#decides to write snippets to cope

[magical-girl-coral]

Gorgug and Fig 🌧️, two buds having fun

damn, with how fast these requests are coming in, maybe i should open a commission page. i could be broke enough to enter my villain arc.

It was early February, and the clouds moved heavy.

Raindrops fell from the sky with enough force to break through a levee.

And so two teens were stuck sitting inside a tree.

Wishing that stupid kobolt will leave him fucking be-

Gorgug threw his song journal against the window and fell head first into his pillow.

"Rough time?" Fig asked sympathetically from his swivel chair.

Gorgug only groaned and left his arms lamely at his sides. "I don't know why I'm like this. I used to like rainy days but now I feel like I want to rip my skin off."

"It's probably cause you're coming off an adrenaline rush. We've been running around town all year and even couldn't get a break during Yulenear. You're probably just crashing out."

Gorgug glared at Fig from the corner of his eye. "When did you become so smart about this kind of stuff?"

Fig glanced to the side. "Is it that hard to believe that sometimes I can be wise beyond my ears?"

"Fig."

"Fine," She said with puffed cheeks. "It was cause Ayda needed my help to research autism further and I couldn't say no when she asked me to. Happy now?"

Gorgug snickered into his bedding.

Fig threw a pirate plushie at him (probably Fabian's), which Gorgug dodged easily. She made an annoyed sound and slowly slid off his chair. "This is now getting to me too. Thanks a lot, Gorgug."

Gorgug stared at her in disbelief. "You're blaming me for this?"

"Well, yeah," She said dramatically while throwing her hands in the air. "I was doing okay until your negative energy put me out of it. God, I miss our other friends."

Gorgug couldn't disagree with that last part. They were all supposed to hang out the Thistlespring tree together today to cope with the shitty weather, but Fabian and Riz got a cold from continuing to work/train in the rain, Adaine had to stay at Mordred to complete her homework and Kristen was helping out at Saint Owen's with the sudden fever outbreak.

Usually, Gorgug and Fig would use this chance to go down to the garage and practice some new songs, but between Fig's creative burnout and Gorgug's constant tiredness from Porter's brutal classes, neither of them were really up for it.

Gorgug was just about ready to call it a day and take a depression nap when Fig threw a mysterious object next to his side. He lifted his head to question here and was just more confused when he saw it was a spray bottle.

What?

"Come on and put your raincoat on. I want to commit vandalism."

Oh. Yeah, that makes sense for Fig.

"Of course it does. Now come on, we need to go while everyone is still miserable from the rain."

Who are they even going to annoy, anyway?

Fig smirked. "You know who."

Gorgug's eyes widened. No, absolutely not. Not fucking Porter.

"Why not?" She asked with a pout. "He's been a shithead about you for three years now. This is the perfect time for some revenge."

Gorgug was sweating. This could affect his grade and he was barely passing as is. How will this make it any better?

Fig rolled her eyes. "Please, he gave you a high five when he saw you oinking at a cop and liked it when you pushed him in his own classroom. If he didn't want his van ruined, then he shouldn't teach his students to act like little shits."

Gorgug wasn't fully sure yet.

"He said his van looks better than yours."

Gorgug picked up the rest of the spray cans and ran through the front door, Fig following behind him with her mad cackling.

They made just outside Porter's house and painted his ride all sorts of colors and gimmicks like "honk for a kiss," "carpool magic man" and "my other ride is nothing im broke" before sprinting when they saw shadows move from inside the living room.

It was only after they all came back to school the next with Porter's van still written on did they find out that those cans specifically are a nightmare to get off of metal.

Gorgug took a video of all the students wolf whistling and kept it in his favorites. The serenity of the moment only lasted a second when he noticed that his goggles were also painted in the crossfire.

Gorgug ran into the school as if the devil was on his heel and spent the next hour cleaning away the evidence through a shitty anxiety attack.

Still worth it though.

[mllekurtz]

i'm just. taking a break from work and thinking about the fact that it's been almost two years since the c2 finale and that campaign still has me in a chokehold. i still think about the wizards all the time, which shouldn't surprise anyone but it's still remarkable. just taking a little moment to be in my feelings about them on main, nothing to see here

[johnslittlespoon]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday

Rule: Post seven(ish) sentences of your current WIP - or just a snippet who cares! And tag your writer friends to see what they're working on.

thank u thank uuu for the tag @nicijones! <3

“I’ll get you a fake ID,” Curt says decidedly, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “The summer’s young; can’t spend it ditching you every time I go out to drink.” “You don’t know how to get a fake ID,” John says, more as a plea than a statement. “Yeah, I do,” he argues, and with the older employees Curt hangs out with when he’s working the bar at the hotel, John’s inclined to believe him. “How?” He tries one last time to trip him up anyway, a weak appeal for mercy, but Curt only grins, reaching a hand out to squish John’s cheeks between his thumb and fingers. “Don’t you know? A lady never tells her secrets, John.” So that’s how John ends up tucked away in a small booth in the corner of some pub that looks lost to the sixties, old signage and other vintage memorabilia lining the wooden walls, cheery neon LED graphics adorning the kegs behind the diner–style bar.

tagging @air-exec, @counting0nit, @eternallytired17, @hauntingcontradiction, @skyyguy, anyone else who wants to! <3

[void-of-unparalleled-chaos]

   It had to be perfect. 

  Damian squinted at the canvas, absently tapping the end of his paintbrush against the desk.

  The first painting had been hard. He wasn’t supposed to think about Daniyah. He wasn’t supposed to remember her or grieve her. At the league, the dead stayed dead in more ways than one.

  Despite his best efforts to comply with the rule, Damian had always kept his sister with him. That didn’t make it any easier as he sat in front of his easel, digging through his mind for scraps of memory like a feral animal in a trashcan. To do so went against everything Grandfather and Mother had taught him.

  He had started with hesitant brush strokes. The boiling grief and anger that had thrown him into a frenzy that culminated in a single sketch within a destroyed room had long abated. It rested at a simmer as he’d dabbed the bristles of his brush into the paint, and it flowed through him as he touched it lightly to the canvas. 

   It was an arduous journey but by the end, his ukhti was staring back at him. He’d been proud of the painting even with the lingering sorrow that seemed to drape over his shoulders like a heavy shawl.

   Looking at the portrait on the mantel felt blasphemous now. 

   That’s why this one had to be perfect.

   His twin’s spectral visit had been brief, too brief for Damian to truly look upon him and commit details to memory. He was trained to notice minutiae, but he’d been preoccupied with his mad dash to throw his arms around the ghost and his subsequent tumble into the fireplace. 

   Damian spent days in front of the mantel sketching. He hoped that sitting where he’d last seen his brother would help him recall anything he missed. Some of his features remained the same as they had before. The shape of his nose hadn’t changed and neither had the small scar on his brow. His twin’s eyes were as familiar to Damian as the crooked smile he wore, but the long hair that had once been pulled back with a tie had been cut short, windswept upon his head. His cheeks, too, had grown more pronounced with age or whatever mimicry of it the dead experienced. 

   It had taken many pieces of paper until Damian held something that felt right. From there it was simply a matter of translating his work onto canvas in light pencil scratches and gathering his paints. 

   Now he sits in front of his easel once more, his twin’s face staring back at him as if begging to be displayed. The portrait has been done for a while now, residing in his room for the past few days. Never has Damian found the drying time of oil paint to be so tedious. 

   He tentatively pokes the canvas, humming in satisfaction when his finger comes back clean and dry. He inspects the painting one final time, ensuring that every color and brushstroke is flawless. 

   Satisfied with his work, Damian gently lifts it from the easel and exits his living quarters. The hallway is quiet and just as absent of life as the sitting room is when he enters. The first portrait lays face down upon the mantel, banished from where it used to hang by his grandparents. 

   Damian sets the new painting gently against the wall to push a chair against the fireplace. He carefully stands upon the cushion, canvas in hand. Alfred would surely be disappointed, but Damian can’t find it in himself to care when he has a mission as important as this. 

  It’s fitting, in a way. The rule at the league was that the dead stayed dead. Daniyah had died when they’d sent her away, not strong enough to complete a basic training mission. Daniyah would stay dead. 

   But Danny?

   Damian smiles as he hooks the new portrait on the nail, aligning it even. His akhi smirks down at him with mirthful eyes and a mischievous grin. 

   Daniyah was dead, but Danny would remain very much alive.

It wasn’t supposed to be a secret.

If you died while with the league, you will no longer be acknowledged to have existed, especially if you died during a mission. A disappointment will not be remembered.

The bats and birds don’t like speaking about the people they have lost, so they don’t. If someone ask about the dead, they will tell the person they don’t talk about that.

So how was Damian supposed to know that he should have told his father about his dead brother?

[rizzanon]

loving undoing fate so far!! this recent snippet of the og timeline is scratching an itch in my brain for angst and i love it 💕💕

I’m pretty sure ppl have mentioned it, but MC’s fate would’ve been avoidable if someone had actually properly trained her (looking at Babs in particular rn, seeing how she took training and giving her mantle to others a lot more seriously— both in canon and in this fic). Like… even if they didn’t have time (which is still bull, but wtv), Tim was literally sent to Paris to train in his early robin years, they could’ve sent her to train with someone else.

also, as much as i enjoy seeing dick suffer and become brutal in grief over his siblings, i think it’s a bit odd that he’s acting like he knew her all that well, considering how he didn’t even know where her room was or how to comfort her and talk to her after her argument with damian when she was 16 in the new timeline. I doubt much changed in those years from the og timeline. (This is not a nitpick of your writing, i just think it’s interesting he doesn’t acknowledge this, compared to Jason, who straight up says he failed her—Though, maybe it’s easier for him to see since he knew what it was like to actually be close to her before his death?)

sorry i rambled, but amazing work! i’m excited my holiday will be filled with reading this series!

-🥐 (i hope there’s no croissant anon yet, i chose this since, like several have mentioned, the mlb allegations and MC-Marinette allegations are strong lol)

glad you like the story so far <33

i wouldn’t say that barbara didn’t take mc’s training seriously. she did, though at the time when mc did decide to become batgirl, barbara was still going through a lot of things (like joker shooting her making her paralysed, her no longer being able to be batgirl and instead is still trying to find her footing as oracle) all of these factors build to her initially being unsupportive of mc taking up the batgirl mantle. but she realises later how much mc reminded barbara of her past self, which is why barbara gave in and helped her. but here���s the thing. technically, barbara isn’t responsible for mc. because mc is bruce’s child.

if you read batgirl 2000, you can see barbara was more involved in helping cassandra settle in with her vigilante work. and that’s because cassandra is barbara’s ward. so she is (and has to be) responsible for cassandra. and with cass losing her ability to read other people’s body language and having to relearn defense skills, i guess barbara shifted her focus onto cass more.

more of barbara and mc’s relationship will be explored in chapter 5/6 so maybe when i do post that, this will make more sense…¿?

also, i wouldn’t say that mc’s fate would have been unavoidable if she’d been trained properly. she is trained to a certain extent. mc was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. going in and fighting all those thugs whilst recovering from prior injuries she got from past patrols/missions, she pushed herself too much and was unable to recover and avoid the gunshots (i would say she was holding out on her own quite well before she was shot)

and tbf, i wouldn’t say dick is acting like he knew mc all too well (unless my writing does depict him that way, then mb 😭) i would say he’s still grieving and in denial that someone else—in his family—died. that’s his way of coping with mc’s death. he’s furious, he’s upset, he’s grieving, but there’s nothing he can do to make himself feel better, because he knows deep down that he failed mc. he’s just trying to come to terms with it i guess.

(mc is NOT marinette btw 🤨😒)

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #45: Happy Family

In this house we cope with hard times in fics by thinking of better days and brighter futures!

... By which I mean, the prompt for September was "hope" and to my utter surprise, my Patrons chose Happy Family, my story for Underneath Starlit Skies, as what gives them the most hope in these trying times :'D and to be fair, this particular story is about as opposite to what's going on in Gladiator atm as can be, so... makes sense :'D

This was a hilarious story to write and revisit, always makes me smile. It's another rare situation where I actually feel like I mostly managed to translate my vision of this scene, in my head, to what I wound up drawing... I really wanted to make sure all characters felt as active as could be (except for Mai, who didn't really care about how the game turned out or if Azula burned down a net, she was just getting justice for her son xD), and getting the sunset lighting right was also a big priority.

For anyone who didn't read this chapter (if you're in need of a pick-me-up over Gladiator, I absolutely recommend it haha), at this point, Azula, Sokka, Zuko and Katara were teamed up against Mari, Zi (Zuko and Suki's daughters), Hotaru (Sokka and Azula's daughter) and Mai in a kuai ball match, while the rest of the audience sat on the sidelines, enjoying the show. As Mai's joining the team to substitute for her son, Yuudai, resulted in a near-upset, Sokka and Azula decided they needed to get serious to clinch their victory and... well. I suppose the rest is history xD

It was a little bit insane to finish this in like... 3 days. But. Yeah. I did that. I should've posted earlier but I was nightshading and glazing and whatnot, I got busier than intended... but here it is! Hope you guys like it!

If you'd like to be part of the creative process behind these pieces, a $1 pledge is enough to make you eligible for suggesting and voting on prompts, as well as reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before the next chapter is released!

[eisukesama]

Smutty Snippets- 1

Albedo x Fem!Reader x Primordial Albedo

Note: Tbh, writing oneshots, long fics is truly fun- but what about snippets? So...I decided to write smth like that, which will actually serve as a warm-up and a coping mechanism for my intrusive thoughts- XD. Hope y'all will like it! Do hit a like or at least a smol comment abt how it was :3.

Word Count: 319

The “Primordial” Albedo gripped your thighs, gloved fingers sinking into the soft plush skin. He hurled you up and slammed your dazed body back down on his length. You could barely think. It felt good.  

Way too good. 

The luscious sounds of skin slapping echoed throughout the lab. Your eyes suddenly settled upon the door of the lab. What if someone…comes in?  

Your thoughts get interrupted when a gloved hand grabs your chin roughly and a deep, sultry voice lingered near your ear. “Worried that someone will come in? Why don’t you show ‘em how much of a slut you are- eagerly taking my cock~”  

You felt shivers run down your spine, hands scrambling to find purchase on his arms.  

“Fuck. Y/n… you liked that didn’t you, getting so tight and clenching around me” He growled, gripping on your thighs harder- enough to leave bruises on the supple skin. 

You opened your mouth to protest but- 

Click 

The door unlocked and a blonde man stepped in, handling some papers. Your eyes widened. Out of all people, why him?  

You wanted to escape just when Primordial Albedo pulled you back and rammed into you with full force. “….?! AaaahhHnNhg?!!?..... A-Albedo…!....sl-slow down!!!..” You threw your head back as you felt him reach your deepest sweet spot. Yet another tantalizing wave of pleasure coursed through you, as your body got reduced into a fucked-up piece of lump.  

You were so muddled headed at this point that you didn’t realize the feathery touch of the real Albedo on your throat.  

You heard a faint a chuckle from him, as he continued to trace your body, rubbing circles on your sternum. “Seems like our y/n is having a lot of fun here...” A low growl erupted from the fake one. “ Haah? Our? She’s mine. I love your confidence here.”  

He smiled, leaning in and softly grabbing your waist. “Why not let her decide?” 

Source of header

[speechless-illusions]

I'm reading the THG trilogy again and just 100 pages in, I've already seen so many references and things that SOTR has completely changed for me that this feels like a completely new experience.

It's even giving me a lot of ideas for a Haymitch centric fanfic that tells the trilogy in his POV with all we now know of him and I'm dying to write it. Downside? Your girl here is studying for really important exams who would decide if she gets a lifelong job or not and I feel like starting a project like that fanfic would need too much dedication 😭

Maybe I'll write snippets or something in my notes app to cope with this urge and then I'll decide if I post them or just forget about them

[lawrinlewis]

Writing snippet: Black Mask Haru, and the fate of Okumura Kunikazu

Noir was a ruthless dispenser of justice, a shadow striking fear in her target's heart. Okumura Haru was a coward who quivered at her father's displeasure. She was a child yearning for soft touches that would never come.

Noir would have shot this heinous man in the face without regret. Haru couldn't even raise her axe. Sweat coated her hands as her arms trembled. She had taken those other lives so easily, so how dare she hesitate now? (She couldn't do it.) He was no better than the rot he had ordered her to purge. (She couldn't do it.) What justice did she serve if it crumbled the moment her feelings was on the line? (She couldn't do it.)

What did it say about her, its loyal executioner?

Her father looked at her, his face paled in fear. He apologized and pleaded and pleaded. He begged for forgiveness. Numbness filled her limbs as incessant buzzing invaded her ears. This man made her a murdered. She was his sword to wield, his bargain chip to throw, his glass-eyed doll to sell. Even so, she panted and begged after him like a dog, a girl so weak and sycophant just hoping for scraps of praise from her owner. Sometimes she recoiled from the person she became. That disgust for herself pooled in her heart like poison as desperation grew alongside it. Gentle praises turned into angry barks, her invisible chains and willing cage. He was hooks in her flesh. He was a parasite that devoured her soul. He was her world.

So for as long as he existed, she could never live.

Her vision swam and blurred, terrible tears flooded her eyes. Oh, she hated being weak in front of the Phantom Thieves, these true allies of justice who burned her with their purity.

A clicking sound jarred her. Akechi readied his gun. He looked at her in the eyes.

"Night. Haru. Do you want him dead?"

She stared at him. His garnet eyes, several shades deeper than Mako-chan's (eyes that would never look at her so lovingly anymore), shone red under cool blue light. She shook under the weight of being seen. In that moment, she knew he understood. He would never judge her for her choice. Jagged emotions tore their way through her soft throat. She spat out a bloody whisper.

"Please."

Realizing her betrayal, her father shouted in impotent anger and disbelief. But she couldn't hear him anymore. All her senses zeroed in on that silly (deadly) laser gun Goro-kun wielded. His finger curled.

Bang!

Background info:

Black mask Haru post, but the basic gist is that Haru's natural latent psychic abilities made her a target for Shido. They forcefully awakened her persona and made her serve as their assassin. In an attempt to cope, Haru has deluded herself into believing she's serving justice. Also she goes through a worsening arc before her redemption arc because of her jealousy towards the PTs.

Haru was tasked to cause a mental shutdown in Sae so that they can frame the PTs for murder. The PTs manage to intercept her, but not before she caused heavy damage to Sae's mind and plunging her into a coma. Makoto, who was in love with Haru before, has a hard time even looking at her after that.

They worked together on the Okumura palace because. Erm. I want them to?

Goro has killed before. During an experiment gone wrong with Wakaba, Goro went berserk, his body and mind fusing grotesquely with his two persona. He killed (then cannibalized) Wakaba (which he regrets), as well as the other scientists (which he does not regret), before setting fire to the lab when his mind stabilized to fake his death + destroy the lab equipment. This is why I made him the one who understood Haru and decided to kill for her at the end

[hotmessmaxpress]

Mate pleaseeee dont stop writing ever about marc and marco like they areee sososo ughh idk!!!! like it just works so good yk

so thats why i say pretty please with a cherry onntop to give me another snippet of them interacting in anyway🤞🙏

Here is my Bezz x Marc friendship thesis! Which is maybe not what you're looking for but I don't have the brainpower to write an entire scene. I did have the brainpower to dump all of my thoughts about them though!

Okay so in this au there are two main things that I think change Bezz’s view of Marc from enemy to bestie. One is that Bezz has a meltdown about the whole thing and Vale puts him in his place. (I wrote more of this that I might post when I like it!)

The more compelling part to me that I sort of glossed over in the first part of this au is that Bezz has a moment of realization that he and Marc are both omegas. As Marc has noticed, Bezz really doesn’t think too hard about his role as the pack omega. He just is. When Luca first tells Bezz about Marc’s bite and just how badly Vale fucked it up, it sends Bezz into a bit of a crisis that takes him a long time to really confront head on. He sort of just shoves it aside until he has had time to adjust to Marc being in the pack.

Bezz then realizes that no matter what happens, he will always understand Marc better than any other member of the pack because they share the unique experience of being an omega and everything that comes with that. While Bezz’s pack don’t treat him really any differently (at least not in a bad way– if anything they spoil him) than they would if he was an alpha, that doesn’t change the fact that they could. They could take advantage of him, especially during his heats. They could treat him like he’s lesser-than. And none of that ever really occurred to him until he found out about what happened to Marc. And at first, that scared him. The idea that his pack would ever do that to him was terrifying. Pretty quickly, though, he realized that they wouldn’t actually ever do that. Still, that knowledge remained. He and Marc are the only two people in their pack that have to cope with everything that comes with being an omega.

So when it comes to welcoming Marc to the pack (even though it takes Bezz the longest of any of the other pack members) once Bezz decides to love him he loves him. Marc is already a pro at codependent relationships (lol love you Alex) and he and Bezz pretty much latch onto each other.

Marc is who Bezz goes to when he doesn’t feel well. He goes to Marc when he’s tired. He goes to Marc when he needs attention. And on the flip side, Marc goes to Bezz as well. When he needs someone to help him be calm and clear his thoughts, he goes to Bezz.

Marc loves Vale’s room, and he loves that it becomes their room together (he even loves that Vale has a bike in there, a fact which has changed my brain chemistry). He loves the way that Vale has his little pack who all love him and listen to him and look to him for advice. But sometimes he still isn’t sure where he fits into that– he’s closer in age to most of the pack members than he is to Vale, and he really doesn’t feel comfortable giving them unsolicited advice in the way Vale does. He goes to Bezz for reassurance, and he finds himself in Bezz’s room often. There’s something comforting about having a room to go to that doesn’t smell like alpha. Bezz is always happy to have him, too. He lets Marc join him in whatever he’s doing, even if it means Marc silently pressing up against him in bed while Bezz plays video games. Bezz doesn’t even question it. Marc is always allowed in his nests or in his arms.

Maybe they’ve just had a long day of training at the ranch, and Marc’s nerves are frayed because training at the ranch always brings up weird emotions about his first breakup with Vale. And Marc could go to Vale but he doesn’t really want to talk about it and he knows that if he goes to Vale, his mate is going to get all sad-eyed and feel guilty and Marc doesn’t want that! So instead he showers and goes to Bezz’s room, where it smells comfortingly of omega and safety and calm. And Bezz has just showered and his hair is sort of fluffy the way it gets when he allows it to air dry.

Maybe Bezz is even expecting it because he knows Marc gets weird about training at the ranch sometimes (maybe this is even their routine!). So he’s ready and is happy to let Marc curl up next to him in bed. Marc is wearing a sweatshirt that belongs to Vale and he just watches, silently, as Bezz plays video games. He doesn’t join in because he’s tired and emotionally wiped out, but he keeps his chin planted firmly on Bezz’s shoulder. He feels Bezz tense every time he struggles with a battle and feels him relax when he wins. There’s no pressure to talk or explain himself or entertain the other man. They sit in comfortable silence, cuddled together.

Vale comes to check on him usually, and bring them snacks, sometimes, but Marc always stays with the other omega until he feels okay again.

[readychilledwine]

Pressure

A/n: this was heavily inspired by this post

Amelia is one of my favorite ocs I have trapped in the writing world I keep under lock and key. She is one of my Archeron sister characters that I decided was the perfect firey match to Eris. In this little snippet of their lives together, she's just finally had it. Maybe someday, I'll be brave enough to bring their full story into light.

Warnings - mentions of smut, a lot of vulgar language, implied mental breakdown, alcohol use as a coping mechanism, Beron Vanserra is mentioned, and a lack of editing.

Amelia was just done.

Between the constant pressure of being the dutiful wife of the future High Lord of Autumn, the sister of the High Lady of Night, and Beron's new favorite toy to fuck with, she had finally had it.

Her hair was a tangled mess on top of her head. She had attempted to hide it in a messy bun, but it was no use. The blonde mess of curls had officially taken on a mind of its own.

She knew her makeup was smudged, but she could not find the energy to care. Exhaustion had won today. Hence, the two steaming cups of coffee she was double fisting like Cassian at Rita's. Black mascara and eyeliner caused her already tired eyes to look even worse.

She had not even bothered to change since her 4pm breakdown in the dog kennels. She was covered in fur and the lingering scent of hounds. She knew she should bathe, make herself presentable before Eris got to their chambers, but she just genuinely did not care anymore.

She had lost herself in this game of High Lord manipulation and mental chess. It was a game she had never asked to play, and one she was sure would be the death of her if Eris did not off his father soon.

She had loved to read before this all. But lately, she never had time, and when she did, the book quickly found its way into her "rainy day reattempt later" pile. She was trying to distract herself with another attempt at a book tonight, though.

She thought maybe a different genre would help. She had taken Azriel's recommendation in a psychological horror novel, and just found herself laughing at the poor build up, the half effort descriptions, and the ever growing plot holes.

"I fucking quit," she tossed her book to the side, sipping on the warm bitter liquid as she stared into the fire.

"My spark," the deep honeyed voice of her mate reached her ears. "Amelia, baby, what's wrong?"

"Fuck you and fuck this place." Eris chuckled at her response before sitting on the couch near her spot on the floor. "Fuck the games. The court systems. The High Lords. Fuck the fae. Fuck being fae. Fuck all of you."

She took another deep sip of her coffee nose scrunched at the bitter taste. Eris could feel her through the bond. He could feel her love for him, but it was weighed down heavily by her anger, frustration, and exhaustion.

"Tell me more," Eris leaned his elbows onto his knees. He was allowing his wife, his mate, this one moment of anger. He knew this dance all too well, and he could tell she needed to have this moment.

"I really fucking hate that prick your dad has in charge of the libraries. He's a condescending piece of pond scum, and I will dance near his pyre one of these days," Eris felt his eyes go wide, covering his mouth to hide the laughter threatening to escape.

Amelia continued after sipping her coffee. "I hate your father, too, actually." She paused, switching to sip the coffee she had secretly added Eris's whiskey into. "Do you know what that fucker said to me today?"

Eris smirked. "Tell me what he said, my love."

"That fucker said to me I was failing at my duties as a wife since we do not have a child yet. He told me to fuck you more and learn my place."

Eris was frozen as he watched her drink the coffee he could smell liquor radiating from again. "And what did you say?"

"I told him you've never once complained about how I perform my wifely duties when your cock is in my mouth. That shut him up real fuckin fast. Fucking asshole."

Eris took in Amelia's appearance for the first time. Her heavy eyelids. Her chapped lips. Her messy hair and disheveled clothing. She had not bathed today, and he knew she had not slept last night. He took in the look of despair etching deeper into her face as she drank. The stack of books tossed onto the ground without care.

"I think we need a vacation, my love." Eris's voice was soft as he moved to sit on the ground with his mate. "Maybe I should send a message to Kal. We could go to Winter for a little-"

"Fuck. The. High. Lords. Fuck the games. Fuck the song and dance. If we're going to be putting on a show, it may as well be in this fucking hellhole."

Eris paused. Any trip to another court would involve Amelia and him playing the same roles they were in daily. The ones she clearly had enough of. There were few places he would be able to take her to get away from all of this, and he knew of a perfect one.

"How about the cabin?"

He watched as her breath hitched. Her eyes peeked over to him before refocusing on the hearth. They had not been to the cabin since their mating ceremony. It had been two months of them alone. Two months of love, sex, and silence.

"No duties. No High Lords. No masks. Just you, me, and the hounds." He kissed below her ear. "Just us. All alone. Up in the Autumn mountains. Where you can scream as loud as you like. Curse as loudly as you like." Another kiss on her jaw line and then her neck.

"Just us?"

He nodded as he caged her between him and the couch. Straddling her thighs with his knees so she could not escape.

"Just us, our hounds, and that wicked mouth of yours."

"Take me," she whispered to Eris, her blue eyes sparkling for the first time tonight. "Take me please."

"I intend to," Eris nipped her nose, grabbing her small hand in his as she went to smack his chest. "If you go take a bath."

Amelia shut her eyes before chuckling. "Fuck you."

Eris smiled gently down at her. "And you'll get to. After your bath. Come my spark, we will bathe together and plan our trip."

[thickenmyblood]

Maca, your writing has enriched my life so much. In my thoughts I revisit HIUH just as much as CaPri, perhaps even more. I read ~70 books in 2023 and the only reason I didn't name HIUH my book of the year (and I usually wouldn't even include fanfiction) is that it wasn't finished at that point. While I am overwhelmed with joy at the thought of seeing this opus concluded soon, I am already filled with melancholy at the thought of "losing" your voice. So..... Will you tell us about the book you'll be working on? Drop us some key words? Maybe even post a snippet? Must we truly cope without your writing? ._.

😭this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the book will def have some capri vibes because pacat (capri) has greatly influenced me as a writer. and yeah, yeah, we all know tropes and tags can be extremely reductive and a symptom of extreme consumerism but girl . . . think enemies to lovers, dark fantasy (don't think fucking dragons and elves bc NO), disability (i'm so fucking excited about this bit!!!!!!! chronic pain people rise up!!!! endometriosis girlies!!!! mobility impairment pals or whatever the fuck that's called in English!!!!), slow fucking burn, political intrigue (listen i'm not that smart so it's more like "politics are mentioned" lol), oh and RELIGION, a lot of religion(s)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and fucked upness!!!!!!!!!!!! you know me, can't have enough of that.

if i ever decide to publish it (probably not lol) maybe you'll see it on the self pub section on kindle unlimited and go 'wait a damn minute, is this--'

[tj-dragonblade]

Hi! I'd like to hear something about the fishbowl therapy fic, please!

Ah, this is probably my favorite year-old idea that I really want to write but haven't quite gotten around to. I like the concept, I like the visuals that I've got in head, but so much of the necessary conversations just fizzle when I try to flesh them out. I'm sure I can get it right if I focus on it long enough, though. The long rambly synopsis with a tiny snippet of drafting included:

Sometime after their 2022 reunion, with more frequent meetings etc, Dream finally tells Hob why he missed their 1989 meeting. And Hob is very much Not Okay about it. He has so many feelings - the horror of his friend having been held captive that long, rage on Dream's behalf, self-recrimination that he didn't know, he could have done something if he'd known, and a crushing guilt over every unkind thought he had after 1989 (never mind that he got over them, he still thought them in the first place and his friend was stuck in a glass cage while Hob was wallowing in self-pity and uncharitable assumptions).

But Hob stuffs all his feelings about this down inside, because what kind of friend would he be to make Dream's trauma-sharing all about his own reaction? So he tries very hard to keep his own feelings out of the conversation, aside from some commiserative vindication when Dream confirms that everyone who held him is either dead or dealt with.

But he is Extremely Upset about it all evening, and ends up dreaming about it. Dream catches awareness of his distress, visits the dream. He didn't give Hob specifics in their conversation, 'a glass cage' and 'basement' were the key details and Hob has dreamed up something akin to a zoo exhibit - the cage is rectangular, three glass walls attached to a fourth stone wall, roomy enough to pace about in, a proper semblance of a bed in one corner. Dream watches as Hob stands on the outside, talking to the dream-version of Dream inside the cell - a Dream who still has his clothes, he had not shared that detail with Hob either - and makes himself known after only a moment. Hob is apologetic, he's so sorry he's making this all about himself, but Dream is…pleased, by his distress. 'Pleased' is not quite the word, but it is comforting to know that someone is so upset on his behalf. He takes the place of his dream-self within the cell, urges Hob to continue, to tell him everything he's held back. It's easy to be detached from the memory when the setting is wrong, and he is warmed despite everything at how vehemently Hob insists he would have come, how sorry he is for thinking Dream had chosen to stay away, etc etc. Eventually they are talking about how Dream is coping with it, is he healing from his trauma, and of course he says it does not bother him, but Hob is like 'If I'd spent more than a hundred years cooped up in this -' gesturing at the spacious cage he's envisioned '- I'd be - I'd be something. I wouldn't just be okay about it.' And Dream, feeling peevish and daring, decides to push.

"It was not like this," he says. "You dream it too kind."

Hob blinks at him. "…What?"

"You dream it too kind," Dream repeats. "Shall I show you the truth of it?"

"I…okay," Hob agrees, foreboding and unease in his tone, and Dream shifts the basement around them. With less than a thought he is naked in the suspended glass orb again, the painted stars mocking him from above and the the binding circle a sickly glow beneath him, the dank reaches of the underbelly of Fawney Rig stretching into infinity in every direction. Hob stumbles back a step with a shocked cry, horror flooding his features; he nearly flails backwards into the moat and steps forward again, stumbles to his knees, staring up at Dream with tears flooding his eyes.

"What the fuck—god, Dream—!"

And while he's processing all over again the full depth of the horror that was done to his friend, Dream is feeling something akin to panic creeping over him now that he's here again. He is less okay than he thought he was, the memory is pressing in again, and he focuses on Hob's distress to mitigate his own. There's gotta be a moment of both of them pressing hands to the glass; they get to a point where Hob just sort of spirals into a frenzy of 'gotta get you out, gotta get you out' that feeds Dream's own latent panic that he's definitly not giving in to, never mind that he can't stop repeating 'Free me, Hob, free me' (?) over and over. Hob's scrabbling about for anything that might help him break the glass and shortly dreams up a crowbar; he scrambles to his feet and starts swinging. It's thick glass, and magical etc, and it takes Hob whaling on it quite a lot before it begins to crack, and plenty more hits before it shatters. Whereupon Dream drops to the floor, free, unbothered by the broken glass all around. Hob suddenly has a jacket so that he can take it off and wrap it around Dream, and somewhere in the surging relief of the re-enacted rescue Hob just flings his arms around Dream and kisses him. Dream is taken by surprise, but things are definitely falling into place for him and he kisses back. Hob jerks back, doing a full 'oh shit I kissed him my secret's out I've ruined everything' kind of take; Dream just grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him back down, kisses him again.

There is a little more conversation here in the dream as heat and realization build; then Dream, 'weary of this wretched basement' and wanting Hob to remember all of this, ends the dream and manifests in Hob's bed as Hob wakes. There is sex and conversation to finish it out, Dream finally voicing out loud how much it means that there is someone who would have come for him, who will come to his defense no matter how unnecessary, who thinks he's worth the effort of rescuing.

Like I said, I stumble over the conversations somewhat and that makes it easy to let this one languish in the depths of the wip file. All that Hob-pov exposition at the beginning isn't really part of it either, since this will be Dream's pov, but I've got to convey all that via Hob talking to dream-Dream and then actual-Dream in the dream itself. I'll get it all ironed out one day. Hopefully.

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 27: fear

For today I decided to write a little snippet featuring René and his anxiety since fear is pretty much part of his life 24/7.

TW: minor self harm and anxiety? attack (René is not having a great time 😔)

The trembling wouldn’t stop.

Five minutes and 45 seconds.

The breathing exercises didn’t help, distractions just made him miserable and there weren’t anymore nails left to bite at.

René might have a problem.

A small one. Barely a blib on other people’s radar. Not significant in any way but a problem nonetheless but that was nothing new.

6 minutes.

His hands were still shaking, he should probably. Just … stop, but he reached the point where tremors were on the last place of his priority list.

The experiment failed again. Seven times. All of them gone to shit. He’d followed the protocol to the letter, replicated the entire process from the exact materials to the environmental conditions but still. No dice. Which made no logical sense because René knew it should have worked. He’d seen it with his own eyes, analysed the data and the results spoke for themselves, but one success meant nothing in science. Without statistics there’s no proof, no proof meant no conclusive result and no result was failure.

René was sick of failing.

Sick of experiments, sick of lab, sick of numbers that made no sense.

Sick. Sick. Sicksicksicksicksick.

The trembling stopped but only because he was gripping his hair too hard for there to be any room for further movement. The stinging pain was a slight relief against his spiralling thoughts, so he tugged, harsh. Once. Twice. His scalp burned and some hairs gave away to his grip. René let go, staring at the strawberry red strands woven between his fingers. His vision was obstructed by tears, partly from the pain but mostly result of frustration and being overwhelmed.

The urge to rip, scratch, bite bubbled up again, but René caught himself before he dove of the deep end.

I-

I need.

I need Cilmi.

Cilmi would fix it. Cilmi always fixed it. When anxiety crept up on him in the dark, when fear dragged him down and chained him to despair.

Cilmi will fix it.

Climbing to his feet was hard. Taking a step forward was harder and actually entering the hallway was nearly impossible but René managed. Somehow. He always managed. He needed to. Because his mind never left him alone, anxiety a constant companion ever since he’d been small and with time he learned to cope with his treacherous brain. But there were bad days and worse days and days where he could barely get out of bad without hyperventilating.

Today was bad but not …. the worst.

Because Cilmi was still there. As long as his best friend was still in reach, René could handle the trap falls of life.

The door to the library – oaken, heavy and still splattered with drops of blood – was a welcome sight to René’s tired eyes.

Nearly there.

The smell of books, a mixture of paper, ink and a smattering of dust, brought tears into his eyes again. It smelt like home. Safe.

René homed in on Cilmi, who had looked up from his book as soon as the silence of his sanctum had been disturbed by the squeaking of the door. His dark eyes catalogued everything, the wet cheeks, messy hair, trembling lip and blood crusted nails. No judgement, no disgust, no pity. Cilmi just registered everything that René’s appearance had to offer, came to a conclusion and carefully closed his book.

In a matter of seconds his friend stood before him, taking over his entire vision. A heavy hand dropped onto his hand, the weight familiar and unmistakable, the careful ruffle a stark contrast to his earlier pain.

Cilmi was always careful with him. Careful and kind.

And with the very same kindness he enveloped René in his Flames and ordered:

“Sleep.”

Reality fell away, making space for the bliss of unconsciousness and René let himself fall into a dreamless sleep.

Thanks.

[whentommymetalfie]

I re-read Bird Song during the holidays and my deepest respect for being able to write such an important topic so well and with the necessary love for details to make it so realistic!

I guess we all want to get Tommy out there as soon as possible but unfortunately it won't be as easy as Tommy simple stepping out of it and guess Alfie abducting him wouldn't be realistic, would it!?

Anyway I love it and looking forward to more :)

Btw. I know you are busy and I do not expect you to write even more, but you mentioned that you had more planned for October and so I wanted to ask if you would share what you had in mind but didn't get to write? Or other ideas for later. Only if you want ofc.

Thank you so much ❤️ This just made my day to hear❤️

And oof let me tell you, I also want Tommy out of there as quickly as possible. But just as you say, the story sort of has to get to a certain place first before I can make it work. I'll stay away from spoilers (even if I'm always dying to give things away) but let's say that the next chapter is a pivotal point of sorts. In more ways than one.

As for the unfinished whumptober fics, I can absolutely share some ideas I had, at various stages of completion.

Two which were just at various stages of loose concept:

-A sequel to ‘Coping’ where Alfie is set on getting revenge on Changretta for what he did to Tommy, which is his way of dealing with the situation. Tommy is living with him and not doing well, and Ada is there to look after him while Alfie is ‘working’ at the bakery.

-Something more set in an omega-verse where omega-Tommy is married to alpha-Grace, and is completely heartbroken after she is killed. Afraid that he’s going to fade away completely, his family calls Alfie for help. Here, the two of them are just friends and business partners to begin with. This was inspired by an ask I still have in my inbox.

And two which were at more of the ‘draft stage’

-A fic for the prompt conveinece store/loneliness I had a modern AU taking place entirely in, well, a convenience store. Alfie and Tommy don’t know each other yet, and Alfie quite literally runs into him (meet-cute vibes, sort of). Then we follow along as they keep running into each other there over the course of a two months or so. And Alfie realises slowly, even from his limited POV, that Tommy isn’t doing very well. Which let’s say, escalates, at the end. I’ll keep it at that if I do ever manage to finish it. I do have a rough draft. 

-I also had a draft for a story where Arthur comes home high and drunk and gets in a fight with Tommy, ending up accidentally hurting him badly. I just re-read it and realized it’s virtually finished, but I remember feeling too insecure to post it at the time, but you can have a little snippet if you’d like: 

“It was an accident.” 

“Get out of my fucking sight, you hear that? Or I’m going to accidentally smash your fucking head open too- go get help, he’s fucking… bleeding all over the place. Tommy, I need you to open your eyes.” 

This time, he manages

“There we go, good boy.” Alfie tries to give him one of those reassuring smiles but doesn’t quite succeed and Tommy decides he needs to keep his eyes open because he doesn’t want Alfie to look so scared. And he’s fine, isn’t he, he just… fell, he’ll be fine in a second. “Talk to me, what happened?” 

“I told you, it was just a fucking accident!” Arthur’s voice hurts his head. Why is Arthur here?

He’s drunk, stumbles when he moves towards them, and his eyes look strange, not like his own. Seems to vibrate from something deep inside. 

“I swear if you take another step I’ll fucking end you- Go get someone, we need to take him to ta hospital.” 

No, no hospitals, he doesn’t need to go to a hospital.

“It’s fine,” he says. The fear in Alfie’s eyes only grows. 

...

That's it, sort of. Thank you again for your message ❤️

[scythlyven-art]

hi! i just found your art and holy fuck it's amazing. I'm sending this cause I'm curious about your warlock au you mentioned in one of the posts and if youd be willing to share any info on it

Hi! I’m glad you found my little hole here and that you like my art!! :D

There’s not too much info to share on the warlock au other than snippets I’ve written on Twitter about it but I can share the basics! (Ie just coping some of my tweets lol this is quite the novel so sorry in advance but you did ask for it)

“Basically the au is normal VM minus Percy. Percy in this au is sort of a combo of him and Orthax (some) power and appearance wise. He’s a demon that lives. In a big fancy sciencey castlevania Dracula style castle by himself.

He controls the only known major deposit of White Stone for Residuum and the area is watched over by loyal undead servants or animated suits of armor and the whole area is hidden away.

Not a big user of magic still but it comes free with being a ✨ demon ✨

In a direct fight between Percy and the Briarwoods Percy would easily win- his centuries of knowledge vs a relatively new vampire and necromancer they don’t stand a chance. Which is why they resort to cheating of sorts using an artifact beyond their power.

Whispered One hooks them up with it and they basically wait until the right moment to catch Percy completely off guard before sealing him away in it. There’s not much he can do once he’s trapped and the Braidwoods take full control over the Residuum supply.

Cut to 5 ish years later and VM stumble upon some oldish ruins with a few corpses and hidden treasures. One of which is an old brooch that was given to Percy centuries ago by his human sister- it means a lot to him but has been lost for awhile.

Vex finds it and thinks it looks pretty cool so she holds onto it. It has magical properties from Percy’s possession of it so despite his cage he can sense it being moved and handled. He decides to pay a visit to the new current owner of it later that night in a dream.

It’s a lot of smoke and darkness on Vex’s end. She can’t really tell who or what she’s looking at but it’s vaguely human. In the few hours prior Percy poked around her mind (not extensively) just learning a few things about her.

He proposes to her a deal— he can grant her some extra power (to the extent his cage will let him) as well as knowledge to aid her in battles and to make new arrows and outfit her bow with modifications to make it stronger.

In return she helps free him from his prison.

She wants reassurance he’s not evil since he’s all smokey and clearly a demon of some kind. He can’t guarantee her he hasn’t done things she as a mortal might find evil but generally speaking he’s pretty neutral since he is the main supplier of Residuum for the world.

She needs time to think and process the deal. He tells her to take her time since he isn’t exactly going anywhere. But as a token of his good intentions he spots her some of his magic over the next few days which may or may not help convince her to agree.

She eventually agrees and the pact is sealed. A smokey tattoo takes up the lower part of her inner forearm. She’s careful not to roll up her sleeves or show this in any way to the group. But from this point forward she can freely talk to Percy at any time. The only catch is while she hears him in her mind she has to verbally respond.

Her internal thoughts are kept away from Percy which is good and bad because now she has to be careful about when she can respond so the others don’t think she’s crazy and start asking questions.”

-

I’ve spotted some more ideas from this but I feel like this sums up the main details. I’d love to possibly write it someday but I’m currently working on a fic still and I’m more of an artist than a writer. If I try to start this as a fic before finishing the other one neither will get done :’)

But yeah I hope this answered your question!!