#Now I'm actively holding back from doing more bc otherwise I'll be the only one taking this seriously dhdgdh

[thyandrawrites]

Me: I'm not really into halloween. I don't mind doing nothing for it

A friend: what about a themed party? It can be as light as you want, no need for full costumes, no pressure. Who's in?

Me: *is suddenly interested in halloween and does absolutely want a full costume*

[valeffelees]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

thank you kindly for tagging me @shrekgogurt @youarenevertooold, and @monbons i've been seeing this game make its rounds on my dash and was really hoping someone would pull me in!

🦈 Tell us the name of one of your WIP(s)

my main three wips at the moment are without sun, ballad of the final sparrow, which is more commonly known as bitverse, and fragile things (and how to break them), but i've also been fucking around a bit the last two or three weeks with a new (terrible, evil, very self-indulgent) wip called god-forbid.

🍄 Describe one of your WIPs in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

i think i might be dumb bc i don't understand this question at all.

🌍 What tags or warnings will your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

bitverse: heavy angst, psychological horror elements, alcohol abuse, allusions to suicide, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dead dove: do not eat.

🧭 An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

ballad of the final sparrow -> baz is typing fragile things (and how to break them) -> there's a werewolf in london god-forbid -> the gap between a tragedy and comedy

⚠️ Which WIP you’re most likely to finish or update next?

i have no idea. i mean, you'd think the answer would be without sun since it's the only fic i actually have posted at the moment, but unfortunately i am an untrustworthy villain.

💾 What is the document of your WIP called? (Not the story title, but what you’ve saved it as.)

same as the fic title. if i start a new wip and don't know what to call it, i'll pick something at random and add (working title) at the end.

🖍 Post any sentence from your WIP

from without sun:

“You don’t like peppermint,” he says. But maybe she does. Maybe that’s one more thing he can add to his growing list of things he got wrong about Agatha Wellbelove. No. 1 — Dislikes peppermint; actually, she is quite fond of it. No. 2 — Likes Simon Snow; him, not so much.

♻️ A scrapped idea for your current WIP

one of the biggest changes i made to the plot of without sun really early on was penelope's role in the story. i had a clear idea of the story i wanted to tell as soon as i saw the prompt for the fic. without sun was always supposed to be about more than simon and baz. the story is about grief and love, and the space we take up in the lives of the people around us. but n e way, in my orig draft, penny was actually supposed to be able to communicate with simon a bit, and there was gonna be a whole sect of scenes in the middle of the fic where they sat around together trying to break simon's curse what we know and what we don't know style via passing notes. i ended up tossing this idea really quickly tho, and i'm glad i did bc one of my favourite moments i've ever written in any fic happens in chapter two of without sun and it belongs to simon and penny.

🤔 What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

so many. or, well—what counts as "haven't even started"? i hate to let ideas sit around in my head bc it feels like leaving raspberries in the fridge for too long, like that shit is gonna get mould on it, so usually the first thing i do is rough out a few scenes and/or script out a very rough outline of the plot (like this / this / this style) so that i have something to come back to later. i have dozens of zero drafts just lying tf around. but otherwise, yeah, so many. one big idea i have is called heart on fire and it's based on fanart, but i haven't started it yet bc obvs i wanna get permission from the artist first but i've been holding off reaching out to them about it until i've knocked a few of my less intimidating longfics off my wip list bc heart on fire is gonna fucking hefty so i don't wanna give'r until i'm sure i can manage it.

🤡 How many WIPs are you actively working on?

LMFAO

🛠 Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

i'm having a real bitch of a time with agatha's main scene in chapter two of without sun, i've been fighting with it on and off for months, but i can't get it to do what i want it to do.

❤️ Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

cheers!

sorry for any doubles but, tagging: @drowninginships @cosmicalart @that-disabled-princess @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @artsyunderstudy @thewholelemon @roomwithanopenfire @hushed-chorus @blackberrysummerblog @imagineacoolusername @nightimedreamersworld @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @mooncello and an open tag for anybody else who wants to procrastinate their wips!

[nekkodiaries]

⌖ the 7th shot. ┆ second base. [ 0.7k words + 2 pics. ]

killstrike: oi, i waited for 30 mins for ur stupid ass n u didnt come ://

killstrike: hey .. its been 2 days 😐 this isnt funny r u actually mad at me

killstrike: im sorry for calling u stupid 😕 even tho u kind of are

killstrike: 😕😕😕 its been 5 days since ur last active. are you okay?

jay sighs as he finishes sending the last message. summer break's about to end and the way she's been inactive makes him feel like this little friendship they've made's about to end too. maybe he should have taken heeseung's advice and asked for her number. or any other social media account.

this feels all too repetitive of the last 'incidents' he's had with her. she ghosts him and he gets anxious, staring at the screen until that little button beside her icon turns green, messaging her a couple of times even though he isn't getting a reply back. each message he sends knocking down hard on his pride, but he continues to type away. it almost leaves him upset at how he's actively trying to build a friendship with her, and her not caring enough to update him.

but he shoos his anxious thoughts away, convincing himself that maybe he's overthinking this. that even though she teased and insulted him quite a lot, she'd never completely ghost jay without reason.

just like magic, his phone vibrates. jay sits up from his bed, eyes glued on the little chat box he has with notursniper. she just comes back with a lame "haha hi." without anything else. was she not going to address how she was gone for a week? was she going to dip again?

killstrike: haha hi your face.

jongseong did not mean for his words to come out so 'upset' and pointed, but he actually was.

notursniper: hey 🥺 did you not miss your favorite sniper,, hmph

killstrike: you were gone for a week and you didn't tell me 😐

notursniper: i didn't have a choice !! i sprained my hand and my wrist hurts too much to hold my phone 🥺 can't even game grrRRr.

oh. that's why she was away. he wonders why she keeps getting into little accidents— from catching fever to spraining her hand. so clumsy, this one. he chuckles and puts his phone down briefly, rubbing his palm on his face as it dawns on him just how stupid he was for getting so deep into his mind about her short absence.

notursniper: oh god, you waited for me the day i slipped hhhhHhh I'M SORRY 🥺😭

killstrike: nah it's no big deal. i DID worry bc of ur sudden absence though. not fun. 😐😐😐 killstrike: anyw. do u wanna play now? i haven't duo-ed since u went AWOL on me

notursniper: guess you're gonna go awol on duo for longer because i can't play rn notursniper: i'm lich relly typing w one hand because my wrist hurts like a raging bitch.

his thumbs come to the screen to tell her to take a rest but heeseung's words come to mind. maybe he can ask for her twitter? pubg isn't as fun without her as his partner, plus he wouldn't have to log in everyday just to reply to her. god knows he's only been using the game to talk to her and not to actually game.

he stares at his phone for a while, thumbs slightly trembling at the thought of asking her to talk somewhere else other than the app itself. jay is nervous this would change their dynamics. but is it really that deep? maybe it is. maybe it's not. maybe he's just overthinking this again. but she might think otherwise— maybe she assumes he wants something more than a platonic gamer-friendship with her (which he does) but he doesn't want to outright give up his pride for that. then again, if he doesn't do this, he realizes she might ghost again and he's the one who'll end up having a hard time. so with his toes curled in nervousness, he types out a message.

killstrike: would it be easier to talk on twitter? only if you're comfortable. :)

notursniper: are going to second base rn? 😳😳

killstrike: . loRD. i should not have apologized that day 🧎🏻

notursniper: i'm kidding ! 🤣 give me you're @ and i'll follow you.

killstrike: same as my ign.

notursniper: boo 👎 boring 👎

killstrike: i don't take insults from 9-year olds. now go follow me and let's talk there so you can rest your wrist.

masterlist. ┆ previous. — next.

summary: park jay lives life as a hot-headed gamer by day and.. well.. still a hot-headed gamer by night— except he secretly goes by the name killstrike. after losing a match, he finds himself trash-talking his teammate notursniper, who happens to be the mysterious classmate he's been admiring for over a year and more.

taglist [open] : @yvnjin-s @wondering-out-loud @rikisly @babystrlla @shinrjj @homelycat @annoyingbitch83 @fadedluvv @haerinism

permanent taglist: @duolingofanaccount @enhasengene

[savagesbonergarage]

Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.