#writing with regalli

[regallibellbright]

Decided "Fuck it" and stayed up until 4 AM, but hey! Coffee Dates Are Overrated is finally, FINALLY done.

[lady-potato-ninja]

I recently made a poll to decide between two drawing ideas and Emperor/Empress Bingqiu won by a large margin! I have a very specific vision in my head about what Empress shizun should look like and although these come close I'm not sure they are quite it.... Somebody on here said it was difficult to come with a design for this and I wholeheartedly agree it's so tough 😩

[gummi-ships]

[kayfabe-is-king]

I believe Wheeler will only start winning again when he really finds himself. Right now he is deep in the denial stage of grief (look at that sad boi face above). He has wrongly convinced himself the Death Riders are still the Blackpool Combat Club he believed in. He is blindly following Claudio and Jon because that's what he's known for a while now. Only they don't see him as a protege anymore, just their little windup murder doll (his match against Hangman on Collision last night is proof of that). But they aren’t doing the proper maintenance (i.e. supporting him and you know, not forgetting about him as they leave the arena) so the doll is malfunctioning. Hence all his recent losses.

The old Blackpool Combat Club was his home and he started coming into his own with them. Look back at photos of Wheeler during the Bryan era BCC. He was genuinely happy. He was learning and growing and finding his footing. It was something good. Sure the training was brutal (it’s a combat club not a knitting circle) but that BCC showed him how to get back up. They saw something in him and wanted to help him become a better version of himself. And he did.

gif by @heeleryuta

So now he’s latching on to the remnants of what once gave him direction and purpose. Something that built him up and helped him stand on his own two feet. It’s hard to let that go even when it turns into something toxic. The Death Riders aren’t concerned with making him better. In fact, they need him broken so they can control him. He doesn’t have a purpose outside of being a chess piece in their mind games. But here’s the thing, some of their methods remind him just enough of BCC’s tough love that he can’t see the difference (classic abuser behavior). At least not yet.

I think he will eventually but it’s going to be a journey. He will have to truly grieve the loss of the Blackpool Combat Club and finally let it go. He will have to realize he can take the lessons they taught him and stand on his own. This isn’t a quick fix and I don’t think someone else should “save” him. Much like Hangman’s story arc to the men’s world championship, I think Wheeler will have to do this on his own. It’s going to get messy, he’s going to fail and he’s going to get his heart ripped out by Claudio especially. But (ironically enough) just like Papa Castagnoli said once before:

[pain-in-the-butler]

A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @karafina! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

looking through my old stuff that I never posted and was absolutely GUTTED by this bit I wrote about Maul

"You dared to follow the contours of his face even further where you found he had a literal crown of horns. How befitting. A creature so divine, hosting a physical crown to solidify their own majesty in whatever system they deemed so worthy."

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Today, it is time to briefly bemoan my lack of actual writing progress for Aylin/Isobel Week the past couple of days due to pesky real life obligations, and try to think happier thoughts, such as "Isobel is so blatantly and incredibly into the whole glorious paladin/evil smiting thing" and "Isobel casting increasingly suggestive Sendings totally counts for the letters/epistolary prompt, right?".

[valiantfm]

❛ I don’t think we’ve met yet, but you looked like you needed someone to talk to. My name is Princess Joy LeFrog. What’s your name? I would like to know if you’d be interested in going somewhere with me. Would you be available for going somewhere with me?  ❜ Princess Joy LeFrog asked the person that she had seen nearby herself. @forgottenfriendshipstarters​

[welcome-to-ratterrock]

Could we get some writing based off Padraic making a heart locket cell for Locke?

Ask and ye shall receive.

My Heart Holds You

Padraic had always held the opinion that Sage Locke’s eyes were never lovelier than when he was in the grip of an intense emotion. Obsession, excitement, ecstasy, anger…his handsome little mouse wore extremes well. 

And now, oh…the green was ardent with anger,  lovely with lividness, stunning with seething. Irate and incomparable. Locke bared his teeth at Padraic liked he would like nothing better than to bite him, and Padraic smiled dotingly in return, his own teeth sharp and smug. 

Snarling, Locke curled those clever hands of his into fists and beat at the walls of his lovely new abode with all his might. “LET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU BASTARD!” 

“Shan’t,” Padraic retorted fondly. “You brought this on yourself, darling, you know I demand the best from my employees and you simply cannot give me that if you don’t rest—“

“So you imprison me?!” Locke kicked at a golden, gleaming wall. “In this ridiculous contraption?!”

Padraic pouted, his handsome face full of exaggerated hurt. “Ridiculous? I rather think romantic is a far better adjective.”

Really, it was some of his finest work. The heart shaped locket had been a fabulous find, all glittering gold and etched oh so sweetly with lilies, just the type of prize he liked to have in his hoard. 

But to have it repurposed and reconstructed into a cell, with one half of the heart serving as a roof while the other was a floor, whilst bars lined the edges? Genius. 

Although holding heart was a much better title, cell was so common and coarse. He had created it to carefor his chemist. 

Said chemist was still glaring at him with those gorgeous green eyes, and Padriac couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s also deliciously clever given your surname, you know. Locke in a locket. It’s almost adorable, truly���“

“When I get out of here,” Locke growled, low and ominous as he leaned out between the bars, his fingers straining and his eyes burning, “I will be cooking up the most horrible chemical weapons for the sole purpose of destroying you.”

“I look forward to it,” Padraic said sincerely. There truly was nothing like facing off against Locke, he had such a mind. He then wagged a finger playfully at him, fighting the urge to grin at the popped eyed look of offense the action prompted from Locke. “But in order to get out, you must sleep! Eight hours, all in a row. No trying to be tricky with naps, darling. Now, I must be off, duty calls…”

He spun on his heel and Locke gave a roar of fury. “I’LL DYE YOUR FUR GREEN!”

“Wouldn’t suit my eyes at all,” Padriac threw over one broad shoulder, grinning wickedly. He ducked just in time as one of Locke’s shoes came hurtling at his nose, and he tutted. This is why he had instructed his lackeys to take his shoes away, goodness…

Locke’s scream of frustration rang in his ears, and Padriac snapped his tail in farewell, feeling quite pleased with himself. 

[waining-crescent-moon]

I just came up with an AU where Fitz was in a Nettle like situation where his mom raised him and he didn’t know who his dad was. This is ground breaking, I know. Anyway, really think about how cool it could have been like I have so many ideas.

Fitz could Wit-Bond to a wolf in the mountains when he’s kinda young. The Fool could live in a tent or a small cabin in the woods then visit Fitz every once in a while, they could actually have a childhood together. After a trip in the woods Fitz, Keppet, could return to his mother dead, courtesy of Queen Desire trying to find him but his mother lying to the people she sent. Keppet taking a lock of her hair and braiding it into his own then he has to run because the guards are returning.

The overall story could be him first running to Jhaampe and trying to explain to his Sacrifices how his family was attacked by Six Duchies soldiers. Kettricken and/or Rurisk then trying to discuss it with the Six Duchies but that only gets Regal sent their way. After Regal inevitably tries to kill him Keppet decides to travel all the way to Buckkeep himself. Along the way he may discover travel companion such as Beloved, his wolf, and Burrich.

[regallibellbright]

WIP Whenever returns!

"... Mr. Minami did that?" Fret asks.

Neku nods. "And Mr. H showed him how. I don't know why for sure, but... if Minamimoto became Composer, Josh couldn't destroy it. I guess maybe he felt it was worth the risk?" He sighs. "I dunno. I haven't had time to ask."

"When did you find out?" Rindo asks.

"About Minamimoto? When he came back after blowing himself up all Taboo'ed up. About Mr. H?..." Neku checks his phone. "Four hours ago. He's been talking with Minamimoto ever since."

"Wait. Please don't tell me that guy is our new Composer," Shoka says. Neku nods. "I am so moving."

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[clonemando]

A Kiss a Day in May

Day 20- Keldabe Kiss

Bail/Fox/Breha (ft. Trans!Fox)

Each day this month I have a 100 word drabble featuring a different clone with a kiss prompt. Not all are romantic and they include all sorts of pairings and relationships. Feel free to offer pairing/ character suggestions for future days.

Breha held tightly to Bail's hand as they waited in the medical ward in the palace for news. Thankfully it didn't take long for someone to come out and usher them into the room where Fox was. The sight that waited for them made herself squeak and Bail gasp.

Fox looked exhausted but had his forehead pressed gently to the newborn's that he was holding in his arms. Tears started to spill down Breha's cheeks as Fox looked up at her.

"Meet our daughter, Kit." He said and Bail started giggling until she smacked his arm.

"It's a cute name."

[purelysnow]

@the-regal-reginamills :

Oh, isn't this nice. There's more of you.

without missing a beat, snow's upbeat voice chimed, "i've always heard the more the merrier. isn't that wonderful?"

[shayberri789]

Here's a short (600 word) story I rewrote today; a revised version of one I wrote last year. We've done a lot of study on doubles, the uncanny, madness, ghosts, etc in my Gothic Lit course and it inspired me, and I thought to rewrite this piece. I'm really proud of it.

Something Wrong With you

There is something wrong with you.

I can see it in your eyes: a glint of predatory focus. In the sharp corners of your smile: a flash of white in your almost-sneer. I see it in the emptiness of your expression, despite it all.

There is something wrong with you.

You sit opposite me in the sterile gray cotton chair, legs crossed at the ankle, a teacup balanced on your knee. You take a sip, and there’s a taunt in your movements. You don’t look away–perhaps, a challenge, then. I sip my own tea in response. 

There is something wrong here. 

The floor-to-ceiling mirror behind you stretches from corner to corner of the wall, a vengeful accomplice to the floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the only light. There’s too much fog to see anything outside, but that’s okay. We’re too high up to see anyone else anyway. The mirror reflects on a pair of chairs. No, that’s not right. There’s two people in those chairs. No, they’re empty, and it's just a memory. I tear my eyes away from the lying mirror, blinking out the flickering vision. I look back at you. That’s right, it’s just us. There is no one else to see—

—There is something wrong with you.

Your face is familiar to me; the curl of your eyelashes, the light dusting of freckles, that mole on your right cheekbone–it’s all the same. Your features are the same, and yet, they are all at once too straight, too small, too sharp, too big, too smooth, too graceful. That smile of yours—the way you hold your cup–all of it is too polished, too careful, too delicate. 

I want to throw my cup at you. Let the hot liquid distort your expression into something—anything—else. Mar that perfect, serene–taunting–face of yours. Fill the emptiness with pain, or anger, or fear. Something to make you human again.

There is something wrong with you.

No one else seems to notice. But I do. 

There is something wrong with you.

There is something wrong with you.

There is something wrong with you.

There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me. 

The shadows creep along the floor as the light flees, but still you do not move. You do not move except to hold my gaze and lift your cup and take a sip. You settle it back in the saucer with a delicate, deafening, clink.

Somewhere, I hear the ticking of a clock. Some part of me registers the impossibility, because there’s no clock in the room. Maybe that’s the clinking of our teacups. 

There is something wrong here. With you. With me—you. 

The empty room yawns, and there’s the ticking again, like a heartbeat. Is this room alive? Am I? Are we? Do I care? 

There is something wrong with me. 

Time does not touch me; it slips through my fingers like an errant breeze—unseen, unnoticed, unaffecting but for a gentle, cool sensation. Like the fog outside. No—no, that’s not it. You are the fog: empty and unsubstantial, hiding things from me. 

There is something wrong with you.

Your gaze is coy and knowing. You think you’ve won. We haven’t said a word; no words are needed. But you think you’ve won. You don’t know. Oh, if only you knew. 

There is something wrong with you.

There is something wrong with me.

There is something wrong with us. 

I was meant to be the only one. 

I was not meant to be at all.

Why are you here?

We should not be.

We should not be.

We do not belong.

“Go away,” I say.

You vanish. 

[writerwrightlegend]

Twelve Days to Christmas(Day 7):Hot Chocolate by a Campfire.

Summary:Techno enjoys some hot chocolate by a fire after his sudden transformation by Dr. Regal.

Techno stared at his new transformation in the mirror. It had been a little while since he was forcefully transformed by Dr. Regal. He red and white steaks in his hair. His skin was paler and his eyes were red. He wore a dark purple jacket, black pants, and purple boots and black soles. Around his wrists were a pair of silver bracers with blue energy glowing through it. Attached to the bracers are chains that are hanging from the attachment of the bracers. He was surrounded by a dark aura and had a blue flame following him.

"*sighs* I look like a freak."

Techno groaned at his new appearance. He didn't know why Dr. Regal was so set of making him a part of his group.

"I hope Metto is okay and that Rock got my message... Gnh!"

Techno leaned against the wall as his legs gave out on him. His body was still exhausted from the transformation.

"Oww... God, that hurts... Come on, get up..."

Techno pushed himself up as the pain went through his body.

"Gnh..."

"Umbra!"

"*sighs* Coming!"

Techno groaned as he heard Dr. Regal call him. He hated the name that Regal gave him. He chose to ignore it as he approached the room.

"You need something?"

He said, trying to ignore the pain coursing through his body.

"Yes, I need your P.E.T..."

"And what if I don't give it to you?"

"Then, we're going to have a bit of a problem, now give me that P.E.T."

Techno reached into his pocket and searched through each one.

"Odd... It's not here."

"Not there? Check the jacket that you came here with!"

Techno grabbed the jacket from Regal and checked it. He still couldn't find his P.E.T.

"I could've sworn I put it in here..."

"Hmm... Well, it seems you dropped it at your previous location before coming here. No matter, I'll simply send some of men to collect it."

"Is that all you needed?"

"For now, yes... You're dismissed."

Techno nodded and walked back to his room. He sat down in the chair, trembling in pain and exhausted.

"Ugh... Everything hurts..."

He buried his face in his hands as he felt his body twitching. Suddenly, he felt something gently rub up against his hand. He slowly looked up to see the little blue flame holding up a canteen of hot chocolate.

"Is... Is that for me?"

Techno reluctantly grabbed the canteen and slowly began drinking the hot chocolate as he felt a blanket being wrapped around his body. He glanced down to see another blue flame moving the blanket over him.

"What- There's another one?"

He glanced over to the right where the fireplace was. He didn't remember it being lit. A large blue flame engulfed the wood, bringing a warm light into the room.

"Hmm... You know, this might not be so bad... I wouldn't mind keeping you guys around."

He said as the flamed orbs danced around him. He took another sip of his drink.

"Yeah, maybe I can make this work... Once the pain wears off, then I can see what exactly I can do in this form and maybe... I can break myself out of this prison... That is, unless Rock comes to get me..."

Techno sighed again before drinking his hot chocolate once more.

"All of that can wait... I need to give my body time to adjust..."

As he finished drinking the hot chocolate and set the canteen down on the fireplace's edge before falling asleep in the chair. The last thing he sees is the flames continuing to dance around him. He could've sworn that he heard them chanting something in his ears.

"You're the Messiah!"

He heard the phrase over and over again in the back of his mind as he slept.

"Yes... I'm the Messiah... This world will... bow before me..."

He muttered in his sleep, unaware that the dark power had already gotten a grip on his mind and was manipulating him. In the back of his mind, he could only hope that Rock would save him before he got corrupted by the dark power completely.