#( wip ) unreliable

[zico-if]

This story is not one, where at the end, you find yourself surrounded by your loved ones. No, this is a one of how you die.

[ DEMO - tba ]

Ever since the death of your parents by those who'd been sworn to protect you, there has been something inexplicably wrong with you.

At first, they were just headaches—small manageable aches, even at their worst. But then came the voice. A voice that wasn't yours, whispering things you couldn't possibly know, helping you do things no one should be able to do.

Everything about you was just...wrong.

But then you were saved, taken in by people who gave you shelter and taught you control. And over time, that voice became nothing more than a whisper, offering you insights when you least expect it.

You became a scalpel in their organization, an invaluable asset who cut away whatever rot they pointed you to, and you did so without question.

That is, until one day a job lands you in hot water and the next thing you know, you're told to cut the rot that lies a little too close to the heart. Suddenly, the truth becomes lies, friends turn to foes, and the fine line between loyalty and betrayal begins to blur.

That begs the question: just how far are you willing to go to cut out that rot before it spreads?

Become a vessel for an Eldritch that grants you abilities like no other, yet endure the consequences that follows it.

Customise your vessel, including their pronouns, identity and physical appearance.

Romance 1 of 4 options: the rot, the grace, the protector or the stranger.

Confront old friends, create new foes, run some errands and try not to die while doing any of it.

Pluck at the fraying strands of your mind. Teeter to the edge of Insanity.

Trust that no one is who they say they are.

And most importantly: Abandon All Hope.

The Rot: Ilya Roson [m/f/nb] - romanceable by all MCs.

A person who you've long since thought was gone. They've betrayed you once and they've come to do it again. Then again, betrayal requires trust in the first place and you've since learned your lesson from the first time.

The Grace: Vira Duval [f] - romanceable by nb!MCs and f!MCs only.

She is beauty, she is grace, yet monstrous all the same. There is something about her that strikes you: the scars that creep from beneath her neck line, the cold calculation in her eyes. She is more than the Blueblood you think she is.

The Protector: Aurius Duval [m] - romanceable by all MCs.

A scion of everything you've come to hate, he dares to call himself a protector—a shield to the people above all else. While he is kind and polite, you can't help but see the blood that he carries on his hands...even though you carry more on yours.

The Stranger: Rhian Scott [m/f/nb] - romanceable by all MCs.

They are the trouble that follows you, the herald of misfortune. Why is it that every time they're near, something always goes wrong? Is it the charm, leeching all the luck you have to fuel it? Or is it maybe that they are just not the friend they claim to be?

The Night Abridged is rated 18+ for violence, strong language, blood & gore, sexual content and more.

Hello, my lovelies. Here is a new intro post for the remake of The Night Abridged, reblogs are much appreciated :)

[phantom-z0ne]

"Billy wasn't sure what the creature ransacking his train car was.” Alternatively, Billy feeds a stray and ends up with a roommate.

WC: 1215

Serendipity (n): the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

Billy wasn't sure what the creature ransacking his train car was. Granted, the train car wasn't in the most hidden place ever, but he had made sure to ward it against most creatures. The ward would have made one unable to see the train, and if they somehow saw it anyways, they would have been turned around. He usually was pinged if anything passed his wards, which was why he was so blindsided to see something moving around in his train car. It seemed that this one had slipped through his protections. 

The creature was strange and almost hard to look at directly. Its blinding white hair moved independent from the wind and twined around its long, pointed, mint colored ears. It was also small, small enough that Billy thought it could comfortably fit into his cupped hands, and wearing some sort of skin tight suit, black with a stripe of silver along its torso. Or what appeared to be its torso, Billy couldn't really tell when its lower body faded into a long tail.

From his perspective, it seemed to be rummaging through where he usually hides his food, showing slivers of its white paws. Did it pass through the barriers he set because it was hungry? 

Billy approached the creature quietly, making sure not to get too close, he wouldn't want to startle it. His efforts were in vain though as the creature snapped its head towards him. It's glowing eyes like headlights, as if staring into Billy’s soul. The green in its eyes swirling hypnotically as the creature bristled at his presence. 

Billy watched, amused but vigilant, as the creature puffed up like a cat. Even going so far as to swat a couple times in his direction. So far, it was quite harmless, but the buzzing in the back of his head that he usually equated to Solomon told him to be careful.

Billy slowly dropped to his knees, mindful of the creature's reaction, and shifted his bag to his front. He shuffled through his bag and brought out the small piece of jerky he was saving for later, sliding it slowly towards the creature.

The creature tilted its head, staring at the jerky suspiciously before taking a few steps to paw at it. It apparently passed its test as it devoured the jerky surprisingly fast for its small size. While it seemed to be starving, thankfully it didn't reflect onto its body. It wasn't gaunt or thin, but actually quite plump. Perhaps it just didn't eat for a day or two? 

Billy took a small step forward, then a few more when he realized the creature was focused on eating. “So,” He began softly, the creature startling as if it was just realizing he was so close. “What are you doing here, little guy?”

It stared at him silently before once again tilting its head. It was cute, Billy realized. The chubby cheeks and button nose paired with big, shiny eyes made it endearing to look at. His expression melted slightly as he took a closer look at the creature.

The creature's ear flicked as it padded up to him, paws on Billy’s knees. It let out an unintelligible sound, layered and harsh to Billy's ear, yet somehow melodious. Billy blinked, not expecting that noise. The creature looked at him almost expectantly, eyes shining brightly.

Billy hesitantly brought his knuckles closer to the creature, feeling its cold nose as it sniffed him. It was clearly unimpressed and trilled for more food. Billy chuckled under his breath as he brought another piece of jerky to the needy creature. It gobbled it up swiftly, looking up at him and once again begging for more, its eyes almost sparkling.

Billy folded under the cuteness overload and retrieved a sandwich from his bag, splitting it in half. He was worried that it would eat more than it could handle if he kept feeding it. He knew very well what that felt like.

The creature blinked at him, once, twice, before giving him a small, pleasant trill and headbutted his fingers. Billy cautiously set his hand over its silky hair? Fur? All he knew was that it felt divine, though not in the godly way. 

“What are you?” Billy asked as he wove his fingers through its hair, genuinely curious on what species the creature was. He had inputted a lot of creatures in his ward but he had no clue what this one was. The tingling at the back of his head spoke otherwise, Solomon knowing very well what it was. He could transform and ask Solomon, since he couldn't really speak to him unless he was Captain Marvel, but that would just scare the creature.

It gave him a look before resuming its lunch, finishing it in record time. Apparently, it deigned him worthy of its presence on his lap as it kneaded his legs then curled up onto them. The purring surprised him, pausing when the creature gave him an impatient look when he halted his ministrations on its hair.

He resumed, of course. Why wouldn't he? It was a nice reprieve from fighting villains as Captain Marvel and watching out for himself when he was on the streets. It was just a quiet moment between him and the strange creature that broke into his home. 

…He hadn't realized how lonely he was before this. 

He had friends, of course. Freddy, Tawky Tawny, and the Justice League. But… this just wasn't the same. As good as a friend Freddy was, he doubted that he would be willing to just sit and enjoy each other's company silently. Freddy was a huge superhero fan and couldn't help but talk about them in excitement. Not to mention his analyses on Billy’s techniques as Captain Marvel.

The Justice League wasn't any better. They had a professional relationship, thinking of him more as a coworker than a friend. The times he tried to deepen their friendship by inviting them out, he was unfortunately turned down. It seemed that they got along better when they were in battle than not.

Billy usually went to Tawky Tawny for advice, but Tawky Tawny never turned down the opportunity to just spend time in the other’s company. Unfortunately, those times were far and few between, usually because Tawky Tawny was traveling or busy with something else. 

With this creature— he’d have to name it eventually, Billy thought absently—all that was expected of him was companionship, nothing more.

Billy felt a cool paw pat his face, the creature looking up at him concerned. His eyes widened before he let out a huff, ruffling its hair. The creature let out a disgruntled chuff and phased through his hands then batted at them, settling down once more on his lap once it was done. 

It hadn't been with him long, all he had done was give it some food, and it was already trying to comfort him. Admittedly, it wasn't the best comfort, it stopped once he focused on it, but it wasn't something he expected from a creature he met not an hour ago.

Billy smiled, eyes soft. Perhaps it could stay, if only for a while.

Whipped this up in a couple hours while trying to get out of my funk 

Thanks for reading!!

Ao3

[forthekeres]

ill finish it but thats it for tonight

[tennessoui]

emerging from a fugue state just in time for wip wednesday

Vokara Che sits down across the desk from him with a pinched expression on her face. “I was under the impression that Master Kenobi called for this appointment, Master Skywalker.”

He did. Or, more precisely, his healing portal account did. Which Anakin accessed and then used to type out a missive in his master’s voice requesting to meet as soon as possible.

“Right, well,” Anakin says, shifting in his seat. “Something came up.”

Che does not look impressed. “Be that as it may,” she says delicately, “I am unable to discuss a patient’s medical history with a third party if the third party is neither present at the time nor has given me direct permission to do so.”

Anakin stares, feeling the first flickerings of real, dangerous fury well up in his gut. “But,” he says carefully. “He’s still sick. He, uh. Told me about it. And then we found a solution. To the problem.”

“The problem,” Che repeats, tilting her head and looking at Anakin as if she’s intent on studying him. 

“The hanahaki,” he spits. It’s a disgusting word. It’s one of the worst words he’s ever learned, and he can’t believe she’s making him say it. He can’t believe she’s being so—so cold when he’s telling her that Obi-Wan is still ill, that Obi-Wan is still dying, that Obi-Wan needs to be here to see her and he’s not. “Look,” he adds, leaning forward in his chair, “a few months ago a series of files were uploaded accidentally to my healing portal, but they were notes from one of Obi-Wan’s appointments. They were your notes from Obi-Wan’s visit. I know you know I know.”

Vokara Che looks at him and then looks down at the datapaad in front of her, lips thinned and lekku twitching. “I must apologize then,” she says, swiping through the files in front of her until she finds something that she lingers on. Her fingers dance across the screen of the datapaad, then it goes dark. “For the breach in ethicacy that you and Master Kenobi both experienced because of the Halls of Healing. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Master Skywalker. All files that were incorrectly uploaded have been deleted from your healing portal.”

Anakin looks at her and bites his cheek hard enough to bleed so that he doesn’t start screaming instead.

[person25]

I saw somebody make fanart of Obi-Wan with a second padawan, it was an oc and their art was beautiful, but it got me thinking about the angst potential from Anakin’s perspective.

I mean, we all know anakin is one possessive bastard. How could Obi-Wan call someone else his padawan? That title is reserved for Anakin, right? Not anymore.

At least Anakin will always be Obi-wans favorite, right?…Until he hears Obi-Wan tell this new padawan they’re such a good listener, actually pay attention unlike his old padawan.

Let the self-doubt set in.

I mean, Obi-Wan hadn’t chosen Anakin, he was just kind of dumped on him. Obi-Wan chose this new padawan of his. How is Anakin supposed to live with that?

And if Anakin starts to distance himself from Obi-Wan, well…who else is to blame?

[loreandletters]

WarTrophy!Sokka snippet...

tysm! 12yr lore would have loved to read this lmao and yeah, Zuko def deserved that hit, what was he thinking saying all that? (also apologies if i didn't reblog this right? haven't been on tumblr that long)

Speaking of snippets, I have been finding all these little scenes littered through out my old docs. (i feel like an archaeologist rn) I didn't think about posting it until I read ur tags lol thanks for the idea!

Warning, some of the writing had a few months in between (I think this was around the time I got super sick) so there'll be difference in quality. lol I'm really enjoying all this tbh, very nostalgic for me :)

(fic in question)(this comes right off the 2nd chapter lol)

-

Sokka woke up in pain and decided that it was a good enough excuse to start brooding up a storm.

A traitor. Him? Was their defeat so inconceivable that Zuko had gotten amnesia? (totally possible by the way, Zuko was dramatic enough for it) It’s not like Sokka hadn’t spent, oh, nearly ten years trying to prove otherwise. Honestly, aside from the color of his eyes, what about him screamed Water Tribe? 

Sokka couldn’t stand the cold. He loved the smell of a fresh fire, and yeah he complained, but sometimes he was more faithful to Agni’s rites than Zuko was. When the chill came at night, he made sure to wear double layers, and when they re-entered warmer waters, he breathed a sigh of relief. He can’t remember a time when he didn’t like spicy food, he embraced their festivals (even the one that celebrated the fall of the Airbenders), and wearing anything other than red felt wrong. To put it simply: everything about Sokka was Fire Nation, down to the lingo, down to the bone. Just not the eyes.

And his family? His parents were a faded memory. Yes, he hadn’t wanted to leave (what did they expect, raids and children didn’t exactly mix well!), but obviously that wasn’t still true. He had plenty of chances to run back ‘home,’ but he never did. 

The more he thought about it the angrier he got.

He’d followed his prince in his banishment, sworn fealty to the royal family, and accepted all the burdens that came with it. If he were born with golden eyes, people would be envious of him. No one would even think to call him a dog or a savage - he would just be Sokka. Not even that! His name would be different, less strange and so obviously foreign.

Damn you, Lady Ursa. Lu Ten. Sokka thought viciously, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. If only you had just let me die back then.

That had to be easier, right? His heart was burning with the anger, but underneath it bubbled a sickening kind of grief. His chest hurt, like a knife twisting round and round and round. Almost ten years of loyalty, and what did he get but Zuko screaming all of his insecurities to his face?

Azula was right. Sokka was way too stubborn for his own good. Even now, he didn’t know if he was more upset with the prince or the fact Zuko might just kick him off the crew all together. Where would he even go? Sokka didn’t want to leave - he wanted another chance. He wanted to see Zuko home like he swore. (he wanted to go home too. The Fire Nation may have taken from him, but it had given him so much more in return)

Sokka scrubbed at his face, drawing deep, steading breaths so as to try and kill the sob building in his chest. Zuko was so lucky, he was so fuckin’ lucky that Sokka loved him this much. He was lucky that his mom had saved Sokka, ripped his chest open and tricked him into caring for her kids. And that Lu Ten had instilled such a deep love for the Fire Nation, that Sokka never even thought twice about returning ‘home.’ war

If they hadn’t, then Sokka would have left Caldera the night Ursa died and never looked back.

[lazaruspiss]

the whole concept of an unreliable narrator is kinda funny to me bc like. any and all character narrators should carry with them a sense of perspective and bias. bc that's just how all people work. like ik an unreliable narrator is meant to refer to other more specific stuff but also. when was the last time u read a story where the narrator only gave u Whole Objective Truths. if the narrator is a character participating in/influenced by the story, then it /should/ show in how they narrate and perceive things. like i approach almost all stories (both when reading + writing) with the understanding that the events' portrayals are influenced by the characters' thoughts and feelings.

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @honeybee-taskforce and @whatsintheboxmh!

I have too many wips right now I keep bouncing back and forth and not giving any of them the actual focus they deserve but here's some sexual dysfunction from the 3x11 missing moment.

-

Carlos blinks up at the ceiling. His eyes sting.

“Babe?” TK asks, voice suddenly tentative as he picks up on the shift in energy that hangs in the room like a storm cloud over them.

“Gotta pee,” Carlos says, pushing the damp sheet away and getting up. He feels somehow more naked than usual as he walks around the edge of the bed and feels TK’s eyes on him, shutting himself in the bathroom and avoiding his own reflection in the mirror.

It wasn’t a lie, he’s surprised he lasted this long already, and he keeps his eyes closed and tries to breathe as he solves that problem. He rinses his hands with a near-painful churning in his gut, and wonders how long he can hide in the bathroom until TK figures out he’s doing more than using the toilet. Carlos splashes water onto his face and rubs wet hands over his hair, trying in vain to tame some of the wilder curls that sprung out at odd angles while he slept.

When he’s procrastinated as much as he can, he slides the door slowly open, and shouldn’t be as surprised as he is to see TK waiting patiently just on the other side of it. He’s halfway dressed – in boxers and a t-shirt – and Carlos tries not to let his anxious imagination derive more meaning from TK covering himself than TK intended. He tries, but it doesn’t work.

“Hey,” TK says softly, with a small, empathetic smile, like he already knows. He knows Carlos’s disgrace, can scan him like an X-ray machine.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos mumbles, unable to look TK in the eye as he burns in shame. “Are you okay?”

“What?” TK asks, head tilting in confusion that takes Carlos by surprise. He’d assumed he was made of cellophane and that TK could see right through him. “What are you sorry for?”

Carlos just shakes his head. TK steps in closer to him, backing him up against the sink. He grips TK’s hips in his hands but feels like even that comfort, he shouldn’t be allowed. He hasn’t earned it, and he’s stolen enough from TK already this morning. He’s supposed to protect this man, love him and take care of him, and instead …

“Carlos,” TK insists.

Sniffing and wishing he could draw his limbs into a hard outer shell like a turtle so he could hide from the world, Carlos admits, “I feel like … I used you.”

TK doesn’t respond for a moment. Carlos keeps his eyes laser focused on a spot on TK’s sternum where his delicate smattering of chest hair is soft and wispy. Eventually, TK asks, “Used what? What are you talking about?”

Carlos closes his eyes.

“Hey.”

“You’re gonna be sore later, and it’s my fault.” And it didn’t help, either. That part, Carlos is too ashamed of to even say aloud. He tore into TK hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that it might release some of the lingering tension and anger and heartache that’s swirling inside of him, but it’s all still there. In the end it was nothing but selfishness, and it didn’t make him feel any better.

“No,” TK says, his tone suddenly sharp. “No, you’re not allowed to think that. Take it back.”

“TK.”

“I mean it!” he snaps, jostling Carlos with his grip on Carlos’s cheeks. “I know you’re upset, I’m so sorry you’re upset, but I won’t let you do that. You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t do anything I didn’t want, you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want. We both know that. I trust you, you’re not allowed to decide that I shouldn’t. I won’t let you do that to us.”

Carlos just mumbles his name again, wanting so badly to believe him but not sure he deserves this absolution.

“Take it back,” TK demands again, fierce and adamant. “I’m fine. More than fine, I feel great. We both like it rough sometimes, I know you know that.”

“It’s not the same,” Carlos mutters.

“The same as what?” TK questions, and when Carlos doesn’t answer, he says, “The only thing that’s wrong with me right now is that the man I love is hurting.”

His forehead bumps into Carlos’s when Carlos can’t bring himself to look at him. His thumbs stroke slowly along Carlos’s cheeks, and Carlos wants to melt into his soothing embrace exactly as much as he wants to push TK away from him and reject the comfort and forgiveness he’s so graciously offering.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@tailoredshirt @goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @chaotictarlos @lemonlyman-dotcom

@inkweedandlizards @bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @fallout-mars

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @fitzherbertssmolder @safeashousespdf @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh

@captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[danmeichael]

i really love when you're reading something from sqq's perspective and you can see exactly why every man he meets is the way that they are, and then the perspective switches to one of the poor helpless saps who has been wifebeamed and you realize all of these men are actually incredibly well-adjusted and normal because no matter how much of an alluring vixen sqq seems to be from his perspective, he is always somehow sluttier in actuality.

[circledwithaheart]

AND your actor AU ofc!! I miss those divas

🎥🎥🎥🎥

@diazsdimples You want divas? Here's 26 12 sentences of Buck being so, so normal about Eddie 😘

Eddie’s easily going to be named to one of those ‘Sexiest actors over fifty’ when he’s older. When he’ll undoubtedly have streaks of grey woven through his dark hair, probably salt and pepper stubble, subtle lines around his eyes and mouth, detailing a life well lived.  “Buck,” Eddie repeats, annunciating the k. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  He’s got a smartass remark on the tip of his tongue when he notices Eddie glancing down at their hands, still clasped together. Buck pulls away like he’s been caught raiding the cookie jar. Eddie isn’t quite as dramatic about it, but he tucks both hands in his pockets. Probably to serve as a reminder that they’re co-stars and Buck shouldn’t bother trying to get too close.  Yeah, well, no worries there. Buck has plenty to keep him busy. But if his bed is empty, and his thoughts are too loud, he knows exactly where to go to fix that. “Why don’t you come with me, Eddie? I’ll show you around a little more, get you settled in before we get started today.” Bobby lightly touches Eddie’s shoulder, directing him away from Buck.  Finally. Eddie can go be teacher’s pet and Buck can go back to a world where they aren’t working together. He turns his head to voice his opinion to Hen or Chim, only to realize they aren’t there anymore. They’re probably busy with Athena or Josh, discussing the finer details of what’s needed as production ramps up. He’ll have to catch up with them later.  A noise catches his attention, making him look in the direction of Bobby and Eddie, exiting towards the offices. Before he steps through, Eddie glances back, giving Buck that half smile again when he notices. It’s not like before, warm and welcoming. This time it’s more smug, one more indicator that Eddie’s trampling in Buck’s territory, and not likely leaving anytime soon. Buck quickly fishes his phone from his pocket and pretends to be interested in something on the screen. He hopes with every cell in his body that Diaz hits his stupidly gorgeous face on the door frame.

obligatory @daffi-990 tag 🫶

[third-time-charmed]

Aven's secretary takes Alicia out shopping. 🫖🍵

Also there's supposed to be a gala in this chapter, but it's…. gonna get bumped to the next one. This is already at ~5k words why do they keep talkinggggggg…..

[atsadi-shenanigans]

WIP Wednesday

Got tagged by @khywren (thank youuuu!)

Astarion is a gremlin. Shocker.

Tagging @lyzelky @shewhowas39 @olivedrop @pickel182 @litlunacy @sasseffects

[lizpaige]

2025 WIPs

tysm for the tag, @magicienetreveur! 💕

I have tooooooo many ideas so here are some of them I'm thinking about for this year, but have not written all of them. Feel free to DM me or drop an ask if you wanna collab or wanna talk through one! I'm color coding so in progress, not started, no promises / not even an outline.

Here are the fics I'm planning so far this year. :

fare well The Adam has a breakdown post gw fic, the Adam decides he will leave Harvard fic, the Adam needs to get his act together fic, the Adam has trauma and we're not going to erase it like TDT did fic. Anyway, hoping to finish this! I have the rest of it outlined, but haven't had a lot of irl time to write lately.

Pynch fire drill meet cute Tattoo artist!Ronan and Doctor!Adam live in the same apartment and they meet outside the building during a fire alarm. Ronan's got Chainsaw the cat (not friendly) and Opal the dog (very friendly), who basically help Ronan get this guy's number.

Pynch Hitman Meet Ugly / Choose your own adventure poll ficRemember I made a poll to write a fic during the holidays? Welp, I didn't write anything. BUT I have ideas and yall filled out the polls so I will get to it.

Demon!Adam has fun with the Lynch fam Working on this with @mychemicalrachel we've outlined some of this but I for one have not revisited it since then.

Sitcom-esque Friends/New Girl-ish AU Blue moves in with Gansey, Noah, and Ronan. Adam is in a dumb relationship and eventually has a breakup, maybe lives somewhere else or down the hall, Ronan's been pining forever, etc. Gansey and Blue getting together but a canon reminiscent Blue/Noah kiss first. idk I've got ideas, but they could all change or not happen.

Personal Assistant!Adam AU I've posted about this idea before. Basically Adam is Jordeclan's PA and starts a toxic secret relationship with Ronan, who just got out of rehab or something.

Tagging @clotpolesonly @iammistressofmyfate @mychemicalrachel @audikatia @cabeswatercowboy @nibblette @miseria-fortes-viros if you are working on anything (fic or art!!) and want to share and haven't already been tagged!

[simplegenius042]

Last Line/s, OC Question and Pinterest Tag Games

Tagged by @cassietrn @cloudofbutterflies92 and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @g0dspeeed @josephslittledeputy @derelictheretic @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @red-nightskies @purplehairsecretlair @carlosoliveiraa @softtidesworld @shallow-gravy @icecutioner @imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @starsandskies @ladyoriza @wrathfulrook @florbelles @skoll-sun-eater @sleepyconfusedpotato @rhettsabbott @afarcryfrommymain @titiagls @voidika @la-grosse-patate @minilev and @thewanderer-000 + anyone else who wants to join.

Given how short this post would be if I just did one each, I decided to do three series for each one. You can find the Last Line/s, answers to the question and pinterest stuff below the cut!

Last Line/s for my original The UnTitledverse WIP A Blast In The Past, my FC5 The Silver Chronicles WIP called Strawberries and lastly my The Invitation WIP from Life, Despair & Monsters called An Invite To Wine And Dine below:

THE UNTITLEDVERSE It is too much for you to handle; the entourage of meaningless yet familiar images assaulting your mind, the thin air in the room threatening to suffocate you, the stress from drowning in the darkness again. And so, my old pal, you collapse.

THE SILVER CHRONICLES Her kiss was messy but swift, unfairly so, and from what he could capture, Nadi's lips had been firm, lacking action and experience, but hungry and desperate all the same. John felt lightheaded in his shock, his palms sweating and his pulse beating faster, his breath lost as he stared at the blonde; her blushed face, the hidden dimples and the surprise forming on her face, even when she was the one to kiss him.

LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS

Evie smiled, but this time it wasn't a kind smile, nor was it a polite smile. Her eyes seemed to darken, the brown that could be seen lost in this supernatural transition. "In truth," she repeated, eyes staring hungrily at her cousin from the other side of the dining table, her audience captivated by her unprecedented display, "I'm here for a change in this family business' management."

Now for the OC Question: How would you describe your character but in a metaphorical way? What feeling, thought, smell, imagery, etc comes to mind when you think of them? Everything from the good to the bad, what are they?

THE UNTITLEDVERSE Lisa Cobalt: Lisa is like a common storm; a persistent chaotic force that pushes others forwards but also away, coming in unannounced and always when you're unprepared, a rapid swing between a gentle harmless drizzle to a raging fit no fault of her own. She is also a form of melancholic pessimism, a frenzy of unreliable and invasive thoughts that make you doubt every decision you make but are ultimately empty. Lisa is the smell of vinegar; sharp and stings your nose, but a reliable repellent against the rust and grime and unclean. Lisa is the feeling of self-doubt and exhaustion that wants you to give up, but at the same time, a drive to know that things aren't done yet, and you have to keep going.

THE SILVER CHRONCILES Silva Omar: Silva is a fire. A fire that never ceases to burn. An unstoppable force that returns every time. A fiery of flames, a dangerous element that is capable of destroying everything around her, an ire to be weary of, and if she so wished, she could engulf the world too. But though a risk her presence can be, she is also a light of safety, a shield of protection, and a source of warmth. An undying existence; one you can stomp out, let sizzle and die, pinch close, put out, but never end, as just like fire, and the right components, she'll reignite. She is a passion; for creativity, curiosity, love, life, the mundane even. She is the determination to keep going, to find the happiness, the peace, the fulfillment in a good ending she deserves. She is the summer and spring, an appreciation for the past but also grounded in the present and looking forward to the new beginning.

AN OLD BALLARD OF CHANCE AND EMBER HEARTS TRILOGY (ORIGINAL WORKS) Discord, the Mad Kin of Carnage: Discord is a slow and yet abrupt end. A decay in nature, the rust on metal, the ash from embers and the end of the material plane. He is the unspoken inevitability of death, destruction and decay. He is the desert that buries pharaohs' tombs, the sea that sunk cities of the past, and the breakdown of societies and empires. Inexplicable chance, unexplained phenomenon. His beating heart like the bells that toll. But he is also the absence of beginning, a disruption of the cycle that begins anew. He is the extinction of life, unfair and cruel, an obstacle of preservation, of progress, of choice and of life. Needless and necessary, constant and brief, an end with no beginning and a breeze that refuses to rest. Discord knows what he is, knows what he does, isn't ashamed of his nature. And that's enough for him.

Pinterest Tag game for OCs from The Silver Chronicles, Life, Despair & Monsters and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. rules: search ‘your name + core’ on pinterest and post the first 6 pictures.

PAUL YELLOWJACK (THE SILVER CHRONICLES)

[NOTE: I'm not happy with my Pinterest]

SIR ENIGMA MALVOLIO (LIFE, DESPAIR & MONSTERS)

[NOTE: Bottom right image is how I feel about my useless Pinterest]

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP (A RADIOACTIVE CALAMITY OF LOVE, BOMBS & GORE)

[NOTE: My disappointment in my Pinterest is immeasurable]

[encrucijada]

me and the absolute confidence that i could write the entirety of perséfone before glory by bastille finishes playing

[mthollowell-writes]

9 Lines, 9 People Tag

Thanks so much to @axl-ul for the tag! You can find their lovely post here!

Gently Tagging: @aromanticsky, @notwritinganyflufftoday, @bloodmoodtrash, @transman-badass, @rachaellawrites, @catalystcorvid, @diabolical-blue, @adorhauer, and @trixierosewrites

Below will likely be the new beginning of my Festival WIP. It's the first Recollection of an unknown narrator.

I should’ve known better.

It’s such an easy thing to think in hindsight. To think that if I went back and made different decisions—right decisions—I wouldn’t be where I am.

But it’s never as simple as that. Even taking into account the electric buzz humming beneath my skin, and the warmth and glow of the bar lights all around me, I knew it would end here. That’s what he was trying to tell me: that my fate was inevitable, preordained. There was nothing I could do to change it.

I knew, even though I was too stubborn to see. What he told me was an echo of what I’ve been told all my life.