’re always super fun and also, I usually find that starting a fic is way easier than finishing one! Thank you for tagging me, and I’ll tag @bigheartyradish @catsmical @jean47mclean @thedarknesseater @snailmp3 @shehatescoffee & @ihavethegrimoire (sorry if I double tagged you + no pressure) 💕

[johnslittlespoon]

Last Line Tag

thank youuu for the tag @morriganravenclaw i'm so late on this!! <3

It feels like a silent game of push–and–pull, give–and–take, I’ll–go–if–you–go, and it has John’s heart lodged firmly in his throat as his hand tightens around a fistful of blanket.

tagging @air-exec, @swifty-fox, @alienoresimagines, @counting0nit, @hauntingcontradiction,

@stoneinyourshoe, @eternallytired17, @nicijones, @c-goldthorn, @onyxsboxes, anyone else who wants to <33 soz for all the tags, just feels like it's been a while since i've seen what everyone's up to! :-))