cactusprincewrites

[cactusprincewrites]

the answer's both, I fear

reading poetry forces you to ask wrenching, necessary, impossible questions, like "is the author stupid? or am I?"

[cactusprincewrites]

DVORAK'S NINTH SYMPHONY, MOVEMENT FOUR

the song that inspired the Jaws soundtrack and my favourite dramatic piece of classical music ����

oh! oh! speaking of which writeblr, I need some inspiration for composing vengeance

so if anyone has any batshit insane pieces of classical/instrumental music, I would be glad to have them (to add them to a collection and write with them in the background)

[cactusprincewrites]

awesome writers room!!!

🙏 writeblr gods please see this, shine down upon my post from beyond pls 🙏

my boyfriend and i have recently taken over the discord server we met in and are trying to revive and grow the community there -- its a lovely cosy server open to fans of writing, art and character design, anyone who wants to make new friends to create and explore their imaginary worlds with or find peers to review and read their work

we also now have the facilities to post your own long-form stories, comics, galleries or blogs for other people to enjoy and react to in our own community hub (but truth be told rn, just between you and me, it's a lil bit empty -- and we'd love to have your incredible creativity to fill it)

it's very lbtq and poc friendly, and we hope many of you will make it your writing, art, and creativity home. it's also (drumrolllll) RIGHT HERE GUYS: [insert discord invite]

[cactusprincewrites]

you're completely right, and more people should say it 👏

forcing yourself to write every day is how you burn yourself out and end up in a slump where you find it harder to write....which then makes you feel like less of a writer because you think you should be writing every day, and then the slump deepens as you lose enthusiasm, and it's just a vicious cycle man

and writing is like. an individual, personal process, it's not prescriptive like that. and like you said, people can be a writer...on the side

raghhhhh you have awoken many thoughts

writing thought of the day: i find "you have to write every day to be a writer" to be, just. hilariously out of touch.

people have jobs, kids, school, housework, clubs, hobbies, hangouts, events, other groups, other general obligations. people have disabilities + flares + fatigue. people get sick. Writing every day is attainable for very few people.

additionally, i do not believe that shoving words onto the page to fill a daily quota makes you a better writer. While i do think there are benefits to routine and to writing often/appreciating quantity, i disagree with the notion that you will get better in a meaningful and repeatable way if you're just forcing yourself to write, while not wanting to, while not even thinking about what or why you're writing what you are. Maybe it's because i'm an artist, but like... most people agree that studies + learning fundamentals + thinking about how you draw + STEPPING BACK is necessary for faster/better improvement. Why wouldn't that also apply to writing?

[cactusprincewrites]

WHOO WANTS TO KNOW MORE ABOUT NOAH AND PIERCE

[cactusprincewrites]

Some posts from my writing Instagram you guys might want to check out 😱

It's also called cactusprincewrites, help get me to 100 followers on there

[cactusprincewrites]

yusssssssss

any preferences on which comes next?

[cactusprincewrites]

what about one faceclaim, one picrew? slice it up a bit?

any preferences on which comes next?

[cactusprincewrites]

Some posts from my writing Instagram you guys might want to check out 😱

It's also called cactusprincewrites, help get me to 100 followers on there

[cactusprincewrites]

meet the author

howdy, im lukas (@bl00dysk1es)

i use he/they pronouns

what do i enjoy to read? i love thrillers, dark academia, classics, romance (usually almost always queer romances), horror, drama, and mystery.

what am i currently working on? im currently working on the first few chapters of a work that i plan to release on ao3 soon. it's very gay and im very self conscious about it so i hope people enjoy it

i plan on using this to post moodboards and aesthetics of the characters, chapter updates, responding to people who read itt, and whatever else comes upon my dash from writer tumblr <3

[cactusprincewrites]

okay like. me 100%

ok i lied

if i made a writeblr who would wanna followwww?

[cactusprincewrites]

Albert Dros

[cactusprincewrites]

This is very important research so I can figure out how to arrange my books

[cactusprincewrites]

single file line please

[cactusprincewrites]

figured i should actually try a writeblr intro ☕️

love to see other writers or any kind of artists on my feed, hmu/interact if you run a writing blog! my taglist is open so send an ask if you want to be added.

i’m adrien, he/him.

i’ll mostly post writing prompts, but sometimes quotes and wips as well 🖋️

i have one novel in the works (& two webcomics with the amazing @soggiestofsocks)

my favorite genres & tropes are hurt/comfort, villain/hero, and angst of any kind. that’s probably what you should except when following me!

i tag general tws but if you want one added, dm, comment, or send an ask. i got you.

requests & asks are open, i love when people ask for part 2s or longer versions of posts so don’t be shy :)

[cactusprincewrites]

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

[cactusprincewrites]

Winter Parting (2019) Scanned from original risograph print --- ko-fi | gumroad