@hoch-rot Tagged Me, Thanks!

@hoch-rot tagged me, thanks!

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips. I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. sketch titles? comics? dnd campaigns? if you have an unfinished project, it counts!

So, in rough order of likeliness to see the light of day:

1986

Sextet

Silver and Gold

The thing is

Salamander (there's a sample of this on an older ask)

PACC6MM (ditto)

Peaches

Caged (also sampled)

Helion (same)

I tag @themarten

I am intrigued by Peaches

Oho, thank you! So the context is that I think that if Rammstein had happened to be women, the resulting band would be Peaches. She has exactly the same shock style - I mean just watch the MV for Boys Wanna Be Her, and separately she crowdsurfs in a giant dick.

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“It’s that I’m not pretty, isn’t it,” Flake said glumly. 

“Sweetie, I promise you the problem is not your looks.” Rik scraped off an errant bit of lipliner with her pinky nail. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, is getting any action out here. And I don’t look this fantastic just to be ignored.” 

“Nobody?” 

“When we played Lilith Fair, I did a survey. I got seven recommendations for vibrators. I ask everyone. Even Peaches isn’t getting laid.” 

“You’re kidding. She can’t just bully the nearest raver? I would do whatever she told me to.” 

Rik quirked an eyebrow. “Well, you should probably tell her that.” 

Flake made a bit of a squeak. 

And PACC6MM for @themarten (this is actually your fic, so, uh, I hope that's ok):

It was actually louder in the trees than on the road. He’d been hearing birds all along, but now the breeze rustled the leaves and the pine needles crushed under his feet and there were all kinds of crackles and creaks. He was following a little creek that had a wide dry bed when he came to a clearing on a hill. The first thing he saw was a weird skinny mossy tower. It was rising from the ruins of a hut. Maybe an old gamekeeper’s cottage, nothing but mortared stone walls and hearth remaining, the rest had long ago gone back to earth. The tower was a stone chimney standing straight up like a middle finger raised to the gloomy sky. Well, thought Paul, that’s something we can agree on - fuck you, world.

Here are the boys!