#my unfortunate writing

[jonahmagnus]

In world where there are two types of tower-dwellers, a Princess is locked in a tower.

There are two types of tower-people: A Princess, put there to remain pure until marriage or until rescued, and a Wizard, put there by choice to study and learn in isolation. Princesses are defined by their beautiful long hair, and Wizards are defined by their beards and impressive 'stache.

There is a Princess, and she lives in a tower. She was put there recently by her mother and father, to keep her pure and untouched until they can secure the marriage to another kingdom and a prince shes doesn't love. She has long, almost brown sandy-blonde hair, pale green eyes and a slim, tender build. She is not the fairest in the land, but she is tall and pretty. If compared to a rose, she would be the humble yet graceful willow tree, slender and long. She has wanted to be a wizard since a young age, but there is no way for a princess to become a wizard. Princesses are delicate girls to be protected and sold off until their either dead or Queens or have found True Love, unsuited to the life of experimentation and study of a wizard. That is what her mother tells her, in a quiet scolding that is far more forceful and cruel then it has any right to be. And the princess, terrified, believes her.

She used to run the castle halls, stick in hand, robe fashioned out of a delicate silk bedsheet, shouting fake spells at birds while her servants chased her. But as she grew older, her restraints became tighter, and more and more often, she was confined in her room to embroider in solitude with barely the comfort of a window or a maid. The life she is forced into makes her hang her head low, makes her hands be paper-soft, and demands her hair be long and beautiful and perfect like all other princesses. The world she longed to be a part of was a world of study and experimentation, and as the kingdoms princess and tool, she could not even dare to hint at her desires into adulthood. She could become a witch, she knew, flee the castle barefoot and sink into the loving embrace of the swamp. But witches don’t live in towers, and they make potions instead of spells, and they don’t grow the flowing whimsical beards that wizards do.

But that does not mean she has to be bored in her tower. Fascinated by magic as she always has been, she arranges with a long string of bribes for books on spells and forbidden potions to be smuggled along with her meals. She studies them while the clock ticks down for either a prince to arrive or her marriage to be finalized. Either one will doom her, and she wants to enjoy herself as much as possible until her marriage. She pours over the books long into the night by candlelight, and all day, she rests her pale, tired eyes. She experiments, and she reads, and she studies non-stop, barely stopping for meals and littering her books with an assortment of food stains. She cuts off her hair to use in bubbling gold potions, her skin becomes scarred with a rainbow of the consequences of failed experiments, and her dresses turn into makeshift cheesecloths and fire-fuel. She washes late into the night after she is done with her work for the day in the darkness, not glancing into the mirror that has become cracked and dusty. When her eyesight starts to fail from strain and working in darkness, she fashions for herself bottle-round glasses, blown by herself in the depths of her tower. Engrossed as she is in her studies, she does not notice the tower warp, and the meals stop rotting, and how she started out in one circular room but now has a loft and a second floor and the fact that the tower seems much much taller then it was originally.

What she DOES notice though, is when brushing crumbs from her face she feels facial hair on her upper lip.

She rushes to the bathroom and thrusts a candle into the holder as she looks at herself. In the dusty mirror, she sees the beginnings of a bushy mustache sit on her upper lip, much further along in growth then be logically possible without her noticing. It’s a pale blonde, like her hair, and she notices faintly that there are streaks of grey in it, a very familiar shade of classic wizard grey. She brings a trembling hand to her upper lip.

Much, much later, a prince rides up to the tower. It is tall, and warped, and very clearly belonging to a wizard, despite the royal family claiming their daughter lives here.

He shouts up, a bit nervous because of the thorny vines wrapping the beautiful stonework.

“Hey! Does a Princess live here?”

A young man with large bottle glasses and a rather impressive mustache leans out of the tower, his short, sandy-blonde hair spilling lightly in the wind. He starts to say something, then glances back into his house. A smile breaks out on his face as he seems to realize something.

“No!” He shouts back, after a moments hesitation. “But a wizard does!”

[aroseofice]

Isabeth screamed, and it wasn’t a sound at all, clawing at the air and catching nothing in her grasp. She twisted and writhed in the air, hysterical mind turning to the animal instinct to catch herself in the wind as she plummeted from the sky, wax wings melting off, her reflection a blur on the icy lake. It was nothing but a brilliant smear of golden light that still wasn’t hot enough to burn, just glow falsely in the beaming sunlight, like a pathetic candle in front of a burning building. It was the light equivalent of roadkill- it was like somebody had created a squirrel full of glitter and gold, and then ran it over repeatedly with their car. It was the pathetic, weak glow of the nightlight- significant and proud in the nighttime, but revealed of its weakness the very instant the sun crests the horizon and reveals the tiny lightbulb to be the pathetic waste it is. It wasn’t anything to be remarked upon, and the sun would barely notice touching it with its unfailable, perfect light.

         But then, like a lightswitch, the world went dark, and for a split second Isabeth was hit by the terrifying reality, the lonely last words of Icarus, the fear of the cord yanked from the wall, the candle at the end of its wick, the certain knowledge that the sun ever cared about this whining beast’s fate. Isabeth twisted herself up at the sky one last time, desperate to see even the glimmer of a star, but they twinkled at her mockingly, seeming to giggle in tinkering voices at her flailing limbs and desperate-scream-that-wasn’t-a-scream. And then they turned away from her once again, turning their attention back to the light that matters.

         And then Isabeth crashed through the reflective surface of the frozen lake, sinking below the icy waters to drown, shattering her spine and causing her melting wings to freeze and break with a sickening crack, and nobody even said a word.

@icerosesummerbracket​ wip

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[captain-flint]

something something Ed not being able to step in to protect Stede from physical and emotional harm out of fear of damaging Stede's reputation and instead letting it play out as he silently falls apart in the background

[brainzzzeater]

Happy Halloween spideypool nation‼️

Halloween version of this post since booping is back

[radioroxx]

i do not have . the energy or time or motivation to make Whole comes for how scenes and bits would play out in the bonnie in the loops au. this one i did for a lil fun :)

also important note but not really important bonnie was nooooot invited to the loop hangout :/ they came anyway which complicated things but dw about it

[art-is-kayos]

Checking up on his commission

[allpiesforourown]

Role reversal bingqiu is something I didn't like until a month ago and now it has me in a chokehold ... cold ruthless peak lord Luo binghe fighting perverted suitors off his sweet disciple shen yuan ... because it's his job to protect his student, duh! Especially one that's as naive, trusting, kindhearted beutiful and charming as shen yuan...

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

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[jonahmagnus]

Hough

[pupcha]

wow, new art 🤫🧏💥

and sketches with hum!Howdy, because I have nothing else to show you 🤓

(okay, actually I have more sketches, but they definitely don't fit the subject of this post. it's more personal idk)

for good mood:: https://open.spotify.com/track/5qMzZno6o921NRGRBIrGMG?si=y4EVglI5Rb-UqBIVQrjXsw

[spheresr4cubes]

Rereading again for peak brother interactions: Brother's Blood, by @alicewritingstories

[bunnieswithknives]

OH MY GOD??? HAS IT SERIOUSLY BEEN A MONTH????? I am so sorry guys

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[lightnersdream]

i've been thinking about exactly why people portraying one of the other crew members successfully killing Jimmy as a "for what you did to Anya" kind of thing rubs me the wrong way a bit and it's because like..... this is just another form of taking agency away from Anya, in a way. it's kind of framing her as some meek, shivery woman-thing who's entirely at the mercy of the men around her, either to hurt her or save her.

(i understand these are mostly for wish fulfillment on the audience's behalf because everyone would like to see Jimmy pay for his crimes. whether or not this is the intention of the person writing it isn't really relevant, characterization happens with or without intent. i feel like it misses the point by portraying it as an 'ideal ending'.)

because... Anya is a capable person. she takes things into her own hands when she can. it was partially(?) her idea to get into the cargo,

(before he interrupts her.. remember when she interrupted Curly in the dead pixel segment?)

it was her idea to get the code scanner from the cockpit,

it was her idea to get the medication from behind the foam.

(the chance to do these things herself is not given to her.)

she'd been keeping Curly alive for months in a critical state somehow, her psych evaluations at the start are only so useless because Jimmy refuses to take it/her seriously and Curly is obviously biased when he puts it into his own hands. he's known him a long time, like he said. "I'll just put good for that one."

there's not a lot of material to work with because of how the game is framed, but it's there. we are working with two very biased perspectives and neither one lends Anya what she deserves

there's significant changes in how she speaks post- and pre- crash, and depending on who she happens to be talking to. i recommend re-reading her dialogue, because the difference is drastic

she acts the way she does around Jimmy because he has tangibly done horrible things to her, is actively hostile, and physically could not escape him by any means. she can't take away Curly's agency herself, in my eyes. you have to remember that Especially in the post-crash segments of the game, it's entirely from Jimmy's POV, and he obviously does not (and has never) thought very highly of her or treated her with a shred of respect

i've seen a general idea that she can't bear to hurt other people for any reason, but that doesn't really track to me. this is the real point of the post by the way

it seems based on the parts where she says she struggles to give Curly medication. "It just hurts him so much, I can't stand the noise." "It makes me nauseous."

it's not really the same thing as, say, hurting someone in self defense

this sounds like she did want the gun itself. this never felt worded like someone who would refuse to, at very least, threaten Jimmy with a gun, with violence. if she had been given the agency to make that decision on her own. she wasn't though

she still tries to reclaim some of it even as she's denied it

by the end she's still trying to keep that gun out of his hands

i think some people overly soften her, for similar reasons the game itself is trying to comment on. she's not a tender victim who couldn't cause pain to another out of the softness of her soul, she's a person who's had every last bit of agency ripped from her repeatedly until she couldn't take it anymore. that's the point. that's why framing her that way, "needing" someone to save her, is odd to me

she didn't need Curly to save her, she needed him to take responsibility

she didn't want to escalate things, but she's not an idiot. self defense was absolutely on her mind

but who knows im just saying shit *smiles serenely*