#WIP Rambles

[autism-purgatory]

Uhhh here’s how naming conventions work in sculpted lands!

Vitran, Nordofan, Ambraian, and Vitusian just have kinda fucked up European names like Hanithan and Yostinian.

Osica works like this: Your Family has a Lineage name. For example, the royal family has the lineage name of “Os” and when you are born, you are given a personal name attached to it, usually based on what the parents want for you in the future.

Pyramis’ naming conventions work similary, except you are given a sort of nickname and your personal name is only to be used by a lover, family, or very very close friend. Only the Empress can bypass this and always refers to her subjects by their personal names. The “Public” name is made up by the person, while the personal name is, like Osica, rooted in what the parents want for the child in the future.

Yigdea is the strangest of them all, because the children aren’t given legitimate names until they pass The Guardian’s Trial and their offering is accepted by the Oceanbed Demon. Their childhood names are the word for bloom “Yig” plus a color. They start their trial at 16 usually, and it’s done alongside a group of other children. They all have to hunt and retrieve a Dwell, and are then given their markings after offering it to the Oceanbed Demon. (Also their marking day is also somewhat similar to Mother’s/Father’s day)

[kivaember]

have this wip of a freud/621 pwp where they're fighting while they're fucking you're welcome (this wip is mostly sfw)

Freud was on the hunt. 

The heavy footfalls of his steel-capped boots echoed loudly as he prowled through the dimly lit storage facility for the Vesper’s main base of operations in Belius, the towering stacks of shipping containers and crates creating an angular maze with plenty of dead-ends and blind spots. His only source of light was his flashlight that normally hung from his toolbelt when he wasn’t in his piloting rig - after all, if he wasn’t piloting, he was doing mechanical work on LOCKSMITH. 

Or hunting his favourite playmate. 

Belius was in its night cycle, and most good little pilots like Pater were in their bunk, snoring away. But their newest and most difficult member? V.VII Raven was scurrying around after hours, throwing up the figurative middle finger at his enforced curfew despite Snail’s teeth-gritted demands for him to adhere to Vesper hierarchy. 

If it were anyone else, Raven would’ve been tossed headfirst into re-education until his surprising rebelliousness had been stamped out, but fortunately for him, Freud intervened on his behalf. He liked Raven as he was: feral, vicious, always looking minutes away from ripping out his throat with his teeth - and as V.I, he overruled V.II’s increasingly strained suggestion to bring that mutt to heel.

Like hell. Freud was letting this beast run loose for the fun of it. It was Snail’s own fault if he kept letting himself get bitten. 

(He wasn’t even being figurative about it. Since capturing Raven and browbeating him into uneasy compliance by holding Walter’s life over his head, Snail had been bitten by Raven on four separate occasions, the last almost resulting in a lost thumb. To be honest, Freud was pretty certain Snail deserved it in some way. You’d think he’d learn to stay away after the first time, let alone the third.)

While Raven was obedient in terms of carrying out Vesper missions flawlessly, outside of the cockpit he was an agent of surly chaos. Freud thought it cute, though, and he always enjoyed these little games of theirs. After all, there was a reason why Freud was in the storage facility after hours, wandering around this faux maze with nothing but a little flashlight lighting his way… 

“Raven~” Freud called in a teasing lilt. “I know you’re here. You didn’t cover up your trail very well…”

A trail that Freud could see crystal clear beneath the glare of his flashlight. Small boot prints tracked across the concrete floor, an oily sheen to them: because it was an oil, and probably a mix of lubricant and other fluids required for effective AC functioning. Freud had tracked this trail from LOCKSMITH’s sabotaged hydraulics and fuel system all the way to this storage facility, more amused than annoyed about the damage to his AC. 

It was an easy fix, barely a few hours of work. Besides, the aim wasn’t to sabotage LOCKSMITH, it was to catch Freud’s attention. 

He followed the dwindling boot prints until he came to a dead-end… at a glance. He scanned the towering containers, just in case Raven was lying in wait for him up there (happened last time, where the little bastard had jumped on Freud like a rabid monkey and tried strangling him), but there was nothing he could see. However, the dead-end was a wall, and that wall had a ventilation opening, just big enough for someone as small and scrawny as Raven to slither into. 

Said ventilation opening had its grate removed too. 

“Really,” Freud sighed, kneeling down in front of it and shining his torch up there. “How am I meant to fit in there…” 

He could probably squeeze in and have enough space to crawl, but he’d be damned if he encountered a sharp corner. He wasn’t that flexible, and unlike the augmented assholes in the Vespers, Freud was beholden to the march of time. He was in his late thirties, and his joints weren’t as bendy as they used to be. Though, maybe he could-

“Ngh!”

-a sudden weight rammed into his back, and it was only his quick reflexes that stopped him from braining himself against the edge of the ventilation duct. He frantically slammed his forearm against the wall, and pushed back, landing hard on whoever had body slammed into him and hearing that familiar, wheezy grunt of Raven having all the air squashed out of his lungs. It was a very distinct noise.

Cheeky little- he ambushed him!

Grinning ferally, Freud twisted around and tried to get Raven into a headlock, but the smaller mercenary was as slippery as an eel. He dropped his flashlight during the fray, a stray kick sending it spinning and half-blinding him as he wrestled with Raven in the dark. The merc didn’t hold back his punches at all - literally. Freud had to bite back a grunt of pain when Raven full on slugged him in the chest, clearly going for the solar plexus and narrowly missing it - but it left him open in exchange. 

Freud grabbed his arm and twisted it violently, Raven letting out a strained, gasping snarl of pain, and slammed the mercenary face down on the floor. Raven thrashed and squirmed underneath him, even trying to twist around to bite him, but with his arm firmly held against his back, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Freud was the victor, and he took his rightful throne of sitting on the back of Raven’s thighs as a result. 

“Well…” he panted, winded from that punch. Even if it missed his solar plexus, it still knocked the air out of him, damn. “You got me good for a second there, scavenger bird.” 

Raven hissed at him like a cat. 

“You were hoping to concuss me, hm?” Freud murmured, his blood still running hot but not quite clouding his mind as he thought back to that whole exchange. It would’ve worked. If Freud hadn’t been so quick on his reflexes, he would’ve smashed face first into the wall, leaving him disorientated. Raven would’ve capitalised on that, and…

But, it didn’t quite work out like that. Freud had been that little bit faster, but the ambush had still been pretty good. Freud got a little too complacent. 

“Looks like I won, though.” Freud shifted his weight and, still keeping Raven’s arm twisted behind his back, pressed his body in close, so he could murmur into his ear: “That means I get to decide the penalty.”

Raven didn’t respond or move. His free arm was slightly extended past his shoulders, and the narrow beam of his flashlight shone directly onto his scarred fingers. They were twitching slightly, like Raven was fighting down some sort of response, and Freud couldn’t help but smile. Down but not beaten… if Freud wasn’t careful, Raven might try going for the eyes again. 

Keeping his heavy-lidded gaze on Raven’s twitching fingers, he nosed his dark, half-curled hair before gently biting his ear. The mercenary flinched beneath him, and Freud pressed his half-hard erection against the firm swell of Raven’s ass, grinding languidly. 

Raven’s twitching fingers curled into a loose fist.

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

okay, so, i'm thinking

we've got our guy, right? old-ish, late 50s to 60s, dubiously human, definitely gay and possibly trans. I'm thinking of naming him julian? or maybe albert. henry?

and so Julian/Albert/Henry, he lives in a little cottage near/right next to a cemetery. graveyard? definitely a graveyard. sounds better.

anyway.

he lives next to the graveyard, and he takes care of it. cleans the stones, makes sure they're upright, waters the flowers, etc. he knows what all of them say, even the faded ones.

his partner died, maybe 10, 15 years ago? from what I'm not sure, but it was some sort of a disease, probably. whatever it was, they're buried in the graveyard, too. he's taken care of the graveyard since the old caretaker died, in the late 90s/early 2000s. they're buried there. when he dies, he'll be buried there too.

the world is sort of a modern-with-magic type of thing. there's magic, but there's also cellphones, cars, etc.

anyways, sometimes people come into the graveyard. the church that was there is gone, now, but people still visit. mostly people visiting relatives, but sometimes there's people who just like graveyards. generally our guy leaves them alone, but one day there's this teenager, there, and they're crying. and on a whim, he goes to talk to them. there's often people crying--its a graveyard, after all, he's no stranger to it--but this person isn't standing next to a grave or anything.

and he helps them. I dunno how, yet, but he does, and they start visiting more often; become friends. the kid's trans, too, I think.

oh, and he has a gray cat named Lady Eloise, called Ellie or El, for short. She's probably immortal (no one knows), and almost definitely magic. sometimes he swears she talks.

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

Rejoice ! This one character now has reason to die !

[shellclan]

it would be really nice if i knew how to actually have a comic style for this instead of just ref sheets

[btsgotjams27]

say hi to my bhc!jk 🥹💖

[morgothism]

I’ve patterned out Gortash’s clothing but haven’t done the embroidery yet (cause it’s going to kill me) and I’ve mentally patterned out Durge’s clothes but need to do it physically (and also the embroidery) but there is a voice in my head saying “make Wyll and Karlach next instead” and. I’m tempted as hell. Need Wyll, Karlach, Gale, and Halsin before I have the full camp but making four more plushies sounds. Overwhelming. But much to think about.

[iz-nomerants]

WIP Rambles: The MC

It’s a multi chapter. I won’t state the fandom, but it’s not the current one I’m active in now.

I really like how I wrote the downfall of this one character, how his desire to go back to his old world is what fuels his journey, as well as what becomes his obsession that drives him into insanity.

I love how I incorporated his backstory and made it blend into his characteristics. How his guilt from his father’s death made him incapable of accepting kindness from strangers, choosing to suffer as a way to subconsciously release himself from his guilt.

He’s a paradox, he wants to succeed but he doesn’t. His downfall is his own fault and it’s obvious, but it’s all so subtle and comes in so naturally that nobody can do anything but watch.

“The brightest stars are those that burn out the fastest.”

He was a flickering light from a lone matchstick. He was always doomed from the start. His own bleeding heart is what makes him suffer. He is a greek tragedy and I love him dearly.

[onboardsorasora]

Literally just had a thought about something fairly wild and out there for enchanted au and was like 'nah that's way too much'...then I remembered what this started out as 😅😅😅 that this is a fairytale that grew legs

[wipmoy]

ngl the fully clothed softcore that shows up on websites that generally don't have NSFW is usually way hotter than most pictures intended to be porn.

People will just draw a penis and expect you to find it sexy :| Where is the context dude. Wheres the Dramatic Tension. This is just anatomy.

[autism-purgatory]

Ouria lore: the Mourgua Horde

Among Ouria’s fossil-ridden lands are tombs from primeval humans. This early civilization discovered necromancy after seeing they could “harness” the necrotic trail that Zalsho (the god of death) left behind on his trail administering death. Early humans resurrected their dead to contributed to their hunter-gatherer societies. To he raised is to be honored and celebrated. Unfortunately, some corpses and even living humans were deemed unfit to be resurrected after death, which was shameful. Those corpses and people were permanently locked away in tombs.

After the Blank, where all primeval humans and signs of their old world simply…disappeared, the corpses of their tombs, those disgraced and cast away underground after death, unworthy of resurrection, seemingly revived themselves over and over. As thousands of years went by and the gods made new beings, the corpses rotted and melted into sludge that sprawled like veins and tar. In the year 196, a tomb was discovered on Thula island in the southern part of Quoria. When it was pried open, it instantly killed the excavation team and spread, and spread, and spread. By the time news reached back to the emperor, the entire island was consumed by necrotic rot, puppeteering its fauna as violent shambling zombies. Zalsho got word of this, went “Fuck that.” And caused the island to sink into the ocean, then to the underworld.

After that, every time a tomb is discovered, it is left the fuck alone. Folktales in Quoria say that remnants of the horde remain on the seafloor, spreading where we can’t see it.

in 249 (a year before WanderStruck for reference) the islands around Thula reported rotting crabs washing ashore here and there (keep in mind Quoria’s native crab species is HUGE). When Reapers (agents of Zalsho) reported this, he simply shrugged it off, saying smaller animals can pry themselves out of the underworld and ascend to the sea floor.

These crabs are immediately disposed of and burned. After that, nothing else has happened, for now.

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP rambles

hi i wish i could just GIVE YOU all of the parts of the eden club i have written but its all nonsense broken up like this

ugguguhghghghhhhaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh

anyway

hi, hope your day is going well

[immortal-he]

finished Forsaken in like a day because I’m working on a time loop fic about Haytham

And then I couldn’t remember how Edward died.

And then realized the butterfly effect would fuck up so much because if Edward didn’t die in the manor, then Connor wouldn’t be born at all.

Or maybe he would have. I don’t know, but I got to think about a lot now lmao

There’s three routes this could go:

I ignore everything and go back to my original plan but change some things just so it’s just a little bit more lore accurate

I rewrite the whole time loop bit to make it as accurate to the lore as possible

I make it a time travel fix it fic and a time loop fic,,, cause I love time travel fix it fics

Anyways that’s what I’m working on! :>

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

Came up with a really cool idea for Mike's part in the Gems of the Crown Arc. Unfortunately I now have to figure out the logistics of it rip

[gendervapor14]

too tired to write, too tired to edit, too tired to read, but not too tired to draw!! saw some anime screenshot redraws going around and that got me thinking of this iconic scene:

which i combined with a little moment the sorabelle fic to create…

a new disastrous wip!! nothing like having a stack of wip illustrations to go with your wip stories, right??

haha! ha. right? this is normal. everything is normal. everything is fiiiinneee

[btsgotjams27]

Goodbye is what you should've started with instead of hello.