#i really like the IWD ch 5 scene i hope everyone will too... when it's FINALLY finished

[cuubism]

WIP Word Search Game - v. 2

never let it be said that I'll pass up an opportunity to talk about my fics. tagged by @meadowziplines :)

words: cat, sky, star, water, cry, arm(s)

cat -- from "Ooh, Kinky"

Hob’s just about to fall asleep when Dream’s head snaps up in the direction of the hallway, like a cat that’s spotted a fly buzzing around in the dark. “Sibling,” he calls, “I can sense your irritating presence. Reveal yourself, or suffer the consequences.”

sky -- from an orphaned snippet

“Isn’t it simple enough to just know that I always think you’re beautiful?” he asked, quieter now and almost hushed out by the rain. “It’s like the sky. It’s really always beautiful, but sometimes you catch it at a certain angle and you think, oh.”

star -- from In Waking Dreams chapter 5

“You– you speak,” Alex whispered.

“Do not mistake refusal for inability.” His Dream’s voice was the scrape of an executioner’s blade over stone, sharp and thrumming with the inevitable. “How entitled you are, to make demands of the Endless. You, your father, think yourselves so above all rules that you would conscript a star into preparing your tea. Well. I. Do. Not. BEND.”

water -- from Deja vu, Deja connu chapter 5

He runs an indulgent hand over Hob’s chest, down over his stomach and across his thigh, reading it all anew like he hasn’t just had Hob all over him. He is beautiful to touch, Dream thinks, but to do so carves a little hole of melancholy in his heart. Each brush of skin is like an echo, a memory calling to him across time whose origin point is distant now. Concentric ripples on a still lake, the thrown stone long gone under the water, and its thrower, too.

cry -- from Hope/Morpheus reverse verse fic

Morpheus draws him into a tentative hug. His build is slight, but he’s deceptively strong, and Hope leans into him, letting Morpheus hold him up. Wrapping his arms around his back, pressing his face into his shoulder, really trying not to cry. Not really succeeding at it.

arms -- from "Endpoints," a companion piece to Patron Saint

Hob leaned back on his arms against the pillows, only in his trousers now, smiling at him as he waited for Dream to decide what he wanted to do. It was dangerous to want. But Dream wanted. He wanted to touch Hob’s hair where it had already been mussed from its stylings by their kiss, and he wanted to run his hands over Hob’s broad chest, and he wanted to know what Hob’s lips felt like pressed to the crease of his thigh, all these so human desires—

won't tag people again but. yeah, these are fun :)