#It is rewriten

[scribe-of-stories]

Hi, I'm Scribe

(Art by Kollapsar)

About: As per the title you can call me Scribe; I also go by JL and or Knight (see Avatar) They/Them. I am a ex-professional Psychologist, I pretend to know things about Philosophy, and I have been known to write things that take place in my own silly little world. Also a TTRPG hobbyist that dreams about making my own one day. I mainly write modern fantasy with horror elements from a first person perspective. Things tend to get existential and there is often not a difference between reality and metaphor. Also there is no shortage of queer folk with super powers or deep occult knowledge in my stories. Currently most of my work is in the form of short stories and flash fiction, with a novel/serial in the works here or there.

Intent: What an ominous section title. Honestly I'm here to make friends in the writing community. I want to read other people's works and I want others to read my work. I want to encourage and be encouraged. I want to see the little notification number pop up on my screen and give my brain the good chemicals. Take this as blanket consent to tag me in games, to send me asks, and to send me messages. Tell me about your OCs and I'll gladly talk your ear off about world building. I also intend on getting published one day. It would be lovely to meet others going through the process.

Lexical Earth: Is the setting of most if not all of my writing. It's a modern fantasy setting who's hidden magic side was forcefully revealed during the year 2000, when the First Wave of Inscribed started showing up. Now governments are struggling to retain control, Thought Entities are going public with their machinations and hunger, and there is no small population of super heroes and villains trying to impose their views on reality. The magic system of this setting is generally soft with harder rules the closer one is to the material world. The Realm of Spirit is swirling occult bullshit, but it takes someone with actual knowledge to pull it down into reality. Experiment with Jungian masks, personas, and shadows; see the connective tissue of stories stretch across cultures; and walk those paths. Alternatively write words on your Soul and bend reality to the whims of your Inscription.

Directory: Bellow is a collection of the works I have posted and a short description of which each is about. Let me know if you would wish to be added to a general Lexical Earth tag list or if there is a specific series/protagonist you'd want to be tagged for.

(Under construction, there are a few works buried deep in my blog that I need to go excavate)

Samuel Smith, the Smith of Masks: Private investigator, grumpy and sarcastic, and part of the pre-inscribed world of Lexical. He's paid to solve issues between the Wyrd and the human; and often gets too emotionally invested. 1 – PI just wants to read books between jobs but Wyrd stuff is happening. Technically the first Lexical short I ever wrote. 2 – Sequel to the previous short. PI has a bad time working on this case, ends up having to sell part of his soul. 3 – Stand alone story. PI forgets what he's doing several times before solving a serial killer problem. Marian Wheeler would be proud.

Ken “Host of Fangs”, Lord of Hearts: Telepathic Inscribed that makes a hivemind with animals as his main power. He has substantial family and old life trauma and a masc., non-binary, partner who's soul is shaped like a jellyfish. 1 – Date gets interrupted by old woman/man Humanity handing out super powers. 2 – Ken gets a letter from his Ex and has big feelings about it.

Wander/er, Wanderer of Spirit: First Wave Inscribed that noped out of reality and went deep into the Realm of Spirit to learn about the Wyrd side of things. Generally an important person who shows up around big events, but more an advisor than a hero. 1 – Wanderer and a Thought Entity friend travel a bit too far away from earth. Careful not to wake Slumbering Kings.

Lexical Lore: For the World building and TTRPG side of Lexical. 1 – Inscribed, how do they work? How do you become one? Would they make a good RPG player character? All answered here. Go and make your own Inscribed and @ me with the results.

Lexical One-Offs: for stories that don't have a named protagonist or just aren't part of a series. Bedroom – Someone wakes up and gets ready for work. The Recursive Tree – The life cycle of one or more Thought Entities as seen from the perspective of a Soldier.

[sammythesquidboy]

Guys this days I can't even know myself I am mentally not okay. I have mutant amnesia. Pray for me:(

[itsmadeofwaffles]

Imagine if this is how all the enemies in Bayo4 reacted when meeting Viola for the first time, they are looking for Bayonetta but all they see is this girl who looks lost and she is like "seriously!? you are the fifth today!" while putting on the glasses and scarf again.

[witchboychan]

🎶Theres 104 days of summer vacation and school comes along just to end ittttttt so the annual problem of our generation is finding a good way to spend itttttt... 🎶

🎶Like maybe:🎶

-Studying witchcraft

-writing some spells

-collecting some new sticks

-makin some potions that are toxic

WAIT-

-or giving your familiar a shower

🎸bum bum bum!!!🎸

-surfing astral waves

-creating tulpas

-or locating your shadow self

ITS OVER HERE!!!!

-finding talismen

-hexing our enemies

-or driving christians insane!!!

✝️: RIBBON?!

🎶As you can see theres a whole lotta stuff to do before school starts this fall🎶

COME ON EVERYONE!!!

🎶So stick with us cause we witches are gonna do it alllll!🎶

🎶So stick with us cause we witches are gonna do it alllll!🎶

✝️: FATHER! THE SATANISTS ARE REWRITING A TITLE SEQUENCE!

🎸GUITAR NOIIIISEEE!!!!🎸

[kitty-go-meow-meow]

[bluemew-theturtle]

i am so sorry but Anastasia is Just Fine. It's Alright.

[shadesofmauve]

WiP Wednesday

Dinner was delicious. Ness was pretty sure it was legitimately delicious, even, not just living-on-ship-food-for-weeks or sharing-with-a-pretty-girl delicious, though of course those things helped. Sam had even pulled out a bewildering array of odd bottles and mixed cocktails.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Ness asked. Sam had finished her last skewer and was delicately licking her fingers clean. Asking the question gave Ness something to do besides swoon, which seemed like an actual risk.

Sam stopped, one finger still in her mouth, big eyes a question. 

Ness’s heart did a slow somersault, muscles tensing pleasantly along her belly, but she lifted her cocktail — it was in a coffee mug from the mess — and managed to say, “Make drinks, I mean.”

“Oh!” Sam took her finger out of her mouth, which was disappointing but helped Ness’s breathing get back to normal. “I worked at a bar, in uni. The scholarship really just covered school, and it’s horrid to be on Earth with no pocket money.”

“That explains why this tastes so good,” Ness said, taking an appreciative sip. “It doesn’t explain why the gin was in a travel-size shampoo bottle.”

“I swear I washed it three times!” Sam looked alarmed. “You can’t still taste it, can you? Oh no, I knew that one was a risk —”

“No!” Ness laughed. “Not at all. I'm just curious!”

Sam flushed. “I had to beg, borrow, and steal — well, not steal — to get a decent selection. Everyone was very nice, but no one would lend me full bottles, so I had to find containers. But Zhao had finally used up all the toiletries she stole from her hotel at the Citadel, so, well, here we are.”

Ness raised her glass. “To Zhao’s petty larceny!”

“Hotel toiletries don’t count,” Sam said.  She scooted closer, snuggling in against Ness’s side, and clinked glasses.

[wereh0gz]

I need to work on my fic I need to work on my fic I need to work on my fic

[pinkwormholes]

Lanny O'Gilt had never had a family. Her mother was always leaving her alone. Never knowing her father. So once she has a hunch she heads to Duckberg to see. However getting to close to taking out a villain organization wasn't good. Read here

[tansyuduri]

rewriting the arthur wake up scene

[crazy-lazy-elder-sims]

i got the old tumblr dashboard back T_T

i got the old tumblr dashboard back T_T i used the xkit rewriten options in this post and installed the firefox application called stylus and installed this script by @pixiel through it for the old tumblr layout <3

(psst reblog and spread this so it can get to who needs it )

update :hi besties both xkit rewritten and stylus are available for chrome too!

Thank you so much to pixel for saving our lives 💓

[smolresources]

SORRY FOR THE STATIC SILENCE! My Google Account deleted all of my saved passwords so I, who is already overworked and overstimulated, had to literally go through and try to salvage what I could. Anyway, because of this, I'm slightly out of the loop is finding the source on a post still hard for people? If a person has a custom theme and isn't dash only, then it's groovy, but without it I still cannot for the life of me find the source on dash only ( if the post was made via a dash only blog. )

So for now, until I grow a brain cell and figure out, I will not reblog anything that has a link for x resource in the "source" if the blog is dash only. It's probably me. Hi, I'm the problem, it's me! But if I can't find x resource I don't feel comfortable making others befuddled. It isn't you, it's tumblr and me again hi I am the problem its Me so. Yeah.

If I grow a brain cell or someone throws knowledge at my head, like, chunks it at me like a rock then I will edit it and be like HEY GUYS! Until then. Naur.

[a-wild-things-rambles]

🙃<- has so many bitchy opinions but dousent want to cause drama

[abluescarfonwaston]

I got a bad case of the Paceies. (Pacing around thinking about an idea that’s consuming me but with no ability to outlet it onto a page so it’ll free me)

[pheratina]

I am making my own version of Miraculous! (Not hate tho,I just want to explore these characters in my own way)

i called it Miraculous: rewriten and its a fic i am working on, i have only a few words and is still a wip but i already made some chages:

Marinette recently moved to paris ( so I can introduce the characters better)

she is in fact an outcast and genuinely shy, like, can't make phone calls shy or can't talk in class shy.

chloe is now based on regina george, (of the latter I am not sure)

his school is private and elite to justify a model and the mayor's daughter going to the same school as a baker's daughter.

Anyway I just wanted to share it here to see your opinions on what things you would like to change or what you are not sure about !

[obxone]

Assumptions

Rewriten/Edited. ~1.95k words.

Master Page

Kiara groans loudly beside you as you both work on wiping down one of the larger tabletops after the lunch rush. You look up to find her gaze directed across the room. You turn your head to see Rafe Cameron walking towards the pickup counter. 

“Well if it isn’t Daddy Issues #1,” you muse, and she cracks a smile at you. “I’ve got this one.”

You approach him while digging out your notepad. “What’s up, Cameron?”

He grins, his gaze dragging from your feet up your legs and torso to your face. “I’m picking up a to-go order.”

“Did you call it in already?”

“Rose did.” He sticks his hands in his pockets after following you the rest of the way to the counter. You slip behind it, glancing as they place a paper bagged order up in the window.

He leans onto the counter, his gaze dragging over you again. Your skin prickles at the feeling of those dark blue eyes raking over you. 

He chuckles and you turn away to inspect the ticket for the owner's name. “You look good today.”

You ignore his remark. It would only fuel him if you responded. “It isn’t ready yet. You’ll have to sit pretty and wait.”

He shrugs, “Whatever.”

You turn to him, hand on your hip. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

You laugh, hand to your stomach as you truly laugh before straightening your stance and staring at him. “I’m not being nice to you. I’m being nice to a customer.”

“Ah,” he muses. “A beer?”

“You’re nineteen, Rafe.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “Water.”

You fill a to-go cup with water and ice and pass it to him before returning to help Kie while waiting for the order to come up. 

“What was so funny?” She asks, scrunching her nose up as you help her clear off a dirty table. "It's Rafe."

You giggle a little as you resume clearing the large table.“He asked why I was being nice to him. And I said it was because he was a customer, not because it was him.”

She rolls her eyes in clear annoyance. “Of course, he thinks it’s about him.”

“Shocker really,” you mutter and take the dish bin to the kitchen before coming back out with his to-go bag in hand. “Here you go. Fresh like she asked.”

“Thanks.” He stands, pulling out a few bills and dropping them on the countertop.

“She already paid.”

“That’s your tip. I know you need to keep the lights on, Pogue.” He says before taking the bag and cup. You watch him leave, the door closing behind him while your cheeks burn at his comment. You grab the cash he tossed down. Five 20-dollar bills, he has tipped you $100. Your eyebrows scrunch together, and you look up at Kie as she nears. 

“Rafe Cameron is a dick,” you mutter, putting the money in your tip pocket.

“What did he do?”

“Pogue commentary as per usual.” You grab a few menus when a small family walks in, tourists fresh off the beach. 

— — — —

The one day of the week that The Wreck is closed has arrived. Your off day is being spent running errands and then meeting the pogues at the beach. The last stop is the bookstore, a copy of the newest release by your favorite artist is on hold per your request. You smile, pleased with the hard-bound copy as you exit the bookstore. 

It was worth all the teasing from your friends because both they and you know that your nose will be buried in these pages all afternoon instead of surfing. You crack the cover, loving the sound of a brand new book being opened for the first time. 

“What are you doing in town?” A familiar voice asks, and you look up to see Rafe getting off his bike. He has shed his helmet and hangs it on the handlebar as he watches you.

You do not respond, instead making your way down the sidewalk away from him. Steering clear of Rafe, especially when you are on your own, is a clear direction that all the pogues try to follow. 

“Are you ignoring me now?” He asks, catching up with you and running his hand through his hair, ruffling it after his helmet has pressed it down. You look at him, adjusting the tote bag strap on your shoulder. You look away when he turns to look down at you. Rafe is handsome, he always has been, but he is also a jerk to the pogues, and you are a pogue, so that means he is a jerk to you. “Come on, you could at least say one word,” he groans, his fingers enclosing your wrist and stopping you. 

“What do you want?” You ask, looking up at him. You press your book to your chest while staring at him. 

He shrugs. “To talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

He frowns, his gaze flitting down to the book you hold, he releases your wrist and reaches for it. “What do you have there?"

“None of your business.” You pull it out of his line of sight and drop it into your tote bag. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Change of pace.”

You laugh before rolling your eyes. “I’m not your entertainment Rafe.” You start walking until you get to your car. You pause and turn to him. He tips his head down, looking at you through his lashes to avoid the glare of the sun bouncing off the hood of your car. “You were rude to me the other day, and I didn’t appreciate it.”

He nods, looking away, his jaw ticking before he turns back to you. “I know.”

“Don’t do it again,” you say before digging your wallet out and giving him back the money. “Keep your money, Cameron. My parents aren’t struggling to keep the lights on despite what you kooks think.”

He takes it, clearing his throat. “You’re a pogue.”

“So what? It doesn’t give you a right to look down your nose at me,” you clarify. “I don’t judge you based on your daddy issues, do I?” He is silent then, his lips turning down in a frown. “Maybe get to know your peers before making assumptions that make you an asshole.” You unlock your car and open your door before meeting his gaze as he stands on the sidewalk watching you. “Maybe try an apology once in a while too.” 

He chuckles, tucking the cash into his pocket. "Would that make you feel better?"

"I hate you," you quip back. "Now, I'm going to enjoy a beach day with my friends. Goodbye." 

You leave him standing there, one hand still in his pocket and trying to hide that kook smirk that he so often wears. 

After arriving at the beach and finding the pogues, you sit sprawled on a beach blanket, your new book open in your lap. The hat your nagging mother made you promise to wear keeps the afternoon sun from beating down on you too harshly and keeps the sun from glaring on the page. You smile, flipping the page while soaking up the first carefree day of the summer. 

And it has you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as the hero professes his unyielding love for his heroine. A slow burn always makes you feel like this. With a slow burn, your skin always tingles, your heart races, and your thirst for beautiful romances aches for you to get to the end. You cross your legs, leaning over to read the confession with eagerness. 

A shadow falls over your blanket, but the urge to continue wins through as you continue reading the hero's confession. 

“Is the book that good?” Rafe’s voice breaks through the images of the scene playing out in your head, and you snap the book closed before looking up at him in surprise. He smiles at you. “There she is.”

“What are you doing here?”

He sits beside you without asking and stretches his legs out, hands in the sand behind him as he leans back on his arms. Arms that were completely exposed in his tank top, muscled and tanned from hours working out and golfing in the sun. His muscles flex, holding him up in his current position. “I called your name halfway up the beach and wondered if you were ignoring me again, but I can see it is the book now.”

“What do you want, Rafe?” You ask, annoyance clear in your tone.

He smirks, dragging the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. “I told you, to talk.”

“About what?”

He looks out at the water, and you do the same, noting the attention of your fellow pogues on you. You can see JJ is the closer one. Anger is written plainly on his face. The kook prince is too near and looks way too comfortable next to you. 

“JJ looks like he wants to punch me,” he says casually. 

You turn your face back to Rafe. “I can promise you that he does.”

Rafe chuckles, sitting up straight and pulling his knees up. His arms draped around his knees. He does not even seem phased by the idea of JJ punching him at all. “He can try.”

“He might if you keep sitting here.”

He looks at you then, tipping his head as he mulls over his question. “You got a thing going with Maybank I don’t know about?”

“No.”

He shrugs. “So, you are not dating anyone then?”

“No.”

“Good,” he says while getting to his feet. He looks down at you, dusting the sand off his hands. “I’ll pick you up tonight, at 7 pm, at your house.”

“What?!” You ask, getting to your own feet. Your book thumps down onto the blanket after it falls from your lap. 

“Our date. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”

“No, I’m not… Have you hit your head in the past 24 hours? Do I need to call someone?” You ask, crossing your arms over your waist. 

“No, I have not hit my head.”

You scoff. “Then something is wrong with you for saying we have a date. A kook and a pogue. And for even thinking for one second that I would agree to it.”

He smirks, laughing a little, before sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be at your place to get you, 7 pm. Don't be late.” 

And then he turns his back to you and returns the way he came. 

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself before turning as the pogues emerge from the water, surfboards tucked against their sides. 

“What was that?” JJ asks, his hand brushing yours once he is near. You frown, looking at him and then the others. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper before turning your gaze to Rafe’s retreating figure. "He asked me on a date."

"A what?" Kiara's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, I guess he more so demanded."

John B scoffs, and Pope laughs. 

"You're not going," JJ says immediately, and you turn to him along with everyone else. He shrugs. "He's a kook. The kook."

"I already was not planning on it," you tell him. "But I'm also a person, JJ, and I can make my own decisions."

He nods, licking his lips. "You're right."

"She's coming to my house instead," Kie says, grinning at you. "Girl's night."

"Girl's night," you sass JJ, and he rolls his eyes at you. 

Part II