#Weekly Writing Shit

[m0e-ru]

i cant believe p4g came out and every single one of you forgot about adachis sister

[darlingofdots]

Just to be clear, no you don't need a formal education in creative writing, yes a formal education in creative writing will probably make you a better writer. I have a bachelor's degree in creative writing and then went into a straightforward literary and cultural studies MA program, and am now working on a very literary studies PhD with no creative elements, and do you know what the first point of feedback is that I get on my academic writing? Wow, you write so well. This is so fun to read. My writing from before and after undergrad is vastly, vastly different. And it's not because my teachers told me how to write but because for three years, all I did was write and think about writing and talk about writing with my peers and read their writing and exchange feedback about our writing and justifying the choices I made in my writing and...!

You learn a tremendous amount about writing (what works, what doesn't work, what your style is, how to achieve certain effects, how to communicate effectively) from and with other people, and a formal course of some sort will facilitate that exchange in a much more guided and productive manner than you are likely to get if you're just chugging along by yourself. That doesn't mean that you should or need to pay a bunch of money and invest years of your life into a degree programme, it just means that if you really want to improve your craft, you need to figure out how to access this kind of productive environment yourself. It could be an informal writing group at the library, it can be your fandom friends, whatever, but you do need to be deliberate and strategic about it. Creative writing also requires creative and critical reading: start a book club with your friends and specifically talk about how the book is constructed, what you can take from it for your own work. Read some literary theory. Read literary criticism. Write a poem and then explain how and why you wrote it. Practice how to give and receive feedback that helps the writer achieve their goals. Put the work in.

That's what my creative writing degree did for me: it taught me the components of the craft, and then it made me put the work in.

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

I often complain about tv shows taking too long between seasons because more often than not, the wait doesn't seem to make a difference in quality. bridgerton or stranger things taking 2 years to make doesn't really reflect in the writing to me. I'm often left feeling like, "you took two years to write THIS?" the wait time sometimes even feels intentionally inflated for the sake of spectacle. it's just another thing that's there to create Event Television. which is why severance is genuinely such an outlier in every possible way. here is a show that took 3 years to release a new season and it's an absolute masterpiece. it's genuinely intentional and thought provoking and breathtakingly beautiful. they release it weekly because it serves the story better not because they want to make sure to keep subscribers for longer. this is the kind of shit I would be willing to wait 3 years for because it's so intricate and layered that I can just go back and rewatch and I'll find new and more interesting meanings every time. and you can tell it's so genuinely made. you can tell the people making it didn't make Prestige Television for the sake of making it. they love these characters and it SHOWS

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Week 14 - Blind Cross (Ft. Crossmare)

Creators: me :)

word count: 2675

notes: This is an unfinished thing I wrote a looong time ago when I stumbled across “Paul and Matthew” a married couple in which Paul is blind and Matthew is not, but they’re also very sweet and adorable.

And so all of a sudden something inside me went “CROSSMARE” and thus here we are.

Also, I am not blind and very luckily able bodied so please let me know if there are any corrections that need to be made :)

———————

“Are you making coffee?”

“Mhmm.”

Nightmare walked into the kitchen where he found his husband by the coffee maker.

“Wait Night.” Cross said suddenly.

“What?” Nightmare asked, looking at his partner, slightly confused and concerned.

There was a moment of silence, before Cross closed the lid on the pod of coffee grounds and it let out a satisfying “pop”.

“I love that sound.” Cross muttered, pressing a button on the coffee maker to get his coffee started.

“You’re silly.” Nightmare laughed as he grabbed another mug from the cabinet.

“Isn’t it a nice sound!” Cross laughed with the other as he grabbed his coffee mug as the coffee machine finished its job.

“It is.“ Nightmare smiled, walking over to his partner.

“Uhg! And it smells so good.” Cross said, holding the cup up to his nose.

“Does it?” Nightmare asked, half seriously.

Cross let out a little “mhmm” as Nightmare spoke again. “Could I smell?”

“Mhmm yeah.” Cross held out the mug to Nightmare, the other in turn taking it from his partner and sniffing it.

“Oh that does smell good.” Nightmare agreed.

“Right? Do you want me to make you one?” Cross asked, holding his hand out again.

“No I’m good though thanks.” Nightmare walked out, taking a sip of the coffee and putting the empty mug he got before in Cross’s hand.

Cross shrugged, turning back to the machine and going to take a sip out of the cup when-

“Nightmare!” Cross laughed as he went to where he heard Nightmare walk off to.

His partner turned back around to Cross, catching the smaller in his chest and wrapping his arms around him, holding back his laugh as he had a mouthful of coffee.

“You little- give me back my coffee!” Cross laughed, putting his hands on Nightmares shoulders and feeling down his arms to find the tallers hand.

Nightmare swallowed the coffee in his mouth and laughed, taking ahold of one of his lovers hand and placing the mug gently in his grasp.

“You asshole.” Cross continued to laugh, taking a sip of the coffee.

Nightmare smiled, giving Cross a kiss on the top of his head. “Remember we’re going to meet the others for lunch later.”

“Yup.” Cross nodded, walking back to the kitchen.

“Hun watch out you forgot to-“

“OW!”

“…Close the cupboard.” Nightmare chuckled silently to himself, walking over to his partner and putting a hand on his back and on the hand that was holding the coffee mug.

“It’s my curse I swear.” Cross mumbled, using Nightmare to help him get up.

“You need to remember to close them.” Nightmare joked helping Cross up and his tendril close the cupboard door.

“It’s hard! I’m like a child, I don’t have good object permanence. I don’t see it, I don’t feel it, I assume it’s out of my way and I forget to close it.” Cross exclaimed, setting the mug down.

“Being mostly blind and having ADHD is not a good combination.” Nightmare muttered, half joking.

“I don’t have ADHD.” Cross shook his head, grabbing the empty mug Nightmare handed him earlier.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Nightmare, again, joked before getting knocked on the head by Cross

“You’re way to accurate with that.” Nightmare eyed the smaller.

“You’re an entire black being against the white tabletop.” Cross rolled his eyes.

“What!? You’re telling me you can see me!?” Nightmare joked in an overly dramatic voice, before laughing as Cross threw a hand towel at him.

“Oh shut up.” Cross spoke unamused, but a smile still found its way onto his face.

Nightmare chuckled to himself, starting on breakfast. “You want me to make you anything for desayuno?”

“Tortilla francesa por favor mi amor.” Cross answered, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What d’ya want in yours?” Nightmare asked, going into the fridge and pulling out eggs.

“Pimiento, tomate, queso, y jamón por favor.”

“Could you start washing the veggies and I can cut them when you’re done?” Nightmare asked, pulling out a red pepper, a tomato, cheese, and bacon.

“Sí.”

“Gracias, mi amor.” Nightmare smiled handing Cross the veggies he took out of the fridge.

“Is Spanish your first language?” Nightmare asked as he prepared their omelettes.

“Sí.” Cross repeated, turning on the tap and rinsing the veggies he was given.

“Ah, I see.” Nightmare nodded.

“¿Y tú?” Cross asked, putting the veggies aside and drying his hands.

“I know all languages. I haunt nightmares everywhere, not just in Spanish and English speaking places.” Nightmare explained.

“Ahh, ya veo.” Cross nodded, coming up beside Nightmare and places the veggies down next to him.

“Gracias, mi amor. De nuevo.” Nightmare laughed, taking the veggies and started dicing them.

The rest of breakfast was filled with light banter, quizzing Nightmare in his language, soft sizzles of omelettes being made, enjoying of said omelettes, and cleaning up the dishes.

——————

“Bonjour.”

“Hello in French.”

“Nǐ hǎo.”

“Hello in Chinese.”

“Nyob zoo.”

“Hello in Hmong.”

“привет”

“Hello in Russian- do you only know “Hello” in other languages?” Nightmare laughed, cleaning the counter they ate on as Cross washed the dishes.

“Alright, riddle me this, riddler. Itadakimasu!” Cross exclaimed at the other.

“That means you’re a weeb!” Nightmare laughed.

“I am not! I’ve been to Japan and-“

“You have absolutely not ever been to Japan, I know that for a fact.” Nightmare quickly cut off the other.

“I have to been to Japan- I am actually Japanese-“

“You are not Japanese.” Nightmare came up behind Cross wrapped his arms around the smaller, nibbling at his neck.

“AHHA! Stop Nightmare that-“ Cross giggled and squealed, trying to push the other away from his neck.

“You are not from Japan, I know that for a fact.” Nightmare leaned against Cross’s head, hugging the other tighter.

“Alright whatever now let me go before I drop a plate.” Cross tried to push the other off.

“Hmmm….. no.” Nightmare squeezed his partner tighter.

“Nightmare let me go!” Cross laughed, splashing water at the other.

Nightmare hissed and immediately let Cross go, hiding behind him instead.

Cross laughed at the reaction. “You’re adorable.”

“Fight me.” Nightmare hissed at the other before hiding away as more water came flying his way. “You’re cleaning that up!”

“Sure.” Cross spoke simply, going back to rinsing the dishes.

Nightmare stood back up seeing as their little quarrel ended and kissed Cross lightly on the back of his neck before walking out of the kitchen.

“Get ready soon, we’ll go run errands before we leave to lunch. We’re out of eggs.” He spoke before disappearing behind a wall.

“Okay.” Was all that Cross replied with.

After getting dressed, the two headed out,

——————————

Cross sighed, running his hand across the cover, feeling the old cracked plastic. Holding his breath as he felt the pages as he brushed through them, before opening up to a random page and taking a deep breath in, taking in its scent.

He used to not really enjoy reading. It was long and boring and he felt it just wasted time. But after meeting Nightmare, it became one of his favorite things to do with the other.

Whether they were reading together, separate books but in the same room, reading in their own time and discussed it in bed at night, or whatever else. He loved whenever they could forget about everything for a moment and discuss this fantasy world for a little while.

But now…. He couldn’t read. He couldn’t see the words clearly. He could barely make out the cover sometimes. This was the only thing he could do to feel anything from a book anymore. He couldn’t read the story, but he could remember that feeling it gave him through the scent memory trigger.

Fortunately though, Nightmare was always happy to read to the other. Anytime he wanted. There wasn’t much he could do to help Cross sometimes, but reading was something that always calmed the other down.

Because sometimes, for those few moments, they could forget about everything and live this fantasy world for a little while. Pretend everything was like back then. And everything was okay. Everything was like before. Everything wasn’t…… like how it is now.

Don’t get them wrong, they still love these days. It isn’t some horrible existence they live. It’s just….. there’s this looming fear of the day Cross will be….. his sight will be fully gone.

So for this little while, it could just be the two of them. Reading together by soft lamp light. With nothing else in the world to bother them or plague their thoughts.

“Anne evidently got through her visit without any serious breach of “etiquette” for she came home through the twilight, under a great, high-spring sky glories over with trials of saffron and rosy cloud, in a beatified state of mind and told Marilla all about it happily-“

Nightmare continued to read, Cross leaning and snuggling against him.

It was……. Nice. It was peaceful. It was warm. It was home.

He felt safe and at home here. Here with his partner, snuggled together reading one of his favorite childhood books.

It was everything.

“Do you ever worry about me when I go out alone?” Cross said softly yet suddenly.

If it had caught Nightmare off guard, he didn’t show it. “You know I trust you. You know I know you’re very capable and strong, even without your sight. I have no doubt back then you could’ve fought an army of armed professionals with your eyes closed. Now, I know you could desecrate a mob of magic and weapon wielding guardians with your eyes closed. And your arms tied behind your back. I have no doubt you could protect yourself outside of my view.”

“Is that really how you feel Night?” Cross asked in a quiet voice. “Or is that how you want to feel?”

Nightmares' instinct made him want to say “of course it’s how I feel.” But he had to be truthful. He thought about it for a moment, and left his partner in a still silence.

“I know you’re strong and capable and can hold your own, but to say I don’t worry about you when you’re not near is a lie.” Nightmare said finally. “It’s not that I don’t think any less of you now than before, but…. I just can’t help but worry.”

Cross nodded solemnly, leaning against Nightmare's arm, closing his eyes. “I feel like that too sometimes.”

Nightmare turned to Cross in confusion and hope for further explanation.

“I trust you and I love you. But sometimes I….. I worry that….. I don’t know…. What if you walk through that door for the last time….. and I never find you again.” He hugged the other's arm tightly.

“What if-“

“Shhh, it’s okay love.” Cross felt a hand cup his cheek, and a soft kiss be planted on his head.

“I’m sorry it’s just-“

“It’s alright love.” Nightmare brought him closer to him, wrapping his arm around the other. “I understand, I feel the same whenever you leave. I can’t help but worry and so it seems so do you.”

“Instead of telling you I won’t leave, let me show you.” Nightmare leaned against Cross as he nuzzled into the crook of Nightmares neck. “Let me stay by your side for however long you live this life, and forever more after that.”

“I’m scared, what if when I’m older, and I can’t see anything, what if I forget what you look like? What if I forget the sight of your smile? That look in your eye? What’s going to happen when I can’t see you?”

“You’ll feel me with you with every coming year, and hear my voice every step of the way.” Nightmare's voice was reassuring and comforting in every way. Forget the satisfying coffee maker noises, nothing will ever stand up to hearing the love of his life tell him everything he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Shhh it’s alright love, it’s alright.” Nightmare continued to whisper to him as Cross dug his face further into Nightmare's chest.

They stayed there for a while, before they calmed down and started reading again. It was the perfect thing Cross needed to calm down right now.

“”I don’t know —— I don’t want to talk as much,” she said, denting her chin thoughtfully with her forefinger. “It’s nicer to think-“ Huh??”

Cross raised a brow as he heard Nightmare's reading was interrupted by something.

“Cross, love, did you or anyone you know ever make you a bookmark that says, “Don’t worry, owl keep your spot!” With a purple and brown owl holding two balloons. One red, the other blue. And it’s colored in…. Either colored pencil or crayon. The words all brown while the word “owl” is in purple?” Nightmare inquired, touching the bookmark to Cross’ hand.

“Hmm…. Maybe…?” Cross pondered, feeling the bookmark, but not getting much from it.

“It is laminated which makes me curious.” Nightmare added.

“I might have made it with Ink or something when I was still stuck in my old world.” Cross added, sitting up more.

“That would make sense.” Nightmare nodded.

“It does sound really cute.” Cross smiled, gesturing to hand the bookmark back to Nightmare. “I used to love birds.”

“Really?” Nightmare question, half amused, taking the bookmark back.

“I still do.” Cross added. “Sometimes I think about getting a service bird. Like an owl or hawk or vulture or something.”

“I feel like I know where this conversation is going.” Nightmare muttered quietly to himself, knowing fully well Cross could hear him.

“We should get a dog.” Cross said in response.

“We’ve talked about this before.” Nightmare replied simply, turning the page.

“A service dog would be really helpful for me to get around and so you don’t worry about me going out alone every time.” Cross pointed out, leaning against Nightmare, staring ahead of him.

“Do you need a dog or do you want a dog?”

Cross snapped his head to Nightmare, dramatically leaning away from him, his mouths agape. “Wooooooooooooow-“

“Oh shut up Cross.” Nightmare laughed, pushing Cross away.

“-Did you really just say that to me?” Cross leaned closer to Nightmare, holding back laughter.

“You don’t need one Cross.” Nightmare shook his head, putting the book between his partner and himself.

“Me, a blind, disabled-“ Cross was fully laughing at this point.

“Shut up Cross I would never say that to anyone else I don’t know-“

“I can’t believe you looked me in the eyes-“

“I’ve known you for years- even before you were blind in both eyes- I’m married to you Cross.”

“In my blind ass eyes.”

“I would’ve never said that to someone I didn’t know.”

“-Said as an able bodied person that I don’t need-“

“Cross I am fully blind in my right eye-“

“As an entirely able bodied-“

“You don’t need a dog, you just want a dog.”

At this point they were both crying laughing at the conversation they were having. It was all basically a joke at this point.

They’ve had this debate before multiple times, the monochromatic skeleton indeed just wanting a dog. And Nightmare having to contain the smaller.

“You’re using your disability to your advantage!” Nightmare laughed, pulling out a pillow from behind them and hitting Cross.

“Yeah obviously. What else do you expect me to do with it?” Cross laughed, holding his hand out to block Nightmare, grabbing his own pillow from behind him and attacking Nightmare back.

Nightmare laughed, holding up his pillow to block Cross, using his tendrils to hit Cross again.

“No fair cheater.” Cross laughed as one tendril held him still, another tickled him, and the other two hit him continuously (but rest assured lightly)with pillows.

“Yeah obviously. What else do you expect me to do- Ah!” Nightmare laughed, quoting Cross before getting hit by said skeleton.

Cross swung around and hit away the tentacles attacking him.

“Love, be careful, don't fall off the bed!” One of his tendrils grabbed his arm and tugged him down.

[afraidofchange]

my hobbies lately have been... gym, reading, tending my houseplants, and sometimes gaming... I want to write but I gotta get a better dosage of ADHD meds for that i fear.

[sapphire-imeo]

[intotheelliwoods]

Little Sprout: what happened with big us?

Current Sprout: ................ *INCOHERENT SOBBING-*

yeahh- *sniffles*

[evienyx]

So if I understand this correctly, you're not only working on two fics that update weekly but also rewriting fractures at the same time ??? How

I'm surprisingly good with deadlines. I do better when there's pressure. That's why the Fractures Rewrite is also getting a lot of attention right now; I've got finals coming up this month and should be working on those instead.

To be fair, for the two that are updating actively, I only do editing work for them now on their respective days. The chapters themselves are already written. So in actuality, what I'm working on right now is Fractures Book 2, Broken Mirrors and Fragile Things, and the Fractures Rewrite.

Fractures Book 2 will start updating weekly on Friday once So Goes the Moon is finished (after probably a week or two break), and Broken Mirrors and Fragile Things will start updating weekly on Sunday once Eventide is finished (once more after probably a week or two break).

[carpetbug]

i need someone to occasionally hit me in the face with a tennis racquet with a paper stuck to it that says “you can write fan fic about literally anything you want there’s literally no rules” because i forget and start going “oh nooooo the rulesss 😞” like a little bitch

[airenyah]

Hey so do you know where I could find this acting manifesto of yours?

I usually try and avoid publicly expressing my opinion on things like this but I recently saw some people commenting negatively on his acting again and I’m starting to doubt my own judgement.

I’ve truly never had a huge problem with his acting but I keep seeing people using really harsh words to describe his prior and current work. I genuinely think he’s doing a good job in THK but these comments sometimes make me think I’m missing something.

That conflicts with the fact I know at least three people he worked with on THK specifically had positive things to say about his acting too and I trust people who do this for a living to know what they’re talking about for the most part.

I guess I’m just looking for your post to have a more detailed perspective of the opposite viewpoint to “he’s a terrible actor” to help affirm some of my thinking so I’m more confident in my positive opinion of his acting.

Overall though I’m enjoying everyone in this show but for me I’m specifically enjoying the four mains the most. Kudos to them honestly.

(Disclaimer: Obviously everyone is entitled to their opinion but the harshness of some of the opinions took me off guard a little.)

fuck these people. they don't know shit.

(mind you. this manifesto was written based on his performance in just star in my mind and hidden agenda. his 2024 shows weren't even out at that point. in fact, thk hadn't even been publicly announced yet. you can see from the start there is talent in this boy if you actually know what to look out for)

bonus: i rant some more in the last reblog

[pastafossa]

How do you get past writer's block? I have a fic that I'm working on that is updating on a schedule, and I made the mistake of giving myself a month off in between parts and now I can't really get back into writing it. I don't want to leave it abandoned because I have a few people who I know are really invested and I don't want to leave them hanging, but I'm having a hard time getting as excited to write it as I did before.

Ok so I'm in a weird place for this, hilariously. Because The Answer That Usually Works For Me (TM) and that carried me through a regular weekly update schedule for almost two and a half years is, in fact, not at present working for me apparently my brain can write through a pandemic but not through recovery from the shit that went down in December/Jan so we found my writing kryptonite. However, I'm going to assume you're closer to 2021 Pasta than 2024 Pasta. SO LET'S GO WITH THE METHOD I NORMALLY USE SINCE IT WAS SUCCESSFUL FOR YEARS. Cause that's the thing: sure, I've written almost a million words, and pumped out chapters for years (ignoring the past few months) but I promise, I hit the same walls as everyone else even when nailing weekly uploads. But over those years, I came up with a fairly solid list of steps that I'd go through one by one.

Fun one first: when I'm in a block, I almost always try re-engaging with canon first. I'd rewatch my favorite episodes, binge a whole season, or even the whole series depending on how much of a boost I needed. For me at least that was often like Pavlov's bell, my favorite story triggering a flood of affection. I'd remember why I loved this fandom and the characters so much, and it could often kickstart my brain and excitement back into gear. If you really want to dangle a carrot and your fic touches on canon, focus on watching parts you're excited to get to in your story. A big one for me in TRT for example was the post-Nobu, Nelson v. Murdock episode, since I'd had that planned for TRT almost since the start, and I was very excited to reach the hurt/comfort I had planned. Even if your fic isn't following canon though, see if it'll give you a creative rush again!

So let's say step 1 doesn't work, either because the canon just isn't hitting the spot or because your fic is dealing with something else. In this case, my next step was usually to jump ahead to write a scene I was really eager to get to. It was often a short blurb, but it was always something I REALLY wanted to explore, and because I'm also a reader who likes exactly the tropes and plots I'm writing, I want to read what fucking happens. Except, fuck, I'm not there yet, am I? And I can't see how that scene finishes until I write my way up to it and finish it. This is my own carrot. Multiple scenes in TRT were written months or even years in advance, simply as a way to bribe myself. This is also an option!

But maybe this doesn't work. Sometimes it didn't. This is when it got a bit more serious. For anyone who was reading at the time, you'd have noticed that I'd sometimes drop side fics, either Matt POVs or one-shots. This was me, in essence, working on the shower principle (basically, ideas/solutions will come if you stop thinking about it and do something else, like take a shower). I figured if I went and wrote something else - either with less stress, or something fun and dopamine-inducing - the part of my brain focused on my Big Fic would wander around the writer's block beneath my notice. And it almost always worked, all while I still kept my brain trained that, hey, even if we're not writing This Thing, we're still writing.

But let's say this doesn't work either. You're well, and truly, stuck. Been there now and then. And, you're going to hate this one. I hate it but it works 9 times of 10. And it is: Write anyway. Half of it was spite. I was not going to give up my schedule, I liked my schedule. The other half was that I knew myself. I knew if I could just get past the chapter/plot/dialogue I was struggling with, I'd be able to roll along again. And so I made a rule: whatever I wrote didn't have to be pretty. It just had to exist. If that meant I wrote, "Jane chased the cat in circles and caught it. She was happy." then that's what I wrote. Because everything, EVERYTHING, can be fixed in editing. But you can't fix what doesn't exist. And so there were those nights when I would scowl and groan and snarl and bash my head against that writer's block until 5 in the morning, but in the end Jane chased that fucking cat adn caught it, it was written. Hilariously, sometimes those chapters have wound up amazing (likely because I spent so much time hammering at them) and reader favorites. There are absolutely, I believe, moments where you can, and should, see if you can push through.

But that brings me to *waves* now. A lesson I've only recently recently and with encouragement. Namely... sometimes brain no go and that's ok. My steps work for me 99.9% of the time, but I've done the above during the past few months, and it just... hasn't dragged me out entirely out of it yet. Sometimes, our brains demand that break, especially when things just aren't going great. There's a reason TRT had a break of roughly 2 years between chapter 4 and chapter 5 (feel free to check the chapter index with dates on AO3!). I had some life things happening and I just was not in a place to write, even if I was still busily plotting and planning and thinking about TRT behind the scenes. And that was ok. We're not machines. I came back like a bulldozer in Jan 2021, yes, and bulldozed through weekly updates, but that break was needed. And now I'm obviously taking a short one again while I recover from everything. It's ok if you're not in a place for it. So the last step is one I've been told a lot by dear friends recently as they helped me through this: be kind to yourself, and try not to stress if none of the above works. The story will always be there, and if TRT is any indication through all its highs and lows, your readers will be there when you start up again.

[pondbythelake]

prologue. will have lesbian vampires later. not beta read. entirely written by me; technically all original work but can easily be an au for a many fandom <3 its like tv14/mature somewhere in between btw graphic but not like rated r explicit

1536. Somewhere in North West England, half a days walk from the coast. 

A castle once belonging to a long dead noble of forgotten titles and names, lost in the crossover of  monarchy and power, now belonging to a pair of siblings. 

It wasn’t a fully operational castle by any means, but there was enough of them to keep it mostly running. Some worked in the gardens, some the kitchens, some the armory, some preferred cleaning duty. Between the siblings and their pupils, they managed to take care of themselves.

Now, they didn’t actually need the food. It was more-so done as a rehabilitation activity. You see, it was essentially a hospital. The siblings would take daily trips down to the local morgues, and see if any of the dead would rise. Those that would, would find a home here. It taught them how to feel resourcefully, without giving into the emotions of the circumstance. It was a way to save those with untimely and tragic ends. And it lightened up the load of the morgue, and with plague or war upon war or plague they took that whenever they could. 

This, over time, turned into a whole school. They had started it up a few times, having to move. They got caught a few times. But they had always managed to rebuild it. After all, prior to finding this place, they had been living out of much smaller places. Only time for one or two pupils at a time. Here, they were able to save far more people than that. And they were able to pick up those that the less, considerate, of their kind left behind, and take care of them as well. 

Most of the others thought the siblings were slightly insane for what they were doing, always being met with frustrations or limitations about being solitary and avoiding packs - but they never believed it. After all, they hadn’t even had a bad egg yet. Of all their pupils, 26 of which had already left to go help elsewhere or just, go live, none had rejected it. All were, of their own words, better for it. 

At least it had been that way. It seems one of the pupils was determined to prove the opposite of the siblings. That no matter what they did - the vampire is a violent, cruel, and isolated creature. One meant to destroy humanity. No matter what they did. He refused the possibility of anything else.

And aside from the month being difficult due to the new prospect of how to handle a bad egg, it had been a normal day. The hunters brought back a new pupil, as well as enough animals for a few days of blood. The blood was prepped and stored, the kitchens had just gotten hold of a new fruit and made a pie. 

Until the sun set. And a haze fell in the air. Allowing the faintest of lights in the distance to appear. Lights that were not usually visible - they were miles from any others. Someone was specifically looking for them. 

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

The rain pattered upon the window, a woman sitting at a desk, only lit by the glow of a candle as she scribbled away in a journal. Through the window something flickers in the distance. gone by the time she looks up. A knock at the door startles her, bit only enough to elicit a small jump. And them she returned to her writing. 

“I think it’s just about time” the voice behind her said, it was dark and grumbly filled with urgent sense of calm. 

She ignored him, not pausing in her writing. Getting as much written down as possible. 

“Lenore please. The time to leave is closing.” He continued, the calm disappearing with each additional moment. 

She paused her writing for a moment, looking straight out the window. Multiple flickers now in the distance. Hardly above her breath, but just enough for him to hear, she softly began.“There is nothing we can do.” She paused, but unfinished, as she slowly stood up to turn and face him. “One of our own has brought this upon us. I heard him before he left this morning. There is no where we could go. Either we let them go, untrained and unprepared, to be unleashed upon humanity like an invasive plague, or we stay. And get them all killed anyways. There were no options form the moment he decided to go to the crown.” With that, she picked up her books, and there had been many, and tried to walk past and out the door. 

“You knew all of this HOURS ago and told none of us? You didn’t think that might be important information? Give us lead time? Time to make any choices?” He was restraining a yell, so as not to worry the students, but it was nearly impossible, and he was beginning to think worrying them might be the best course of action. 

She locked eyes with him, books cradled into her arms. “You do whatever you want to do from here. But I have to go do this. He has sent in motion a plan we cannot stop. But if you let me go do this - one day there will be people to stop it. But I am sorry. Time could not be wasted on us. Our fates have been sealed.” And then managed to scoot out the door and past him, and the moment she had, burst into a run. She went out the back of the building, fewer lights flickering in the distance. 

Back inside, watching his sister leave them all to die. Only minutes till the crown-backed-mob attacked. Over 30 pupils. And only one of him. 

How do you tell them. How do you prepare 30 mostly brand new vampires that one of their own just sent the crown after them and there was nothing meaningful they could do. Rooms of brand new immortals. All just to die again anyways. 

Glancing back outside again, the flickers ever closer, nearing the point of being able to make out the bodies. And horses. It was looking bad. The building was at least stone, so they couldn’t burn it - again. 

But there had to be at least 200 out there. If not more. 

Still. He had to do something. So he began, going room to room. Telling them to go into the basement. To get into the armory. They had, even if still marginally slim, a chance if they got down there. 

But by the time he had reached some of the last rooms, and they were only just making their way down, did the villagers start filing in. 

First it was just the door, the pound of them trying to break it open. But before they managed to, the first window shattered. Then a second. Then a third. Then he lost count as the chaos began. 

The three that had reached the armory ran back up, in an effort to help the others. From the upstairs he could see it all. a few dragged away and into the carriages, likely pre chosen. Most began dropping like flies. A few of them were such new recruits. One hadn’t even had a first blood meal. 

Then the door flung open. all of that and the front door hadn’t even been open. 

And there he was. last seen at that door as a friend, a pupil. Now bringing the reign of terror to his previous friends. A pride on his face, as he looked at the carnage he had directly caused. 

Then he started counting. looking one by one at all the dead on the ground. A whisper to another, checking how many had been taken. 

The last few around the edges of the house had fallen as he counted, and before he turned to leave satisfied with himself, looked up at Clement with such satisfied distain that it could freeze a sun. and then walked out, without saying a word, the rest of the village following. 

And once again - for the third time, the program failed. The first two due to failing to stay separate of town. Now, because one of their own. volunteering them. Announcing them. All for what? Because he found his want to pillage more important than anything else. Including all of his new family. 

Clement stared down at the mess before him. He couldn’t save any of them. They were already turned. Already dead. Now they’re just, more dead. All that work to save them the first time. 

The sun rose. Then the sun set again. At some point clement sat along the rail. Just staring at the catastrophic failure. Eventually, after a few more sun sets, he began to stand. Practically starving at this point, he basically tumbled his was down the stairs, and out into the forest surrounding the house. After managing to grab a fox, it only satiated a bit of the hunger. But it was enough to start. 

He walked all the way over the a pavilion down the stream, and began to dig a hole for each. They each technically already had coffins. And it would be a long time till he ever started the program back up. If he ever did. He dragged each coffin out of their rooms, down the stairs, and out to the pavilion. It took three days. 

Then he took each of them, and laid them in their coffins. Each already personalized by them. So it was easy to tell who went where. Which at least allowed for one part of the process to be easy. 

The littlest, she was only 6. River drowning. Had managed to bring her back. She was always making everyone things out of flowers, so they had decorated hers in flowers. She had been one of the first out. Her surrogate older sister was next, she fell first. the knife still gripped in her hand was covered in blood. So she at least did manage to put up somewhat of a fight. She had come from the stables. The horses had nearly killed her, she just got stuck. Wrong place at the wrong time. Twice now. But un-savable this time. 

Then more. Then more. Then more. Each of the 30 they currently had. He could have sent for some of the graduates, but how. And would that not put them in farther danger? 

Once all the pupils had been burying and covered, he went back into the house, and boarded up the windows. Fixed the door. And locked it. 

He sat down at the dining table, fit for 40. And stared. At least 100 years would pass before he would move again from that spot. And even then it took another 100 for him to leave the building, but even then, the edge of the grounds was as far as he dared to go. 

[unsaidace]

Marisol to Eddie after the whole Kim fiasco:

[juuheizou]

the final dismantling ch.9 - rated m - mutsuki tooru/suzuya juuzou - hurt/comfort au where big madam escapes the auction and takes mutsuki with her, inspired by rosatonta's classic 'deconstruction'

[izzy-b-hands]

I truly fucking hate how some of these side gig tasks are formatted/instructed. Your shit doesn't make sense; the field you claim exists for me to type in isn't there (if it is, it's greyed out and there's no way to change that on my end) and I appreciate a room full of tech bros doesn't want to take five minutes to have an arts/english major read over and edit their shitty instructions so they're actually something a person can comprehend without reading it over five times, but also. Fuck them; it would not take that long and the money you're wasting on this project won't be any less wasted if you pay someone to proofread your shit that's an actual human, and not an AI.

[endfght]

!! tommy mention !!