precious-writer-of-sin

[precious-writer-of-sin]

Lightning Never Strikes Twice

(Commission for @lovingcelestials )

Seraphina Amorelli sighs in despair and resignation, staring out the window and watching the storm outside. She had lost interest in her phone hours ago and now resorts to watching the rain fall as they make their way across the United States. Seems like today reflects her mood: stormy, grey-washed, and hard to focus on.

Lucius Amorelli -- her father and today’s designated driver -- catches her brooding in the rear-view mirror.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?”

Lightning strikes outside; a world she’s always wanted to be in, the only place she’s never been: the scene of a lightning strike. She’s lived a good while -- twenty-four for the two-hundred and eighty-fourth time -- and due to their constant moving, she’s seen every inch of this country, from (ick) Florida to Oklahoma to Nevada, Montana....Alabama...Alaska at one point, which she adored playing in the snow in what would be a dead-ass hot summer anywhere else (such a nice twist on a typical summer vacation). She’s seen all kinds of storms and disasters: The Great Chicago Fire, the Tri-State Tornado, the Spirit Lake Tsunami in Washington.

She’s always felt some sort of connection to lightning; after all -- much like her and her family, it’s never in the same place twice.

“Angel?”

Seraphina looks away from the window and into the reflection of her father’s green eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay?”

She shrugs. “I guess…’m just tired of moving.”

Lucius looks back at the road, masking whatever emotions that could be revealed in his gaze. “I know, pumpkin, but when...when you don’t age and your lifespan has no natural limit, you have to be careful the unsuspecting population doesn’t catch on, or else we’d be leaving home under...much less calm pretenses.”

“Yeah, but this is the third time this decade we moved!” Seraphina points out in a frustrated burst, forcing herself to keep her volume down in case she wakes her twin brother Tymber, who is passed out in the back seat. “We don’t usually move unless there’s hunters or it’s been twenty-ish years. I really liked it there! Aspirations was…just...” She folds her arms and pouts, almost collapsing back against the seat as her energy from her outburst dwindles. She watches the outside scenery whiz by in a blur of roadside greenery and distance.

“I liked it there,” she repeats quietly.

Lucius glances back at her again, but she had gone back to looking out the window, her face a complex mix of emotions. He sighs, and keeps his eyes on the road.

--

It’s always because of a boy. When isn’t it? Sure, the neighbors were great and stuff, as well as the coworkers and friends she’d made along the way, but...nothing held a candle to Theodoric Harris. Not in her mind.

Black hair, baby-blue eyes, and a soft smile. A scar across the bridge of his slightly-crooked nose, evidence of a scrappy punk-type. That’s how she remembered him best. She always did have a thing for the bad boys. “Misunderstood youth”, said most therapists, without taking the time to try and understand them. In many cases, she was over twice -- hell, why skimp, six times -- their age, but she had always made an effort to get to know them. Most of them weren’t all that hardcore. They had a soft side, a kinder side. A side she could appeal to and bring out so the world could see what she saw, what she fell in love with -- or at least a strong attachment towards.

Unceremoniously, they met when she was walking in the park, a cliché as he asked for her name and number and a hope that, maybe, they’d see each other later. And of course, she amused him; he’s cute, and young, and perhaps would make either a good meal or a good timekiller. Try as she might, most humans fell under these two categories.

Of course, pining wasn’t something she’d expected from this. Loving someone wasn’t a thought she could maintain, being what she is, what she does, and how she lives. He took her places, locally of course; he wasn’t a wealthy man and she had to be careful about her currency, considering some of the money she had dated back to her days before she was afflicted with vampirism. Decent dinners, movies at his place, surprise visits at each others’ jobs...Seraphina had to admit, this casually dating thing was nice.

Seraphina can still feel the first time they kissed, two months into...well, she probably could define it as a relationship by then. Theodoric was dropping her off at home after another nice evening, and...it just happened. The slow uncertainty of leaning in, the quickening pulse -- more from him than her, since she was technically dead, but she could imagine her sluggish blood moved a little faster within her veins -- the soft tender pressing of lips in the way that first kisses betwixt lovers seems to go. It wasn’t electric, there were no “flying sparks”; it was more like a building heat washing over her, originating from one point and bathing her inside and out in a soft, encompassing glow. Dimly she was aware of her surroundings; the not-so-clean archway of a beige two-story home, with cobwebs strung in the high corners and bugs buzzing against the porch light switched on above, with the dusty dirty pale-green door pressing against her back. Or...was it blue? Like his eyes? She supposed insignificant details like that didn’t matter, ultimately.

They separated, golden eyes she convinced others were hazel staring into the sweetest pair of blue eyes she’s ever known. His hand was tangled in her rose-gold locks, cupping the back of her head. Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt. They were both willing captives as she kissed him again.

Time had never moved so slow, stretching that moment into a blissful eternity. She wasn’t sure the last time she had taken something like this so carefully and seriously. Maybe before she had been turned, back in Italy? Maybe before in the early days of her vampirism where everything felt renewed and vibrant as she was still adjusting to her new senses. Maybe...back during her first and only marriage, with a man that maybe now she can think of without bursting into tears. That man had taught her so much about life, love...her own naivete, her immortality. He made her realize exactly how short-lived a human life is compared to something like her, just by living and having her next to him as he aged into a shell of how he used to be.

Theo might be another him, or he’ll be just another fleeting distraction from the rest of time. Really, isn’t it all the same when you had a lifespan like hers?

--

A day later, Seraphina met Allondra, someone her oldest brother Dederick had met and fallen in love with. He revealed then that she was expecting their child, and they were planning to be wed. She was delighted for her, but she couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy resonating inside her heart, because this meant Dederick was likely staying forever while the rest of the family inevitably moved off to some other corner of the country. Things were going so well with her and Theo; the thought of moving preemptively crushed her spirits. Her only solace was that day was far off, and even that was dimmed by the fear that any day now her dad would decide to up and leave and Sera would be helpless to stand up to him. Usually they stayed many years in a city; lately they’ve been moving at the drop of a hat.

Think positively, she told herself, alone in her room as she prepared for bed. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, we’ll stay.

--

Six days later, Lucius broke the news that within the month they’ll be moving to Idaho. Seraphina cried.

--

In the end, she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t brave enough, to tell Theodoric. She made up for it by treating every day like it was her last day with him; with renewed interest, renewed vigor. He became her entire world every day, and while Theo was suspicious at first, he grew to accept it. He did not ask questions.

The first and only time she told him she loved him was on that final day, kissing goodnight in front of her house. For a moment, she almost invited him in, invited him to her room, invited him into making the night memorable for a lifetime. In the end, she couldn’t; her room was already packed up and the van all set to take off at dawn. Instead, she settled for holding his cheek, whispering, “I love you,” and silencing him with a kiss. She couldn’t hear him say it back. Her resolve would break if he did.

--

So much was left unsaid. So much was left undone. Seraphina watched as they passed by the bits of her life she had spent in this town. She watched their first kiss as they pulled out of the driveway. She watched Theodoric spill ice cream down his shirt when he was too busy laughing at something she said. She watched as he introduced her to his best friend, she watched their first movie date. She watched him visit her on her break and vice versa. She watched their first night together in the park with only the stars as a witness to what they’ve done.

Lightning never strikes twice. And neither did she.

Seraphina watched as they passed the sign to leave town and could see the colors dim as if leaving a technicolor bubble. Her phone started to buzz a few hours later. Text messages from Theo, asking what had happened, where was she, why was her house empty. She didn’t answer. He started calling her, leaving voicemails in a tone of voice that broke her already-aching heart. He wanted an explanation too dangerous for her to confess. He wanted answers she couldn’t articulate without garbling the speech through sobs. After a few days, he finally stopped. The last voicemail she received contained a resignation so excruciating that she almost did call him back to explain everything.

She controlled herself. Against every voice in her head yelling at her to talk to him, she resisted.

Kinder to be cruel, she tried to convince herself. Like a band-aid: painful but quick. Like every other human.

Somehow, she still wasn’t sure.

--

“...Dederick got to stay. Why couldn’t I?” she asks after another few moments of tense silence.

“Dederick is old enough to take care of himself-”

“Dad, I am three-hundred and eight years old!!” Seraphina shouts, leaning forward to glare into the mirror where Lucius once again looks away from to avoid meeting her gaze. “I am well past adulthood for humanity, vampires, and ghouls. I can take care of myself-”

“You’re still young and a member of this coven-”

“Dederick. Got. To. Stay.”

“Dederick has a fiancée and a child on the way.”

Every answer Lucius gave was in a curt and matter-of-fact in tone. It was really starting to piss Seraphina off.

“So? What about Terence? When we left Lewiston a century ago, you let him stay with that one French Fae lady! The only real significance she held was that my brother finally lost his virginity at four-hundred years old!”

“Well you know what?”

Lucius turns the wheel sharply, pulling off the highway. Seraphina feels the bottom of her stomach dissolve, because when the car finally stops, Lucius whirls around in his seat to meet her eyes, green with golden, and what she sees is fury, sorrow, and compassion burning holes into her.

“Dederick and Terence can do whatever the hell they want to do because not only do they have a couple centuries’ worth of experience on you, but also they are not. My. Children. I share no link with either of them except through the woman who gave birth to them. You, Seraphina, are my child. Tymber is my child. And until you prove you can be responsible enough to take care of yourself, avoiding suspicion and hunters, I can’t risk letting the two most precious people in my life out of my sight for that long.”

Tears prick both pairs of eyes. Lucius sighs and wipes his face, still trying to look strong.

“I liked it there too, my angel. He was like a son to me as much as he was a soulmate to you. I’m sorry.”

Seraphina sits back in the chair once more, kneading her lip between her fangs. She hates this. She hates this so much. She understands, but that doesn’t make her accept it any more. She can’t say anything in reply, and that’s the worst part; her protests get caught in her throat because her father showing such love so intensely makes her helpless to argue any further as her throat closes up in a reciprocal amount of love.

No more words are exchanged. No more protests, no more arguing. Lucius faces forward again, takes the van out of park, and resumes the journey across America.

--

A year passes, and an invitation arrives in the mail. Seraphina squeals in delight when she sees the gold-trimmed envelope and rushes inside to break the good news to her father and brother.

“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Dederick Amorelli and Allondra Jimenez in Saint James’s Cathedral, Aspirations, California, on Thursday, November Twentieth at noon local time.”

Regret and guilt still clutches her heart whenever she thinks of that town, of him. She does more often than she’d like to admit, although less and less as the days pass by does the thought make her weep and mope. In fact, seeing the invitation makes her more eager for the wedding than the possibility of seeing him again.

Of course, they purchase plane tickets immediately, scheduling a week in that northern California town. Seraphina throws herself into working, into life, with a recharged vigor.

And she counts the days til she can see Aspirations again.

--

When they arrive in Aspirations, every emotion she’s ever felt in this town hits her like a gut-punch. The wind is knocked out of her and she curls up in the backseat. Tears stain the leather below her, and she doesn’t know what to feel for several minutes.

--

The old house looks as it did back then: two stories, beige, cobwebs and bugs. Door as pale as a jade stone. It looks cleaner, however, the exterior pressure-washed and repainted. The insides as well; tile replaced ratty carpet, furniture rearranged. Her old room is in the process of transforming into a nursery. Seraphina finds herself crashing on the couch, tapping through her phone late at night until she realizes she’s been staring at his number for ten minutes, indecision and anxiety holding her insides in a vice grip.

And then she can’t stand it anymore. She gets up and sneaks outside for a walk. The late fall air hits her lungs, feeling like a spring breeze to her frigid body. Her feet take her to the park. Her mind takes her there as well, but a year prior, where she first met him.

“Excuse me, miss, but I’m afraid I need your help with something.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, everything okay?”

“My phone is one number shy of sixty-nine contacts, and you seem like the kind of gal who would agree that is a tragedy in this day and age. May I have your name and number to remedy this?”

“What a disaster indeed. Although, cute stuff, if you wanted my number, you didn’t have to make a dumb play at me. I’m new in town and could use a nice piece of arm candy to help show me around. Here…”

Seraphina stops abruptly as something warm -- hot, even -- sweep her off her feet into a hug so tight and intense the fake breath is whipped away like the ground beneath her.

“I can’t believe it’s you!”

Sera could melt into that voice, could dissolve into his embrace. When she regains her bearings and feels the path again, she looks up.

Blue eyes and black hair, scar across the bridge of a crooked nose. She feels happiness blossom in her chest, heat pricking her eyes and she realizes she’s crying.

“Th-Theo…?”

He’s choking on words, trying to say something. Seraphina is dumbstruck as well. The odds of this are astronomical; her first day back, her first night out, and she meets him again in the same place she first saw him. Her throat closes up.

“Sera...I...Dederick told me, but…”

That unclogs the dam of words.

“Dederick told you what?”

“He told me what happened last year, about why you left.” He hesitates, but he continues anyways. “Sera, I was...I was so mad last year, so upset. You...I hated you for leaving like that. You told me you loved me, and then you’re gone before I can tell you the same? No note, no call. No reply. I was heartbroken, Sera. I felt like I died. And then Dederick ran into me a few months ago. He told me about...well, everything. And then I felt so shitty for hating you because I understand how it feels to be hunted. And trust me -- Aspirations is one of the safest places to live.”

Seraphina stares at Theodoric. She wants to ask...but she doesn’t. Not now. Instead, she pulls him down into a kiss that tastes of tears and reunion and joy. It tastes like a lightning strike, a rush. It tastes like finding a home, somewhere she finally belongs.

And it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

(If you liked this and would love for one yourself, consider supporting me here: https://ko-fi.com/henrymars Thank You For Reading!)

[precious-writer-of-sin]

So guess who actually wrote fanfiction for this fandom for the first time ever

@griffinmcelroysvorecorner are you proud of me

[precious-writer-of-sin]

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

[precious-writer-of-sin]

New merch! Available until July 31!

[Tee | Women’s Tee | Hoodie | Sweatshirt | Mug | Tote Bag]

https://teespring.com/stores/writing-prompts-merch

[precious-writer-of-sin]

Just Writer Things™️

“i don’t think this pen helps with my creativity, I gotta buy another one”

This is the third notebook I bought this month I need to s t o p. I don’t even write in them anymore

That overwhelming feeling when you found the perfect song for your work

One-word horror story: titles

Sequel to one-word horror story: summaries

“I know exactly how to start and finish this…I just…need to figure out how to bridge them…”

Me while reading an older work: what the fuck are you talking about :)

Me while reading a recent work: what the fuck are you talking about :)

Physically stops myself from using fucking as an adverb…again

Hello, constant self-doubt, my old friend

That one song you listen to on loop when writing a scene that by the end of writing it you’re already sick of the song and ready to fight anyone if you have to listen to it again

Me while writing a character intelligent in something im not: what the fuck should I talk about :)

Writing for a fandom and seeing people make passive-aggressive posts about fanfictions as if fanfic authors are fandom slaves

why are tenses so fucking difficult

That feeling when making a playlist for your wips

Writer’s block is so fun huh

Daydreaming about your wips

“is ‘fuck’ a curse word during the 1700’s”

Thinking of the dialogues/banter and not noticing that you’re saying it out loud until you see someone giving you a weird look

“im self-projecting too much aren’t I :)”

Looking for writing tips and following none of them because ‘you have your own style’

Someone seeing your google history and wondering if you’re a murderer because why the hell do you have ‘how to hide dead bodies’ in there

Not knowing how to feel when people are liking more the thing you half-assed than those stories you shed tears writing

This is a ridiculous idea but would make an interesting story

Me while writing: im never gonna be good enough I cant im horrible I should give up - | me when I finished something: I am god no one can stop me now I will take over the world | repeats cycle

Spends three hours researching about lamps

That one person you want to impress. You know, them.

Writing dialogues: okay, good, so poetic, much majestic | writing descriptions: the sky is blue and the water is blue too because of it

“wait, fuck, I already used this scene in my other story”

Me while writing using my third language: im using this word correctly right

Me while writing using my first language: im using this word correctly right

I thank god for the creation of thesaurus

That conflicting feeling when you read someone’s work and it’s really good, so so amazing that you’re both inspired and envious and you feel bad for feeling envious

I have 167 ideas and im writing none of them

Don’t listen to that voice in your head that’s telling you you should take a quick break when you’re on a writing roll. Just don’t. It won’t be a quick break.

When you have the time to write but you choose to do other things that there’s really no need to do

Like me writing this post

And you browsing tumblr

Open a document now

Write

Your wip is waiting for you

And it’s gonna be amazing and all so worth it

So don’t be too hard on yourself.

Someone out there fell in love with your style. Someone out there will fall in love with your style.

I love you and keep creating. :)

[precious-writer-of-sin]

[precious-writer-of-sin]

The letter is fragile with age and dated for your eleventh birthday. Turns out this letter arrived on time but your parents hid it away thinking it was nonsense.

You just passed 30 and you are starting to accept that you are not secretly a wizard. Today you receive a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and you are met with an existential crisis. 

[precious-writer-of-sin]

IF I MAY ADD:

It's "OK" or "okay" NOT "ok". Either caps the letters or spell out the damn word.

IT’S NOT ‘PEEKED’ MY INTEREST

OR ‘PEAKED’

BUT PIQUED

‘PIQUED MY INTEREST’

THIS HAS BEEN A CAPSLOCK PSA

[precious-writer-of-sin]

I joined the Ko-Fi train cuz I quit my job today and got scared.

I added a bunch of shit I can do/have interest in, but honestly the only thing I think I can offer in return is writing short stories (one page, front and back) and maybe attempting to voice act a line or two or to just say something dumb and silly into a microphone! Or, hell, do song covers?? Or recite poetry??

I…don’t really know what else to do or say. I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Getting paid to follow my dreams and do what I love? I’ve never done that ever. But hey, maybe this is the nudge I need? The mama bird that pushes me outta the nest and helps me take to the skies?

Man I hope so. I really, really hope so.

[precious-writer-of-sin]

I think I'm haunted

But not in the way you think

Not in the way of my previous actions

Not in the way my past lingers in my present

Not in the way that my obsessions have left overwhelmed

But in the way that

My pens seem to shift position each day

My TV switches on sporatically

And the worst of all is that I hear voices

The giggling of children

The scoldings of adults

The complainings of elderly

And sometimes I think I catch glimpses of them in mirrors or when I turn corners

And I think I'm haunted

And I wish it was in the way you'd think

Because

I

Think

I'm going insane

Write a ghost story entirely in poem form.

[precious-writer-of-sin]

There are two sides: the known and the unknown.

But it is the border between that is the most horrifying of all.

Write a horror story in two sentences.

[precious-writer-of-sin]

I knew it

writing tip #1218:

maybe you’re already a famous author but the cia had to wipe your memory

[precious-writer-of-sin]

It roars in my ears between songs. It crashes as the credits end and I'm by my lonesome in a vast empty theatre. Or in my living room. It's a terrible pressure on my mind, pushing it down and deeper into a deflated mood that makes no sense, not even to me.

It gives me anxiety to listen to, because... I don't know. I don't know. I don't know I don't know why why why why it's just quiet it's just silence why do I feel like this my heart is fit to burst from my chest and my head is about to split open and I need to leave I need to go to go to go-

Plug in your earbuds. Start another episode. And drown out the noise of silence.

Describe the silence of being alone

[precious-writer-of-sin]

Ambient sounds for writers

Find the right place to write your novel… 

Nature

Arctic ocean

Blizzard in village

Blizzard in pine forest

Blizzard from cave

Blizzard in road

Beach

Cave

Ocean storm

Ocean rocks with rain

River campfire

Forest in the morning

Forest at night

Forest creek

Rainforest creek

Rain on roof window

Rain on tarp tent

Rain on metal roof

Rain on window

Rain on pool

Rain on car at night

Seaside storm

Swamp at night

Sandstorm

Thunderstorm

Underwater

Wasteland

Winter creek

Winter wind

Winter wind in forest

Howling wind

Places

Barn with rain

Coffee shop

Restaurant with costumers

Restaurant with few costumers

Factory

Highway

Garden

Garden with pond and waterfall

Fireplace in log living room

Office 

Call center

Street market

Study room from victorian house with rain

Trailer with rain

Tent with rain

Jacuzzi with rain

Temple

Temple in afternoon

Server room

Fishing dock

Windmill

War

Fictional places

Chloe’s room (Life is Strange)

Blackwell dorm (Life is Strange)

Two Whales Diner (Life is Strange)

Star Wars apartment (Star Wars)

Star Wars penthouse (Star Wars)

Tatooine (Star Wars)

Coruscant with rain (Star Wars)

Yoda’s hut with rain ( Star Wars)

Luke’s home (Star Wars)

Death Star hangar (Star wars)

Blade Runner city (Blade Runner)

Askaban prison (Harry Potter)

Hogwarts library with rain (Harry Potter)

Ravenclaw tower (Harry Potter)

Hufflepuff common room (Harry Potter)

Slytherin common room (Harry Potter)

Gryffindor common room (Harry Potter)

Hagrid’s hut (Harry Potter)

Hobbit-hole house (The Hobbit)

Diamond City (Fallout 4)

Cloud City beach (Bioshock)

Founding Fathers Garden (Bioshock)

Things

Dishwasher

Washing machine

Fireplace

Transportation

Boat engine room

Cruising boat

Train ride

Train ride in the rain

Train station

Plane trip

Private jet cabin

Airplane cabin

Airport lobby

First class jet

Sailboat

Submarine

Historical

Fireplace in medieval tavern

Medieval town

Medieval docks

Medieval city

Pirate ship in tropical port

Ship on rough sea

Ship cabin

Ship sleeping quarter

Titanic first class dining room

Old west saloon

Sci-fi

Spaceship bedroom

Space station

Cyberpunk tearoom

Cyberpunk street with rain

Futuristic server room

Futuristic apartment with typing

Futuristic rooftop garden 

Steampunk balcony rain

Post-apocalyptic

Harbor with rain

City with rain

City ruins turned swamp

Rusty sewers

Train station

Lighthouse

Horror

Haunted mansion

Haunted road to tavern

Halloween

Stormy night

Asylum

Creepy forest

Cornfield

World

New York

Paris

Paris bistro

Tokyo street

Chinese hotel lobby

Asian street at nightfall

Asian night market

Cantonese restaurant

Coffee shop in Japan

Coffee shop in Paris

Coffee shop in Korea

British library

Trips, rides and walkings

Trondheim - Bodø

Amsterdam - Brussels

Glasgow - Edinburgh

Oxford - Marylebone

Seoul - Busan

Gangneung - Yeongju

Hiroshima

Tokyo metro

Osaka - Kyoto

Osaka - Kobe

London

São Paulo

Seoul

Tokyo

Bangkok

Ho Chi Minh (Saigon)

Alps

New York

Hong Kong

Taipei

[precious-writer-of-sin]

other people writing ao3 comments: love this! can’t wait to see more ❤

me writing ao3 comments: gyjfsdghjkldsfhj fukc dude i………..id eat this if i could….

[precious-writer-of-sin]

I know I've posted so little and I don't have enough of anything but I am curious

For Writers:

Reblog if it’s okay for your followers to leave you an ask telling you what the one thing is they remember you for as a writer.  Is it a scene or a detail or a specific line? Is it something like style or characterization?  Is it that one weird kink they never thought they’d be into, but oh my god wow self-discovery time?

[precious-writer-of-sin]

You have the power to change a life. It’s all in your pen. Join us for this year’s #Write4Rights! http://bit.ly/W4RSignUp

Artwork: @mattiasmackler