#wip: sacrifices

[littleshopofchaos]

When you realise just how big your new wip is turning out to be

[littleshopofchaos]

THIS IS FELICITY MY OC OMG

it must be said that i simply love to watch a character destroy all their relationships in an attempt to get what they think they want only to achieve their goals and be lonelier and more depressed than ever. and to realize they can never go back and are trapped at the top of the hill playing their part. its the dream you never wake up from!!

[sofancydancy]

The grip his stomach has on me is insane--

Hi!! Editing to thank you all so much and to say the finished version is now in the replies/with the link! 💜

[oooocleo]

swapped out the wip for the final (probably??) version to keep my blog looking somewhat clean

[shopwitchvamp]

Three more for The Fall Collection, coming soon!!

Vampyre Mini // Sacrifice Mini // (New) Demon Summoning Skater

[automeris-io-moth]

The Offer of Her Village.

suggestive (but like only a bit)

She had kept her name to herself that evening. 

Her hands were not bound anymore, if they ever were. 

She couldn’t remember quite well, the faint feeling of soft rope still ghosted over her limbs, yet no mark showed over the surface of easily-bruised skin, no burning left trace, and no real pain ever blossomed from what she recalled as blood, pooling under the tightenings, piling up to a puddle on the dirt and the dry leaves. 

Another cup, another drink, was brought to her lips, and she smiled. 

Wine had never been quite the treat for the girl, it was bitter, on the best of cases a rotten tasting grape juice she tended to avoid, taking small sips through the night, forgetting the glasses and patting her head in acknowledgement when someone noticed, blaming herself careless as it had been, yet again, her distraction making her misplaced the aged red wine the host had been so kind to open for them all that night.

She remembered it all well, even when it felt a life and a half away, the uncomfortably alcoholic aftertaste it left on her tongue, the ashamed look on her father’s face as her best efforts to prevent a grimace as she gulped down the last bit had fallen unsuccessful. Then why, she wondered, did it taste so sweet.  

It was, indeed, intoxicating. But the girl shook her head, hands limp at her sides, it could not be the alcohol. 

She leaned further in, chasing the edge of the golden up to her offered, trying still to keep that ladylike, shy sipping she had been taught so long ago. And the cupbearer, the cupbearer smiled at her so sweetly her stomach dropped further down for a moment, when he caressed the skin of her hand, when he cleaned the edge of her mouth, and smiled more. 

Dizziness, haziness, were so familiar then she had forgotten how the lucidity of only fake ebrity felt at the parties. 

Parties. 

The music echoed across the salon, even with no walls, with no marble floor nor high ceilings, different, as foreign as everything else caught by her wandering sight, like stars popping, like how fireflies should sound if they one day wanted to change their buzzing. Like the church bells, she finally settled, but more delicate, higher pitched and accompanied so well by the sound of an harp, an harp of thicker cords, an arp that sounded like something entirely different. 

They were so good at imitating the melodies of the night.

A woman approached, as beautiful as the rest of the crowd, long, dark hair trailing behind her, falling through the antlers sprouting from her skull, a pan flute held to her mouth. The melody consistent, soft and calling. 

Light wood was set in between her palms, other’s hands guiding her fingers to the right spots, it was handcrafted, that she could see, some missing polishing here and there, the clear strokes of a thin paintbrush marked on the delicate drawing of flowers. 

The girl blew. 

Broken, far from perfect, and yet, there was clapping, there was praising, and playful laughs. And she smiled, returning it to the musician. 

A whisper in her ear. 

The woman holding her in her lap urged her to continue her story. 

Such a stupid, simple story, one repeated far too many times for any of her friends to appreciate anymore, one of her few adventures to the beaches of the neighbouring town, how she had found a fish with a stinger, transparent and apparently, electrical, or something of the sort, as it had stung and scared a child playing around it. 

The body was not dangerous, she explained, she had used it to return it to the sea, the string falling down from it was the real problem. And they nodded and cooed in, most probably, fake awe to her words. 

She had acquired a peculiar interest for the sea life from then on, she told them, describing a couple more wonders she had found near the ocean grottoes, earning their complete attention. 

Carter blushed at the attention. 

Such an uninteresting, uncharismatic thing should settle to be seen, even if she’s as much of a treat for the eye as she is for the ears. 

A flower crown was placed over her head, daisies and periwinkle intertwined, braided into fitting her perfectly. 

“You should stay for a little longer, wouldn’t that be pleasant?” the man she was leaning her back against suggested, hand gently tilting her face to meet his eyes “I would be honoured.” 

The woman holding her chuckled, “That would certainly be quite a treat.” 

Her fingers traced Carter’s lips, and for a moment, she thought of how dry they had to look, biting them down to hide them.

“Oh none of that now, pretty thing, you don’t need to fix anything.” 

“I think I…” the girl stated, eyes fixed on the woman’s, staring limp at the yellow glow they emanated, even under the cold light of the moon “I think I need to go back, my friends were with me and I don’t know…” 

“That would be such a shame,” the man interjected, taking the girl from his partner’s lap, pulling her gently to his own, having her lean against him as he ran his hands up and down her back “to leave when the night is still so young.” 

The woman chuckled, reaching down for the half-drank cup and placing it to her mouth, watching as she drank.

Her eyes were soft, such a sight the girl did not recognize from ever before, and she met them. Unable to take them away, she stared. 

“How are we to make you go home without at these ungodly hours of the night, one so young would get lost so easily.” she added.

“It would be our pleasure if you allowed us to offer you sanctuary, for tonight at least.” 

“But my friends are…” 

“Safe and sound, of course, enjoying the party just as you are. Oh my, maybe you had a little too much wine,” said the lady, pointing with her open palm at the crowd.

Carter turned slowly, afraid a sudden movement would get the wine working.

A couple clouds dissipated, and she noticed that, sometime ago, the ropes had existed, they had dug into her skin opening more raw spots the more she had tried to get rid of them. But they were no more. 

No more on her own wrists at least. 

But it was fuzzy still, the faces, those faces looking right back at her, uttering more fear, though silent, as they settled their eyes on her own, and the concept was as blurry as everything else, fear seemed too far away to consider it real, even so well displayed in others' faces. 

“What a good offering they gave,” the man said, taking his own cup to his mouth, smiling to her once it was lowered, bringing both faces closer together “and what a cute thing they lost.” 

“Offering?” Carter murmured right over his mouth.

“Shh, we do not wish to upset her, do we?” the woman interrupted, quick at the words of the other “No, she’s had just about enough of that with all those hating people from the village, haven’t you, sweet thing?

She nodded mindlessly and the fae giggled behind her fist.

Soft hands, the softest she felt, careful in their touch of the claws idly disguised as nails, twisted her head away from the man into anothers, offering between long fingers a berry, a single, bright red berry, squished if only a little by the grab, and otherwise perfect to the eye, not like the ones from the bushed around her home, mushy and almost brown when the time for picking approached. 

A bright red, inhuman perfect berry. 

Crafted. 

A berry of the fae territory within the forest terrain. 

Carter twisted her head away, hiding in the man’s shoulder. 

“Perhaps,” the woman continued, taking the fruit away, “we’re still missing something.” 

The man hummed.

“Would you honour me with this next dance, sweetheart?” she asked next.

“I have never…” 

“Oh, you hear that? What a delightful thing to know myself as your first dance partner.”

_

Masterlist

Disappearing for a couple of months and suddenly coming back, no warning no explanation, is my favorite activity.

[subconwoods]

neth kid update

[sehaniine]

what if zelda’s dragonification left a different kind of scar?

[catwyk]

i need some silt body horror to draw and the only thing i can think of is the miracle of the sailors from season 1 (ty possum for putting this in my head weeks ago) but i think drawing a boat would kill me

[solei-eclipse]

a VERY old oc from when I was like 16. not gonna lie looking at it makes me cringe really hard

planning on maybe bringing him back as an ALNST OC (though I'm not sure about entering him in 40 since there's already so many)

here's his sister!

[brynnmclean]

WIP Wednesday

It's Wednesday!!!!!!! Tagging @butcharondir @dwarveslikeshinythings @rain-sleet-snow and @allatariel if y'all feel like participating :)

I made a post about this late last night (also one bemoaning the fact that my chapter count might grow again, seriously cannot emphasize enough that I have up until now been IMMUNE to that fic writer stereotype, I'm a chronic underwriter usually, I swear), but here's a section of the Hellblade fic:

“I want to know,” Ástríðr seethes, “I want to know you regret it—all of it, the sacrifices, the tributes, your father’s tyranny over everyone he deemed weaker than you.” Gods. Shame burns like bile in the back of Thórgestr's throat. “I do regret it,” he says, looking her dead in the eye, willing her to see the truth. “I never wanted any of it. I took no joy in it, I’m not—I’m not that kind of monster, not a draugr.” When nothing in her expression changes, not even a flicker of belief, something wrenches inside him, beyond anger. “I am not my father, Ástríðr, I will never be him.” He has to stop, has to swallow hard to keep from choking—I was wrong about him, I was wrong... Ástríðr releases him and he sucks in a sharp breath like a flinch. “All right,” she says, her voice the flat of a blade rather than the edge now. She sits back down on the edge of the bed, but Thórgestr feels no relief. There is no yielding in her. This is only her allowing him to catch his breath and adjust his splintered shield before her next swing. “You did fight him in the end, I’ll give you that.” “He nearly killed me,” he spits, gingerly pressing one of his hands over the bandages. “I was his last sacrifice to the giant. To himself.” Quiet falls in the room at that, and Thórgestr feels it like a weight on his shoulder—the place where Áleifr held him still for the sword. A shudder runs down his spine. He leans back into the chair, pressing that shoulder hard against the wood, trying to focus on that feeling and not the memory. He turns his face away from Ástríðr’s gaze, but his sight falls on Áleifr’s sword still there, leaning against the wall with his armor. Suddenly, viscerally, he wants it gone—broken, shattered, cast into the depths of the sea. “I want to rebuild Bárðarvik.” Thórgestr turns back to Ástríðr, but she isn’t looking at him anymore, she looks out to the hall and the world beyond it. “I want the tools to fix our bridges and our buildings. I want payment back for what your Björg took from my people. I want food for the winter, sailcloth for our ships—and I want to take the Vestmenn away from this place of cruelty. Your father is gone. So is mine. But I’ll have what I’m owed. Tell me, Thórgestr,” Ástríðr says, “what is your regret worth? What of your word?”

[littleshopofchaos]

Isn't it funny how when the world falls apart, everyone comes to you? First Mika...now Tyler. I'd say men are the worst culprits of not knowing what to do in a crisis, but us women? We come prepared.

Abaddon has made her appearance!!!

@lordkingsmith @bumblingwitch @thebejeweledwatercat @bardic-tales @sparrow-orion-writes

[sofancydancy]

Okay, so the poll reached about 70% on this one and I jumped on it because I'm ADHD...Seriously, thank you for those who voted!! Going for a Lucretia type of martyr! I am obsessed with the stomach currently because the original painting is so fleshy! Also: from far away this looks like a spicy novel cover

Gale approves

[hidey-writes]

wip wednesday

In the drifting silence of his empty apartment, Shen Wei presses the door shut, turns the lock. And then, like his body was waiting until he was alone, his legs give out. Shen Wei tips/topples against/into the wall, sinks down to sitting on the front mat/in the entryway. He sits there for a long time, curled into himself with his arms around his knees. The whole time, his body braced for the sound of Zhao Yunlan’s door opening, the sound of footsteps crossing the hall. Waiting, again, for Kunlun to return to him.  But no sound comes from outside his door. At last, Shen Wei tips his head back against the wall, lets out a soft, streaming sigh. The sound trembles in the still air. It’s the closest he’s come to crying in years, that he can remember.

from the up draft of the answer fic. im cutting it veryyyyyy close to the deadline this time ahahaha (nervous!) but the writing is going relatively smoothly (knocks on wood) and i think it'll turn out pretty delicious!!

[shopwitchvamp]

The Fall Collection Sneak Peek

Witch Vamp design test prints are here!!!

Evil Eye Joggers // Seventh Circle Joggers (designed by @themikeydeano) // Flight Maxi // Vampyre Maxi / Midi / Mini // Demon Summoning Skater // Sacrifice Midi / Mini

Placeholder preview listings are up in the shop now, so feel free to start wishlisting & signing up for in stock alerts! The Fall Collection will drop later this month. Keep an eye out for more info soon~

🖤witchvamp.com🖤

[sexiestwerewolf]

I sense a theme here