#capwrites

[spacebuck]

it seems like enough for us

mozeqiu | explicit | 6.3k

Moze knows. He knows and he’s staring, grey eyes sharp. He’s good at spotting weaknesses, always has been, and Jiaoqiu has a glaringly obvious one right now – one that he can’t address just yet. One that he needs to address, but-

Feixiao raises one sharp eyebrow, clicks her tongue against her teeth. “I think,” she drawls, nails drumming against her chin. “I think you’ve lost interest in what I’m saying.”

He has, but he’d never admit it. “General-” Jiaoqiu says, blinking. Sweat drips down his spine drop by drop.

--

Jiaoqiu's heat comes early.

AO3 | TWITTER

[captainsomnia]

Baggage

Let go of me. I'm begging you. Leave me before I ruin every pure part of you. For I am bad choices with no regret. I am the embers in your last cigarette, menthol and nicotine breath. I am "here for a week, maybe less", yet I stay to watch a year pass. I am small towns and broken dreams, thanks to the heavy hands of misunderstandings. I am the one hit too many, the new high aplenty; But I don't want to see you wasted out of your mind, because when you're sober your mouth runs faster than my heavy feet could take me, and I can't lose it. And I don't want to see you angry at me, when I tell you it's not smart to do, but you don't care and you do anyway and you blame that on me too. I don't want to see you crying, when you know I've got to leave.

[ravenschmaven]

QWC means what exactly?

aw man i must have misspelled it

QCW is the shortened url of a person on here, queer/capwriting, who has a history of writing Bad fic. Here’s a list:

 - uses stereotypes when writing Autistic!Kara which are super damaging to the autistic community

 - Erased a canon lesbian’s sexuality, repeatedly, for multiple characters

 - Wrote a pulse shooting au. seriously.

 - Writes one-shots where Jewish characters celebrate Christmas……….. 

There’s a more detailed post here: http://wayhaughtie.tumblr.com/post/164583926378/wayhaughtie-wayhaughtie-queercapwriting

[vminsadhours]

sense8? (e eu tenho os episódios no pc, falta apenas largar a preguiça)

Send me a fandom and i’ll list my 5 favorite characters

Wolfgang Bogdanow

Will Gorski

Nomi Marks

Capheus Van Damme

Sun Bak

[spacebuck]

this is just. something. don't mind me

A thick thigh comes up, presses up against Jiaoqiu, gives him something to rub against and he does. His heat is taking root now that it’s being given the space to, and getting back to his rooms is going to be difficult, but nothing – nothing – could make him let go of Moze now. His hips flex, quick and jerky, grinding down on the heat of Moze’s thigh. The other bites at his lip, his chin, down to his throat as Jiaoqiu struggles to catch his breath.

“Tell me,” Moze murmurs against his throat, hands sliding down Jiaoqiu’s sides, tugging up his neatly pressed shirt, burrowing under the fabric. “How bad is it?”

A shuddering breath. “I can think, still. Just. I-if I get the edge off…” He trails off to focus on shaking his claws loose of Moze’s coat, shoving one hand down the back of his shirt instead to dig into skin. “I’ll be able to get to our rooms.” Another breath, slower, deeper as he rubs his nose against Moze’s cheek, up to his hairline. Scenting, taking him in, iron and leather and the tang of sweat. He drags his tongue over a patch of skin, lets it settle on his tongue, shudders as Moze retaliates with an upward jerk of his leg.

“Then-take,” Moze murmurs, one hand strokes over the base of his tail, tugs – not hard, but enough and it shakes a sound free from behind Jiaoqiu’s clenched teeth, behind the facade that’s starting to drop. Heat pools in his belly, wet and warm, dripping – he’s dripping, can feel it against his skin already.

Moze doesn’t linger, hand ruffling fur once more before sliding lower, tucking under the waistband of Jiaoqiu’s pants, into his underwear. The leather glove is a hot brand stroking down over his ass, seeking, finding slick and heat. It sends a shudder down Jiaoqiu’s spine, a soft whine slipping free. He hitches one leg over Moze’s hip, tongue running over his teeth. 

[spacebuck]

digital demons make the night feel heavenly

argenthill | explicit | 6.6k

Usually, it’s him that does this. Jumps without a plan, without backup, trusting that either something will come or it will be a beautiful death - one worthy of attention of his Aeon. And, more than once it’s been the other catching him, their paths aligning just so, the One and Only expertly nudged into just the right place by another, arms harder than steel guiding him in to land.

Not this time. This time, it’s Argenti who sees the flash on the horizon, the flicker of fire and force that shatters across the sky. This time it’s Argenti who sees the glint of steel, the distress call from the crumbling ship falling out of the sky. He knows the silhouette, intimately knows the feeling of falling, and as soon as he registers the IPC logo on the outside of the airship in flames, he knows who it’ll be.

Read | twitter

[spacebuck]

Going insane, have words

Heat. Oppressive, cloying heat. It itches over his skin, shakes through him. Wriothesley wants, he wants, he wants.

He paces the length of Neuvillette’s hallway, the stale drag of Neuvillette’s scent in his nose. Neuvillette isn’t home yet. He knows this. He’s working. Wriothesley knows this. But he feels too big for his body, fabric scratching over his skin unpleasantly, and his fingernails dig into his palms as he clenches them tighter. He can’t leave, doesn’t want to leave, but if Neuvillette isn’t home soon, he’ll go looking. He knows this like he knows his own name.

Wriothesley stops his erratic walking, pulls at his vest, his tie. The fabric gives way, a button popping free of his vest. It’s fixable, he’s stitched them back on before. His shirt is a button-down, but he rips it over his head like it’s not, glad he’s never done the top buttons up to his throat. Air on his skin is a small relief, a low rumble escaping him, catching in his throat.

He knows this is why Neuvillette requested he stay, instead of returning to the fortress. Neuvillette knew more than he let on, but Wriothesley was getting better at reading the other, bit by bit. He’d been expectant when he asked Wriothesley to stay, and now he’s here, clawing out of his own skin, and Neuvillette is working.

His toes dig into the runner covering hardwood, then he pivots on one heel, heading to the bedroom.

After a minute of digging, he finds Neuvillette’s sleep-shirt, tucked neatly under his pillow. It’s soft against his fingers – Neuvillette likes it for that very reason. He shakes it out, brings it to his face. Inhales, deep. Neuvillette’s scent is all over it – still stale, but better than in the hall. Perched on the edge of the bed, Wriothesley rubs his face against the fabric, letting his instincts take over. It’s strange, but it no longer feels like someone else is in control – it’s just… him. Deeper, stronger, more instinctual, but him.

He falls backwards, back hitting the mattress, and keeps the shirt pressed to his face. The whole bed smells like Neuvillette, like both of them, and he lets out a low, pleased chuff. Neuvillette isn’t here, but he will be.

Wriothesley isn’t sure how much time passes. It feels like an age, but also a blink of his eyes, before a sound catches his attention. The soft tap of a cane on cobblestone approaching. an itch rolls through him, like his skin is shrinking against his bones, and his lips part, teeth bared against the fabric. There’s the scraping sound of a key in a lock, then the door opens downstairs. He sits up, and the muscles in his stomach cramp in a sharp jolt, tension then release. A hiss escapes him.

“Wriothesley?”

Neuvillette’s voice is soft, and there’s a layer to it that Wriothesley’s never heard before. The rustle of clothing, Neuvillette likely taking his overcoat off, and Wriothesley’s making his way to the bedroom door. He pops it open, lifts his head, inhales deep. Romaritime and sea salt, the musky vanilla that the melusines spray around the Palais. Strong, vibrant, alive.

A shudder rolls down his spine, and the hiss turns to a growl.

“Ah, it’s begun,” is all Neuvillette says, after a pause.

[spacebuck]

a taste of the divine

argenthill | explicit | bdsm au | in progress chaptered longfic

collab between myself and @ boothillfreak69 on twitter

Aventurine leans forward, catches his gaze. “I sent him your site. If he's interested, he'll reach out.” Argenti sighs, sits up a little straighter. “Very well.” He flips the photo over. There's a messy scrawl there, basically illegible. “Boothill?” “His name.” Aventurine props his head with one hand. “That's your freebie.”

please, please read the tags/chapter notes to this one - it involves kink exploration and discussion that will be detailed in the chapter notes each time a chapter comes out!! if you have any questions, pls feel free to message me!

read on ao3 | twitter post 1 | twitter post 2

[spacebuck]

dark gospel in body language

argenthill | explicit | 2.7k

“How many was that?” Boothill asks just to rub it in, rubbing his cheek against the other’s thigh.

A heavy breath in, a shuddering one out. “Three.”

“Look at me?”

It’s a long moment, but then Argenti’s lifting his head, staring down at him. His eyes are rimmed in red, glassy, and there’s drool at the corner of his mouth. Beautiful – that’s the word he’d use. “Good.” That word is easier to say. “How many did we agree on?”

Toes curl against his back, the movement registering clear as day. Heels dig in. Boothill wishes he could feel the sharpness of it. Green eyes don’t leave his, hazy as they are. “Five.”

read | twitter

[spacebuck]

Going utterly insane thinking about an orphaned dragon growing up human and uncovering his "difference" bit by bit in the most insane ways possible

[spacebuck]

tagged by @voxofthevoid who by doing so actually made me write for like 15 mins. you have a dangerous power.

Last Line Game: Post the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words

you get. this?

“There are only two ways those ropes are comin’ off.” Boothill shakes his head slightly, curls his fingers again. Argenti’s body twitches under him.

i don't even know if i have 24 moots who are still active so. if you see this and you create. you. you are tagged. show me your last line. i pass the baton to you.

[spacebuck]

Shared it on twitter so yall get it too, another wip for my child, first fic in aeons

[spacebuck]

Fic Writer Q & A!

tagged by @voxofthevoid, took me a while i'm sorry ;;;

How many wips do you have currently?

a surprising amount!! four actively on the go at the moment, including one collab piece, and a solid 8 more besides that i am going to be trying to crack out over the next couple of weeks even if they're short and sweet. on top of that i have another 7 things planned for my main ship and another 2 or 3 from others!!

aka i am busy and my wips list is huge r i p

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish?

there's something i keep writing and flittering away from then coming back then flittering away from, and it's frustrating because it's a concept i adore and i've put a lot of worldbuilding thought into it, but it's also not my main ship so my brain is tripping a little bit on it because the brainrot is r e a l

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

uh. sometimes it's a 2k fic in 2hrs. somethings it's 25k over 3 weeks and a 7 page planning doc. it really depends on what the inspo is jhgfghj

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

i honestly.... don't really write to music? there's been one exception really, but if i do need something on i will either play a specific soundtrack-only playlist i have, or a heavy phonk playlist. i'm not really a music person, if i'm honest!

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organized?

it genuinely depends on the fic. like i said above, i have wips that have absolutely nothing planned (like most f my argenthill week prep, i've literally just got the prompt name lmao) and then i have a fic that has a literal 7 page (and running) planning doc mapping relationships, roles, chapters, and a hit-list of unordered scenes that me n my collab partner are ordering as we go

i don't know who's super active anymore hhh so if you see this and you write consider this me tagging you and tell me about your stuff (feel free to link me to your answers to i'd love to read em!!!)

[spacebuck]

18, 40, and 56!

this list

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

it is really dependent on the fic!! sometimes i just know what it's gonna be called before i start writing (howitzer) and sometimes i stare longingly at my tidal playlist until something jumps out at me when i've finished and am desperate to post (the death of peace of mind). that's kinda an answer to both?? i suppose??

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

if i had to pick one that i haven't collabed with someone on already, it'd be -oh god. maybe the opening of digital demons where argenti catches boothill? i'll snip it-

Usually, it’s him that does this. Jumps without a plan, without backup, trusting that either something will come or it will be a beautiful death - one worthy of attention of his Aeon. And, more than once it’s been the other catching him, their paths aligning just so, the One and Only expertly nudged into just the right place by another, arms harder than steel guiding him in to land. Not this time. This time, it’s Argenti who sees the flash on the horizon, the flicker of fire and force that shatters across the sky. This time it’s Argenti who sees the glint of steel, the distress call from the crumbling ship falling out of the sky. He knows the silhouette, intimately knows the feeling of falling, and as soon as he registers the IPC logo on the outside of the airship in flames, he knows who it’ll be. The One and Only responds to the lightest touch, then he’s opening the hatch, throwing himself out. One step, two, matching the trajectory of the other. The steady, measured rock forward, pressure moving through his arch into his toes, propelling him upwards. Solid metal meets his arms as he spins, dispersing some of the force of their collision. “Well, fudge,” a low drawl, as though the speaker hadn’t been plummeting from the sky. Scratchy, metallic, familiar. “Never expected to see you here, Rosey.”

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

oh this is hard, mostly because of my current brain situation in this moment haha. um. i really like how i can get into the characters heads as i write and convey some things without putting names to them. i process emotion ina way that i'm learning isn't the common experience for most people and i translate that into my fic and i think people enjoy it

[spacebuck]

Me: have you (me) considered finishing one thing?

Me: no fuck you

[spacebuck]

If I were to drop all of my wips and stuff, unfinished, on ao3, would that be something people would be interested in? There's only a couple of things I've committed to finishing but I have a solid 50-80k words that I never edited or posted and don't have the will to write anymore 🥲