#mizwrites

[amiserablepileofwords]

Mech Pilot who is meeting their comms operator face to face for the first time

Note: This repost-as-is was first posted to Cohost on the 30th of June 2023 in response to a prompt from the Making-up-Mech-Pilots account.

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

"You're a kitty!"

Preeyantha hissed softly and rolled her eyes. Humans. "Yes, pilot," she began, sounding exasperated. "Macakalians look a lot like your Earth felines, but we'r—"

"Does kitty want scratches? Does she?"

Preeyantha's hiss of frustration was just a smidge louder this time. Her ears went flat against her skull, and she backed away slightly. This was why she didn't do proximity, and preferred communicating with other species through audio or text. In person encounters were always… awkward.

She cocked her head and considered her pilot. Alexandra "Mayhem" Notas, the scourge of many a blood-stained battlefield, terror of the Five Federated Fiefdoms. Who was currently wiggling her fingers at her and making little kissy noises. Very awkward.

[amiserablepileofwords]

I wrote some fanfic based on this chapter, back when it was first posted to Cohost!

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

A tall, gaunt form undulates towards the Pearly Gates, its gait shuffling and uneven, as if it had too much to drink. Its wings have seen better days, and the left one seems to be... lopsided, somehow. Which is, of course, categorically impossible, because everyone knows angels are divine embodiments of perfection. So... there’s probably just something wrong with thine eyes, mortal.

As it lurches nearer to the Saint at the Gates, one might even think one hears noises coming from its belly, which is, we must stress again, just not possible, since angels are His Will given form. Their bellies, which do not exist, can, therefore, not rumble, or make any other noises. Especially not noises like this.

“Ow! Your talon is in my ear, Azzy!” “Stop sucking on my tail, Bel! Now is not the time!” “Fuf oo fige it!” “Girls, quiet! We’re almost at that Saint guy! Pecker!” “I’m not sure that’s right. I think it was... Feet Guy?”

Thou must still be discombobulated from thine journey up. It’s fine. Happens to everyone. Well, not everyone, but some people. All part of His Great Plan. Don’t worry about it. Which thou won’t, forevermore, now that thou art here! Unless, of course, thou art sent away and go to The Other Place. Anyway, cheer up, we’re sure thou willst definitely get through. Maybe don’t mention the fact that thou art seeing and hearing things however, yeah?

Read the rest of the story on Dreamwidth

Hell's Belles - Chapter 2

In which Azzy has received some crushing news, and nuns maybe don't have the knowledge base required of succubi.

Full Series

Helneth watched Azaerixia heave a great sigh, draped over her pet hellhound and running her hands through his fur.

"It's not the saaaaaaaame" She whined, burying her face in his coat.

She had been moping ever since she found out she wasn't getting her puppies, and even inviting her over to play with Cujo didn't seem to help.

"Maybe you could try for a cat?" Helneth offered.

"……….Maybe."

"I'm sure if you just asked around there's plenty of girls who wanna be your dog." Suggested Aezorim.

Azaerixia grumbled into Cujo's fur.

"But I want an actual dog………."

"We know, sweetie."

"Why does Heaven get to keep them all it's bullshiiiiiiiit…………………."

"How about uh….. If someone summons you and has a dog, make a contract that says they have to let you play with it whenever you want?"

Azaerixia sat up straight and pointed at Helneth.

"Ooh. Ooh, that's- That's enforceable? I can do that?" She asked.

Helneth shrugged. "I think so? We do open summoning circles for girlfriend contracts already, but it might be a hard sell."

Azaerixia opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by the ringing of her cellphone.

"Hello?" She said, picking up. "Grezayla? What's-? Oh you got a new summoner? That's great! …Uh-huh. Uh-huh."

"Guys did nobody teach her how to make a dick?" She whispered, covering the phone with her hand.

"They make girls without dicks?" Helneth said, eyes wide in mock surprise.

"Yeah she says she just has some weird hole down there." Azaerixia said, sticking her tongue out.

"That's fucked up. What are we doing to our queens?"

"I thought you two were part of the group training her?" Aezorim asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, when she was still a mortal! I thought Mistress would teach her transformation stuff after!"

She uncovered the phone.

"Yeah uh, just, visualize? It? I guess?" She said, shrugging. "What do you mean you can't visualize it? You've seen some. Not from that angle? Just, just rotate it. In your mind."

She covered the phone again.

"Guys she's floundering out there we fucked up so bad."

"Aw man."

"What- Just go help her! Go make one for her!" Aezorim said.

"No! This is only like, her third summon! We can't undermine her!"

"What if they summon us instead of her next time!?"

"It'd be crushing!"

"Oh my fucking god."

"Hang on." Azaerixia said, listening. "You think you got it? Great! Okay have fun babe!!!"

She hung up and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay that one's on us a little bit. Remind me to go through some transformation exercises with her when she gets back."

Helneth and Aezorim nodded, and Azaerixia's phone started ringing again.

"Hello? Grezayla? Yeah, I can- What's a mating press? Okay Mistress has definitely done that to you. You don't know the names?" She started to pace around the room. "Okay, it's the one where-"

"Man we did not account for how much training a nun would need." Helneth whispered.

"You should throw her another orgy."

[certified-anakinfucker]

i want to post mizwriting but i fear

[gruvia-galaxy]

Gruvia Fanfic Recs

I’ve seen a lot of people asking for Gruvia fanfiction recommendations, so I thought I would share some of my personal favorites.

Long Chaps/Slow Burns:

On-going/Incomplete:

She’s in My Court by be-dazzled

Boys Trip by Marshmallow Apples (def read this, it is SO good!)

Strong Tides by tobethefairybest

Jazz by adoranymph

Something Missing by SapphireRose578 *angst*

Midnight Memories by YoseiNoAme

Ending Scene by nap_princess *angst-ish*

School of Misfit Toys by may005

Fighting Fate by hikarijade13

Forgot to Remeber by annabethlove

Splash by EmeraldLily16

Banks by FantasticNic

Completed:

Heads or Tails & twenty twenty (sort of continuation) by zeldris

Make My Heart Beat by SnowLili

I’ll Keep Your Secrets Safe by Muffindragon227

Not His Fangirl Anymore by cecaniaC

Masquerade (book 1, complete) & Somewhere (book 2, incomplete) by Deathberry19

Consequences by FayeValentine00 *smutty-ish*

One Shots:

Shack Up by StoryQuipster *smutty-ish*

Clarity by randomteenager *angst with happy ending*

College (Ch.2 only) by DancingCrimson

It’s Suprisingly Difficult Kissing Juvia Lockser by MizWrite

Whitewater Ridge by Heart-of-Storms

Unbreakable Windows and Breakable Rocks by Megami.Ze

Written in Pen by Preussenlied

I Love You by SweetMemories1998

Of Fire(boy) and Water(girl) by idek.writings

Hair by nalujerzagruviagale

Back To Those Summer Days by thewritingstar

(The one where Gray leaves gifts for Juvia and the girls think they're from Lyon) by thewritingstar

A Clingy Gray by inspectingg

Authors Recs:

BonneyQ - aka the unofficial queen of the Gruvia fanfiction community. She no longer writes Fairy Tail fanfiction, but definitely check out her past Gruvia stories (if you haven’t already)— they are AMAZING. I didn’t include any of her works in my list specifically just because they are all amazing (and I figured a lot of people already know them).

zeldris - a super creative and original author. Their profile is au galore! I seriously recommend checking them out!

randomteenager - absolutely love their works!! :)

**please note that these are mostly fanfics/authors from outside of tumblr**

If you’re looking to find more tumblr fanfics and authors, check out my other account @gruviafanficsyo, which is a collection of amazing Gruvia fanfictions by talented authors from right here on tumblr :)

!!!! please lmk of any recommendations you guys have :) !!!

(Gruvia Angst recs here)

[xbrokenxdollsx]

FT decided to do a play, which so happens to be a love story, but it all goes down hill and disaster because Juvia plays a princess and Natsu plays a prince whom that have to kiss.😂 credits to MizWrite

Uhhh, please be sure to go to the link of the original story and give your support to MizWrite.

Be sure to leave a nice Review and remember to give your favorite writers tons of love! I’m not going to do anything related to this, since it was already written by someone else and pulls off perfectly.

[laurieberger]

Greek feast! Thank you @mizwrite for this yummy platter. . . . . . #greekfood #greek #greekfoods #grapeleaves #hummous #falafel #falafels #pita #pitas #chickenskewers #middleeasternfood #middleeastern

[amiserablepileofwords]

Mech pilot who is your problem now, sucker

Note: This repost-as-is was first posted to Cohost on July 2nd 2023 in response to a prompt from Making-up-Mech-Pilots.

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

“No! You can’t do this to me!” Valentina’s voice was thick with mounting despair as she looked around the table.

“Oh no no no, you won. Fair and square. She’s all yours now.” There wasn’t even the slightest shred of pity in Jameson’s. In that triumphant grin on his stupid smarmy face as he pressed his thumb on the dataslate and it made a cheery noise of acknowledgement. Sealing her fate. Dooming her. “It’s your own fault for not asking questions, Madcat.” He’d known she’d want the latest Allied Dynamics LRT-15d for her squad’s long range support, and wouldn’t look any further. Ask why he'd want to give up a brand new mech. Why he had one. Bet on it.

They’d all known, Valentina was coming to realize. Now that it was too late. Now that she knew that she was part of the package… Everyone else around the table, everyone in this ‘impromptu’ little pick-up poker game in the officers’ mess had been her CO at one point or another. She could feel the collective sigh of relief in the room now that she was no longer their problem. Wouldn’t ruin their lives any longer with insubordination and reckless behaviour.

Just hers. Again.

“Damn it! You bastards!” Valentina’s fist slammed on the table, making the cards dance. Toppling stacks of poker chips. Her stacks. That she’d won so easily. She’d thought she was on a hot streak. That Lady Luck was finally smiling on her. Showering her with golden riches. She’d been showering her with something all right.

Story of her life.

As the others shuffled out, some of them at least having the grace to look embarrassed, belatedly, now that they were free and unburdened, Valentina stared at the tabletop. Traced the fake wood-grain in the formate with her eyes, not really seeing it. Remembering her. Going through pilot training together. Her dangerous antics. How she burned brightly, like an irresistible flame. Being with her. Loving her. Hating her. Missing her. Aching for her. Like a phantom limb, blown away in a thermonuclear explosion. An apt comparison for her, and what she did to Valentina. Would be doing to her again. Now that Valentina’d finally managed to rebuild her life from the ashes. After almost a decade of struggling, of clawing her way back from the blast pit of despair. Of slowly rising in the ranks.

No. This time would be different. Valentina knew all her tricks. Could steel her heart. Armour her soul. Prepare her defences, now that she knew the storm was coming. Now that she was forewarned. Never again.

Valentina’s resolve lasted exactly one night. One look in those clear green eyes during the morning briefing. A smoky “Hey there, tin-tin. I guess I’m one of yours now, huh?” drifting her way. That little quirk of a broken smile, drawing attention to the tiny freckles on that cheek Valentina knew so intimately.

Blasted with the power of a thousand suns, everything she'd so carefully prepared came crumbling down. As if it'd never existed. Valentina's heart and soul stood naked before her. Her greatest love. Her worst enemy. Her everything.

“Hey.” A sigh. Not of resignation, but of longing. Of hope.

Sucker.

[amiserablepileofwords]

Note: This is a repost-as-is of a piece of... let's call it poetry first posted to Cohost on the 11th of December 2023

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

I am machine

you assembled me out of faulty parts

now you're angry when I don't do what you want when I usually

can't

[amiserablepileofwords]

Orctober #2 - Ink

Steve was having the time of his life.

Out with the lads to celebrate his new ink which was radical as fuck, everyone buying him rounds of drinks, and that cool goth bartender chick was totally into him. He was definitely scoring tonight! Everything was coming up Steve!

The next thing he knew, he was halfway up a wall, shoes fruitlessly scrambling for any sort of purchase, clawing at thick green fingers pinning him there by his neck... but not trying to get away too hard, because that axe held against his throat sure felt wicked sharp and bloodthirsty, he could see the blood from the last guy on it still!

"You think this is funny, do you, pinkskin?" the massive at least ten, no, fifteen foot tall orc woman that had caused his sudden change of scenery growled into his face as her blade traced the outlines of his awesome chest ink. "At the battle of the Singing Wells, were you?" She leaned in, and her gigantic tusks almost blinded him. "Slaughtered my clan, did you?"

As her eyes flashed red, Steve desperately tried to talk through his 1000% crushed windpipe. "No! It's just a tribe tattoo! Got it in a shop! Today! Thought it looked cool! I'm sorry! Please don't eat me!"

"Oh, I should eat you. Start on your pathetic pinkskin legs while you're still conscious, so you can experience what my people went through!" the orc woman roared, seemingly ready to chomp his head off.

That's when Steve totally didn't pass out and shit himself, no matter what you heard. No matter what you saw.

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

"Thanks for that, Larbash." the head bartender grabbed a freshly cleaned glass, and poured a virgin Shirley Temple for her regular. "Guy's been giving me the creeps all night. On the house."

"You're a peach, Clarissa." Larbash sighed and sat on a stool, before carefully putting her ceremonial axe back in her attorney's briefcase. "Sorry about the stain on your wall. And the puddle on the floor. Feel free to bill me for the clean-up."

"Nah. Don't worry about it. It'll be a good story, and a warning to others." Both women smiled wanly, knowing the Steves of the world thought warnings were always for other people.

Clarissa leaned across the bar conspiratorially. "So..."

Larbash quirked an eyebrow. "So?" she drawled back.

The bartender jerked her head. "That true? About your clan. Sorry if so."

The orc snorted. "Nah. Guy just got one of those classic culturally appropriative 'badass orc tribe' tattoos that says he's a sucker and his dick is microscopic." She drained her drink, shaking her head at the state of the world. "Singing Wells was over 500 years ago." At the state of human education. "Humies man, I swear. They're so stupid. No offence."

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

Note: this is a promptfic for the Orctober list found here:

[amiserablepileofwords]

Orctober #1 - Tusks

When Goreasha walked in, her girlfriend couldn't suppress the horde of giggles that bubbled up inside her. The orc turned a stormier shade of green, and looked like she wanted nothing more than to leave.

Sunpetal Neverrain quickly stifled her laughter and rushed over, wrapping her arms around her ladylove — or as much of her as she ever could. "Gore, babe, don't go, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just..."

She gestured at her big strong butch's face. At her tall, magnificent tusks. Or, more correctly, at where she imagined the imposing spikes that stabbed at the heavens in defiance still were.

Somewhere, buried under all that bubblewrap.

The elf maiden's gaze rested too long on the corks capping off her girlfriend's new look — literally — and she was off again, shoulders trembling with uncontainable mirth.

After about another awkward minute, when she could finally speak without cracking up, she looked up into Goreasha's embarrassed, uncertain eyes. "Babe, what did you do? Why?"

Goreasha sheepishly scratched the back of her head. "I really love you, blossom. So when we were kissing last week, and you cried out when my tusks snagged your ears..." Shame clouded her face. "I'm really sorry that happened. I've been beating myself up ever since. I don't want to hurt you, ever again." She squared her shoulders, the picture of iron resolve. "Even if it means I have to look ridiculous."

Now it was Sunpetal's time to be embarrassed, turning into a miniature sun as she buried her face into Goreasha's midriff. She mumbled something against the orc's muscles.

"I didn't catch that. What did you say?" Goreasha cocked her head and knelt so she could look her heart in the eye. Maybe read her lips.

Sunpetal, face aflame, avoided her girlfriend's gaze as she admitted "There's... something I haven't told you yet about elf ears..."

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

Note: this is a promptfic for the Orctober list found here:

[amiserablepileofwords]

Jester

Jester is too small. Too lightweight. Too weird in her jerry-rigged old combat mech — decommissioned, thankfully — that flirts with the regulations for the sacred game. She might be able to score a three pointer, or even a five pointer, but there was absolutely no way she’d ever be able to hit a thirteen, never mind a twentington, making her useless on the wangball field. So why was she out there for every game?

That was a question head coach Billings of the Dubauer Prowlers asked himself every time he fielded her. There was the fact that she’d come in as a package deal with Dancing Queen, their new star draft pick. If they wanted her, they had to take Jester as well. That had been the one thing she wouldn’t budge on. She needed her, she'd said. He still couldn’t quite understand why a superstar in the making wanted… that on her team, but he’d figured he’d be able to find some way around it, given time.

Unfortunately and more importantly at this late point in the season, he’d been assured by more than one of their own loyal supporters and even his players that if he benched Jester or gods forbid kicked her off the team, very bad things would happen to him, personally. So before every game, Billings grit his teeth, closed his eyes, prayed, and aimed the team’s chaos gremlin in the only somewhat safe direction: at the opposing team.

Read the rest of the story on Dreamwidth

[amiserablepileofwords]

Lost & Found

Mother Patricia stormed out of the temple, the braying, mocking laughter of the High Priests following her down the steps. Down the street, where she roughly shouldered and weaved her way through the mass of people grateful to finally be leaving work for the day. She was tossed and turned this way or that, a short, dumpy pinball bouncing off people at random. A salmon swimming against a raging stream. Desperately trying to get their cruel words out of her head. Out of her ringing ears. Trying to get away. Trying to get back to somewhere where she could feel... not like this. Feel at home. Safe.

Because her church, the church of Samar, the god of kindness and love, would, could, never be that for her. Never again. Not after seeing where the donations of the faithful actually went. How the high clergy comported themselves, behind closed doors. Not after her prayers to do something about it – and she'd prayed, for so long, so hard – had gone unanswered. Her god didn't seem to care what was being done in His name. Maybe never cared. Or even existed. Maybe the Voice she'd heard all those years ago, when she'd heard the calling... hadn't actually been there, and she'd been deluding herself for decades.

Maybe... there even were no gods at all. Not in this modern day and age.

Read the rest of the story on Dreamwidth

[amiserablepileofwords]

"Do you think she'll come?" "Who?" "You know. Her." "Oh, right. The cape. How should I know. Maybe?" "We're doing crimes in her city, aren't we?" "Yeah, but it's a big city, and she's only one woman. She can't be everywhere all at once." "Isn't she like, a goddess or something?" "You're asking me? You know I don't care about that shit. Have you been on the capethirsters forums again? 'Step on me, god-mommy! Strangle me with your lasso!'?" "Fuck you. I'm serious. She's like, hundreds if not thousands of years old or something. Was there for all kinds of wild shit from history." "She may be. I don't know. Doesn't change the fact that she's not omnipresent. Probably. Almost definitely, since she's not cleaning our clocks right now. Lots of different kinds of gods out there, you know?" "... Yeah. I think you're right." "What, did you want her to show up? I'd just like to go home to my cats after this, thank you very much." "No, no, I know. It's just. I don't know. Sometimes you want something to happen when you're on lookout duty, you know?" "No, I don't. No jail or months of traction for me, thank you."

Read the rest on Dreamwidth

[amiserablepileofwords]

Dread wings blotted out the sun, and the people working the fields looked up. Initial confusion turned to raw, naked terror as the descending shape became clear.

"Dragon! Dragon! The devil has come to claim us!" As one, they scattered to the four winds, raising the alarm, carelessly dropping their tools in their flight to safety.

Young Astrud the Unlucky lived up to her name when she tripped over someone's scythe, and fell with a cry. Was left behind, all alone. The ground quaked as the beast landed nearby, and she could feel its hellfire breath wash over her. Closing her eyes, she curled up into a ball, whimpering. Waited for the teeth to rend her. For the devil's pet to devour her.

Read the rest of the story on Dreamwidth

[amiserablepileofwords]

War Widow

Note: This is a repost-as-is of a piece posted to Cohost on the 8th of July 2023 in response to a prompt by Making-up-Mech-Pilots that read: "Mech Pilot who has to tell the new pilot that they can't salvage and refit enemy weapons to their own mech."

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

"Kid, no! Get back here!" Nessa barked as the new girl whooped and ran towards what remained of the Blue Herons' main hangar. Towards the gleaming, immaculate KTP-10 they could all see. Were all drooling over.

Somehow, she'd survived their artillery barrage. Hadn't been touched at all by the pounding rain of hellfire and damnation. Their shells had flattened the enemy stronghold, laid waste to their personnel, and blown a whole heap of ammunition, fuel and other mechs sky-high. The acrid cloud of roiling smoke rising over the ruins was thick enough to turn day into false night. Debris and charnel surrounded her. The stench of death was everywhere. And yet, there she stood. Beautiful. Unbothered. Regal. Pristine. Still loaded for bear. Gods above, she was magnificent.

"Why not, sarge? It's just sitting there. Nobody's going to mind! We killed 'em all!" greenie Sally whined as she turned to look at her NCO with such an are-you-shitting-me-right-now look on her face that Nessa had to laugh.

Oh, the kid still had a lot to learn.

Nessa made a beckoning motion, and Sally begrudgingly slouched back. The old wardog slung an arm around the young hotshot's shoulders and pointed at the hangar. "You see that?"

An askance look. Of course Sally saw it. She'd wanted to sprint there the second they arrived. Wanted to get her hands on its twin mobile TBM launch platforms. She could see the warheads from here!

"That there, young lady, is a war widow, and you will respect her."

"But it's right there for the taking! Just lemme get my hands on those cones!" Sally pouted, getting a pinched ear for her disrespect. "Hey! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Nessa placidly continued talking, as if she wasn't the one causing her charge immense discomfort. "She is waiting for her pilot, and we will leave her be. Thou shalt not covet another's ballistics. Doing otherwise would bring bad luck."

"But we killed everyone! The pilot's dead!" the new kid petulantly countered. "So who ca—ow! Ow! Ow! Okay! Sorry! Sorry! I surrender!"

She just wasn't getting through to the kid. Time to try a different tack. Something the girl might understand better. Nearer to her heart. "She's just like the commander's wife." Nessa tried.

Sally stopped struggling and froze, just staring at the grizzled older woman. "W… what?"

"She's a 10, the hottest thing for miles… but you know you can only look, never touch, right? And you can't look too long, because she's a classy lady, and that would be disrespectful, right? So you just say hello, and then let her get on with her day. Turn around and go do something else." Nessa was looking the girl straight in the eye now, making sure she was understood. "Same thing, really."

Sally squirmed, and gave her a nervous look. "Y… your comparison is weird, sarge."

Nessa sighed deeply and clapped Sally on the shoulder. "Oh, kid. There's so much Old Nessy has left to teach you. Like how not to drool on your shoes when you see something you want." She gave the girl's shoulder a squeeze when Sally started, caught like a naughty schoolgirl. "Now come on, mount up. Let's go make sure our war widow is an actual widow, and there's no little shitbirds around left to use those delicious assets on us."

[amiserablepileofwords]

The Creature

Note: This is a repost-as-is of a piece first posted to Cohost on the 24th of November 2023 for a ImpressionsOfDetail prompt that read "A sample of children's drawings — family, house, dog — each also depicting...The Creature."

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

Of course.

The Creature is part of the family. Always treat The Creature as part of the family. Include The Creature in everything you do, as a family. The Creature must feel welcome. Loved. Safe.

This we know, and pass on to each next generation. Because we dread finding out what happens otherwise.