#crack tag wip

[st-hedge]

Dante gotta fucking die 🤗

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Truth spell, insults are lies if you don’t believe them - cursed Merlin, Arthur isn’t actually a dollophead

So it’s only a one shot with few thousand words, but basically Merlin gets cursed with a truth spell by a witch who was frustrated that Emrys hadn’t even told the once and future king that magic isn’t good or bad, it just is. He’s not compelled to say anything, his secrets are his own, but if he tries to lie the truth comes out.

They realise what the curse is when Arthur asks Merlin if he’s okay in his own way of insulting him and Merlin can only compliment him in return,

This is sort of the general vibe of it summed up in a bit of dialogue:

Arthur: Merlin, why the hell would you jump in front of a curse!

Merlin: I wasn't going to let you get hurt.

Arthur: You idiot! You’re not a knight!

Merlin, increasingly more passionately complimenting him as he tries and fails to insult him: Well you're a reckless good man and I care about you too much! I- I mean- you're a great king! You're smart and pretty!

(Arthur’s stood there looking shocked, unable to react, getting slightly flustered at being called pretty. Merlin realises there’s one insult that still works because it’s become a term of endearment for him)

Merlin: Prat! Haha! It works!

Merlin: You're a prat and I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt!

Merlin: Damnit! Why isn’t this working?!

Arthur, realising what’s happening, teasing: Why isn’t what working, Merlin?

Merlin: Calling you a kind hearted, too good, smart and talented golden kingly prat! I give up! *storms off into the woods*

Then there’s a confession, cute Merthur moments, and Arthur gets to learn about magic because Merlin needs to tell him the trr about it before the spell can be broken.

If anyone has any ideas for what I can name this, it’d be greatly appreciated. The titles are always the worst part of fics

[thecmaly]

really? right in front of my karaage?

-

more windbreaker comics

[cherrieguroo]

good morning sheilinda nation

[xuxudio]

successfully choosing the most doomed ship in any media since 1999

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[afterartist]

See I can actually contribute to society now and again

N E Ways have a WIP I’m making :D

The Ice Giants (Uranus in particular) don’t get enough love so shush

Again- this is a WIP and nowhere near complete so shush

[delta-pavonis]

I would love to hear more about Raspberries and Rum?

*cackles*

OKAY. So this came from a conversation that I had with @wordsinhaled in, no joke, NOVEMBER 2022. And I still haven't written all of it. BUT some of the bits from our conversation are goddamned SOLID GOLD and I am cracking myself up all over again reading the transcript. [Important background science here (just read the title).] Here is me just copy-pasta-ing from Discord with no indication of who is saying what:

hob getting wasted on dream’s jizz because he tastes like a good mixed drink suddenly a thing i need to see Hob as New Inn bartender keeps trying to make a new rum cocktail with raspberry flavor and no one understands why referencing it makes Hob blush, it is just a reference to that cool space data, right? now suddenly need a 5+1 where hob keeps making dream trial raspberry rum cocktails until they find the Perfect One and dream is very bemused Gotta keep going back and comparing to the actual source material apparently raspberry season in the UK starts in june where he’s like fucking. up handmaking raspberry simple syrup in the middle of the night and dream is like “ah, offerings” Because, honestly, he is technically trying to figure out a way to have everyone who orders the drink get drunk on something that tastes like his husband's jizz? And I find that fucking hilarious? Definitely deranged Hob humor mainly because he’s like, do i want everyone to suck your dick? this is reserved for me but do i want everyone to know the JOY of this taste? perhaps However, first time a university student of his orders the cocktail, once it is on the menu, Hob has A Moment of Regret™️  just a moment though i wonder if dream is aware he tastes like this or if he just. came up with the most reasonable taste he felt he would have when composing his physical body, which of course would be nothing like human and of course some esoteric shit like didn’t even think about it once so he keeps trying this drink and being like yes my very competent bartender husband perfecting his fancy raspberry drink i am so proud but hob is looking perpetually more glinty around the eyes each time he gets closer to the mark and dream is like, cottoning on that Something Is Up eventually dream is like “there is some... significance here. that i am missing.” and hob has to turn around and hide his face in his hands because somehow he never thought he’d have to Explain what he was doing especially because i feel like this would be some shit hob would try to do one time in the middle of the night while planning the summer drinks menu and then somehow he’d be neck deep in recipes from google weeks later but then dream is fucking. super out of left field when he finds out like... “you are crafting a libation. to me.” and hob is like uhhhhhhh no???? not actually???? am i??? I mean... just... based... on you? Hob will argue semantics on this dream is like you’re distilling my essence into a drink that all your patrons will imbibe and hob is like uhhh maybe? uuuhhh... maybe I am? okay but dream like THAT’S KIND OF HOT and hob is like I WASN’T TRYING TO BE HOT I WAS BEING STUPID and dream is just. yes. my husband can be very stupid. and very hot "These two things are not mutually exclusive, my dear Hob." of course this has to culminate in “you mean to tell me you don’t know you taste like raspberries and rum? you just made yourself taste all... lovely and you had no idea?” “i had not the faintest idea, indeed.” “you’ve never...?” “i have had no occasion to... sample myself, as it were.” “sample... jesus. alright. what are you, an hors d’oeuvre at the department party?” “no. but it seems i could be its signature drink.” DREAM IS A LIL BITCH hob’s inner exhibitionist cackling at forcing his staid ass colleagues to drink this drink while dream broods in the corner indulgently eyeing his antics everyone like “wow robbie this is a GREAT cocktail mind if i nick the recipe off you” and hob is like “ah no actually, it’s a bit of a jealously guarded secret” NO. Dream overhears and that's how he introduces himself, the little shit "And you are?" "Oh, I am Hob's Jealously Guarded Secret."

Here is the first chapter of the 5+1 that is in that WIP file (under cut because NSFW - cw for drunkenness and blowjobs):

One: May

It starts as a joke. A joke in Hob’s head that he doesn’t tell anyone. Because he knows that after this many years walking God’s green Earth that he can have a slightly warped sense of humor. 

So Hob keeps his motivations to himself and dusts off his bartending skills, back from when he had just opened The New Inn and was still getting the staff up-to-snuff. And then he sets to work. 

He has to figure out the rum first. Actually, Hob knows exactly which rum he would like to use, the second batch of ron miel honey rum by Destilerías Arehucas produced shortly after they opened on Gran Canaria island in 1884, but as far as he can tell there are only three bottles of it left in the world and they are all in his personal collection. 

So Hob called some friends and obtained as wide a variety of current lines of Canary Island honey rum that he could manage. He bided his time until the next Friday night, poured out a shot of each in a row on his coffee table, and proceeded to get fantastically pissed.

(Could Hob have sipped and spit out the liquor as he tasted them? Sure. Was this more fun? Absolutely.)

It was only after Hob was well toasted that Dream sidestepped into his living room. 

Hob was off the couch and on his knees in front of Dream before he even really decided what to do with his drunk-ass self. He was nuzzling into the fly of familiar black jeans and Dream was letting out a surprised hiccup of a moan and Hob was pretty sure his brain had dissolved into giddy bubbles of lust and want.

Long fingers wound into Hob’s hair and held him there as he rocked forward, purring, “Why hello to you, too, Hob Gadling. I did not expect ah!” A gasp when Hob started peeling away the clothing. “Expect quite this manner of hospitality upon my arrival.”

“Gotta…” Hob had the single-minded determination only liquor could provide. “Need to check…”

Dream made a curious hum of an inquiry at that, but Hob didn’t have time to explain. The taste of the rum was already being diluted by all the saliva pooling in his mouth and he needed to compare them. 

It had been just over a year since His Stranger had walked back into his life. Slightly less than that since they realized what absolute idiots they were for each other. It was enough time, given the many many repetitions Hob had to practice, for him to get really fucking good at getting Dream off with his mouth.

Hob, in his infinite need to stroke his own ego, had timed it once. Well, more than once. Many times actually. The current record was 143 seconds from first press of lips to spend. Hob drunkenly thought he could do better than that. Not that he had his phone handy. Ah well, that wasn’t a good reason to not try.

Dream finished getting hard in Hob’s throat, sobbed as Hob swallowed repeatedly. His lover was shaking with it already, Hob preened distantly, and moved to press the tips of his fingers just so into Dream’s perineum. Another press and stroke behind Dream’s balls, this time while Hob sucked with his entire lung capacity as he backed away, and then the Lord Morpheus was coming with a strangled shout right onto Hob’s tongue.

Hob savored it for a moment, eyes closed, cataloging the taste, before swallowing and scrabbling away from Dream to the table. He grabbed the bottle of what he thought was the best flavor match and took a pull from it.

“Oh yeah,” Hob’s ass hit the floor with a thump. “That’s it.”

[estarion]

i was asked if this blog is multi-ship … . . . but that's not the question y'all should ask. the real question is from me to you: does your muse have more than a few screws loose ? can they match his freak ? what's his freak ? who knows, it changes daily. depends what's happening in front of him. here are a list of cringe but true pre-reqs to get u started:

aren't too nice nor too mean

don't be clingy but don't be distant

give loads of praise

not a disgusting amount tho or u seem fake and desperate

have some desperation tho. just don't be obvious about it

be crazy about him. in secret

but also he has to be able to somehow know ur crazy 4 him

also be insanely hot. or gtfo

no fugs / monsters / grotesques

i'm sorry. but he's not sorry ... . . .

also he has a friend who might fuck you if u r in fact a monster

can see about hooking y'all up maybe

[housewifebuck]

wip game catchup time

I know I have been so so bad about posting/reblogging all the tag games u guys have been tagging me in and im sorry for that!!! consider this a mashup of all the various games ive been tagged in in the last couple days🤪 here's a lil bit of the new firehose wip

tagged by @shitouttabuck @devirnis @theotherbuckley @sibylsleaves @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @wikiangela @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @athenagranted <3

“Fuck you.” Buck points an accusatory finger in Hen’s direction. “We swore never to talk about that again.”  “Uh, you swore. I distinctly remember not swearing, specifically so I could make sure you never forgot your roots.” She looks all too thrilled by the rise she’s getting out of Buck, her smile growing as he theatrically shrinks in on himself. “And what long, thick roots they are.” Unable to contain his nosiness any longer, Eddie clears his throat and asks, “What are you guys talking about?” Buck whips around immediately, startling like he had forgotten anyone else was present. The superficial scowl he’s wearing morphs into wide-eyed panic, and Hen lets out an honest-to-god cackle as she swivels to face Eddie. “Oh, you didn’t know?” she asks, faux-innocent in a way that implies absolute awareness of his ignorance. “Buck here used to have another nickname.”  Across from them, Buck buries his face in his hands with a childishly loud groan. “You’re ruining my life,” he mumbles. Hen ignores him. “They used to call him firehose,” she continues. This is punctuated by a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows, like it’s some sort of reference Eddie is supposed to understand. Lost, he chances a look at Buck, but his gaze is studiously fixed on the floor, arms crossed and lips pursed tightly.  “Why?” Eddie asks slowly. “Wait, who’s ‘they’?”

[astrobei]

for my maybe four (?) followers who read lokius: here you go

[shitouttabuck]

wip wednesday

tagged by @transboybuckley and @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove <3

hello this is a bit from near the start of my christmas fic (it’s preceded by 600 words of fighting? why have i started a christmas fic with fighting? how festive)

Buck’s been avoiding him for most of this 48-hour. Which is fine, because Eddie’s still pissed about the way he ran back into that house on the verge of a flashover for that little girl’s alarmingly geriatric greyhound, but sucks, because Eddie and Chris are leaving for ten days of Christmas holidays in El Paso tomorrow morning. Without Buck. So every minute Buck about-turns and ducks behind the rig like maybe if he can’t see Eddie, there’s no way Eddie can see his long-ass legs poking out from under, is one less minute Eddie gets to have him this year. Eddie’d kissed him behind the engine, soot-stained and grubby after delivering the skinny dog safely to her owner, before stepping back and shoving him in the chest. “As if Chris doesn’t have enough parental trauma associated with Christmas-time,” he’d hissed. “What the fuck would I have told him?” Buck had scowled back, face one giant smudge of ash when he replied, “Don’t worry, I’d have had plenty of time to heal up before I saw you next year.” And Eddie didn’t know what to say to that, because he asked Buck to come to Texas with them, of course he fucking did, but Buck said no, over and over, because he was going to spend Christmas with Maddie and Chim and Jee. That’s not stopped him from acting incredibly weird about it. Of course I wanna spend the holidays with my sister, Eds, Christmas has always been our thing, he’d say, and in the next breath snipe, yeah, well, it’s not like you could be gone for any longer than you already are. It’s driving Eddie up the fucking wall, because he doesn’t know what Buck wants and all Eddie wants is to make Buck feel happy and loved during a time of year that’s notoriously difficult for people who come from unhappy families, but he can’t do anything unless Buck tells him what’s got his sweet overthinking brain in this miserable tangle.

barely wrote anything new but i DID do some gross real life tasks i’d been putting off which hopefully means now i actually have time for this without the looming guilt of ignoring shit i should be doing! sexy

tagging beloveds @onward--upward @rewritetheending @housewifebuck @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @athenagranted @anakinfallen @chronicowboy @zahlibeth @buckactuallys @eowon @devirnis

[pretty-little-lambs]

me: ARGH longfics are the worst because it just takes SO LONG to get to write the romance!! I just want to write them falling in love damnit!

...

also me: WAIT I CAN JUST WRITE THE ROMANCE???? 🤯

[jadezdominion]

Sunday WIP

I was tagged by the fabulous @hellameyers thank you, love. Soooooo, I decided, wth, let me post a snippet of my Sterek crack/humor fic. It's my first time attempting to write something like this at length. Hope y'all laugh a little. It will be completed soon. <3

They parked in the back of the vet clinic and waited for Deaton to meet them. 

“Babe, you fucking reek. I can’t wait until you bathe and burn those clothes.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious, for that riveting piece of news. I know I stink! My babies sprayed me. It’s not their fault I jostled them, Derek.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, mister, ‘I think I’ll start running like I’m being chased by a berserker with three baby skunks in my arms.’ Seriously?”

Before Stiles could respond with an inordinate amount of snark, Derek could already tell by the glare he was sporting the back door of the clinic swung open. Deaton’s ever-passive face twitched for a moment, smelling the acrid stench of Stiles and the three furballs before slipping back into his mask of indifference. 

“Alpha Hale and Alpha Mate Stilinski-Hale, please come in.”

He led them to the furthest exam room towards the back, which conveniently had a giant tub set up and a smaller one for the skunks. Perhaps Stiles would get his bath sooner rather than later. 

“Alpha Mate Stilinski-Hale, how did you come to acquire these little ones?”

“Deaton, for the billionth time, call me Stiles.”

Deaton nodded, but Derek knew that Stiles would have to keep insisting or just fucking give up together. 

“I was on my way back from a hike to the Nemeton. You know, Sparky Spark business when I heard a strange chirping, chittering sound. I followed my spark spidey senses, and they led me to them. Their parents obviously put up a fight since there was blood on their fur and in their den. I couldn’t just leave them there.”

“I see. Did they spray you as skunks or pee on you as human babies?”

“Yes. Oh. Wait, what?!”

Deaton chuckled momentarily at the wide-eyed expression on Derek and Stiles' faces. They were both frozen and unblinking. Mouths hung open, almost like a cartoon moment.

“Well, these are not ordinary skunks. They possess shifter magic, and these are triplets. Notice their identical markings. It’s quite rare. I believe you’ll get them to shift by roaring them into submission, Alpha Hale.”

Derek could only nod after closing his mouth. Stiles was already crying. Fuck.

Derek approached the skunks, and they quickly stilled in their bath. They stared at him wide-eyed, and he could hear their little hearts beating so fast. Flashing his alpha red eyes, he roared at them.

The little skunks made noises, but within a moment, they shed their fur, and three chunky babies were squished in the tub. They were probably about eight months old. 

There were two boys and one girl. They all had thick, straight, raven-black hair. The boys had emerald-toned eyes, and the little girl had forest green eyes with flecks of amber and black throughout the iris. 

“Derek, please don’t take my babies!” Stiles was sobbing as he had jumped into bathing duties. The three little stinkers were giggling, and one of the boys peed on him.

All he did was laugh and tickle his belly. How the actual fuck was this his life?!

“Uh, Deaton. A little help here. How exactly can this be? Three damn skunk shifter babies?!”

Stiles scoffed at him and muttered, “BruteWolf,” under his breath, then went back to bathing the babies, who were now having the time of their lives. Giggling, kicking their little feet in the shallow water, and trying to grab at the silly faces Stiles was making at them.

“Believe it or not, it’s more common than you think. There are many types of shifters in this world. Skunks, rabbits, foxes, and even crows, to name a few. I will say that it is a good thing that your mate found them when he did. I fear they would have been next since the parents were clearly killed or taken.”

Derek knew he would never hear the end of this from Stiles. No woodland creature within a hundred-mile radius would be safe from his husband's incessant prodding. Deaton kept talking, and that was his mistake.

“I can always keep an eye out in the area, but I encountered this once while training in Ireland. It didn’t end well for the adults. Now, Alpha Hale, will you be accepting them into your pack? If so, we can put some protective spells on them to keep them from shifting or spraying until they’re older and can control themselves. Granted, it removes their defense mechanism, but at least they won't spray randomly.”

The air became charged and Stiles’s eyes went violet and black. Even Derek found himself growling at the insensitive twat.

“Absofuckinglutely not, Deaton. You won’t be dampening one singular ability on my children. I will fucking END you!”

Deaton looked scared and adequately chastised. He even bared his throat at them both.

“My apologies. I meant no offense or harm. I only wanted to offer the babies an easier upbringing until they were older. You have my word, and I will do nothing of the sort, Alpha Mates Hale. Your children are safe.”

“That’s what I fucking thought!” Stiles turned back to the babies like he hadn’t been about to liquefy Deaton’s insides a few seconds ago.

“How is this my life?” Derek asked no one in particular as he rubbed his temples. Even werewolf healing couldn’t prevent the migraine that was swiftly approaching.

“Just lucky, I guess. Take over, babe, so that I can get in the bath myself, and then we have a lot of shopping to do! Now, awoo for the Pack! We’re going to need reinforcements.”

He looked down at the triplets and realized his life would never be the same again. No matter how it came about, these pups, kits, um… babies needed him. 

Flashing his eyes at the babies, they responded in kind when their eyes went all black with an amber glow to them. Yeah, these were meant to be Stiles’s babies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll tag but no obligation to keep this going. It is fun though. Much love my darklings. *smooches*

@kymera219 @darkplotbunnyfarm @patolemus @takaraphoenix

[aethulean]

current davris wip struggle dump <3

[bonnvivre]

art dump (2021-2022)

throwbacks to @theboxfort’s scrib monster he was so small and cute i had to

something happened to the original image and i cant post it so here’s a screenshot lmao

HWEHEHIBJR “cannot load photo”

and finally, to end it all off