#i haven’t written anything in a while

[dastardly-dyke]

You had never been much of a spiritual, nor were you a mystic. Perhaps that’s why you ignored the thing calling out to you for so long.

It started out as a whisper. You had just left the office for your daily commute home when you heard it first. It wasn’t a human voice, no. You heard an amalgamation of voices, all speaking in a whispy unison. It crawled up your spine and into your ear, making you shiver with the feeling of being watched.

Come to me, it said. I will keep you safe.

Assuming that it was your coworkers playing a prank on you, you had simply shaken your head in confusion and gone home. When you heard it as you woke up the next morning, however, you chalked it up to some sort of auditory hallucination.

Somewhere around a week after the whispers began, they stopped. The whispers were replaced by shrill shrieking, a chilling cluster of screams begging for you to come home, you’re mine, can’t you see it? You have always been meant for me, so come home!

Perhaps the screeching was what made you decide to listen. It felt as though a string was connected to your chest, pulling you towards the voices you heard and leading you into their embrace. It terrified you— these voices, whatever they belonged to, were clearly leading you somewhere. But what terrified you more than that was that you found yourself not minding it.

The screams should have been horrifying. They sounded like a thousand souls dying painfully, and yet they washed over you like a gentle summer breeze. With every howl of come home, you are mine! you felt yourself almost comforted, like wherever this thing resided really was home. And that scared you. It was doing something to your mind, surely.

Even so, you followed the pull of the string wrapped around your heart. It was golden, you would imagine— golden and warm, like the way the agonizing screams made you feel.

You found yourself buying tickets to Crete, of all places— the tiny Greek island that you barely remembered from a few stories in your high school English classes. When you boarded the plane, the voices acted up again. Yes, come home! I will embrace you the way no one ever has. You were made to be with me, little one. You are doing so very well. Come home.

The second that you stepped foot on the soil of Crete, you knew something was different. A shivering jolt of something warm shot up your back, and you swore you could feel the moment your pupils dilated. This was right, this was good. This was what you needed. You had never felt more alive in your life.

When you felt the familiar tug at your chest, you followed it eagerly. You wandered through the streets, allowing yourself to be pulled into a rural area that you could not navigate. In the center of the field, lay a trapdoor. You opened it, and the voices coiled around your throat like a deadly yet loving snake. You are home. I love you. I will hold you and you do not need to worry. You are home.

As you crawled through the door and entered the moss-ridden halls of what could only be a maze, you felt dazed and sleepy. At first, you believed yourself to simply be out of energy, as your feet dragged when you walked. At some point, however, you realized that the ground itself was wrapping around your ankles like you were something to be claimed.

You felt so warm, so complete in these halls. A labyrinth, you believed places like these were called. The voices had returned to a whisper, now. My beloved is home. There is no need to scream, anymore.

You let your head fall back, your gaze landing on the simple stone ceiling.

“Hello.”

You felt strangely at peace, as if you were being embraced by an old friend rather than the cold, damp earth.

Hello, little one, the voices murmured. You are mine.

“I am.” You whispered, not doubting it to be true. You had never felt more soothed than you did under the ground, here in this place.

You are my beloved.

You could tell that this labyrinth was something ancient, something far beyond your initial comprehension. You vaguely remembered a myth about a boy and a bull-man, both winding through a labyrinth made to destroy one and contain the other.

The instant you thought of your labyrinth as the very same maze from the myths, you knew it to be true. It felt so right, so perfect. But the labyrinth was old, so very old. That, you knew.

“If I am your beloved, will you stay with me?”

The earth that covered your feet coiled around your calves with a shudder.

No. I have had many beloveds. Mortal lives are so very short, so small next to me. But I will not forget you. I remember them all. You will be mine as you are alive, until your skin grows wrinkled and your movements grow slow. And you will be mine when you die, and your bones will forever be cradled in my embrace.

You nodded slowly and traced the wall of the labyrinth with a gentle fingertip. The being shuddered, the walls briefly convulsing as if they were breathing softly.

“Then I will be yours.”

It was right.

I see you, mortal. I have seen every hope and dream, every bruise and every sob. I love you, mortal. I love you in a way that you do not understand, but you are mine to love. You will not be forgotten. One day, your skeleton will be held deep within me, and your spirit will greet the next beloved to enter these walls.

You leaned your head against the stone bricks, and the walls shuddered once more.

“I think I love you, too.”

And you did. You could not explain it, but you did. There was something about this place that seeped through every pore, infiltrating your mind and flowing through your veins until you lived and breathed it.

The earth underneath you moved to cradle you, sweeping you off of your feet and lulling you softly, as if you were in a rocking chair. Your eyes drooped. You were unsure of if you would ever wake up, but you found yourself uncaring.

One day, your body would decay within these walls. But you were loved, and you would not be forgotten.

Enough homoeroticism about the Minotaur! It’s time to sexualize the labyrinth.

[somelittleplacebetweenthestars]

a moment: i sit exhausted at my tram stop. it is night, and my mouth is dry, but i know my water bottle is full of cool water. across the road a thousand people live lives in a single skyscraper; and the lights are on in all of them

[noctunis]

suguru geto who may be a tad obsessed with you still, even after he’s already defected and set in his ways. mayyybe he has a curse or two watching over you still — even after about fifteen years since you two had seen each other. you’ll never just be referred to as that, “pretty sorcerer him and satoru hung out with”. you’ll always be you. he’ll refer to you by name even to people that don’t know you, and he swears his eye doesn’t twitch and his brow doesn’t furrow with the way you forget to take care of yourself sometimes as he watches you from afar, tripping over your shoelaces and scuffing your knee just like how you used to do when you were seventeen ….

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Souped!

[scorchedmazes]

gally and minho didn’t argue constantly bc they hate each other, no. it’s the opposite of hate.

they argued constantly bc of their differences in opinions and ways of tackling said opinions. they argued and claimed to hate each other bc they both wanted the same thing, but the other was wrong.

safety.

they just had different ways of achieving safety.

gally thought that the buildings he and the builders had created and the glade were safe, minho thought that mapping and escaping the maze meant being safe.

in the safe haven, the same thing happens. cycles tend to repeat themselves, like the patterns in the maze.

gally thinks that the safe haven is safe-hence the name-and doesn’t need an army. minho is still on guard from wckd, so he wants weapons and an army built up for protection and safety.

the two constantly get at each other during meetings over safety and the security of the haven, said arguments often leading to minho storming out of the meeting hut and running in order to blow off steam. gally blows off steam by putting himself to work.

they both overwork themselves by doing so.

but they both somehow end up in the same bed at the end of the day.

both apologizing and explaining their point of views calmly, as opposed to in the glade when the two would just scream at each other until someone broke them up.

bc at the end of the day, both just want to be safe and have the other safe as well.

it’s not hate, it’s love. but the two can’t seem to figure that out.

[cas-is-weird-ig]

Alec Calo [Lesbian, Nonbinary, they/them, Filipino, 22]

Donna Beneviento x Lycan Servant (AKA dumb n useless queer mold people not knowing how to socialize or flirt)

One of Mother Miranda’s Cadou/Lycan experiments.

(Resident Lover: they’re a transfer student, entomology major, who lives in the same hall as MC, Dani, and Angie)

do ya guys want a random ballroom dancing chapter i wrote like in february and never ended up posting?

(also more info under the cut)

-

HI, this is my first ever OC that i’ve actually fleshed out and write for so yeah! i hope you like them.

-

In the main RE8 Universe, all the Lords and Lycans need to drink blood or eat human flesh.

Alec is originally a farmer who got saved by Mother Miranda, and then experimented on with Cadou and then acquired Lycan-like features but retained speech (bunch of grey hairs, sharper teeth, super strength)

has shitty control over their dexterity and strength now, and struggles with feeling like a monster bla bla bla.

handy with a hatchet/axe, and carries it around whenever they leave the estate with Donna

(basically imagine them like two wounded animals)

-

In the Resident Lover Universe, they meetthe same way MC meets Donna (through Angie) AND/OR Alec is crouched down outside Donna’s shop during closing picking up some stray pillbugs on the ground.

Alec rock climbs (like me lol)!

Donna hired Alec part time and does some deliveries

they got caught fooling around in the theatre by Cassandra (who was fooling around with girl in her dressing room)

every time there’s a reset/loop (and if MC isn’t going for Donna) without fail Alec is always found picking up critters and bugs in front of the shop

-

in all AUs:

Alec is shorter than Donna (tiny but mighty, they’re actually pretty strong)

likes to carve/whittle wood and bone

is also the cheesiest sweetest mf to Donna, and stays by her side like a loyal dog

both are confrontational when they’re being protective over the other cuz gay yearning

[salt-n-salt]

the sudden influx of sdv fics im seeing from moots and just seeing in general is changing something within me .. do i dare attempt to write a shane fic that encapsulates the weariness of both his aging body and plummeting mental health on top of the recurring reminder of the deaths of his two best friends and how the guilt he has no reason to feel cripples him and how horribly ill-equipped he is to care for a child who he can’t look at without being reminded of them. hm.

[voidsuites]

coming soon to tumblr dot com slash voidsuites…

[jensen-frackles]

it’s wild how I’ve developed a hyperfixation on jeffrey combs over the span of like two nights

[doodoobirds]

Been busy with thinking alot but I have drawings that I want to post so maybe I’ll post tmrw

I have asks about my hcs and they got me thinking about writing my headcanons in story format than just a small brief paragraph, like my silly hc that Kevin resurrected Boo 9 with a cursed amulet cause she wanted to impress her witch crush. I really want to go in depth with my hcs 😵‍💫

[mintymoonbunny]

hits treasure with the chronic pain beam

entirely self indulgent treasure/porter comfort under the cut

sorry if it’s formatted/written funny/ooc im in the clutches of a pain flare right now 😔

“fuck”

treasure was hurting. badly. the pain wasn’t anything new to them, but it was always fucking terrible.

so here they were, curled up on their bed, heat packs placed in the worst spots, medication in their system doing fuck all to stop the onslaught of sharp squeezing stabbing pins and needles pain.

“stupid, stupid. I waited too long to take those pills. so much for sleeping the pain away.”

treasure was getting frustrated. they were tired. they were hurting. they were alone.

they hadn’t heard from porter the last few days. he had work to do for his family, whatever that meant. god, treasure was really considering taking him up on the offer of magically induced sleep right now.

they miss him. it had been awhile since treasure had gotten particularly close to someone, and even though porter wasn’t around everyday, he was around often enough for treasure to notice his absence.

treasure tosses and turns, trying to find a position on the bed that will magically take the pain away. frustration turning into tears, forming quickly in their eyes.

“this sucks. im so fucking tired of feeling like this. it’s never going to get better is it?”

the sound of the phone ringing halts their rapidly spiraling thoughts.

treasure sits up to silence the disruption, stopping suddenly when a new wave of pain crashed into them, returning them to the fetal position of which they came. tears are flowing freely now, laced with pain, frustration and self pity.

“aw to hell with it. If it’s important they’ll call again.”

sure enough, the phone resumes ringing.

once. twice. three times.

“fuuuck”

treasure yanks the phone off the nightstand and checks the screen through bleary eyes:

missed call

text message: “I see that you are home”

text message: “mind if I come in?”

all from porter.

treasure perks up a little, wiping some of the still spilling tears off of their face before responding:

“back door should be unlocked. im in my room”

porter is in the bedroom doorway by the time treasure sets the phone down. he makes his way to them, silver eyes scanning over their body, hands reaching out to smooth treasures messy hair down, moving lower to cup their flushed face.

“what’s wrong my treasure?”

strong hands gently wipe away the freshly shed tears.

“im in so much pain, porter. i cant get it to stop. I need it to stop.”

treasure is a mess, borderline hyperventilating from crying, body tense all over. it breaks porters heart.

porter removes his hands from their face and places them on treasures arms, rubbing them gently.

“im sorry you’re hurting, my dear. lets calm you down a little shall we? take some deep breaths with me.”

porter guides them through the breaths, in and out, in and out, until treasure’s breathing is under control, their tears drying up, body relaxing ever so slightly.

porters not used to this. comfort has never been his strong suit, but something about being with treasure makes it so easy. there is something there, deep within him. a growing ache that he can’t quite identify. a fondness. a longing. a blatant desire to be near them and bring them peace.

“how are you feeling now darling? any better?”

“mm… a little bit. im not so panicked, but the pains still there.”

“I can help with that, if you’ll allow me”

“no, no don’t waste your magic on me porter. it’ll go away eventually.” even now, guilt chews through them. they never have been very good at asking for help.

“treasure, it would take a far greater amount of stress to even come close to denting my magical output. spending a small percentage of it on your comfort will be well worth it for the both of us, I guarantee it.”

treasure sniffles, the ache in their body ever present.

“…okay”

that’s all porter needs to hear. “lay back”

treasure obeys, falling back into the mess of pillows and blankets while porter situates himself next to them, wrapping sturdy arms around their frame and pulling them close.

“where is the pain today?”

treasure practically melts into him. “everywhere”

“anywhere especially bad?”

“mhm…my hips and back are killing me”

practiced hands run over skin, massaging the tense areas of their body, pushing a little bit of healing magic into them to ease the pain. treasure sighs, instantly feeling the warmth of the magic flow over them. “good lord where has this been all my life??”

porter presses kisses to the top of their head and across their face while tracing patterns down their back, saying without words “relax, I’ve got you”

treasure catches porters lips in a kiss, silently communicating back “thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re actually saving my life right now.” they move impossibly closer into porters embrace, feeling the pain in their body start to fizzle out.

“thank you porter. I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“oh please my treasure, it was nothing. why have all this magic at all if i never use it?”

a small smile creeps onto porters lips.

“besides, you know how i love to make you feel good, in any circumstance.” he presses another kiss to their forehead.

treasure matches his expression, smiling contently, finally feeling at peace. “I always feel good around you porter. you make it easy for me, even on days like this.” they press their lips to his his once, twice, three times, before closing their eyes and laying back down against him, healing magic making them so very sleepy. porters face flushes ever so slightly, taking in all of feelings around him. the same fondness longing desire that he has grown attached too.

“sleep well, my treasure”

the pair stay wrapped up in each others arms throughout the night, taking comfort in each others presence.

this is something they could both get used to.

[luna-the-cretar]

*scurries on stage*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66677788

Psst psst psst. Shepnax enjoyers. I have some food.

*scurries off stage*

[saltcxrcle]

someone tell me to STOP making the formats for my fics and actually get to writing fr

[nyhne]

.

[thyhauntedmansion]

Gonna be elaborating on this for the Bride:

Because the prospect scratched the brain just right… AU scenario ahead.

Yet another fight between the Bride and her ever-persistent stalker ends with her falling overboard off a cargo ship. Though by some miracle, she managed to wash up on the shores of the hidden island of the Amazons.

- Probably occurs somewhere around 35 years after the Bride fled the manor. Putting it at 1870ish territory. For technicality sake (also putting this in a pre-Diana being born era.)

- To say there was confusion on both sides would be an understatement. For the Amazons who first found this woman washed ashore, rather confident she had long passed on, due to her green skin and stitched appearance. A mere corpse of a woman having found its way to the sacred island. It must be fate. Only.. she was still breathing.

- For Bride, a good deal of confusion surfaced when she awoke, resting upon a silk bed, surrounded by pillars of marble, and had a balcony that faced a damned beach- Was this paradise? Had she finally succumb to the depths and arrived here? …. Realistically, no. She wouldn’t kid herself.

- Though it was a paradise, in its own right. An island that had been hidden from the rest of the world for eons. Ruled and operated completely by warrior women in a flourishing, peaceful society. Truly, Bride had to see it for herself to even believe it.

- After receiving a grand tour of the islands entirety from the Queen herself, as well as an invitation to stay. If not at least until Bride gains her strength back.

- But, as time went on, and more conversations were had, Hippolyta’s offer of a permeant arrangement became a bit more insistent. Why else would you be brought here if it wasn’t an act of fate intervening? You no longer have to run, or live among such brutality. Our sisters escaped it, and you can too. Consider it, Bride.

- It was an adjustment. Shifting from a constant life of running, discovering, overcoming, and adapting, to a certain stability. Of course Bride never quite let her guard down, though it served remarkably well in any amount of sparring she would volunteer to join among other Amazons. Keeping herself active while also learning the weapons, trades, and techniques of ancient battle.

- In turn, Bride shared her knowledge of man’s world in its current state. Documenting a few noteworthy marks in time to join the many archives on the island. One occupying such a dark and dreary tomb, filled with nothing but dust and ancient knowledge, that Bride herself doesn’t mind primarily working in during her day-to-day.

- Bride hadn’t exactly intended on becoming as close to the Queen as she now was, though she figured they were simply both intrigued by one other. Bride would often come to the Queen for advice, and the occasional jest, as Hippolyta often came to Bride for an unbiased, blunt opinion.

- “I want a baby, a daughter to call my own.” “You know children are quite messy, and loud.” “You speak of them as if they are wild animals.” “They are, in a way.”

- Bride didn’t consider herself maternal in the slightest, even as she first got to see a newly born Princess Diana, resting in her mother’s arms. Refusal to hold the infant was immediate, content on simply looking at her, as she was fearful a single touch would turn that baby back to clay somehow-

- The image that inspired a toddler/kid Diana and Bride dynamic:

- “Aunty” Bride somehow found its way into the princesses vocabulary, no thanks to the Queen. Spontaneous visits to the archive also became a regular occurrence, whenever the young royal grew bored enough. Only to bombard Bride with her usual random questions.

- It was aggravating enough, of course. Since Bride had little choice but to engage in such conversations. The princess was often far too observant to deter, though not impossible to distract with a challenge or two. Pride similar to her mother’s in that regard.

- Keeping the spawn occupied in her sacred space was better off than allowing her to run wild in the nearby jungle, unsupervised. Of course that was the only reason why she’d entertain such foolishness on a weekly basis. Occasionally returning a slumbering princess to the queens steps once shes tired herself out organizing scrolls by color, only so Bride can lock up the archives without her in them🙄

- Bride found Diana’s antics a bit more endearing the older she got, ingenuity and curiosity growing with the princesses understanding of the world and her role. Yet still managing to get into a good deal of trouble. (Which, Bride does tease Hippolyta for worrying) While Bride often found herself vouching for the young royal in smaller mistakes, providing a refuge in the archive, unintentionally becoming the accomplice to plenty of mischief.

- From an accomplice to a genuine mentor, Bride helped Diana hone smaller aspects of her everyday training. Such as observation, both in combat and causal occurrences. Suddenly the islands young princess has become a woman, and Bride is not spared the queens jabs of growing a bit soft and sentimental in it all. Ridiculous.

- The Bride has never spared herself even an ounce of worry over Diana’s safety, not with her incredible abilities, her gifts from the gods. Not until a military plane crashed on the island. Not until the princess was so infatuated by the prospect of returning Steve Trevor back to his homeland, and to confront the war he spoke of.

- Even after years of shutting down Diana’s curiosity over the world beyond the island, assuring her she wasn’t missing anything worth acknowledging. It all didn’t seem to matter. As if it were fate.

- Bride knew nothing could deter Diana, nor her pure heart. Practically crafted from goodness, with a desire to use her gifts to change the world. Even if the world didn’t deserve her.

- So, Diana wouldn’t be leaving the island alone. Certainly not with only that man. (Bride threatening Steve at knife-point is a daily occurrence.) As the three travel to join the war efforts, unknowingly turning the tide for years to come.

- For whatever war(s) they fight depends on the timeline, Bride will be there to help Diana mourn Steve’s sacrifice either way. The best way she can as someone who never quite properly mourned her own losses.

- Diana remaining loyal to her cause, despite her own pain, partially inspires Bride in its own way. Alongside knowing she doesn’t want to leave the princess alone entirely in this world until she knows she’ll be alright. She owes her, and the queen, that much. For everything.

[hector-4-life]

Guys did yall like the crack fic I made I hope you guys did

(Here it is)