#scraps wips nonsense

[humans-are-tasty]

[deception-united]

Here, have some writing tips.

Celebrating 1000 followers! Love you all ❤

Your first version doesn't have to be permanent.

A lot of writers—myself included—may feel a sort of connection or duty to their original story, draft, plot, or characters. But being afraid to change what you already have will only hinder you. My current WIP (which I'm working on with @leisureflame, check out her blog!) has been changed—and I mean completely flipped around—countless times. We started out in a medieval setting with kings and queens and burning witches, and now it's a dystopian novel set in the future in a country they're forbidden to leave. Our main character was originally dark haired, olive skinned, reserved, fierce, independent, and now she's a sunburn-prone ginger with a sanity deficiency. We've scrapped and replaced multiple characters and sacrificed plot elements we loved to attain what is best for this story. It's incredibly sad, but sometimes, it's necessary.

Don't delete your ideas.

Or excerpts. Or character ideas. An idea's occurred to you at three in the morning? In the shower? At work? Write. It. Down. Immediately. The top surface of my bookcase is littered with random notes in smudged pencil that I've jotted down. Referring back to the last point, if you change or scrap a part of your story, keep it somewhere. I like to keep a notes document that I perpetually add the most random things to: out-of-context lines of dialogue, phrases I like, new vocabulary, character descriptions—anything, really. Even if you know you're probably never going to have occasion to use it, take note of it anyway. You never know when a previous idea will be just the element you need in your story. And if not, well, they're fun to read over later.

Free write.

I know I covered this in a recent post, but I'd just like to stress on it again. Open a document or a page in your notebook and just start writing. Whatever comes to mind. Doesn't matter how nonsensical or embarrassing or muddled, as long as you're writing. This exercise can really help regain or maintain your creative flow. You'll end up with some passages that are horrible and that you will never deign to set your eyes upon in the rest of your years, and others you'll cherish. In any case, whether the result is good or atrocious, you'll have written something. It's a good way to combat writer's block, or boredom. I recommend it.

Hope this helps. Thanks for all your support!

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[ghcstao3]

an old (scrapped) wip just to bring back some of the first kind of posts i was making here lol

space au ! kinda. cw mentions of death

-

To Soap, dying would seem to be the moment of which everything you have ever forgotten is remembered.

Most of it is menial, as far as Soap can process with a suffocating brain; simple things like that Christmas card he forgot to sign for his nan just a month earlier, or the garbage he had meant to take out before being shipped off into space for two years. Everything that comes to mind is almost laughable—almost, because Soap is running out of oxygen, and he can’t afford to waste air. But even still, he remembers.

A warning flashes red and brutal in Soap’s face, but his eyes are closed and his hearing is elsewhere. His chest constricts uncomfortably, but he supposes that won’t matter in a few minutes. Not as he floats, cold and alone amongst rubble in the vacuum of space.

His throat tightens further when he’s reminded that he had never told his parents he loved them the last time they talked. Soap swallows the lump that rises, but he can’t help the tears that fall, nor the hiccupping breath he takes. He begs back for the stupid little things, but he doesn’t have the time, and he never would again.

Memory somehow feels more torturous than asphyxiation.

Soap takes one last gasping breath. His oxygen has depleted. He does his best to ignore the crushing sensation that overwhelms his body.

A sudden blinding, white light shines sharply against Soap’s eyelids. Soap wonders with dispassion if this is how one is finally introduced to the afterlife.

If it is, he doesn’t think he minds. In fact, right now he doesn’t really think much of anything at all. He just finds it a bit odd when he no longer feels weightless. Soap had imagined death to be a release of the physical form; but his pain has subsided and maybe that’s all that matters.

Voices fill the void left by fleeting thought at a low volume. Soap’s eyes remain closed, tight and heavy like they’d been bolted shut.

Then his helmet is being pried off, and surely Soap isn’t dead if he can feel that. He suddenly feels more confused than anything and his mind floods with nonsense like a dam had burst. He’s alive. He’s getting rescued. He’s getting saved.

But by who? Who else is out here? Has been out here?

Should Soap care, when they’re the reason he’ll live?

Murmuring seems to build in volume, or maybe Soap is slowly coming to. It sounds harsh, somehow—even though it would appear that those conversing around him are speaking English.

“—I mean, what did they expect, sending that piece of junk for Mars? That was cargo for robots, not humans.”

“It’s not their fault they lack advancement,” someone grumbles to the first voice. “I’m surprised anyone made it this far alive. Can you pass me—“

Voices fade out and Soap is left with nothing but a dull rumble. Then a shock snaps all his senses alight at once, and Soap is sitting up and gasping for breath like his head had just been pulled out of water. For a moment he feels blind, too panicked to comprehend anything happening around him, but as his vision slowly comes into focus Soap understands that he’s in a spaceship of some kind���something like the ones he’s seen in movies.

[luvwich]

wip whenevers

i was tagged by @ghostoffuturespast to share some work in progress! there's a lot of work and not much progress to speak of but here's a run-down of everything in active development

shanghai 57

some cp77 characters for the this story i've been piecing together. that's regina jones and an OC of mine, mariano torralba / tiyo nano, in their wild youth! (their middle age is wild but their youth was, too)

the fic is mostly-outlined and i'm in that stage of trying to catch a vibe on character voice, setting, all that good and extremely difficult stuff

hypercritical season 3

elsewhere in that universe i've been plotting this nameless post-canon fic that continues mike and vania's story from where crescent&redwood left off.

i will put my cards on the table, a lot of this one is motivated by me wanting to continue their "dynamic" with johnny, lol. (throuple airhorn) (i reveal my cards with a flourish and nobody is surprised, because i have posted excerpts of this before and because it's me)

but i'm also really grooving on the quasi-solarpunk setting where we last found them, and wallowing in the angst V feels after her decision to do the surgery and fuck people over.

Amidst a five-by-two grid of other structures, V's was the last greenhouse on the left. It was a ramshackle assembly: panes of reclaimed plexi-glass bound together with scrap metal and thick cords of hope. A dinky little thing that seemed always on the verge of failing. Though one or two bad storms had jeopardized its integrity, it was still here. She smiled over a shoulder at it as she plodded over the darkening ground toward dinner.

sometimes i do weird shit like use graphviz to plot out what i think the emergent themes of a thing are. i don't know if this helps me in any way but it's fun. the nonsense i'll go through just because i want a blorbo threesome i stg. pointing and laughing at myself.

royal blue

i'm writing a follow-up chapter to that fucking bummer one-shot i wrote about valerie and river a little while back. i can't leave them miserable like that!

breached (smutty collab)

i worked with @streetkid-named-desire on a one-shot with their OCs VG and batsheva and it turned out really cute :3 lookin for beta readers rn!

V's interface dribbled into the emptiness, everything but the maze and mouse thinning out into wavering lines. He could feel what she was doing through his avatar. The sensation wasn't quite the same as when he was in realspace, but it sizzled through his nerves like the aftershock of a dream. Somewhere in the netrunning chair's hardware, bits and bytes were scrambling to make sense of the feeling of Bea's wet, beautiful mouth dancing over his cock. The result was an exhilarating, electric connection that felt like neither life nor the Net.

bg3 bros helping bros

last but not least this is most likely the next thing i'll actually publish, and it's A Bit Different for me! i was possessed by the idea of Rugan and Gale having a hush-hush no-homo encounter a while ago and reeled off some lil bits for the fabulous Zhentil Keep discord. for whatever reason (probably because i have 80 other things to work on!!) i picked this up again over the weekend.

Now, Gale wasn't the slightest bit wrong. It was a nice cock, and anyone who espied it had the right, nay, the duty to say as much. But how'd he manage a glimpse from so many paces away, at the edge of moondark at that? Perhaps he'd deployed some perverted hocus-pocus in order to steal a look at the Zhentarim serpent. 

i have some kind folks beta-ing this, and i really need a title. it's the first thing i've written for bg3! i was trying to ship rugan with my tav but this scene has gripped me and i kind of love him with gale more now?? it happens

[morriguwrites]

Writeblr Intro

About Me:

Elder emo/millennial who has been scribbling out utter nonsense since age 11. I wet my feet in fanfiction, and still very active today. I haven't had much luck with original fiction, but I'm trying! My favorite WIP was a pandemic story I started in 2016, and then COVID, and I had to scrap that out of deference.

Projects:

Currently, my project is an adventure sci-fi with a dash of romance that takes place on an alien planet. You can find it under the tag 'Earth Enduring' 'war flowers'. Another WIP is about a 30-year-old woman diagnosed with hysteria who finds out she is fae. All this is set in a rich 1920s-1930s Chicago background during the height of American gangsters. You can find it under the tag 'Bean Sidhe'. I'm trying to be more active on tumblr, and writeblr specifically, so hit me up if you want to connect and do some silly little games together..

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

I gotta start tagging my regular posts that don't have other tags so I can find them later, oh well anyway WIP time

Alastor died in 1933. When he ended up in Hell, safe to say he was less than thrilled about the fact, though very few are. As the story we all know goes, once he arrived Overlords started going “missing”, as it was called even though once the broadcasts started it was no mystery at all. Alastor was already very well known and powerful when Vox fell into Hell in the late 50s, two days before the extermination.

Alastor carried a very intimidating air about him. Even new sinners seemed to avoid him, while ones who had been around even for a short time knew of his power and would scurry off if he came walking by. The exception being those in the Cannibal district, of course, as that is where his home was and where his friend Rosie lived as well as other acquaintances.

Really, it was lucky that’s where he ended up; anyone else would’ve needed to escape before the smell of blood reached the district’s residents, and in another location the wrong person could’ve taken advantage and scrapped him for parts. But few here were interested in Vox’s exposed wires and shattered glass after the fall, leaving him with the right side of his screen unusable with the black spots and rainbow streaks that accompanied cracks.

After a life (and death) of working hard and experiencing mishaps that can ruin it all, Alastor didn’t believe in fate. No, every action that one took had to be for a reason, had to be deliberate in order to stay in control of one’s life. Now coincidences, those were harder to get a handle on. A coincidence is what Alastor would call it when he just so happened to be walking past the right alley on the right day at the right time, just so happened to be paying attention enough to feel the radio wave signals coming from it. The deliberate action was for him to follow his curiosity and seek it out.

Vox was unable to speak clearly when Alastor found him, laying against the side of the building with electric sparks flashing every once in a while. Should he have tried to, it would’ve only been garbled nonsense. Now, Alastor had to make another decision; the most reasonable answer would be to leave this unfortunate sinner here, to mind his own business and continue walking. They wouldn’t have to suffer for much longer, after all.

And yet, something about the connection they made which caused Alastor to notice someone was there at all had fascinated him. Nearly everyone in Hell had arrived battered and bloodied, looking like some kind of animal in their new demonic form. Even he had arrived as a deer, a form of prey which made those around him falsely underestimate him as an easy target. This one, though..

Out of fascination and curiosity, Alastor reached out a hand to the fallen sinner who’s single visible eye had been staring at him in confusion. Not fear. Just confusion. Even more interesting.

Once the outreached hand was offered, Vox took it with no hesitation at all.

[itsnotunfinisheditsmystyle]

Titles game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @jammerific . I will NOT tag as many people as I have WIPs lmao. Also my WIPs I'm currently posting have their normal titles, so here is instead a selection of unposted WIPs :

- DARKOLAI DADS AU

- Ulla visit

- Darklina TT power switch

- Darkolina wrong nudes

- Darklina mum AU

- NONSENSE NIKOLAI TIME TRAVEL FIX IT

- Last minute marriage Darklina AU

- NAMES ONE SHOT

- Alina meets the Saints

- baby Ulla + law school

- hurt/comfort exchange (scrapped)

- SOC kidfics

- Ot4 kids mess

Tagging @inahandful-of-dust @tirkdi @storm-elf and anyone else who would like to do it

[somethingclevermahogony]

Can't remember if I've asked you yet (I have the memory of a goldfish) but it's STS time!

What's the solar system like in your setting? Anything funky? If not, do people have any cool myths about constellations or celestial bodies?

Have a wonderful day <3

This is going to be a long post, sorry about that. A lot of this is information from way back when I first created this blog, though the information has been updated.

This is an explanation for the Creation, Cosmology, and some of the Races of my WIP. Lots of Worldbuilding nonsense if that's what y'all like.

Ask questions, if y'all want!

The Universe of the Testaments

Pictured Above: An Approximation of the Solar System of Kobani. Kobani is signified by the Green dot. Note that this is by no means at scale and the 5 planets of the solar system should have far wider orbits and should be far smaller in comparison to the central star.

Understanding the Cosmological makeup and function of the universe in which Kobani resides requires that one first understand the magical and divine aspects of the universe and its ultimate creation. For the purposes of this post I will be using the terms used in the Kishic faith to describe the mechanics of the universe.

Most of what humans know about the greater universe and its magical elements come from the testimony of spirits and other ancient beings including the Dragon, Ilhumba, The Storyteller. (I will probably give more details about Ilhumba in a later post, suffice to say that Ilhumba is responsible for many of the myths and religions of Kobani but also for most of the terrible things) 

Continues below the cut!

The River of Creation, The First Ones, and The Heavenly Gods

The Universe (in truth a conglomeration of distinct dimensions/mini-universes clustered around a singular point) exists within a torrent of cosmic creation, The River of Creation.

The River, known by the people of Kishetal as the Shobiash, has always flowed through the Endless Void that is the Chaotic Nothing, its source and its end, if they exist, are only be known by those beings who wander its far shores. The greatest of them are Law and End, who oversee that which is, that which will be, and that which must be. 

The River is all, it is existence, matter, energy, and time. All mortal things are born from the River, and all mortal things one day return to it. Worlds, universes, pantheons, they have emerged and sunk back into the golden eddies. The current universe, that of Kobani and the other celestial spheres emerged in the same way and will, in time, return. There are countless universes doting and permeating the River. The Universe of the Testament can be considered just one of these universes, a fragile island in the torrent.

The separation of the Testament Universe into distinct dimensions was instrumented by the first set of "Gods" to emerge from the cosmic current and inhabit that particular universe. They constructed and shaped these dimensions around a singularity, which allowed for these places to be connected while also existing in their own space and time. There are 13 distinct dimensions, each with their own countless stars, planets, etc.

These First Gods would then return to their River, their fate unknown, whether they merely melted back into the current or journeyed to a different universe. What is known is that, they left in their wake offspring, beings born of a mixture of the Cosmic chaos and Universal "Scraps." These would become the Heavenly Gods.

The Heavenly Gods are the arbiters and keepers of order and natural law, most notably the Awakened cycle of reincarnation and the proliferation of life on the mortal and spiritual worlds (this will be explained further below). Gods cannot die except by their essence being forcibly returned to the Great River or with the ending of the Universe. The appearance and even number of gods are in constant flux as a god, through choice or circumstance, may split into multiple entities or else recombine into a greater entity. However, their essence and soul are static. As an example, a god such as Fepacha may simultaneously be seven beings while still being of one essence and soul. This is part of why so many gods appear in various religions across Kobani.

The sheer magical energy which radiates from these beings when in their whole forms is intensely powerful; most of the lingering “wild magic” in Kobani is the result of multiple gods visiting the planet while in their whole forms. As a result, the gods rarely venture outside of their spheres and take little interest in the matters of mortals, with a few exceptions.

The Gods inhabit the singularity, and domain which lies within it, which is itself shrouded by the central star or sun of these dimensions and their solar systems. Thus the gods of Kobani in some sense reside within the sun.

The Awakened Cycle of Reincarnation

The Awakened is a term used to refer to the five races which stem from a singular primitive species which developed and evolved naturally on Kobani. Similar occurrences happened in the other worlds as well. These primitive beings were exposed to powerful magic by the gods and, in addition, were given mortal souls that could not only continue the process of reincarnation through the mortal worlds as all living things do, but could now permit for the soul to ascend out of the mortal worlds, with soul or 'het', being reincarnated a number of times before coming to inhabit the world of the gods. It is not entirely clear why the gods created the awakened races, though it is believed that mortals in time come to serve the gods with the collective experience of several lifetimes. How many lives a het will experience before this time varies, though typically a soul will reincarnate at least 7 times, thus explaining Kishic mythology.

The Awakened Races of Kobani

(Any of the groups below which is exposed to and drastically changed by magic is referred to a forestfolk, though most typically the term forestfolk is referencing groups descended from magically altered humans.)

Humans: The most populous of the awakened, incapable of using magic themselves but capable of communication with spirits. Humans are also unique in their ability to produce offspring with spirits which are known as Spiritbloods, or more inaccurately Demigods. Those humans which can communicate with spirits naturally and use channel spirit magic are known as sages and seers.

Giants: Massive humanoid beings, like humans, they are incapable of using magic themselves; however, much like a Spiritblood, their physical form is supported by magic, allowing for their bodies to reach massive sizes without the biological or physical limits and drawbacks which should affect them. After the Calamity, giants are rare and much reduced in size, though they are still far larger than the typical human. Giants are never born as sages, and are typically unable to commune with spirits except via the use of magical potions and herbs.

The Hillfolk: Small fur-covered beings naturally capable of minor magic (true magic, not sagecraft). The Hillfolk were once a numerous nomadic race that roamed Kobani, but their numbers were greatly reduced by human oppression and then the Calamity. A few small bands still exist, but they are typically confused for forestfolk.

The Stonefolk: About human-sized but broader with larger eyes and powerful arms, well suited to their preferred underground environment. The stonefolk were the only group that regularly interbred with humans, and indeed they were eventually bred out of existence. All modern humans of Kobani have some stonefolk ancestry, as a result the humans of the post-calamity era are typically shorter and broader than their ancient counterparts.

The Forest Tenders: Slender and tall green-skinned beings. The Forest Tenders, as their name suggests, preferred the forest and often dedicated themselves to its care. Though the most magically capable race, their child-like intellect and emotional capacity largely limited the Forest Tenders from expanding past their groves and forests. The Forest Tenders were annihilated by humans and stonefolk prior to the Calamity and are now extinct.

Note that these examples are just on Kobani, each world has their own array of awakened races, and some may only have one. Some dimensions may have multiple worlds containing awakened species. Not all planets inhabited by Awakened peoples are in the same solar systems as the Singularity, though most, like Kobani, are. A mortal does not need to reincarnate into the same species so long as it is sapient, and except for in rare occasions when the soul is reincarnated on the same world, they won't.

 Unlike the Unawakened, these new beings, the Awakened, would retain their memories and experiences as they reincarnated. However, such memories would become dormant until reaching the worlds of the Gods, where a soul would then become the amalgamation of all of its past lives and experiences.

The exception, it seems, comes from the judgment given by the Deity of Death. If a lifetime is considered wicked or undeserving, or if the soul wishes to forget that lifetime, they could be born again in the same world as the previous life, with their past experiences in that world vanishing from their collective soul. Upon a being’s death and after being judged, the soul is transported to the next world in the cycle and given new life. As a result, a sudden increase in deaths in one world will inevitably lead to a burst in new births in the other worlds.

As such certain actions, such as the destruction of souls by humans before the Calamity, can have drastic effects on other worlds, and indeed a single war or similar event may have rippling effects through all of the mortal worlds. 

Not all souls will follow the same path or go through worlds in the same order. While the people of Kishetal believe that souls are first born or created on Kobani, this is not necessarily true and a soul may begin its journey on any of the four mortal worlds.

Animals and plants may only reincarnate within the mortal worlds. Should a spirit be killed it will reincarnate on the world on which they were first created and may then travel to other worlds via the singularity or through various other tears and bends in the dimensions. Unlike mortal beings, a spirit will retain its personality and most of its memories upon reincarnation. A spirit cannot reincarnate into a mortal and a mortal can not become a spirit. There are certain worlds which lack sentient species but do contain spirits. Stories of these worlds from spirits, is the origin of the Kishic concept of the "spirit world(s)."

Spiritbloods, though the product of hybridization with humans and spirits, reincarnate in the same way as normal mortals, and a spiritblood does not need to reincarnate as a spiritblood.

The Cosmology of the Solar System of Kobani: Myth and Reality

Pictured Above: The Kishic Conception of the Cycle of Reincarnation. Green planets in the outer ring are the mortal worlds, blue planets in the middle ring are spirit worlds, and the golden planets alongside the star, Re, are the worlds of the Gods.

The people of most of Kobani’s cultures are under the impression that the other worlds all exist in the same solar system, though of course this is not actually the case.

The Kishic conception of the solar system

It is a common belief in Kishetal that the solar system, which they believe holds all worlds in the cycle of reincarnation, consists of three Great Walls, which separate the disparate worlds from each other.

Devami: The Wall separating the First Realm; home of the four mortal worlds, Kobani, Sebani, Robani,and Mobani; from the rest of the universe. Note: Ko, Se, Ro, and Mo originate from an archaic form of Shabalic. Each refers to a time of day; Kosa: Morning, Sesa: Noon, Rosu: Evening, and Mosa: Night. These terms have largely fallen out of use in Kishetal and only exist in compound words. Bani is the Kishic word for world or planet. Ami originates from the Shabalic word for wall, Amiha. Dev comes from a Kishic word for other or foreigner.

Bisami: The Wall separating the First Realm from the Second or Spirit Realm, home to the 4 spirit worlds, Kobashi, Sebashi, Robashi, and Mobashi. Bashi originates from the Kishic word for spirit, babashi.

Shinami: The Wall separating the Second Realm from the Third Realm, Home of the Noble Gods and its four worlds, Kochani, Sechani, Rochani, and Mochani. Chani originates from the Shabalic word for god: Chan (Chani pl.) The Kishic equivalent to this is Kan (Kani pl.)

The Actual Solar System of Kobani

The Actual solar system of Kobani consists of 5 planets, each with its own satellites. The closest planet to the star, Re, and the smallest, is known by the people of Kishetal as Sebani; the second farthest planet is referred to as Robani; and the planet which lies beyond Kobani is called Mobani. There is a fifth planet and, beyond it, several dwarf planets that are unknown to the people of Kobani. Beyond that still is an extensive asteroid belt. Kobani is largely protected from asteroids by the Unknown planet and Mobani, though there have been instances in Kobani’s ancient past where the planet has been struck. 

The Unknown planet and Mobani are both primarily formed from gasses, while the three interior planets are rocky. Kobani is the only planet in that solar system with life. Kobani’s satellite, known in Kishic as Son, is the largest moon in the solar system.

@patternwelded-quill @flaneurarbiter @skyderman @blackblooms @roach-pizza @illarian-rambling @dezerex @theocticscribe @axl-ul, @persnickety-peahen

If y'all have more questions about this big mess please ask!

[raedear]

WIP game

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

thanks for tagging me @regina-del-cielo & @knoepfchen

I've been in a bit of an empty-brained rut for a while, I'm kind of hoping talking about my wips again inspires me to work on at least one of them. I'm going to do this a bit weirdly but and have "wips i absolutely plan to work on again" and "ideas that aren't going anywhere" lists. ask me about any of them:

Actual WIPs:

Regency nonsense

the devil's after both of us chapter 3

what do i do, what do i do?

the mummy chapter 3

balldo 2: electric boogaloo

moon spirit 3 (I'm not good at chapter 3s apparently)

baby joe chapter 2

Always double check

miscommunication (i have like 9000 words of this one but i have no idea what to do with it)

louder than sirens; louder than bells

Not WIPs:

Benjamin Button but for injuries

nicky in a kilt

bad sex

catcalling

changing room

coffeeshop attempt

valentines discount

santa sequel

timeloop

somewhere i have never travelled gladly beyond

joe cries when he bottoms (that's it that's the fic)

heart in a box

post-coffin nicolo

meet ugly

kiss with a fist

tbh these are just the tog ones that are coherent enough to talk about. i have so many scraps that are just like. a paragraph of smut that i can't remember the context for. i also have so many documents that are half-started ideas in other fandoms, like rwrb or wtnv or yoi or whatever. you think i talk shit in tags on here? my gdocs knows how many ideas i vomit on the page and then never mention again.

anyway. tagging @the73rdpostscript, @werebearbearbar, @guarncre, @astrabear @theliteraryluggage and anyone else who wants to play 💜

[unbizzarre]

Young Piotr Feeding a Horse WIP

stage 1: sketchbook amoeba

stage 2: Diidgital sketch

Stage 3: Scrap all that sketchy nonsense and devise an entirely new silhouette.

Stage 4: Refine and clothe the silhouette

Stage 5: oh no, this looks a little haunted maybe we fix with color?

Stage 6: ad depth and light and shadow and little details and stuff...

Stage 7: ... ... ...Horse....

(to be continued...)

notes

piotr was supposed to be like 3 or 4 years old meeting a horse for the first time, but over the making of this project he basically doubled in age. probably around 7-9 year old now. whoops

bolero/coat was supposed to be more brown for house colors but i got a little carried away and now its reddish

all items of costume except shorts are based loosely on certian references, will track down and include, probably in final post.

[autumnslance]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @sheepwithspecs technically on my main but this is where fanfic goes. Do this if you wanna!

How many works do you have on AO3?

47 as of 2/6/24. There's a few things I need to get around to adding there though.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

411,290 as of 2/6/24

What are your top 5 fics by kudos

Downtime (compilation of younger Scions & other teen chars being pals in Norvrandt) Unexpected (compilation of shippy nonsense) A Constant Distant Thunder (Thancred in ARR patches post-Lahabrea) Ruminations (General Warrior of Light introspections & adventures) Rogue's Prelude (My headcanons on Thancred meeting Louisoix, Papalymo, and Yda)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do! I often try to. So my comment count is almost, not quite though, doubled.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hrm; I tend to do a lot of bittersweet endings. We'll keep it simple and say "Never Gets Easier", a fic where Edmont and Charlemend talk about their lost sons. There's no sweetness there, just men haunted by mistakes and losses.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Maybe "When Everything Changes" which is kid fic from the POV of my WoL's older brother when she's born and his ambivalence turns to big brother joy and love.

Do you write crossovers?

Haven't yet.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I recall.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Occasionally. Usually pretty vanilla. It's all right, I guess.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Had an OC's backstory on our WoW RP server's fic blogging site lifted wholesale; they changed the names and class, and then…walked into our weekly guild meeting that I was leading and tried to join our guild. When confronted, the person claimed their partner had leveled the character for them and based the backstory on Skyrim (my OC's story is very specific to WoW). They tried to message me later as if we were pals who would laugh this off someday. I informed them that was not a thing and btw the site mods knew they were a plagiarist now. Also everyone knew who their alts were and a bunch of other trouble they'd caused. So far as I know, they bailed from our server after that.

I hoped they learned better and grew up quite a bit; this was well over a decade ago.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Once or twice now; so long as folks credit and link back to my originals, and share the translated link with me, it's all good!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Roleplay and actual story collaboration both. It's a lot of fun.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

How dare you.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*stares at WIP folder*

Come back with a warrant.

(I won't say never, but there's a lot that probably are just noodling and scraps to feed something else later)

What are your writing strengths?

Folks seem to like my dialogue.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Impatience, and certain grammatical abuses that do nothing for length nor clarity.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Depends on the fic. Depends on the intended audience.

For dialects, mostly the concern is "don't overdo it" as it can slow things down, be really jarring at best and offensive at worst, and difficult to understand if laying it on too thick.

Other languages entirely have different guidelines though, from sprinkling in single words or short phrases, to entire passages, and whether or not you translate or leave it up to the reader. Depends on fandom, on the characters, on the story, author intentions.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Narnia, in a my little girl diary as a pre-teen. I wanted to pick up Susan's story as a grown up and bring her and family back to a magical land. Cuz I knew it could, would happen someday, even if Lewis never got to write it himself.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Final Fantasy XVI. Midst. The latter is tricky as I really don't have ideas at the moment, but really want to dig into that vibe. My writing needs to be more weird in general, really.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

How dare you, come back with a warrant!

[ask-the-bone-boys]

WIP SNIPPETS!

HELLO i want to prove that i actually AM working on stuff (actually because i need to share things or i will explode) SO here are some sneak peeks for the three whole wips i've been cooking lately!!!!

Chapter 3 of Familiar Faces

(some context: "Papyrus" is Stretch, "Red-Papyrus" is Edge, they don't have their nicknames yet </3)

“Who designed all these, anyway?” Russ asked, squinting a bit as he poked at a powered-off laser. “I know a Papyrus wouldn’t come up with a display like this.”

“They’re mostly old puzzles from back when those were still a big thing,” Papyrus said. “We’ve been too busy to make new ones, and we’re still trying to get rid of all the solutions-”

“Oh, these are ancient!” Russ groaned, rubbing his hands down his face like it was the worst thing he’d heard all day. “Okay, okay, good news! You have us here now! We will amend this!”

“You really don’t gotta-”

“If we don’t it will be an affront to traps everywhere!” He looked through the toolbox they’d brought along. “We’ll need some more tools, but… Hey, Papyrus?”

“What?” Papyrus and Red-Papyrus said simultaneously. They squinted at each other.

“That one, sorry,” Russ clarified, pointing to Red-Papyrus. “You know what we’re looking for, right? Do you think you can dig around and find anything like that?”

“...Yes,” Red-Papyrus said somewhat reluctantly, backing off from where he was inspecting a rusty saw blade. “Blueprint paper, flamethrowers, scrap?”

“Right on the money!” He snapped his fingers into a gun shape. “Also some power tools, bigger wrenches, maybe some gasoline… And, whatever else you come across, I suppose!”

“I can grab that stuff if you want,” Papyrus offered, fairly certain he’d know where to find it better than someone who’d allegedly only been in this universe for a day.

“Nonsense! I need to show you how to bring these hunks of junk to their full potential!” Russ said, grinning as he raised a hammer that was far too big for the toolbox he’d pulled it from. “We’ll start with some percussive maintenance!”

mourning the loss of the horizontal line in the text editor-------------------

Something's Wrong With This Guy (WORKING TITLE LOL)

(Context: Edge's perspective, takes place before meeting Stretch)

“Russ?” He called out. “God dammit, Russ, where did you go?”

He scanned the area for even a hint of where Russ had run off to, but he could hardly see a thing. Maybe he was being smart for once, hiding in a bush somewhere. He wasn’t in any state to fight. He’d sooner topple over before he could get a word out.

There was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. If he was hiding, answering would give him away.

Unfortunately, that was just as likely as if he were already dead.

He finally caught another glimpse of the attacker, sending another round of attacks their way with a renewed fury. No matter what had happened, he’d make sure he dealt with it appropriately. 

Right as his first round ended, he rushed in close, forgoing his magic just to pin them against the ground. He held them there by the neck, rearing back his fist.

Then, finally, he saw Russ, grinning up at him and cutting through the thick fog of adrenaline like a knife. 

He shoved himself off, his anger dissipating just as quickly as it had arrived. 

“Aww, but it was just getting fun!” Russ complained, pulling himself out of the snow and brushing himself off. “I had a suspicion you’ve been holding out on me, but…”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Papyrus shouted. “I could have killed you!”

“Isn’t that what you want?” He pointed out. Papyrus couldn’t find a response. “Besides, I’m fine! That was fun! Come on, let’s keep going, we can-”

“No.”

“But-”

“You are incredibly lucky that both of us are not dead,” Papyrus hissed, gesturing to the open area around them. “I don’t give a damn how much of a death wish you have, but if you want me to have a part in it, I will do so of my own accord. Otherwise, leave me out of it.”

“So… You don’t want to kill me?” Russ asked. Papyrus sputtered, quickly gaining the urge to prove him wrong as a smile grew on his face. “Oh, Papyrus, you’ve grown so much! I’m so proud of you!”

With a swift smack to the back of his skull, Papyrus finally began to drag Russ to the house.

---------------------------

Reboot Part 1: Swapfell (working title)

(Context: Fluff's perspective, his very own introduction fic :'> so proud)

“What the fuck was that,” he growled, not caring to greet the bastard on the other end.

“I asked Alphys to install a plugin on your phone that’d get you to answer it for once,” Sans answered. He could hear the smile on his face. “It only activates after five missed calls, so really you’ve only got yourself to blame for this one.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, saves me the trouble of having to run back home to make sure you’re not dead.”

“And what’s so important that you had to wake me up in the most assholeish way possible?”

“I needed to tell you- wait, I woke you up? Papyrus, have you been sleeping all day? It’s seven in the-!”

He hung up. 

It took about a minute for the phone to ring again. He snickered, imagining his brother coming down from his tirade just to realize he’d been lecturing a ghost the entire time.

He stared at the screen. 

Five calls, huh?

He answered on the fifth, on the very last ring.

“Point taken,” Sans said, resigned. He was probably pinching the bridge of his nose in that way he always did when Papyrus pissed him off. “Look, I just wanted to tell you I’m gonna be working late again, okay? Some stuff came up.”

“Wow, that’s a huge diversion from what you do every single day. Super urgent news for me to know, couldn’t possibly have just texted me that.”

“You regularly make me wonder if you’re even receiving my texts because you never answer them. The only way I even know your phone works is when I ask if you want takeout.”

“Maybe you should learn something from that.”

“I’m not going to bribe you into answering my texts, Papyrus.”

“Don’t be surprised when I don’t answer ‘em then.”

“Papyrus-” Sans started, but cut himself short. Then, he sighed. “...Look, kid, I don’t want to argue with you. I just wanna be able to know you’re alright. I’m sorry it’s annoying, but I can’t– ...I just need to know, okay?”

Papyrus didn’t respond. He clenched his jaw at his brother’s change in tone.

“If you’ve been sleeping all day, then you probably haven’t eaten,” Sans continued. “I’m pretty sure there’s still some leftover stir-fry in the fridge. You should have some. It might be a bit spicy for you, but it’s good food.”

He hummed plainly.

“...Well, that’s all I wanted to say. I gotta get back to work now, but I’ll see you when I see you, yeah?”

His jaw clenched just a bit tighter.

“Love you, kid.”

He hung up again, for real this time.

[kheprriverse]

pspspspspsps

the language of Termina that you showed in a wip with Terminus and Time interacting...is that from anywhere in particular, or did you create it? I'm very curious for details! 👀✨

[I hit a button on accident (twice) when nearly done with this and it reverted and deleted basically everything (twice) so please excuse any sorta messy un-hinged-ness to my writing here. Plz take Ctrl+Z away from me I'm begging you]

but AAAA!! ty for the ask as well as the kind words and general interest in the reblogs! And you wanted me to infodump so... uh below the cut will have my brain garbage flung out until I decide to stop typing. Enjoy!

For now what's in the post is a complete mix of things.

I was delving into some fan-created Hylian languages, but mostly used the font from here (which its all a very interesting read even if its incredibly old) for now as a placeholder. Because I DO plan to delve deeper into Terminian sometime in the future, along with some cultural stuff.

As for what it says, its totally scrambled nonsense LMAO. English translated poorly into japanese, written backwards, then scrambled a little, then flipped XD

I was going to be somewhat simple with the post and just using OOT/MM's script and maybe jumbling it, but in going through fan-made languages I sorta fell in love with the font that I ended up using. It IS a placeholder though and not meant to be insanely accurate to anything let alone easily deciphered.

Buuut in case you wanted to know what's actually being said I have it written out already!

Terminus taking the time to shit on Legend for no other reason then that he just can. Much to Time's displeasure.

I decided to scrap the short comic. But I liked the idea of Time and Terminus both being able to converse with one another privately (without the rather invasive mental connection they have with each other).

I like the idea that the hylian languages across the eras are so similar, enough to where the boys can MOSTLY understand one another in speech (but maybe not in writing). Then as they travel over time, things become easier and easier.

But Terminian?? Not a single one of them knows it or has even HEARD of Termina until FD came along and Time had to spill the beans. They probably didn't even know a separate, completely different, language like this even existed. Much like Mudoran in lttp.

Things I wanna focus on/keep in mind when working on this:

What was the cultural impact FD (dubbed Terminus by the boys) had on Termina? (What came first: the chicken or the egg? Also what is his role here?)

How does termina's culture compare to Hyrule? (holidays, food, beliefs, history, etc)

What does the language look like? Do I want it to be Syllabary? Abugida? Alphabetic? I'm personally leaning towards Syllabary but other forms of writing have interesting potential. Whereas Alphabetic (like some of the other hylian scripts) would be easier to work with.

What does it sound like? I feel like this would be where Terminian and Hylian experiences a sort of disconnect (especially if we go with an alphabet system). I've thought of a very stilted(?) almost reversed way of sound -- like smth isn't entirely right and just feels strange. But to residents of Termina it's completely normal and very easy to speak.

Termina is a very strange place and I really wanna play into it. I'm also very happy that you showed interest in this because it allows me to say stuff I normally would've just kept to myself.

Also I plan to delve into a Twilit language, culture, and just generally the whole world, too. Because yeah ofc we're going there. I am simply coping.

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

Hello my friends <3 Been tagged by @thequeenofthewinter to participate in WIP Wednesday Wife Worship Wednesday! I never get to play this because Nyenna and Athis have... so, so many problems. But today we do, because Nyenna is dreaming. Having brain nonsense, really. But first, tags.

Let's go! Tagging the most esteemed @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @rhiannon1199, @snippetsrus, @orfeoarte, @inquisition-dragonborn, @the-storytellers-seer, @archangelsunited and @polypolymorph!

Below the cut, part of Chapter 28 from The World on Our Shoulders.

---

She heard the wind before she felt the morning mist on her skin. Things were slowly greying, like a light after she’d hidden under her covers. The sun, maybe, though she couldn’t recall when last she’d seen it. It hid behind clouds, mimicking her own hesitation. She opened her eyes, not having realized they’d been closed before. Whatever this was, with how quickly the image changed, she was thrown off balance at best. But the mist — yes. This felt familiar. Something like Whiterun, out by the river. Yes. The tundra cotton. She could see it now. She could feel her hands and feet where they’d only been vague concepts before, and liminal ones at that. She sighed and flexed her fingers. She’d never seen Skyrim in the height of summer, but she’d always imagined it like this — warm, plenty of flowers. Even bees buzzing, working as if all was exactly as it had always been and not this odd dream-version of things. Nyenna turned her face to the sun, let herself bask in its warmth as if she was one of the scraggly trees which dotted the landscape. She reached her arms toward it, and a dusty blanket fell from her shoulders with a strange, muffled, heavy sound. “What are you doing?” came a voice. Familiar, but distant. Something ached in her chest at the sound. Athis. Gods, she missed him. Her heart hurt trying to decide if he was really here or if this was some cruel madness. Likely the latter. She turned anyway, her grey mage robes billowing in a warm breeze that cut across the plains. He was as beautiful as she remembered — all the stress gone from his eyes, none of the weariness held in his shoulders or jaw. The weariness she’d caused. “Waiting for you,” she felt herself saying, though this seemed like a lie. He accepted it easily. He ran a hand through his ginger hair, ebony mail gleaming in the summer sunlight. She closed the distance between them and crushed into his embrace, heedless of heavy layers of metal between them. He didn’t say anything, only shifted to hold her against his chest. He smelled of mead and snowberries, like he always did. The memory struck her like steel against steel. Like she’d only dreamt of leaving, and she would wake up any moment now, wrapped in his arms, skin against skin. “I waited so long,” Athis said, voice quiet and somber, incongruous with the life that thrummed through this place, like the cry of Nirnroot at the river’s edge. “I’m sorry. I was on my way back to you,” Nyenna said, and somehow, that too was a lie. She tried again, forcing the words from her throat, which still hurt. “I miss you.” “Do you?” Athis asked. Not sarcastic, nor accusatory. A question, which needed an answer. A real one. “Of course.” He accepted that, too, and kneaded the muscle of her shoulder blade as he held her. He’d looked off into the distance, eyes focused on the mountains or the clouds. Mist gathered on his beard, his armor; he seemed like a permanent fixture here, rooted deep into the soil, never to be cut down. And she loved him. The ache of it was tearing her apart. She’d do anything at all — anything — for this to be real. For this image to love her back. She looked at him and felt rootless. Unmoored. A scrap of parchment fluttering in an ethereal breeze, belonging nowhere and to no one. He took her face in his hands, expression still oddly distant, eyebrows knit in confusion. He kissed her and her eyes fluttered closed. This was was right. If she had to be lost in a dream, then she was glad it was one of Athis.

[salty-accords]

WIP Novels Fragments #4

TW: Implied/Referenced Child Sexual Abuse; Horror Themes

These are more drafty than usual.

The porchlight was on, as it usually was this time of year. A beacon wandering dogs home from the fields. In times like this, Alice remembered that some people truly do treat their dogs better than their children. Soaked through as she was, she had no trouble with the rattly plastic handle of the screen door; the brass lever behind it was less cooperative and she fumbled to get the door unlatched for several minutes.

Such was the racket she made with the old doors, her shepherd, Bo-Peep, began an uproarious bout of howling. The Mini Aussie, eager in her alerting sonnet, jumped and scratched at the other side of the wood. Her high whines and insistent barks scrapped at the inside of Alice’s brain. She mumbled half-hearted assurances and comforts to her pup, likely inaudible to the old girl. The door finally cracked open, the sounds of sticky insulating rubber and too-tight wood grinding deafening in the tiny doorway.

“In—” Alice urged, using her knee to block Bo-Peep’s escape—“It’s not time for pasture; in, girl, in.” The fluffball whined pathetically at her entrance, hopping and wheeling around in place like a tiny gymnast. “Settle, Bo—settle.” Two fingers poised above the dog’s snout and she knew to back down, wiggling frantically even as she flopped into her practiced lie down. “Good. Good girl,” Alice soothed, catching one of her old pup’s ears in a palm to scratch gently under it.

Bo-Peep eased her incessant squirming and tilted into the affection with eagerness.

Alice pushed the deadbolt into place absent-mindedly, giving her darling dog a final pat on the top of her head before turning away from her and toward the dreaded stairs. Bo trotted after her, winding desperately around her legs like a cat, and whining. Resolutely, Alice did not give in to her begging, opting to march straight into the proverbial lion’s den.

___

Her pillow was cold from the draft in her bedroom, a stark contrast to the residual flush on her skin and the humidity from outside. There was a hole in the wall of her closet, just feet away, that let in air from the night outside. It blew through a tall hickory and was cool when it came in, even during the hottest summers. Mixed with the artificial breeze created by her ceiling fan, the draft created a perfect environment for Alice to settle into a restful night’s sleep.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Alice did not sleep peacefully that night despite the warmth of her bed, the coolness of her pillow, the exhaustion in her bones, and the haze in her brain. Her mind was overcome with images and sensations: the pit in the road and the feeling of cold wind drifting out of it; that voice rambling nonsense; Eric’s hands, demanding and eager, on her back and her thighs. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, never comfortable or secure in her privacy. It was like a million eyes were peeking out at her from the shadows. Never blinking. Never straying.

The sensation of being perceived prickled along her spine. Goosebumps crawled over her despite the warmth within her nest. A pit in her stomach formed, her throat closing as her anxiety rose again, threatening the cleanliness of her blankets with more sweat than she was already soiling them with.

Everything physical was so far away. Her blankets, her pillow, the rustle of leaves outside her bedroom walls. Despite her usual hyper-sensitivity to those things, the ghost of eyes and hands were much more real to her. The memories floated in front of her, her insides clenching protectively and heart hammering within her ribs.

She slammed herself onto her back, catching a whimper between her teeth. She clenched her thighs together under the covers, trying desperately to block the ghastly fingers’ access to her. The wind whistled somewhere, a high noise that sounded too much like air between teeth.

Something clacked against her window, sharp and heavy.

Alice bolted upright, scrambling to the foot of her bed, as far from her window as she could go with her trembling legs. From where she sat leaning carefully against the footboard, her window pane looked cracked. A wide, long spiderweb of fractures spread out from the center of the glass, stark and white against the dark backdrop of night.

[resident-rats]

heyyyy there friend!! 👋👋

i love getting to know the authors perspective of their fics so im doing that emoji ask thing!

feel free to not answer all/any, ik there’s quite a few lol

🥺

⛔️

💌

👀

🤩

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I really like writing oddly tender moments between Leon and Krauser? Since Krauser especially is quite a closed off character - or at least how I think of him anyway. And having Leon realise that he is cared about, Krauser just has a very specific way of showing it? I think it’s sweet :D

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

YES! I have 4k words of a Serennedy fic that i started well over a year ago that I kinda gave up on. It’s still in my documents somewhere, but I’ve literally not looked at it since lol. Though the premise was post RE4 Remake Luis got into a spot of bother and is being chased down or w/e and crashes on Leon’s couch for a night or two

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I like comments! Each time I get one I’m giggling and kicking my feet✨ (even though I suck at replying to them quickly). With feedback, I’m open to it as long as it’s not harsh. Like I am dyslexic and know that typos/nonsensical sentences do get past me, but as long as the person pointing it out isn’t treating me like an idiot then I don’t mind (and any positive feedback is yippeee <33)

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I’m going to write a cowboy chreon multichapter fic! I know said I would months ago but I actually have some kind of outline for it now I think? Or more than I had anyway. All I need to do is do some specific research and draft it 🫡

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

I do really like writing Leon, I project a lot into him lol, it’s why literally everything is always his POV. But I do really enjoy writing Krauser too, I really like his dry banter with Leon