#maybe ill write the follow up someday

[eluxcastar]

Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat. 

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it. 

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

[laiwalane]

Hi love youe word sm, have you seen the movie Barbaran 2022? maybe you could write fic with Keith x reader? Something like he survives but events of the film still follows him in the nightmares and reader comforts him? please🙏

hiii anon👋 got ya

____________________________________

ship: Keith Toshko x reader

warnings: slight mentions of death

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, canon divergence, post-canon

summary: do you need a summary?🙂

_______________________________________

Probably two months have passed since the events that happened in that damn house. Too few. Too little to forget. But it's too long to keep it in head. Keith tried to distract himself: first to concentrate on work, then to drown these memories in alcohol. He was far from drug addiction, but the pockets of his jeans were filled with half-empty packets of sedatives.

Of course, you were there, trying to help, but... how can some outsider feel something that he did not see? Even if you turn the level of imagination to the maximum, you will not be able to see, hear, feel on your skin what he felt. The way you see how eyeballs leak out and a hand is ripped out alive. Although it was dark, this picture where a hole had formed in place of the hand with blood flowing out and flowing out, bones and veins were visible, a real bloody broth. On the one hand, it was just a hand; he didn’t see the death scene, but that was enough.

Therapy is not enough, every time Keith was left alone with himself, every trip to the shower or banal thoughts before bed, before the sleeping pills stored on the bedside table made themselves felt, every such moment carried him back to that ill-fated day. He would like to erase his memory, even if completely, even if he loses himself as a person, it doesn’t matter. Just to forget. But even if this is possible, there is too much at stake.

Unfortunately, this is how the world works. And there is something in this world that should not be in it. Well, it doesn’t happen that some flabby old woman, mutated from living in the dark, lives in the basement, and from time to time drags people in with her. However, it happened and happened to him. Keith turned out to be the very person looking at whom you can say “thank God this didn’t happen to me.”

No matter how it sounds, now those terrible events are behind us.

You've been lying and looking at the ceiling for an hour now. Maybe just a couple of minutes. There is an endless stream of thoughts in your head. Sometimes they return to Keith.

You feel sorry for him. Of course you do. But you don't even know how to help. He often says that everything is fine, that he has almost forgotten, but this is not forgotten and you know it. Lately, he hardly left your side while you were at home or anywhere else. He tried not to be silent even for a minute, you tried to maintain any conversation. But it is difficult. You both understood. Someday he will forget, time heals. After all, you are both adults.

A pitiful groan brought you out of your thoughts. "Nightmares again." You thought. And gasped.

A second later he was already rushing around the bed, shouting something incoherent.

As softly as possible, you called his name. It didn't work. Of course not. You had to put in more effort. In fact, you have never had such an experience.

After a couple more unsuccessful attempts, his eyes finally opened and his body automatically rose. He was used to such dreams. Although it’s hard to imagine that you can get used to this. His consciousness slowly returned to reality. Hands were shaking and legs were tangled in the sheets. It seems his whole body was shaking now, covered in this unpleasant cold sweat.

And you were sitting next to him, you didn’t understand what to do, what kind of reaction should you expect? It felt like his fear went directly to you, filling the entire room. It might even seem that the glass on the windows was fogged up.

–How are you?–you asked stupidly, mentally hitting yourself in the face. Perhaps you expected him to say that everything is fine, to drink a glass of water as a last resort. But he just sat there. He sat and breathed heavily with his head down. Slowly he raised his hands and covered his face with them. And there was so much doom and despair in this gesture that your heart almost fell into your stomach.

You hugged him from behind, very carefully, but still tightly. This sad and silent scene lasted for an unknown amount of time, obviously very little. But in the silence a sob was heard.

“I’m tired,” he whispered quietly, but enough for you to hear.

Car horns were heard somewhere.

- I would be tired too. – You answered philosophically, without getting up from his back.

- No, you don’t understand. Nothing helps me, no matter how much I try. God, of course you won't understand. I just...I don't know what to do. – Who even knows.

You were silent. He, too, was silent for a minute, and then continued.

– I was just a normal person, but all this turned me into a fucking piece of useless shit. Do you think I don't see? I don’t see how you and other people who know look at me? Constant pity, even some kind of emptiness in their gaze. Some people even avoid me and sometimes it seems to me that you...–he fell silent abruptly.

And you, it seems, have finally seen everything. Moving to his side, you removed his hands from his face and turned his head towards you. You were greeted by a pair of swollen, slightly red eyes.

–Listen to me, Keith,– you said, cupping his face with your hands. – No matter how difficult it is, I will help. I'm not leaving for anything, do you hear me? That's the last thing you should worry about right now.

It is not clear what kind of reaction a person should have to this. Maybe in a different situation he would have smiled and said something in a “well then everything is fine” face, maybe. And now it led to another lump in the throat and a fit of sobbing. Now in your hands already. The T-shirt became wet, and his position seemed extremely uncomfortable. Between loud sobs, he tried to say something else, you couldn’t make out what it was.

-I love you, you know. – You gently ran your hand through his tousled hair, along his back, still not letting go. Or rather, Keith didn’t let you go.

After some time, he finally calmed down. Maintaining the same position, you lay down.

You were laying there and listened to his nervous breathing. Quiet sobs were heard from time to time. You were sorry. You only hoped that Keith would see that you cared, that you really loved him.

–Thank you.–He said quietly and briefly. You were silent.

–No, really, I don’t know where I would be now...

– Don’t think about it, it’s not a favor. – It seems he was smiling.

- Fine fine... –It seems he realized that it was pointless to continue.

In any case, what else can be done? All that remains is to count on the mercy of the power of time, which will erase the sharpness of memories, and they will cease to be the brightest thing in a person’s life. In any case, life is still ahead and as long as Keith has someone nearby, all this may worry him a little less.

You felt his hand on your waist, its grip gradually weakening. He fell asleep again, that's good. Anyway...should it get better?

Nevermind, you will help anyway.

[leclerking]

max x reader (you)

enemies to lovers slow burn or fast burn idk idc

write a self indulgent fic when you're drunk

slayyyyyy im drink rn girlie lets write some fan fictionnnn

do i make this aesthetic? ok maybe i make it aesthrtic

MV01 | ★ BRO WHATS YOUR NAEM?

so its a clubbing scene. im drinking as usual. i want to dance but my friends arent dancers. they're also tired. a man comes up to me and i instantly want to rail him.

he says " you wannt to dance?? ' i said " Yeah dude all night' . so we're on teh dance floor and we're dancing and my friends are at a distance somehwer in the club

then i fall tired so i left to ge t a drink and join my friends, just as i sit down with them, this man. built like a tree. same one from earlier comes back and says lets dance again come on. i was tired but he was handsome so i wen back to dance. then again i was tired so i came bk. and so did he. "come onnn the night is young lets go back" he pleads with a huggee smile. as if he slept with a hanger in his mouth

"dude WHO EEVN ARE YOU AND HOW DO YOU STILL HAVE THE ENERGY??' i asked as i was close to passing out. (just like rite now while i amm typing this)

but he just smiles and takes my hand and i follow him and we're again having fun on the dance floor. soon enough i couldnt do tjis anymore so i tell my friends that we can leave. and we'er sitting on a bemch outside waiting for our uber AND GUESS WHO SHOWS UP!

"you want to catch a drink later someday again?"

i only stare at him. what does he even mean?? " i dont live in this city, i'm here for like 5 days. also WHO ARE YOU i still domtknow your name yet!! how will i even find you??'

'so u do want to find me? " he smirks " if we have one last dance left togther, maybe we will find eachother " and with that he left.

------------------------- im so tired im going to continue this when im drunk mext time i hop e i dont forget the storu--------------------------

HI I DDI NOT FORGET WE ARE BACK HELLO!

OKAY so now this is probably the next day or the day before we leave the city (i dont know which citty)

im in the lobby with my friends, just back from a whole tiresome day of site watching ? seeing?? the city. im waiting to get something frm the recption and i hear his voice.

" you're here??" "omg dude are you stalking me ?????" i ask with a smile! LIKE WHY AM I SMILING ??!!

" nope. my friend actually lives hre. i came to drop her off "

" you have a girlfriend?" "would not you like to know??"

" nvm i dont, bye"

"okay wait, shes just a friend, and besides i came to drop her AND her boyfriend." and idk what to say, i wanna ask him out but whats the point ill leave tomorrow...

" would you like to go out today? i know this really really great place that has a great salsa night..." not like the dip like the dance!

"sure i'd love that" why am i brushing like an idiot. i told him i'd meet him down in just a few minutes. and sooner than later we were at this beautiful place, you could see the coast. so many people were dacing through tje entire street.

and then so were we. one mimosa after another. one song after another and we were both super drunk and laughing anf giggling and dancing and just having the greatest time ever.

and we continued to have a great time even after we got back to my room. im sure we had great sex. and we wer arguing about something i dont remmbr and having a roast contest. thats all i remembr.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

because when i woke up, he was gone. not a single trace. no note, nothing... AND I STILL DIDNT KNOW HIS NAME. was he just a ghost? perhaps my drunk imagination or halusination...

went down for breakfast and met my friends. and they asked me about last night. AND I ASKED THEM FOR CONFIRMATION " SO I WASNT THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD SEE HIM??"

maybe he was real.. but i had to leave in a few hours. maybe he would just have to remain a core memmory to me in this city. and it sucks because he has the cutest smile, and the best energy when it came to dancing.

the whole time, in the taxi, the airport , the flight.. okay maybe no tthe flight because i usually fall asleeep. i thought about him and waht a wonderful time we had.

would i ever see him again??

------------------------

I want to take this time annd appretiate some of my friends or moods as they say on thos web site. It is 3 am her

@crimsonicarus @lesharl-eclair @sebsore @sebscore @jelloecat @hellocat? @jelliecatz @scuderia-leclerc starcentral @strkctrl @stqrsctrl @deadaydreams @fhumingrace you guys salllaayyyyyyy 💗🤍💕❤️💔💌❤️‍🩹💟❤️‍🔥🫦💋

OH WAIT AND @KRIKRISYERR I for the lyf of me caaannot spell this useeename but they give me the best f1 fic recs

This account has lit rally Turner into my safe space 😭😭😭😭😭💗💗💗💗

[aseriesofsmallthings]

Hello!

Welcome to my writeblr! I'm very new to this whole thing, and while I have *had* tumblr for a while now, I've never actually used it, so please bear with me :)

About my writing

I started out writing fanfic and short stories over a decade ago (ouch, now I feel old) and am hoping someday to become a published novelist. I mostly write horror, fantasy, and dystopian fiction, (with romance often playing quite a big role), though I am incapable of resisting dabbling in other genres too from time to time. A lot of my writing tends to deal with themes of loss, mental illness, suffering, and the inevitability of the human condition. In a bid to see myself and others like me represented more widely in the media, my longer fiction works often include neurodiverse, disabled and lgbt+ characters.

About me!

First things first, my name is Shannon, though online I mostly go by Shay. Feel to free use either :)

Now, a few fun little facts to break up those hefty chunks of writing (make the most of it, this might be the last time in a while).

I'm from, and currently live in, the UK. And I use she/they pronouns.

I'm a (twenty-something year old) child living an adult's life. And I am not having fun. Please, send help.

My reading tastes tend to be quite similar to my writing, in that I'll read just about anything I deem interesting in most genres but my preferences lie in dystopia and fantasy.

I have AuDHD and a whole host of other funky little brain things that keep writing (and life) all that much more fun! On a serious note, this may mean I'll disappear from time to time and posts may not always be consistent. (It also means interactions may be somewhat difficult for me, so again, please bear with me :)

I'm an amateur field hockey player with no other interest in sport besides playing it.

I have studied creative writing at uni briefly but I'm currently in the midst of switching to a social sciences and anthropology degree - expect a little academia related content maybe.

I'm a fur-parent - pictures may follow (they definitely will) of my little demon child.

I love to travel (especially solo) and often take a lot of inspiration for my writing from my little adventures, from setting and plot ideas to character development and world-building. Also, train journeys have proven quite fruitful in producing some pretty solid sentences... that have yet to be of further use.

A few pictures (below) from my most recent solo trip.

I also occasionally play video games, listen to an unhealthy amount of rock music, obsess over fictional characters (other than my own), and partake in multiple other creative pastimes, most of which get abandoned rather unceremoniously (thank you, ADHD).

About my writeblr

My username 'a series of small things' comes from one of my favourite Van Gogh quotes; "great things are not done all at once, but by a series of small things brought together", which I think is really apt, not only as a writer but also just in everyday life too. Also, inspite being rather artistically inept myself, I have a fondness for ol' Vinny, which makes the quote even more perfect.

I hope to use this space as a way to start getting my original work out into the world and to hopefully make some like-minded friends along the way too! I'll mostly be posting some of my short stories and progress reports on my longer wips, but may also post some poetry and other random ramblings from time to time.

Feel free to ask me any questions and interact with me :)

[overgrownmoon]

finished up a lineup of my rainworld local group!! im still brainstorming their story, i'd like to explore how they react to the great ascension and how their relationships develop during the span of the game timeline. im thinking their group will be called something to do with gold because of the gold accents ive given them all. maybe something like the "threads of gold" local group?

ill talk about each one individually below cut

from left to right:

a fleeting moment, or "momo" for short, is the most outgoing and excitable of the group. she tries to be the optimist and keep everyone else in the group in good spirits. momo craves freedom; more than anything else, she wants to leave her can and explore the world with her puppet. she has a collection of art and collectibles stowed away in her chamber, gifted to her by scavengers that live around her can. shes fond of the scavengers and envies their freedom to explore and create. she was once in charge of international communications with the group and loves to swap stories about the different cultures of the citizens that used to live on them. of the whole group, momo still holds onto hope that there is a better way to live, and strives to stay positive and hide her fears under a facade of inspiring hope.

whispering reeds, or just reeds for short, hates her own existence. raised by her creator to follow their ideals of eco-extremism, she believes the creation of the iterators has made permanent scars on the world and that all of the planet would be better off if they were all gone. she spends her time split between trying to reverse-engineer the generations of genetic modification out of the local wildlife, and trying to engineer an organism that can decompose the entirety of her can back into the earth. she has the facilities to do so, since she was once the head of genetic modifications experiments to produce larger, hardier crops and cattle for the growing population of citizens. she could once be described as kind and motherly, but there is a deep layer of manic desperation under the surface as she relentlessly tries to fix the worlds mistakes.

12 endless nights prefers their full name, even though others still call him nights for short. once the god of a prestigious city of high ranking citizens, nights carefully managed all of the incoming and outgoing resources for the group, keeping careful inventory and making sure every shipment got to where it belonged. this need for perfection has soured into a manic need for control and a very nihilistic view on life. he has accepted his fate to wither and crumble into dust one day, and dismisses the great problem as a fools errand. he spends most of his time getting into debates and writing grand manifestos on the futility of continuing to live. he believes himself enlightened because of his views, thinking others who hold onto hope fools. as you'd expect, hes a stuck up prick and not very pleasant to be around; only a few know that he was once known to be a fiercely loyal, dependable friend.

silence between words, nicknamed sigil if you'd like, is the groups senior and part of the eldest generations of iterators. his can is located out on the ocean and is home to the greatest library of knowledge in the region. he spent generations cataloguing and documenting every scrap of information he could, every important event in history and every book or poem written, all saved within his library. now, he laments the great loss of history he cannot record due to the great ascension and failing communications. now, his driving goal is to continue to document the fall of the world as he knows it, hoping that maybe someday a new society will find his work and not everything will be forever lost to time. after living and knowing so much for so long, sigil is patient and wise, and very, very tired.

[superdanverstrio]

Hi again! I am so totally requesting again, I love your work and you make me happy. So Obviously Kara danvers x daughter reader :) And this time Kara catches r and her "boyfriend" Ben out in public kissing or hangout, doing something and Kara now has evidence to prove it to her daughter. But Y/n tries to deny it for a moment before giving in and telling her everything... Please and Thank you Zohra :)

Have a good one!

Right through you Pt.2

A/N: I am so sorry this took my entirely to long to start writing.

“Mom?” You asked, entering your home. “Hey honey, how was your day?” She said, closing her book and leaving it on the coach, she walked toward you to give you a hung. “It was good. Umm, I had a question.” You said, looking up at her. “Shoot.” “Can I go to the mall with some friends tomorrow after school, we would walk?” She looks at you and smirk. “Is Ben coming with you?” You rolled your eyes and shock your head. “No, I told you Ben and I aren't together.” “I never said you were, why are you on the defensive, do you have something to hide, Missy.” She questioned, still not believing you. "Mom come on, can I go?” You asked, trying to change the subject a bit. “Sure, but you need to be back before 7.” “Yes, thank you.”

The next day at the mall

“So, have you told your mom yet?” Ben asked as you walked hand in hand. “No, not yet, but ill do someday.” “Why don't you want to tell her? Are you maybe ashamed of me? It's fine if you are, I'm not mad.” You looked at him and smiled. “Of course I'm not ashamed of you, I would love for my mom to meet you.” You said, giving him a quick kiss on his lips. “It's just that my mom is extremely protective, it's a little intense sometimes. Especially my aunt, oh my god if she meets you, she will interrogate you for at least 3h hours.” He laughs and shock his hand in disbelief. “I'm sure, it's not that bad.” “It is, it really is, but ill tell her eventually.”

You guys continued to walk around the mall and visits some stores for a few hours. When you got back home, you say Kara waiting for you on the couch. “So, how was your activity with Ben.” She said with a smirk. “Are you ever going to give up, I'm not with Ben.” "Yeah, right." She said and got up from the couch and she showed you her phone, there was a picture of you and Ben on a bench, you had your head on his shoulder. You were stunned for a second.

How did she get that picture? “How did you get that. Did you follow me there?” “I actually didn't, but I have spies working for me. But don't change the subject, do you have something to say to me.” “No because this picture doesn't prove anything, we're just good friends.” Your mom smiled again, you swipe to the next image, this time you were kissing on that same bench. “Yeah, excellent friends.” You were about to defense yourself again but decided against it, you sight. “Fine, we're together, we have been together for like a month now.” “I knew it, why didn't you want to tell me?” You looked at her and chuckled. “You really don't have an idea?” she shook her head. “You are intense when it comes to people I see.” “No, I am not.” You raised an eyebrow. “Remember Kyle? You and Alex interrogate him for like 10 minutes.” “We just wanted to make sure he was good for you, I want nothing but the best for you.” She said, hugging you.”

“I know mom.” You said, hugging her back. “But you're going to have to tone it down because he really wants to come over this weekend and I don't want you to freak him out.” “Oh he's coming over great ok. And yes, I will try to tone it down.” She said, “thank you.”

Honestly you should've known she'd never tone it down, in fact she didn't try to.

[softspiderling]

hello

can i ask for a Jacaerys Velarion x wife sister

where she follows her brother Lucerys against her mother's orders to storm vastness

Seeing Aegon in Vhagar, he intercepts his beloved younger brother in the storm and orders him to hide, saving his life. she on her dragon attacks Aegon and vhagar They fight in the fierce storm wounding them forcing them to escape She and her dragon were so tired that they fell The next day Lucerys finds her seriously injured without being able to wake up. with his dragon that growls at Lucerys and tries to calm him down to try to take his sister to a safe place with the maesters She is in a coma due to the blow but not serious enough to die. but when she wakes up she doesn't remember anything, not even her brother, mother and brother/husband. just remember your dragon is always here close to him and when they want to take her to her bedrooms she doesn't want to and when she sees that they are forcing her, her dragon tries to defederate her. please

hi! so i kinda vibe with this request but i don’t really write incest bc i don’t feel comfortable writing it (i think… maybe ill get around to it someday HAAHAH) idk how to get around the dragon thing…

[neo-contemporaryfailure]

So it begins!

Neo-Contemporary Failure is a play, and at this point a series of plays, about how we approach good art by bad people, and also suicide. It's really about suicide, if I'm being honest. It follows Geoff O'Doherty, a mediocre mildly cringe actor-playwright, as he attempts to create a new career for himself, while in psychosexual competition with an up-and-coming critically acclaimed much younger director choreographer, Jack Ainsworth. It takes place over 38 years, from 1968-2006.

I'm really bad at pitching stuff but if you like 70s musical theatre, terrible people doing terrible things, gay people, a twinge of severe mental illness, satire, mediocre artists, and the occasional graphic reference to CATS, you'll probably like it. I'm under the belief that you might even like it if you hate all those things.

Of Neo-Contemporary Failure itself, there are 4 parts, totaling around 600 pages and around 8 hours were it to be staged. I wrote the first 540 page draft in January of 2022, over about 27 days. I've been revising it since. I'm currently in the process of the rewrite of the final part. I'll eventually be putting all 4 parts on the website (linked in the description.)

There's another play, Tapenade, about dancer Olive Cameron's rise to power, that I'm holding off on posting because it's not 8 hours long and therefore I can do things with it, like normal things. But we'll see, maybe I'll put that up someday.

HERE, however, I'm mostly going to be posting other bits and pieces. I write typically around one short story every day about these characters some in script and some in prose, around 2000-3600 words. So I'll be posting those every day around 7pm EST.

Trigger warning for, like, everything if I'm being honest, fyi.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[bri1234]

Meet my MC: Ella

TCH Masterlist

General

Book: The Cursed Heart

Love Interest: Kieran

Pronouns: She/her

Birthday: March 19th

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Birthplace: A tiny village

Current location: The Moon Palace

Found Family: Kieran, Longclaw, Sir Monty, Oleander

Magical Animal Friends: Leaf, Plum (thistle bat), Kieran's ravens (occasionally, depends on the day)

Personality: Kind, caring, trusting, patient, loyal, curious, accepting, resilient, honest, imaginative, stubborn, clever, empathetic,

Many believe that Ella's kindness and willingness to trust others is her weakness, but it is truly her greatest strength. She defeated the Sun Court and a power-hungry Fae after all. She even was able to get Kieran to warm up to her, which seemed like a near-impossible task for a while. Her warmth and generous nature shine through in almost all her interactions.

Physical Appearance

Hair: Orangy redish, wavy with curls

Eye color: Blue

Height: 5'6"

Hobbies

Reading: She picked up reading while in the Moon Palace and became a huge bookworm. Kieran would often have to pry books out of her hands to get her to come to bed.

Healing: Despite this technically being a job, she loves being able to help others. She often finds herself reading about all the different Fae plants and learning more about their magical properties from Longcalw, which she finds fascinating.

Ice skating: Winters were normally brutal in the village she grew up in, but her parents would take her to a nearby lake to ice skate on days when the weather was decent. She became very good at it and often would challenge the other village children to races and "skate-offs," as she called it. She explained ice skating to Kieran and he couldn't believe that humans would willingly stand on blades just so they could move on frozen water.

The Past

Childhood: Ella has always been a curious girl. She often would find herself wandering into the woods despite her parents warnings. She dreamed every night of the world the was just past the woods, wonding whether or not the grand, magical tales her parents would tell her before bed were real.

Besides her curiosity, her mother trained her in the art of healing. Ella would often assist her in treating those who were ill in the village and others in neighboring locations. As a young child, she could tell you about any plant growing in the woods, whether it had healing properties, and if it was safe for humans.

When her parents died from illness, the owner of the local tavern took her in. That is where she stayed and when she was old enough, worked until the beginning of TCH 1. But, she did dabble in healing here and there when someone was ill. I like to believe that if fate hadn't brought her and Kieran together, she probably would of become the village healer, following in her mother's footsteps.

The Future

What happens in my HC: Honestly, I'm not really sure yet. I know for a fact that Ella and Kieran get married, but I'm still unsure if I want Ella to stay mortal like how book 2 ends, or somehow find a way to make her become immortal. Maybe I'll have to expore this in a fanfic someday, I'm just not sure when I'll make up my mind lol.

What doesn't happen in my HC but is fun to imagine: Kieran gives up his immortality at the end of book 2. Ella and him get married, have kids, and grow old together. I touched base on this in a fic I posted here. Genuinely want to continue this because I loved writing it soooooo much, so stay tuned lol.

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations

[bruh-anator3000]

Guess who is also severely ill rn and has been throwing up non stop???

Spoilers!!!! its me.

So let me grab Viktor by the hair and pretend hes taking care of me, c'mon psstpsstpsst vikki come here

Warnings: throwing up, on the nose references to that one dream I had and Machine Heralding, probably really bad writing since my vision is kinda going wonky, cringe self indulgence bc i need it

...

Welp, there went your lunch.

Down the toilet, leaving you heaving for air. Fat tears rolled down your face as you sat back on your heels. Panting, like a boa constrictor was tight around your torso and throat. Dabbing pathetically at your drool, snot, and tears.

Your light meal of saltine crackers with some ice chips lasted about... 10 minutes? Maybe more, since you had time to get up and go to the bathroom this round. Wincing, you buried your face in the towel, a godforsaken headache throbbing at the front of your head.

What the hell did you do to deserve this? The stomach virus had been going sround but you knew better than a silly virus. This was the virus plus your insane stomach that could never cooperate teaming up with your migranes to form the worst day in history.

No anti-stomach acid pills worked, none of the prescribed medications for your pains stayed down long enough, and half of them needed food to accompany them before being digested.

Who decided to make that a rule? You wanted to meet up with the pharmacist who decided you had to eat something first to make your stomach stop hurting. You wanted to ask if they knew what chronic stomach pain meant. Possibly hit them with a chair but that was if you had time.

But seriously, how were you supposed to keep prescriptions down when you could hardly stomach fucking crackers?

You eventually pulled your face away from the towel, rubbing your eyes raw, at the sound of the front door opening. The tell-tale sign someone else was home, quickly being accompanied by your cat greeting them in cheerful meows. You could hear Viktor call out your name. And you could feel, if you tried to say anything above a whisper back, the breakfast you never had was about to join your lunch.

Rio knocked over some pill bottles, guessing from how multiple clattered and rattled to the floor. The tsk that followed a better indicator that your cat had cleared off the kitchen table, while you hid in the bathroom. A bottle or two was picked up before the comforting tap-tap-tapping of a cane neared the master bathroom.

Tap-tap-tap against the door. "You're sick again, aren't you?" Viktor's accented voice carried through the door. You only nodded from your seated position against the wall. As if he could see you. "Can I come in?"

You tried for an affirmative hum that quickly soured in you throat. Viktor heard it nonetheless, and gently peeked his head through the door.

"Have you eaten anything?" He was aware not eating could cause this reaction. Eating could cause it to be like this, too. Or worse.

"Nothing stays down." You managed to choke out. He walked in, leaving the door a tad open for your cat to slide in behind him.

With a small groan, he joined you on the floor. Back sliding down the wall til he sat right besides you, hand curling over yours in your lap. Rio came trotting behind, finding her place in between both yours and Viktor's knees. She curled her paws beneath, creating a rushed loaf as she bumped her head against you.

You wanted to pull your hands apart, wrap one with Viktor's and have the other one run down Rio's back. But every movement, every flicker of the bathroom's light, it made you even more nauseous.

Reading your mind, Viktor squeezed your hands in his, speaking softly, "It's alright. Rio and I will take care of you." He smiled, teasing in a little humor despite your unforgiving state.

You leaned into his shoulder. A tear rolled down your face. "It hurts."

"I know."

"I'm so sick of this, Vik."

"I know," He sighed, letting his head drop. "We'll figure this out someday." His eyes glared at his leg. He could feel it protest against it's crossed position as he sat with you.

You sighed, letting your heap drop to your knees. "How was work?"

"Mmh, nothing extraordinary." His thumb rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. "Jayce nearly blew his hand off." He lilted. "His hand got stuck in the Atlas Gauntlet and instead of just taking the Hex crystal out, he panicked and almost blew off his arm."

You hummed. "So regular day?"

"Pretty much."

You sighed. "Do you think if I ate a hex crystal, my stomach pain would go away?" Viktor snorted.

"I very much doubt that."

"Well, you're the scientist." You pouted. "Build me a stomach that won't violently protest everything. Like a... hex-stomach or something."

"A hex-stomach?" You nodded. "Hm, I'll ask Jayce what he thinks, but it may turn calories anf sugars needed for your body to function into magic."

"I'm supposed to not like that?"

"I can't think it to be pleasent to vomit magic." He winced.

"The point of the hex-stomach is that I will no longer throw up." He squeezed your hands again, thumb brushing your knuckles still.

"We'll figure out something less... risky." He said

...

As if we don't know his doomed narritive. Doomed little guy. Kay im gonna go throw up now, i hope you are having a great day, if not at least better than mine.

Let me take the suffering from you since I'm already in the depths of it. You go enjoy your day.

[curseofkolyana]

Prologue

Hello! I don't normally post my writing on tumblr, but I have been feeling motivated recently! This is the backstory for my Vampire: The Masquerade OC, Vio, who you can interact with over here on "their" blog. They will be responding to questions as though they are writing and publishing this is real time, so feel free to ask them directly about the story! This is really just a little passion project leading up to the start of the chronicle. I also don't know how long it will be! I'm just sort of writing until I either get bored or run out of story to tell.

Part 1 | Part 2

Before I ever heard the name Tharen Black, I wanted to be a writer.

That was all. I wanted to spend my life telling stories because that is what made me happy.

When I was young, I was the sort of child who would fill up whole notebooks with ill-conceived, plotless stories which I was sure would be published and revered someday, just like my favorite books written by others. I wanted to give people an escape. I wanted to give them a soft place to land when their real lives were too difficult, just like my favorite stories did for me. I wanted to contribute something real to the world.

I had dreams before I met him. I was nowhere near achieving them, but maybe I would have gotten there someday. Maybe not, but I could have at least tried.

At some point, though, I have to stop blaming him and start trying to do something about the situation that I have put myself in. I always wanted to be a writer, so that is what I am going to be.

This is such a cliche, isn’t it? Interview with the Vampire. The Vampire Lestat. I, Strahd. Some of my all-time favorite vampire stories are the ones where the monster gets to speak their piece, even if it means that they have to reveal the horror of their existence.

I think that maybe if I get my confession down on paper, so to speak, I can finally move on. I was never religious, but I do think that there is something freeing about the ideal of a confession.

I don’t want my user name attached to this story. I don’t want the cult of personality that I lead to latch onto it. I don’t want them to adore and sensationalize it just because they love a face that they will never really know on a screen. That’s  why I am publishing this here, in my own tiny, nowhere corner of the internet, where no one will even bother to read it if it isn’t tagged as something they already love.

This story will stand on its own. I want to be able to tell the truth without anyone waiting in the wings to cast their own judgements on it.

I’ll start here:

My name is Vio Black.

I am rich, gorgeous, and beloved by several hundred thousand Twitch followers who cling to my every word for 16 hours per week. I am a viral internet icon of the moment. I have walked red carpets. I have performed live for packed auditoriums. 

And I am absolutely fucking miserable.

[twistedshipper]

"Arthur doesn't know how it begins"

Of the wips I mentioned, this one is the one without a proper title (it's just saved as the first line I wrote) and the one that is literally just straight up porn without (much) plot inspired from the fic, Critical Period, and Ethel Cain's song 'Inbred.'

I started it, I believe, in the late fall of 2022 when the idea struck me, except never found the inspiration to finish it (mainly because I don't think I'm skilled enough as a writer to pull the idea off).

The fic is from Arthur's perspective and follows him over the years as he develops a rather perverse obsession with his elder (by a couple years) sister Morgana, whom is sequestered to her chambers day in and out for a strange mental affliction that Arthur overhears the court physician name to their father hysteria.

Over the years, Gaius treats Morgana with many potions and sedatives to aid her sleep and it's in these moments when Morgana is knocked out cold that Arthur observes her in her room to placate the need that her writhing body stirs in him.

That's basically it. I'll leave a snippet down below from the beginning of it:

Arthur does not know how it begins, per se, only how it ends with him doing everything in his power to stop the need, placate the wanting, even as it tears through him from the inside out, rendering him inept in what is a rather base act. 

There was always something so alluring, so provocative about his sister, Morgana.

Ever since he was little, he recalled the visits the Court Physician gave her at the request of their father, that she be seen too for an odd peculiarity, something he had once overheard as he crouched outside the doors to the nursery they shared, trying his best to be invisible, that was spoken of as an illness of her mind. 

He did not know what this in truth meant, only that she struggled with her sleep, tossing and turning in their children’s bed, her limbs twisted, back arched, a wail escaping her lips.  He remembered waking, startled, beside her from such nights and it was not long before his father arranged for him to have a room of his own away from her side.

Though he had been scared of her in those few moments he witnessed her twisted-up body, so lithe and contorted in the wrapped sheets, he had still felt a curiosity for her condition, which only grew to what could only be described as perverse with time.

He had been a boy of seven then, Morgana a week shy of turning nine.

Thanks for asking me to share about this fic. Maybe, I'll get around to finishing it someday. @the-king-and-the-druidess also asked me about this fic, and I think, Kristya, this fic was also a result of me trying to write from Arthur's perspective (after our conversation about dark!Arthur) for a change as opposed to Morgana, as in SL I write most of the scenes from her perspective when it comes to her unnatural feelings for Arthur.

[artificialwizard]

Venting and rambling about ai art discourse

Feel free to ignore this + this isnt an invitation to argue back and forth with me about ai

My tag system on main for years now has been

#art = abstract art

#representational art = all non-abstract art

( + #dreamscape = art that can't be neatly categorized as abstract or representational + art that reminds me of dreaming )

Bc at the time I created this tag system i was very fed up with abstract art and modern art being dismissed as Not Real Art by some assholes and i wanted to put abstract art first in my space and have representational art be the one that needs a descriptor to differentiate it from "normal"/"real" art

Currently holding myself back from doing something similar to be petty about the never ending ai art backlash/discourse

Haven't been posting my abstract art or ai art online much lately but i still make a lot of both (+ getting back into writing and prob won't be posting much of that either). Sharing art online, other than with close friends, seems like hell to me rn.

Maybe someday i'll start posting my art again it just sucks that anytime i go on any social media from discord to youtube theres an 80% chance i see people shitting on the artistic mediums that i'm most passionate about

And its not like the ai hate train has slowed down the rancid attitudes around abstract art lol, not that I'd stop making AI art if abstract art was more respected

Abstract art is the easiest and most rewarding way for me to express myself creatively and it gels so well with my perfectionism issues bc perfection is Not the point (except when it is, but then its an artistic choice not a constant obligation for every piece). A piece about grief doesnt need to have perfect straight lines or symmetry, the art can be messy if it suits the tone I'm going for.

And AI image and music generation is very exciting to me! I've always been curious about what it would be like getting to see the creation of a new way of making art and its been very cool being able to somewhat follow AI innovations since 2018 and then get to experiment with it myself once more ai tools became accessible!!

Whether im the ai art im making is abstract or representational, i love not having full control over the result! I love bouncing ideas back and forth with the AI. I love having to combine my visual art skills and my language/description skills.

I use midjourney et al. the same way I'd make my OCs in dressup games while brainstorming ideas. Mindless doodling that can often lead to writers block breakthroughs.

I also use midjourney et al. to make quick vent art when I'm feeling strong emotions just like I'd do in my sketchbook or in my digital art apps.

And sometimes i'm using ai to spend hours trying to make something very specific i want to create.

Idk its all just tools to me. Midjourney. Paint Tool Sai. Pen and paper. I get the same joy/relief out of making art with all of the above

Im not aiming for fame or money, i make 0-200$ a year from art, usually 0. I just want to have a little corner of the internet to share my images and reach a handful of ppl who appreciate them and want to discuss abstract & ai art with me thats it. Im not coming for your art job, i dont allign myself with corporations aiming to further disadvantage workers in artistic industries or artists who freelance

Anyway reason #2 i slowed down on posting art is grief has been kicking my ass these past 4 years. Lots of deaths in the family + death of a friend. some relationships were fractured and im grieving those as well.

Reason #3 is started full time library job in november 🎉 its wonderful and its exhausting and im still finding my rythm after years of being chronically un(der)employed and/or in college, but hopefully once life settles down more ill have more and more time to spend on art and writing

Havent vent posted in ages and it feels weird doing it on one of my art blogs so im going to end this with two of my recent(ish) pieces on grief, first made in onelab (not ai, android art app i make 80% of my digital art in) and second in midjourney

Thanks if u read all/most/some of that :)

Think i just needed to be like "man this sucks" so i can move on to "anyway! Art time >:)"

[fountainpenguin]

Hi! How are you?

Anyway... I hope it's okay to ask this (if not then please ignore this) but I wanted to ask why is "This is Halloween" (prompt 128) isn't on Ao3.

I went through the list there a couple of times, and I noticed it was missing (I noticed it a while ago but double-checked today). I know you said in the original AN for that fic, that it's skippable and if we didn't read it it's like nothing happened, so maybe that's why but I still think it's worth asking.

Thank you for your time and have a great day and a great week.

Thanks for taking an interest! I'm a bit ill and tired, but all right. "Only an Idea" and "This Is Halloween" are only available on FFN at this time, though the other 130 Prompts thus far are cross-posted.

I'll post "Only an Idea" to AO3 at the appropriate time for its appearance in Reedfilter Rules AU [+ FFN Link] because I thought it made more sense to post its content in chronological order (which is why RR updates slowly, as the pieces are vague and scattered in my drafts). I'm excited to post more for this AU, but I'm handling it as carefully as I can so I don't have regrets in my posting order down the line.

At the moment, it'll probably be posted after Chapter 11. I'm still waffling over whether I should post it as both Chapter 11 and a separate piece or just one of those things.

Likewise, I plan to post "This Is Halloween" at the time I deem appropriate, and preferably around Halloween. I don't regret writing it; it was a fun piece for a year Halloween fell on my update day. It's intentionally vague, misleading, and dripping with foreshadowing. I think it's fun and there's nothing wrong with reading it now.

It's up on FFN for readers to find and enjoy if they wish, but it's a complex piece that I do think is more impactful if read with certain context (Like nature spirits and the members Anti-Cosmo selected for his camarilla court).

Ex: Anti-Cosmo is Sunnie's medium in "This Is Halloween" (and in all 130 Prompts that take place after he becomes High Count). Notably, in "Halloween," Sunnie leaves Anti-Cosmo's body and they have a fight over whether to stay and defend the Anti-Fairies (what A.C. wants to do) and Sunnie's preference (Fleeing as far across the universe as possible).

The Anti-Cosmo-Sunnie relationship is very messy. Them figuring out how to, y'know, share the same body (particularly as H.P. and Anti-Wanda watch from the sidelines with increasing anxiety because A.C. has a bad habit of idealizing his abusers and now he's sharing a mind with someone his friends can't hear) is the main arc in Act 4 of Frayed Knots. So, y'know... That's gonna be a party!

We're currently 6 chapters into Knots' Act 3; we still have to get through the war before we meet Sunnie

I'm sure not all my AO3 readers follow me on Tumblr, so I thought it would be more effective to post "This Is Halloween" at a relevant time than it would be to make a Tumblr post saying "Hey, go check out this piece I wrote in 2017." Once the story is up on AO3, there's not much I can do to point people towards it, so that's the main reason.

I enjoy "This Is Halloween" and I'd love to discuss it with readers someday, but the chances that people will be willing to chat about The Implications™ and the many complicated layers involved in this piece seem higher if it's posted at a better time than now /shrug

That said, if anyone has read "This Is Halloween" (or any other piece of mine) and wants to send Asks about their theories or tag me in posts, I'd love to respond :) There are a lot of secrets and details in that one.

[whysamwhy123]

✨Fic Writing Review 2023✨

Tagged by the wonderful dynamic duo that is @aerodaltonimperial and @perhapswhoknowsvamp and it's very fitting that those two lovely people tagged me because they're a big reason why I wrote much of anything this year! Took me a while to get this done because I wanted to get my last fic of the year out the door first. I'll put the rest below the cut, and fair warning - it's loooooong. This bitch doesn't shut up, so I rambled on. A lot.

Words and Fics

76, 222 words published on AO3 in 2023

15 fics published on AO3 (16 if you count that one kinkmeme prompt I filled and posted anonymously)

2 little tumblr ficlets

Top 3 by Kudos

Voice in the Dark - Hookhausen (not super surprising, considering it was a popular pairing at the time, and it was the fic I wrote for the anniversary event)

Kids These Days And Their Darn Phones - Hookhausen

Half Your Age Plus Seven - OrangeHook (I continue to be incredibly surprised how well this fic did, like...huh?!)

Top 3 by Hits

Voice in the Dark - Hookhausen

Voice in the Dark, Part Two - Hookhausen (how fitting, LOL)

Half Your Age Plus Seven - OrangeHook (Seriously, what was it about this fic that drew people in? More so than any of my other OrangeHook fics? Like, I'm grateful and all but also confused, like this fic is way too long?! And weird about the age difference?!)

Author's Favourite

As much as I'm loving writing OrangeHook now, I think Voice in the Dark, Part Two is probably the best thing I've written? Even though it's also overly long and gets weird at the end (very much did not expect it to go in that direction when I started writing it), I'm actually pretty proud of how that one turned out. I had a clear vision in my head for how each scene would play out and what I wanted to get across, and man, I remember how most of the Hook/Evilhausen dialogue popped into my brain late one night when I couldn't sleep, so I spat it out into a doc and then about a month later when I actually wrote the scene, I don't think I changed a single word? I just added everything else around it, all the not-dialogue parts. And it was just a lot of fun getting to carry on that story, especially as someone who hasn't managed to crank out a proper multi-chapter fic yet. Who knows, maybe I'll return to that world someday...

Fandom Events in 2023

Uh, well, I guess I did the whole Hookhausen Anniversary thing? And...that's about it. I'm pretty disconnected from the fandom at large, whoopsie daisy 😬

Upcoming Projects

Hoo boy.

I have over 5k words of a Ricky/Christian Sugar Baby AU thing written already. I haven't posted it because it kinda needs some smut and that's still not something I can really do. I might post it someday, if I can make something work, or alternatively do what I normally do and put an annoying fade to black in there. Or maybe I'll think better of it and never post it because it's very self-indulgent and I highly doubt anyone else would really be interested or want me to continue it or anything. But I have Ideas for it...so many ideas...

Also, in my ill-fated quest to try and make myself write smut, I kinda started a Ricky/Bill championship celebration fic. Maybe I'll revisit that? Try to get it done?

And then there's that one fic I really want to work on, but have barely started. I've vague-posted about it here before - it's an incredibly fucked-up Dead Dove fic about Daniel Garcia and a Very Bad, Not-Good thing that happens to him, and the subsequent complete mental breakdown that follows. I've had the idea rattling around in my brain for the better part of a year at this point, despite not making much actual progress on it. Every time I think about it though, I have new ideas for scenes or dialogue. I'd like to make it work, but I don't know if I have the writing chops to handle it, plus it would probably end up being super long and nobody would want to read it, so it'd feel like a huge waste of time on my part? And I've had the idea for so long, it's out-dated too. But still, the urge remains...

Oh, and I still have a ton of OrangeHook ideas I'd like to make happen. Some are, of course, about their age difference. Some would (ideally) involve smut. And others... *nervous laughter* Others would likely result in an ''Everyone disliked that'' situation...

Writing Reflection

I was thinking about making a sappy post about this and whoops, here's my excuse! I don't talk a lot on here about my tragic backstory because honestly, who cares? But I will say this - before January of this year, I hadn't written a word of anything in years. Fic or otherwise. I used to love writing, but Stuff Happened and it killed all enjoyment I got out of it, and I thought that's how it would be forever. Then, for reasons I can't even remember, I started reading fic again, specifically in this wild little fandom of ours, and y'all are just so talented that it made my untalented ass want to give it another shot. So...I did.

I remember when I posted my first fic in ages back in January, I thought ''Maybe about three people will read this and no one will leave a comment or anything, but whatever, I wrote a thing and that's something I haven't done in years so that's enough for me!'' And to be honest, I still think that whenever I post stuff now? It's crazy to me that anyone actually reads my stuff and gets some kind of kick out of it. But every kudos and comment floors me and brings me so much joy, I can't even express it properly. I have to say a huge thank you to anyone who's ever read one of my fics, left kudos or dropped a comment. Whoever and wherever you are, you made my day!

And look, I ain't delusional. I know that calling myself a small fish in the fandom would be too generous. But I'm fine with that - because I'm genuinely enjoying writing again and that's what matters most to me. Even though I've also rediscovered how stressful writing can be (🙂🙂🙂) when it comes down to it, there's joy and happiness in my life that wasn't there last year and that's all because I started writing again. And because some lovely folks here decided to let me know they liked what I was throwing out there. The years have not been kind to ol' Sammy Sam-Sam and this year was no exception, but getting to forget about all that shit and write my silly little wrestling fanfiction has been a great distraction and a comfort through this whole year.

So...yeah. Thanks to everyone who's ever commented on my writing, thanks to the folks who follow me on here (I don't know how you manage that though, I'm such an annoying bitch, aren't you sick of me yet?) and thanks to anyone who I've had the chance to chat with about writing and ships and whatever silly little ideas pop into my head (any of y'all feel free to message me at any time, I am always down to blab about whatever blorbos/ideas take your fancy). I'm hoping I can keep this train a-rollin' a little more next year. Still thinking back to when I started writing again, I made my new AO3 account expecting to write Dustjim only, but then I quickly decided I couldn't write those two well enough, and since then I've bounced around a bunch of different pairings, with a few rarepairs shoved in between for good measure. God only knows where my head will be at this time next year, LOL. I'd love to finally be able to attempt some of the bigger ideas I've been cooking up for a while now. Maybe I'll even write a proper multi-chapter fic? We'll see, but this bitch can dream, at least.

Rules:

Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please do eat glass, I’ve heard it’s good for your gums.

I'm not going to tag anyone because I'm pretty sure everyone I know who writes has already been tagged? So if you're reading this and you haven't, go ahead and do it! By which I mean, eat glass. Eat all the glass that you want. Accidents happen in the dark.

[journey-to-balance]

The Beauty of an Ordinary Life.

There is always beauty to be found in a normal ordinary life, but it is more obvious to me than ever in sweet summertime.

I was reflecting yesterday morning on something our family used to do when the children were little; we traveled to different states throughout the United States. The summer road trips were educational, beautiful, and fun, but in many ways, nothing really compared to ordinary life at home for me.

One thing I did love about getting out and exploring, was drawing inspiration from the surrounding landscapes. I remember taking an untold amount of photos of gardens everywhere. They were just so magical. I would daydream about recreating something like that at home someday, to have the ability to make wild arrangements with blooms cut from my own garden.

Today, one aspect of my ordinary life that I certainly don't ever want to take for granted is my pollinator garden. It isn't fancy, and it isn't always well tended to, but I know I simply couldn't fully enjoy it if I weren't spending these long, ordinary summer days at home.

What's more, some of the most enjoyable ordinary aspects of daily living such as a freshly cleaned kitchen, a sudsy bath before bedtime on a 95+ degree day, or sinking into the softness of a comfortable pillow, can be done whether you have your dream home or don't, and whether you have your dream income or don't - simple pleasures are available for everyone to enjoy.

Sometimes I think we're so overstimulated that our brains need no more than the daily simple gifts that God wired us to take pleasure in.

We planted a lot of tomato seeds this year. It's one of my favorite staples to plant, because they're some phenomenal varieties, they crowd out the weeds easily, and I can't think of a day when I don't use them in a meal. Harvesting them in huge quantities feels incredibly abundant.

Of course, I've had periods throughout my life when I haven't been so inspired by homemaking. Maybe I lost my momentum, or my rhythm. Maybe I was physically exhausted or ill, you know, on those days when I simply had to power through.

The homemaking, the ordinary aspects of life that we all have to do, like cleaning up multiple times a day, taking care of the laundry multiple times a week, getting food on the table, all feel like struggle when I am not able to have moments of beauty. For it is beauty that allows me to find the motivation to embrace all of what makes daily existence difficult.

For me, when I'm feeling down, disappointed by something or someone, and maybe not very inspired, something as simple as making a fancier breakfast, something that I've put some extra effort into, can make a difference in my day. Playing soft piano music while cooking, or even lighting a candle can be a game-changer in shifting my perspective regarding my day.

Without question, one of the most tangible, most constant ways to enjoy an ordinary life is by enjoying special food. In fact, If I've learned anything from my experiences traveling abroad over the years is how beautifully some cultures spend time creating wonderful meals, and lingering around them as they engage in conversation.

Somewhere along my career driven trajectory, at least in my little world, I hoped to divorce myself from the rushed, loud, hedonistic and chaotic path I'd followed for so long. But, that's a story for another time.

What I mean to say is, there's no end to what you can be inspired by in your home. Whether it's creating a new garden, trying your hand at baking something new, renovating or reviving a project, spending an evening reading, painting, drawing or writing like me, there's plenty of ways to enjoy these long ordinary summer days at home.

Friends, let those of us who have the privilege of living an ordinary life, especially when we consider that there are countless who have tumultuous, tragic, insecure lives, never take it for granted.

Thanks for reading these ordinary, but joyful words with me. May you find moments to enjoy, relish and savor. Maritza