#wip: inspiration

[tj-dragonblade]

I would to know what Space Between or Inspiration is about

Hi, thank you! Apologies for the delay in answering!

The Space Between is just an idea at this point; it would be a sequel to the lighthouse keeper fic and it springboards from Auri's The Space Between. It would be Hob taking Dream on adventures away from the Lighthouse once Daniel is around to share the duty, showing him various wonders of the various worlds that he's been telling Dream about all this time. Something like that. It's very very nebulous at this point but I like the story the two songs tell together and I would like to write this second half.

Inspiration is a quick meant-to-be-humorous Immortal Throuple ficlet about Hob struggling to finish an academic paper for publication and his lovers showing up and offering the obvious solution (i.e., muse-ly inspiration). Which Hob would never feel right about asking for, but Calliope is keen to offer. There is a snippet here that starts it off and this picks up directly after that:

"There is no presumption in accepting a gift freely offered, Hob," Calliope interrupted, and her voice was now warm, insistent, decisive. "Let me aid you, that you might put this task behind you, that you might release your words into the world where they will inspire others." She placed one slender hand on his face, soft against his stubble, thumb caressing his cheekbone. "Please?" "I…alright, okay," Hob sighed, and it was a testament to how frustrated he was with this block that he capitulated so easily. Or maybe it was just that Calliope was persuasive and reasonable in her argument, a force of nature in her own right, and saying 'no' to her was not an easy feat when she turned those kind eyes on him with Intent. "How does this work, then?" She smiled, a soft curling of her lovely mouth, and motioned to Dream. "Oneiros. Bring the laptop." She took both of Hob's hands and drew him up from his chair and toward the bedroom, gliding backwards down the short hall. "My gift is strongest when shared in passion," she explained, stripping off her clothing and moving to divest Hob of his. "Really?" He offered up a skeptical grin, cooperating as she undressed him all the same. "Sure this isn't just an excuse to get me naked, have your way with me?" "Most assuredly not." The grin she gave him in return was both sweet and predatory as she pushed him back onto the bed and crawled after him. "That is just a fortuitous bonus."

I'm not sure how well it will adhere to the meant-to-be-humorous intention, in the end. Time will tell.

[katarinazurar]

“you’re a writer, right?”

me, staring at the one sentence i’ve managed to add in the last hour and the 12 open tabs on the specifics of shoes in 1845 Ireland: In theory.

[butterflyscribbles]

Taking shifts❤️💙🧡

[jailforwriter]

Getting inspired to write is actually really easy! All you need to do is be the busiest you've ever been in your entire life and as far away from a computer as humanly possible. Hope this helps 🥰

[qweenofurheart]

he’s the only nineteen year old alive who can pull off that stupid ass outfit. also i think im onto something with the pink pants..

[xypheris]

Writing is 10% inspiration,

90% 'I swear I’ll fix this in edits.'

[whatthehellami]

Artwork is not mine.

[reginalusus]

More Jason and Harvey fic stuff... Harvey will make observations and Jason will be like, "URM, ACTUALLY-"

Silly lil' Ko-Fi.

[an-established-butt-dent]

Solas x Lavellan

Dragon age the Veilguard

Tel banal, ara'ma

It won’t be terrible if you’re with me.

Available as print here.

[thegreendiamondart]

I have a bit more progress than this but im cooking up a lil something

[tj-dragonblade]

WIP Share tag game

Tagged by @honeyteacakes - thank you!

Rules: Post snippets/screenshots/etc. from three of your WIPs!  Art or Fic!

Late Mer-Hob AU for the Dreamling Week prompt 'ocean'

In the depths below, a flash of orange.  Then, rising nearer, a very human face takes shape, coming to a stop half a meter below the surface.  Brown hair floats like kelp around his friend's head, dark eyes crinkle with delight at the sight of him, and then his friend is arcing backwards into a happy loop, the bright orange of his tail with its vivid blue spots curving gracefully after.  The sunny yellow of his primary fin rises out of the water smoothly, barely making a splash as it follows back under, and then his face is breaking the surface, tipped up, smiling like the sun.

Beautiful, Dream thinks, and again thanks whatever cosmic force he may or may not believe in that his near-drowning six months ago had led him here.

"Hello, my friend," he says, and the other beams at him, shakes water from his hair and smooths it back again.

"Hello to you, Dream," he says, dimpling prettily, crossing his arms to rest on the edge of the cave floor, tail fin flicking lazily up out of the water behind him and splashing gently back.  Tendrils of wet hair fall loose to frame his face despite the smoothing-back he gave them, and Dream likes to think that perhaps one day he'll be bold enough to reach out, tuck them behind his friend's ear affectionately.

But today is not that day.

Tentatively titled Inspiration (Smune day 2 prompt 'paper')

"Guys…I'm so sorry, not tonight, I can't.  I have to get this paper done."  Hob pushed up his glasses and dragged his hands over his face, the picture of academic exhaustion.  "The deadline for submission is noon tomorrow and I've been working on it for ages, and it's almost done but I just.  I can't get the conclusion to come together right and it's making me absolutely bananas."

A frown creased Calliope's brow; leaving Dream to shut Hob's front door, she moved across the room to hover over Hob, glancing at his laptop screen.  "How long have you been working?"

"Hours.  All day," Hob groaned.  "I'm so close but I just can't get there and it's driving me mad."

"Perhaps a break—" Dream started, but Calliope held up a hand to cut him off; when she spoke, it was still to Hob.

"You are favored of one of the muses; you struggle to capture your thoughts in inspiring words, yet you do not call upon her for her gifts?"  Her tone was somewhere between teasing, disappointed, and disapproving, and Hob blanched, just a little.

"I—no!  I would never!  You can't possibly think I'd presume to take advantage—?"

"There is no presumption in accepting a gift freely offered, Hob."

Ambrosia (Dream appreciating Hob's messy humanness/born of several Smurch and one Smapril prompt) (mildly spicy)

"Ugh," he says, poking at the wet smears on his chest.  "Wow.  That's…a lot."

Dream smirks from where he’s laying atop him.  "I enjoy the sight of you wearing it."

"Clearly."  Hob makes a face, wiping his fingers clean in a bit of chest hair that's still dry.  "Well, if we're going to make a habit of it.  Maybe I should shave all this off."

Dream stiffens, pushes up further, gives him the most affronted look possible.  "You will not."

"Oh, I won't?"

"Hob Gadling.  I will not allow it."

Hob is ready to say something lightheartedly over-dramatic about 'you DARE presume to tell me what I can or can't shave', but something in Dream's tone stays him.  There's a note of flagrant alarm underneath the imperiousness, and Hob smirks as the lightbulb goes on.

"Got a real weakness for body hair, haven't you."

Tagging, no obligation, but I would love to see if you feel like sharing:  @galacticstingray , @rooftopwreck , @chaosheadspace , @staroftheendless , @teejaystumbles

[katarinazurar]

me while writing: ah yes, this character should do this, it feels so natural with what they're saying

me while editing: why the FUCK does he lean on the doorway SEVENTEEN TIMES IN THIS CHAPTER

[ky-landfill]

“But it makes total sense, right? Sometimes you’re stuck looking for meaning when it’s just staring you in the face the whole time.”

[simonbrain]

simon thinks you're a deity. he thinks you're his saviour, his beautiful angel who descended from heaven just to save a nasty old man like him.

his unwavering devotion feeds something dark inside you; the way he so easily lets his guard down in your presence, the way his head hangs low and he treasures every word you say, it has your mind reeling. he just wants to please you—if he ever upsets you, he almost kills himself trying to make up for his wrongs.

"please love, i'll be better, i promise," he pleads on his knees as you stare down at him with an uninterested look on your face, your blank eyes boring into his teary ones. he'll grovel for as long as you make him. he humps your leg while groaning pathetic apologies; the sounds almost resembling the low growls of a dog.

"i don't know, simon." you sigh, your voice cold as you watch him rut against you. "i told you, didn't i? that you're only getting one more chance." you thread your fingers through his hair to yank his head back, pulling a low moan from him. "i said that i'd leave if you fucked it up again."

his cock pulses and leaks in his pants, but he doesn't touch, no. he can prove he's your good boy. he'll earn your forgiveness.

"p— please, i'm sorry." he inhales sharply when you roughly squeeze his cheeks together, his scarred lips jutting out. right now, he resembles nothing of a lieutenant; all that kneels before you is your rowdy mutt, and you've been too soft on him lately. it seems he needs to be disciplined again.

[paintedcrows]

Some Fords! (and Martin K Blackwood is also there)

[geezmarty]

drawing more taash/bellara. help