mischievousprincess01

[mischievousprincess01]

I know I’m a small account on here, but just for everyone’s general information: I DO NOT, NOR WILL I EVER use ai in my writing.

I started writing before I could actually write, having my babysitter write scripts for me while I orated so we could perform plays together. I have bad, terrible writing from when I was younger. I still have the first ever story I wrote out on my google drive. I’ve been writing fanfic for over 13 years now. Fuck man, I have a creative writing degree.

If some of the shit I write sounds like ai, it’s probably the other way around. You don’t need any of the shit above that I listed in order to not be policed for what you write btw. If this is your literal first day writing, fuck anyone who accuses you of using ai. You’re writing and they aren’t. And if they are, they are also wasting their time worrying about you instead of doing literally anything else. That says everything about them and nothing about you or your abilities.

Write what you want, how you want. Don’t let some random person online who hasn’t touched, let alone seen grass in years discourage you from what you like to do.

And if you’re a reader and you don’t like someone’s writing style, guess what? No one is forcing you to read their stuff! Click off of it and don’t read anymore.

Okay, rant over <3

If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.

If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform

None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.

THIS GOES DOUBLY FOR ARTISTS.

[mischievousprincess01]

Someone wrote a vampire!141 yesterday and I’ve been far too obsessed with it. It is dragging me back to being 13 and cringe and I think I’m here for whatever it might bring…

Keep your peepers peeled on here lmao…

[mischievousprincess01]

Whoever took my will to write better give it back right fucking now istg

[mischievousprincess01]

Ao3 does not need an algorithm, you're just lazy

Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE

Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted

Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative

Purity culture is ruining fan culture and you all are fucking annoying

[mischievousprincess01]

me listening to a song: eh I don't love it

my brain: what if it's about The Character

me:

[mischievousprincess01]

"I know adverbs are controversial, but "said softly" means something different than 'whispered' and this is the hill I will die on."

[mischievousprincess01]

for a while now i’ve been learning that some people kind of choose to hate themselves like you can give them tools and resources and advice and they’ll even follow some of it and go “i still hate myself” and i feel strongly at that point they’re kind of choosing to stay in that mindset because it’s comfortable and familiar or something but some people are truly [gotye voice] addicted to a certain kind of sadness and hooked on feeling low

[mischievousprincess01]

[mischievousprincess01]

Ope…

[mischievousprincess01]

A Fox with no Teeth

Yeah, alright. Here's the first chapter of the omegaverse thing. As with all my longform stuff, the entire story will be over on my Ao3

Chapter 1 - Like A Matchstick in the Rain

Weakness. What is there to be said about it? It was a curse, something beaten and trained out of all good soldiers and lauded by bad ones. It was a death sentence for those who turned toward its easy embrace, damning all those around them. It was a lifetime of suffering for the survivors of its aftermath. Sleepless nights and haunted days, populated by every what-if, every grueling possibility that one had been too cautious to explore. It was shackles bound so tightly that there was no hope of escaping once it had you in its grasp.

It drove great people to do horrible things. It turned leaders into spineless monsters and followers into nothing more than dust. It ruined legacies and ended lives. It was a poison of the worst kind.

And right now Maeve felt weak.  

The scent of blood hung heavy in the back of her throat, but she wasn’t sure if it was still coming from her slain unit or from herself, clots left caked in her nostrils from the rifle butt she took to the face during the ambush. She panted, breaths labored after hours of torture, even though she’d been in the cramped cell for what felt like hours. There were no windows here underground. Or that’s where she thought she was, under the earth. The crevices in the stone floor that she picked at with blunt fingernails tasted like dirt. And there was a muted staleness to the air that she’d only ever felt in basements and foxholes.

Her muscles screamed in agony even while sitting still. Torture resistance training had helped her make it through the night, but so did watching the remaining members of her unit get picked off one by one. Even when the bastards started prowling around her, licking their lips and threatening with mating bites, she didn’t break. She sported massive wounds all over and had coughed up water for god only knew how long once they stopped waterboarding her, but none of that weighed on her as heavily as her cowardice. 

The only reason she was alive was because she was scared. Too afraid to speak to the right people at the right time. Once her little secret made it past her sergeants in basic, the tale of the omega who tricked an entire base into thinking she was a beta followed her like a badge of honor. She knew it would come back to bite her in the ass. And now here she was. 

For years, people had told her how badass it was that she’d pulled one over on her superiors at such a young age. It didn’t help that most of those same assholes thought that omegas were dainty little homemakers who wanted nothing more than to be pregnant all the time, but whatever helped her break out of the stigma was good for her. Maybe that was the root of her problem. Maybe it wasn’t weakness itself, but the perception of it. The association. 

Because Maeve Thomas wasn’t a fan of overarching assumptions. She figured she’d been spared by these people because they’d pelted her team with that powder, the new kind of disgusting biological weapon that mixed pretty poorly with alpha sweat and scent glands. So when she didn’t fall to the ground, screaming in pain, they lumped her in with the betas. And then when they ripped the scent blocking patches off her glands, that only made things worse. 

Weak little thing. 

Oh, what’s a sweet girl like you doing here? Playing dress-up?

An unclaimed bitch; don’t see many of those out here.

When she nearly sank her distended canines into one of the bastards, the assumptions stopped. Or rather, they stopped being said aloud. Maeve figured they still thought them, though. 

It’d been proven long ago that omegas got different treatment. Not special, that word sounded too good for what Maeve had experienced growing up. Many older folks still touted phrases like, if you think it’s rough now, you should’ve seen things before the turn of the century. As if it still wasn’t damn near illegal to have omegas working outside of the home. They were seen as ‘brave’ or ‘problematic’ depending on who you asked for even holding management positions in restaurants. God help any of them who wanted to get into the military. 

Her classmates and extended family hadn’t helped the bruised ego she’d carried from birth. If it wasn’t outright vicious comments about her gender, it was passive-aggressive digs. If it wasn’t that, it was the not-subtle-at-all attempts to extinguish her fire. The pamphlets she received in her sixteenth birthday card from her grandmother, urging her to think about getting out of high school early didn’t help. Or the exclusion of her from even being considered as captain of the soccer team. Or the way that colleges avoided her application like the plague; no one wanted to be the martyr school in the news nowadays over one ambitious omega.

But they were right to try and break her spirit, she thought; every last one of them. As she lay there on the floor of the damp, suffocating cell, that was the only conclusion she could come to. She was weak. She wasn’t meant for this life. 

If she were, she would have been able to save at least one of her teammates. She would’ve laid down her life for them, not the other way around. She wouldn’t have sat there, lips sealed like a tomb, as those monsters tore through the people she called friends like they were made of paper. If she was really different from any other omega, she would have done something. 

Now she was wallowing and feeling sorry for herself. That made her even more sick. She couldn’t move from the pain and exhaustion, she’d started trembling a little while ago from the shock starting to settle in, and she was sure that she would die behind enemy lines. No scrap of intel was worth coming after when the casualties had been so high. 

No one would be coming for the little turncoat Fox. 

❈

Dark brown dirt clods flew through the air as the lone humvee sped through the underbrush. The air was still, charged like lightning could strike at any moment. Trees stood still and creatures of the night stayed hidden, as if they knew what was coming for this strip of land. Maybe bloodshed had marked it long before this conflict started, and maybe it would mark it again. But even the seasoned soldiers inside the cabin could feel the energy surrounding this place. 

None of them said a word. They didn’t have to. Their contacts had already warned them about what they’d be facing. What kind of nightmare made real would be standing behind the doors of the little abandoned warehouse. Tall grass shielded their eyes from bloodied footprints as they killed the engine and disembarked. The stale smell of water puddles left over from heavy rains smothered most of the unnatural chemicals hiding behind the innocuous walls. Even to their trained senses, this place seemed mostly plain. Unassuming. 

But their intel was too good and they themselves were too used to this world to be fooled by cheaply covered trails. When John Price crouched down, tac visor pulled low, his nose caught that sulfurous scent Kate had warned about. He held a gloved hand up and his unit paused where they were, just long enough for his pack to scent the anomaly. Three soft huffs were all he needed to hear before pushing forward. 

His lieutenant, the most sharp-eyed out of the team, caught movement from a klick out, growling softly. All eyes flicked to where Ghost’s gaze pointed and their following headcount was murmured no louder than the crickets hidden in the grass around them. The man relished at the thought of picking off some of them from here. 

However, his sergeant was less pleased about the distance. He swallowed the extra saliva that pooled in his mouth at the idea of revenge. The drone footage they’d seen had been little more than a massacre and he’d be damned if there was a single wall still standing by the end of the night. Soap wanted to watch the light leave these fuckers’ eyes while he loomed over them. 

Gaz wanted to see this place burn too, but he was a bit more clearheaded like his captain. Sure the footage had been bleak, but if this team had been hunted and cornered after the intel rendezvous, then there was a good chance there’d be survivors. They’d be in rough shape no doubt, but his main concern was getting them out of there and containing the whereabouts of the bioweapon’s manufacturer. It was why he double checked his vest for the first aid materials he could carry, just in case. 

All five perimeter guards fell, be it to sniper rounds or slashing blades to soft flesh. The 141 didn’t have to work too hard to get inside this hellscape, all things considered. Not compared to the team who had been killed here just days before. 

As soon as they breached the interior, the suffocating smell of whatever toxin these bastards were using washed over the team. With their gas masks in place, they stalked through the open warehouse floors undeterred. Sure, their eyes watered and their skin itched, but it was manageable with their long sleeves and the scent neutralizers they’d lathered on before leaving their temporary base. But the fact that it still hurt at all concerned Price. He’d be sure to add it to his report later. 

Body after body fell. Screams were cut short before alarms could be raised. If this base was full of deadly killers, it was now because the 141 was present, not because of the original inhabitants. 

The team was efficient and well-known in the wrong spheres. Elites of the military world, a team that worked beyond the reach of governmental bureaucracy, under the table for deals and the safety of the world. It all sounded like a fantastical boogeyman until one of their adversaries actually met the small task force. Then it was fiction made real. 

Such was the fate for those present in the shuttered Rendeux Pharmaceuticals warehouse. The monsters inside fell, much like Maeve’s team had just a few days before. Most died quickly, but there were pleas for mercy from any who survived the first round of bullets. 

When the sound of gunfire reached her, Maeve wondered if there’d been some kind of incident. She didn’t try to sit up or call for help. She wasn’t stupid enough to get her hopes up like that. Even if these sons of bitches were getting mowed down, there was no chance that she was getting out of there alive. She figured if someone from this stupid place didn’t put a bullet between her eyes, whoever was breaking in certainly would. 

Screams and heavy boots on uneven ground echoed closer and she screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the end.

When the sound of heaving breath through a gas mas met her ears, she finally looked up. Had there been a leak? Were those awful shitheads getting their deserved karma? No. This man wasn’t dressed in the ridiculous all-black outfits the team who’d taken her were wearing. This guy had on a full tactical vest with a little Scottish flag patch on the front. A long stripe of hair poked up from between the mask straps on his head. But most concerning of all was the emblazoned insignia on the left breast of his vest. A spade with a skull overlaid on it and the number 141 stitched just below. Maeve’s heart dropped to her feet. She knew where this man came from and what he was probably here to do. 

She wasn’t going to die weak, though. Her team’s memory deserved better from their final surviving member. So she bared her teeth at the man, growling even as her throat ached and burned. 

But he didn’t shoot. He didn’t even raise his gun. Instead, he turned his chin down and to the side as he held down the buttons on his comms. Maeve watched carefully, like an animal caged. 

“What’ve you got, Soap?” came his captain’s voice. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Bravo. They’ve got a hostage down here, just like Gaz said.” 

Maeve’s eyes met the Scot’s as he grabbed onto the bars of her cell. The scents of more alphas approached and she glared in their direction. Two more figures came into view and one of them gasped, leaning in, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“Give me more than that, soldier,” came the voice again. 

As the three men crowded in closer, she finally tried moving away. Everything screamed in protest but she swallowed a whine. Neither she nor her wolf would be showing cowardice now. 

As they pried the door open, the tallest of the three ripped off his gas mask and she saw a balaclava covering his face. She could tell by the way his chin bobbed that he was scenting the air. She gritted her teeth as his eyes widened. And just like always, her reputation preceded her. 

“Captain, she’s a bloody omega.”

[mischievousprincess01]

Ask literally anything plz

WRITEBLR - ASK GAME

NOTEBOOK - How many notebooks do you have, and how many of them are empty, used, or full?

PEN - Do you have good handwriting?

QUILL - What's your most controversial writer opinion?

LAPTOP - What do you use to write?

WORD - What word do you use too many times, but refuse to stop using?

SENTENCE - What are you best at?

PHRASE - Has your family read your writing? If not, why not?

METAPHOR - Do you use the oxford comma? Defend your stance!

SIMILE - How good are you at writing, compared to your favourite author?

IMAGERY - What's the best thing you've ever written?

HERO - How similar are you to your hero? Was the intentional?

VILLAIN - How similar are you to your villain? Was that intentional?

LOVER - Do you love your love interest?

BOOK - What are you going to do with your WIP when it's finished?

NOVEL - What's your favourite book?

NOVELLA - If you had to guess, how many words do you think you've written this year so far?

WRITER - Do you write because you want to or because you need to?

PUBLISH - Is your writing on the same level as published books?

CHAPTER - How long do your chapters/scenes tend to be?

PARAGRAPH - Give your best writing advice!

[mischievousprincess01]

Guys. I’m doing it. I’m writing an omegaverse fic. The voices in my head have won.

[mischievousprincess01]

this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it

buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell

leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist

put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.

when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!

plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.

if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge

if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.

its not stupid if it works! our brains literally have a chemical deficiency. you are allowed to accommodate yourself. go forth and stop making your life more difficult than it has to be because "this shouldn't be this hard". it is hard, so make it easier.

[mischievousprincess01]

i forgot i had tumblr for a hot sec im so sorry😭😭😭🫠 heres some domestic middle aged ghoap for your troubles🤲

oh and a bonus too!!!!

(ill try to be more active here) ((key word: try😭))

[mischievousprincess01]

Simon and The Dragon

COD x TOTK crossover because I get sad whenever I play TOTK and think about the fact that Link can't be with Zelda :( ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* At least his eyes were still blue, Simon thought. Still held the ocean in them so far away from the sea. They glistened in the sun, reminding him of their days together before he disappeared. When they fought side by side, when they huddled together as raucous storms passed overhead. And when they’d laughed, not cried, while water dripped onto their heads through the holes of their tent. 

But Johnny neither laughed nor cried now. Or, couldn’t, Simon supposed. 

The retired knight sat on the quiet hilltop, the long, wild grass flitting between his fingertips as his lover drew near. This was their—his— new tradition. Simon would watch the skies, had learned his patterns, and waited. The townsfolk didn’t say anything when he rented his room and then disappeared for two days at a time. Some of them would watch him go, their gazes heavy on his back, as he trekked up the knolls just outside of town. 

There was a time when the two of them would visit this place together. They drove hordes of beasts from the outskirts of town, the warrior prince’s loud warcries always followed by his boisterous yells of victory when they were done. The old innkeeper asked where he had gone. Simon hadn’t had the heart to tell her. 

No, that burden was his and his alone. 

It had been ever since he found his last memory, the last moment from a time long past. That son of a bitch, the self-sacrificing bastard, Simon cursed inside his head. His eyes welled up as Johnny’s form took on a more clear shape through the clouds. The blades of grass ripped and tore from the earth as Simon gritted his teeth. 

“Why…” he breathed, as if the wind could carry the word to Johnny. 

Three years. Three full years had passed since Simon finished their impossible task. He’d nearly bled out in the ruined throne room, alone and screaming as he collapsed to my knees. But the Demon King was dead. Slain in Johnny’s old castle, their lands now safe. There were still pockets of enemies Simon hunted down to this day, but the kingdom was secure. It was all finally over. 

But a part of him didn’t want it to be over. Because if that were true, it meant there was nothing he could do to get him back. He’d be gone forever, trapped like this. A sick kind of irony that only Simon would feel the brunt of. 

He couldn’t sit still, not since the moment he’d gotten healed. If the knight wasn’t scouring the ends of the earth for remaining creatures of the Demon King, he was looking for a cure. He learned the ancient language, raised it from the dead just for his love. But the texts were so old, so scattered, and so unhelpful, the task was for naught. Simon knew that, but no matter how hard his head tried to convince him of that futility, the heart refused to hear it. 

It beat on through his chest for moments such as these. When Johnny’s eyes would gleam in the early morning sunrise, massive pearls of aquamarine nearly glowing. Simon recognized him, not only from the memories he left behind for him, but because their souls were intertwined. 

Simon would love Johnny in every life, in every form. Neither death nor circumstance would take the pleasure of cherishing Johnny away from him. The brave prince and his most loyal knight. Separated in flesh but not in action. Not in the very dirt beneath their feet. This land knew them, it spoke of their victories. The very fact it still existed at all was enough to keep Simon grounded when he saw him like this. 

Gone were the lips that spoke his name with a reverence only he deserved. His hands had changed, no longer built for journaling their findings or wielding his sword Simon still carried. And along with the rest of him, his voice had disappeared as well. 

But even still, there were traces of the old him. 

Simon smiled, a pained thing, as Johnny bellowed, the sound ricocheting off the mountainsides as his body twisted and curled through the sky. Majestic, that was what one of the children had said last time he allowed himself to be around people. Such a big word, one of the elders had said and he agreed. But it was true; their savior was majestic like this. Not that it had been any different when he was still human. Still Simon’s. 

Now though, when the Dragon of Light coiled through the skies, the people of his kingdom looked up with reverence. Even if they didn’t know what their prince had given for them to live, they still gave him the respect he deserved. It soothed a part of him to know that. 

“Johnny,” he whispered, standing and walking to the edge of the crater his love seemed to be drawn to. 

He’d followed him once, riding on his back amongst his massive scales and the gems that protruded from his spine. They traveled through the Depths for half the month, the dragon prince casting light across the underworld beneath our feet. And then he flew through the fresh, clean air of the surface for the rest of his time. As far as Simon knew, he never stopped, never rested. Always drifted effortlessly through the skies. 

He was nearly here now. If he even noticed his audience of one, he made no indication, as always. His eye on the side of his head facing Simon blinked slowly. He stepped even closer, boot-clad toes hanging over the edge of the Depths. His hand stretched outward toward him, something deep inside begging for a moment of the past. Just a heartbeat where his hand would settle in his again. Where he could see his smile. Hear his laugh. 

But he wasn’t so delusional. As his long snout drew as close it would, he readied himself and sprung off solid ground. Johnny’s scaled head began to dip into the hole and Simon landed against him with the lightest footfall he could manage. The dragon’s head shook just a bit, like a horse clearing flies but Simon held onto one of his massive glowing horns. 

Tears pricked his eyes now that no one, not even the sun, could see him crumble. 

“I hope you’ve been well, love,” he murmured softly, hands shaking as he held on. 

Of course, there was no response, but that didn’t stop the man. 

“I checked the southern deserts again. Droughts revealed a new cavern system and…” he took a deep breath. And then dissolved into tears. 

His fingers ached as he grasped onto Johnny for dear life. Not for a fear of falling, no, he had no fear of dying now. Not any more. The daylight became but a pinprick above them as his lover’s body twisted softly through the air with the grace of a cloud. 

Simon was no fool, had never been. Johnny used to tease him for being so pragmatic. He could recall when the two of them would fight over Simon’s duty to sacrifice himself for his prince and how each conversation dissolved into those languid kisses Johnny was so good at giving. ‘You won’t be throwing yourself into a sword for me, Si. Never for me.’ 

And Simon supposed the bastard had been right. But if he could change fate, if he could have torn himself apart for the good of the world, for Johnny instead, he would have. It wouldn’t have been a thought in his mind, like muscle memory even if it was for the first time. That was his duty as much as it was his only reason for being on this planet. 

That was what had led him to where he was now. Desperate. Longing. If he couldn’t bring his lover back to him, what was he to do with however much time the Goddess would grant him? “Maybe…” Simon whispered, forehead pressed to his love’s, “maybe I’ll shed my form, too. Join you in the skies.” 

The dragon beneath him rumbled, a soft growling hum that vibrated Simon to his very core. He stroked the scales beneath his fingers, kissing them with all the tenderness he could muster. No amount of pretending made this any easier.

The knight’s voice wavered and cracked. “I’d find you in any life, Johnny. In all of them. You know that, don’t you?” 

There was no response. “I’d do it all again. Every last drop of blood I’ve shed, every moment of pain, if it meant you’d come back to me.”

Something snapped within the man and he wept, screaming and gnashing his teeth as the dragon forged his path through the darkness. Simon raged, spit flinging from his tongue as he lamented all he had lost. As he felt every moment the two of them had never gotten to enjoy together. For every embrace they’d never share. For each ‘I love you’ that would go unsaid.

But that was love, the raw anger and disgust with the hand that had been dealt. It was true, passionate, raging love that Simon had for his prince. For no matter if he was that regal warrior he had fallen in love with the day he laid eyes on him or if he was the creature of unfathomable creation, nothing would pull Simon away from the soul he would always know more than his own. That was the love he would gladly give until the day he ceased to be. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So, I wrote most of this like, two months ago and I did the ending today because I'm avoiding my actual COD writing lol. So the end is rushed, but do we see what I was going for? Is this anything?

[mischievousprincess01]

'kids these days have it easy' thats the point thats the point thats the whole point we're here to make it better for whoever comes after you sad selfish self absorbed puddle of wank

[mischievousprincess01]

As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:

I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you

I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you

I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you

I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase

I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all

I love you