#wildfaeworld

[finnlongman]

omg i never thought i'd see another dvorak user in the wild! i saw your keyboard shortcuts post and just had to say hi 👋

Heh, yeah, I know a couple of others too (one of them helped me set up the new shortcuts). I switched in 2013 to try and stave off chronic hand pain -- it didn't work entirely, but it definitely reduces it, and I find it much more comfortable to type with than QWERTY.

I can touch-type both -- at my old work there were various pieces of software I had to use that only worked with QWERTY, Alma my beloathed, so I got used to switching -- but I'm faster on Dvorak. So it's nice to be able to type Irish with Dvorak now that I've got my fadas set up properly (áóéúí) as it was tedious having to switch back to be able to use the shortcuts for them.

I know some people think it's objectively faster, and maybe it is, but it's definitely primarily a comfort/pain thing for me rather than a speed choice, as I was fast enough with QWERTY before my wrist injury.

[wip]

hello! not sure if y'all are aware of the small gif/small picture bug but here's a screenshot of it in action. at random gifs and pictures on their own line turn very teeny!

Answer: Hey there, @wildfaeworld!

Not only are we aware, but we are actually already underway working to fix this! Keep an eye on here, or @changes, for any news on our progress here. You will be the first to know.

Thanks for bringing this to our attention, and we hope it won’t be long until it’s resolved.

Best,

—Adam (Tumblr Engineering)

[finxwrites]

Last line game! I was tagged by both @tanoraqui and @smallblueandloud lo, these many moons ago, but I wasn't writing anything for the longest time. only now I wrote 3800 WORDS in TWO DAYS and I need to shout from the rooftops about it, so!

Tim had no idea what he was expecting. “I need to get home,” Tim told him. “I have to—wait, shit, didn’t I stab you?”

tagging @smallblueandloud and @tanoraqui if you want to go again, and also @thesuninperigee, @marypsue, and @wildfaeworld if you feel like it!

[aethersea]

WIP ask game

rules: 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.

I was tagged by @smallblueandloud​. unfortunately my wip titles aren’t that exciting, but we all know by now that titles are my achilles’ heel, so hey so it goes!

stranger fics

The Arrangement

fear

serve

december

kencyr beauty & the beast

romance novel snippets

And We Danced

I’ll tag @executeness​, @tanoraqui​, @thesuninperigee​, @crocwork-clockodile​, @wildfaeworld​, and @minutia-r​, if any of you would like to!

[gritpyre]

oohh oooohh 12 and 13, what are your fave drawings from this year and last year!! -vic

from this year def the commission i did for Dex plus this other drawing form Alma where i experimented with color and atmosphere!

from last year i'd say this was my fave, it was very labor intensive but getting to design all the monsters was so much fun

[friendlylocalwhumper]

quinn! hands, afraid, cold, and leave them to suffer >:)

They need help. They need - Quinn Mae will fight like hell to do what needs to be done by themself, but they're not ashamed to recognize when they need help.

No one is around to hear them weep into the cold rain-drenched car seat. This car is abandoned, its roof somehow torn off. They ran hard until their lungs were full of knives, and then tossed themself into the backseat of this car. Now they shiver and bury their face into the fabric that weeps back at them when they press on it.

Thunder bellows overhead, and they flinch from it. Their hands are useless, gnarled and twitching, so they press their forearms to their ears instead to muffle the sound of the storm.

No one can help them. They're alone. If anyone finds them, it will be the people that chased them out of downtown. The teenagers somewhere around Quinn's age who saw their weakness, those crooked fingers, and decided they would be fun to stomp on.

Quinn becomes a puddle on the seat, a casualty of the storm, crying until they can't contribute to the downpour anymore.

[whumpiary]

selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful - if you're taking promote from the unusual words list!

set in the future.

[content warnings: implied/referenced past noncon, discussions of consent, self-pressuring into intimacy]

-

It's the stutter of a breath. 

Easy to miss. Even easier to ignore. 

He’s not sure what happens, what changes, what shifts. But something trips a trigger in the Rube Goldberg machine of his brain. A marble hits a spring, a domino spins a gear. And it only takes a split second of a split second for Josiah’s hands to feel a little softer, for his scent to smell a little more like faded cologne, for his hair to be a little longer and a little more curled.

So perfect, darling boy.

The taste of chocolate and salted caramel.

And then his breath stutters against Josiah’s mouth like an engine stalling. 

Cass closes his eyes slightly tighter and tries to win the moment back, tries to ignore the squeezing around his lungs. He shifts his knees further up the couch cushions so their hips will settle together more completely.

He knows – he knows, he knows, he knows – that with the right amount of focus, the tension in him will fade. Just needs to make it through the overture; the main event will be muscle memory.

The skipped heartbeat could just be excitement. The tightened grip could just be lust. 

Josiah seems to know that it isn’t.

Cass feels a hand flat on his chest as Josiah gives him a gentle push back. Cassius follows where he’s guided. Puppet on a string. One domino following the next. The movement puts space between them so he can see Josiah’s face. Or, more accurately, so Josiah can see his. 

Josiah’s frowning just a little, “You okay? Need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine,” Cass says, too quick, the panicked breath of a laugh dancing on the end of his words. “I’m fine, we can keep going.”

He smiles and leans back in, barely brushing lips to lips before Josiah’s pushing him back again.

“Or we can stop,” Josiah insists, eyes equal parts hard and concerned, palm flat and warm against Cass’ chest. “It’s okay.”

Cass feels his heart skip another beat. His stomach drop. He’s fucked up. He’s done it wrong. Shown his hand. Taken a misstep. “No, I’m fine, I’m… I don’t need to stop.”

“Cass...”

“No, I don’t- I don’t want to stop,” he whispers. “Please.”

Josiah lets the next kiss happen. Cass can feel the passivity of it, open and receptive but no push behind it, no tug. An open sea instead of a current. An ellipsis between thoughts. An unfinished circuit.

Cassius pulls back just barely, lips brushing the stubble on Josiah’s jaw. He takes a shaky breath. And then a second. Josiah’s hand trails a line down his spine, the other still flat against Cass’ sternum.

“What happens if we stop?” Cassius whispers.

The pause is small. The words are thoughtful and chosen.“We do something else. Watch TV. Go cook dinner. Whatever you want.”

Cassius exhales shakily, eyes squeezed shut.

The time he takes as the words sit on the tip of his tongue, burning his lips, could be a handful of seconds. It could be a hundred years. He whispers them so carefully, he’s almost sure the air around him will break. “I want to stop.”

A part of him waits for the debasing sigh, the hard look, the grip to his wrist or on his hip, the cutting comment, the laugh that says ‘did you really think-’

But all that comes is-

“So... Netflix?”

And it’s so sweet. It’s so normal and easy and so, so sweet that Cass laughs. He laughs and then he sobs and he collapses forward, face buried in Josiah’s shoulder.

The tears are instant. The breaths are heaving. The crying feels endless and is long over due.

Josiah holds him. Doesn’t complain about the weight of him on his lap or the way tears and snot soak the shoulder of his t-shirt.

“I’ve got you, honey.”

It takes a little while for the crying to stop but when Cass slides off Josiah’s lap and onto the couch beside him, pulled close and tucked down beneath his arm. He puts his head on Josiah’s chest, they put on the glass blowing show that Josiah’s been watching, their fingers interlock, the splotch on Josiah’s shirt dries.

It’s a little while of being held before Cass’ heart rate settles. Before his shoulders relax. Before the itch that he should be soothing, fixing, placating eases. Replaced instead with the sensation of being soothed

Josiah’s the first one of them to speak, an episode before the season finale, when he picks up the remote and points it in the direction of the prompt that’s come up on the TV. “We still watching?”

And with someone else those words could be you still moping?, with someone else they could be are you over it yet?, with someone else it could be I’m bored now, time to play. But that’s not what Josiah’s asking.

Cass nods, “Yes please.”

And he cuddles in closer and Josiah holds him a little tighter and somewhere in  Cass’ head another domino falls. But this time it doesn’t hit the old switch.

[clockworkgalaxies]

Happy late birthday @wildfaeworld! Serys owns my heart 🥺

[that-one-thespian]

This time will be different. -- for the five sentence fics!

Charmeine observes the unconscious angel on the ground with a look of faint disapproval. He was so close. With a sigh, he lets the silvery substance pooling in his hand pour into the no-longer-shattered memory capsule. Once it's sealed, it goes back into the compartment in the wall, sealed as if it was never there in the first place. 

With that finished, he kneels next to his trainee, awakening him with a touch and purring, "Why, hello, Zuriel." This time. This time, he'll be perfect.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Your new OC is amazing and I love him. Do you write fantasy settings a lot? Does he have any more story than that?

Well, I have a half-written novel and some outline and blocking ideas for another and those are both fantasy setting, but generally speaking not really! My writing lately has been very much modern in setting even if it still has fantastical elements.

Killan doesn't have much more to him than the piece I posted today and a conversation with @wildfaewhump where he popped in and made himself 100% babey right away, but...

Here:

CW: Referenced whipping, welts, starvation, a guy being cruel to someone weaker for personal amusement, debt slavery, abusive language/behavior

Killan felt uneasy in towns. He'd grown up in a village of just ten families, and large towns with all their bustle made him nervous. He stuck close to Beron, who was in one of his nice moods and kept a warm hand on Killan's back.

It rubbed against the welts from last week when he'd done the trap up wrong and a good-sized doe had run right through it. Ren had whipped him until his arm hurt too much to keep going and Killan had stayed in his bedroll for two days after, unable to stand.

Got added to his debt, that deer. He hated her now.

Killan'd been allowed no food but porridge once a day since, just a bit of grain wet down with water. No taste and left him hungry and hollow, but at least that didn't get added to his debt, too.

Ren would've been a real cruel man if he did that, he said. The whipping and the porridge and the deer put to his tally was enough.

In town everything smelled good on top of the deeper unpleasant smells of sewage and Killan's empty stomach twisted and gnawed him from the inside.

Beron seemed to see it in his pale face. The big man glanced down at him and gave him a smile. "Reckon you've been punished enough for an honest mistake, eh, Matti?"

Killan perked up. Hope, soft and feathered, brushed against his thoughts and was pushed back down again. "I, I think so, Beron."

"Yes, me, too. C'mon, Matti."

Killan didn't even mind the wrong name, he let Beron lead him up to a stall where the scent of cooking meat made his knees buckle and he would've fallen if not for Beron gripping him by the arm to keep him standing. Beron picked out a big turkey leg from a half-dozen turning slowly on a spit over a fire and paid a few coins to the man standing nearby.

When he handed the turkey leg to Killan it was still hot, dripped a little fat onto his hand. At first he only stared. "For... For me?"

"Go on, Matti. Eat." Beron grinned.

Killan hesitated. Dread filtered into his initial ecstasy and he knew what Beron was going to do. But he set himself to smiling up at him anyway. The smile came easily now - he'd been practicing looking grateful all the time for months. "Th-thank... Thank you, Beron."

"Welcome, kiddo."

Killan tore into the turkey leg and could have cried at the burst of hot flavor against teeth and tongue. He ate too fast and he knew it, ate with desperation borne of too many hungry nights, but he knew it was too good to be true and he knew what would happen soon enough.

Beron watched him, content at the way the boy looked like a slavering animal, inhuman, like a dog chewing on a bone to get everything it could. Happy with the way the boy got the occasional disgusted look from anyone who happened to look their way. He looked like a beggar next to Beron, in his threadbare too-big clothes and with his face all smeared in dirt.

Beron and the others had had a good cleaning before going to market, but Killan had been too slow getting the water heater, no time for a bath for him.

Killan didn't notice anyone looking. He was too focused on the meat, on eating as much as he could before-

Beron reached out and grabbed the half-eaten turkey leg from his hands, dangled it just high enough Killan couldn't grab for it - just long enough to watch him try - and then threw it to some stray dogs sniffing around the edges of the street.

Killan let out a soft, sad cry as he watched it arc through the air.

The dogs alighted on it in a pack, shredding it in seconds, and Killan stared with real despair.

He would have thrown himself into the pack if he'd thought he had a chance to get a few shreds back.

Beron burst out laughing, his great big booming laugh, and clapped Killan on the back. The still-healing welts from the whip lit up in a sudden burst of fiery pain and Killan bit back a cry, dug his teeth into his lip until the urge to curse Beron for his meanness left.

"Your face! Look at you, acting like we don't feed you plenty. Silly boy."

Beron laughed again, and Killan forced a faded smile onto his face.

"Silly," He agreed, in a voice faint and nearly formless. "Silly me."

But he couldn't look away from the dogs fighting over the last scraps of skin clinging to the turkey bone.

[clockworknightmares]

drunken asks - also vys what do you think of the Queen's new champion 👀

“I think…. he’s… very nice.” A color comes to rest on his cheeks. “Of course, a complete idiot- but have you see him? But ahem- yes very hot- NICE. Very nice. I think I’m done with this question.”

[athenaryals]

hi Athena! i'm excited for book 3 of honor bound, do you know if it will be released as a physical copy in addition to the kindle version? i have the first two physically and i'd love to keep expanding their space on my bookshelf 😍

Hey there! That’s so awesome, thank you for all the support!! The physical copy is going to be released the same day as the Kindle version on April 16! 

[gritpyre]

FRANKIEEEEEEE how about 9- What is their favorite color? Favorite animal? -- for alma and thiago both!!

thanks for the ask Vic!🥺

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

Alma's favorite color is gold! her favorite animals are parrots

Thiago's favorite colors are blue and pink! i don't think they could pick a fav animal bc he likes them all, but maybe he has a soft spot for mourning doves

[friendlylocalwhumper]

(for the ask game) Quinn! what's the stupidest mistake you've ever made during a mission? >:)

Everything about them is neutral. The way they sit, their expression. Their eyes are cold and devoid of emotion. They take their time considering how they want to answer.

"...It was a mistake to use magic on Jon," They begin, turning that memory over in their mind to inspect its consequences. To measure what they could've done better. "That was stupid, although I didn't have many options. Trusting Oscar was probably the most idiotic, but I wasn't on a mission, there." They tap a finger against the side of their coffee mug. "Maybe... yes. Definitely Oscar. Everything is part of the overarching mission, so that counts. I shouldn't have let my guard down. Now it'll take years to clean up all those loose ends."

[whumpiary]

#present timeline?? #poor josiah lol??? NELLBERT EXPLAIN YOURSELF WHYMST DOES JOSIAH THINK CASS IS DEAD HAVE I MISSED SOME VERY IMPORTANT WRITES

Whoof, Vic went and pulled out the full Nellbert on me I guess... 

I just mean to say that Josiah thought Cass was dead and had grieved him and started to heal and move on and started building a new life for himself and was generally on the upswing when he got a sudden knock on the door one night and a familiar shape collapsd on his doorstep. No big deal!

[gritpyre-archived]

2, 5, 9, 12 for the asks!! 😍

2. How long have you been drawing?

okay i have the memory of a goldfish so i always forget but i think it's something close to 11-12 years

5. What’s your favorite thing to draw?

okay this is something that may have not come up in my blog so this is like a really vulnerable moment for me but, i really like drawing buff women 😔😔

9. How much time do you spend drawing on an average day?

i think it's something like 2-3 hours!

12. Is it okay for people to ask you about your process?

sure thing! though a warning that i don't know what i'm doing most of the time + i don't think i'm good at explaining things :'X