Not being able to write for whatever reason sucks and sometimes making yourself write feels like pulling hundreds of splinters out of your skin, but it is so satisfying when you get back into a groove with your writing and can feel the wheels n gears in your head coming unstuck
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it’s so weird to me that ppl are like “u can’t like William Afton cos he’s a murderer” bro ppl simp for murderers in fiction all the time? Jeff the Killer? Jason? Slenderman lol? he’s fun and he’s got a lot of potential, as long as ur not simping for irl murderers I really don’t see the issue with it. Let me think my murderer is goofy in peace
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text from thirteen by @anna-scribbles
art by me :)
read thirteen read thirteen it’s everything read thirteen read thirteen read thirteen read thirteen<3 happy thirteen day. have you read thirteen yet. read it again if you have. prepare for your life to be changed if you haven’t.
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He will be real soon....
Bonus WIP gif :
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Incorrect Young Royals #25
Wille: I just ended a five-year-relationship.
Felice: Oh my God, are you okay?
Wille: I am fine. It wasn't my relationship.
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So I have a theory about Willow's difficulties with magic.
In Escaping Expulsion, Eda states that witches cast spells by mixing phlegm in their bile sacks. I theorize there are only four types of phlegm: Light, fire, ice, and plant. These four elements are the basic building blocks of all spells.
The four glyphs also correspond to these four elements. If my phlegm theory is true, this would mean that witches mixing phlegm in their bile sacks is basically the same as Luz combining glyphs.
Here's where I'm going with this: there is only one coven/Hexside track that requires pure elemental magic.
Plants.
Willow was a late bloomer. For a long time, she couldn't do much magic at all. However, her plant magic is fricking amazing. And it probably was always excellent.
Here's what I'm getting at: what if the reason Willow had trouble with magic is because she has a major phlegm imbalance? Maybe her bile sack barely makes any light, fire, or ice phlegm, but it pumps out TONS of plant phlegm? It explains both why she is so powerful, and why she had so much trouble learning magic as a kid. If she doesn't have the other phlegm, how the hell is she supposed to control an abomination or cast an illusion spell??? But on the flip side, she has EXTRA plant phlegm. Much more than the average witch. This would perfectly explain why she is such a prodigy with plant magic.
Willow was never a half-a-witch. She was always a hyper-specialist.
And a powerful one.
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HAPPY BLOG ANNIVERSARY!
it's officially midnight here, which means i'm allowed to post this! so ... happy one year anniversary of enduring the plague of avalon upon your dashboards! alternatively, thank you so much for giving me a place to babble about my #1 favorite comfort character who has experienced zero comfort. ( i swear i am being SO NORMAL about this. yes i did literally buy cake and party hats. ) whether we speak on the daily, you've just gotten here or anywhere in between, i want to extend my sincerest gratitude for being on this absolutely wild ride of a blog with me. there's been ups and downs, but ultimately i feel like my passion for writing has been ignited stronger than it's ever been before. i am still always so excited whenever i get the chance to log on here and create stories with all of you — and i wouldn't have that opportunity if it wasn't for this little corner of the internet you've helped make truly special.
there are so many of you i feel lucky to have met. ( and so many i would love to get to know better, too! ) i hope we can continue writing together for many more anniversaries to come. and if the day ever comes that they finally pull the plug on this cockroach of a hellsite, i'll forever remember this community as the rpc that got me to laugh at petrichor.
have a wonderful day / night! i'm sharing the cake with everyone in spirit.
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DAY 5 - OUTSIDE
almost missed today too. i really need to stop leaving these for 11 pm
2023.10.05
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Daigo is integral to Mine’s sanity of course but decapitating Kanda was like a day two without Daigo decision.
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welcome - when was it lacking? when was it extended? which of those moments lingers most strongly in their mind?
The first night in your new home, you hide in the attic.
The manor's hallways yawn like a predator's mouth. You have walked them all your life at your mother's heels like a ghost-girl, but she's gone now and you have no skirts to hide behind. There are too many eyes and too few voices. Staff once your equal – girls the same age and same lowborn breeding as you – move around you like the shadows of hunting birds. No one smiles unless it's to pity you. You feel like a rabbit caught out of cover, trapped somewhere between the den and the dinner table.
The moment you are left alone, you flee.
You know your way around the manor's hollows, as intimate to you as the heart lines criss-crossing your palms. You wedge yourself into a crawlspace – nearly too small now for your growing bones – and emerge in a cramped storage room made warm by the bare stone of a chimney. You played here with dolls, once. In the cold and the dust and the dim lantern-light, you finally feel like you can breathe. You want to sleep here on the hardwood. You want to stay here until the house forgets you exist within it like some transplanted organ awaiting rejection.
A bell or two passes before the short hatch of a door scrapes open. In comes the sound of breathing, the knocking of knees and elbows awkwardly clambering into your hiding spot. You watch a set of cramped limbs unfold into an elezen boy hauling an oil lamp in one hand and a bag much too big for him in another.
"There you are," Verain says. Verain who grew up in this world half-shared with you, three years your elder and still a fulm shorter, ever-waiting for his growth spurt; Verain who could not possibly be less like his mother, save for his black hair and quick tongue. He drops next to you like a sack of laundry, leg bumping leg. "You weren't at dinner."
"I wasn't hungry," you say. You do not say that your stomach has been full of stones since it happened. You do not say that everything tastes like smoke.
"Thought as much." He pulls a lumpy tea towel out of the bag and unrolls it atop your thigh, revealing a traveler's meal: flaky bread and butter and apple jam, a slim wedge of soft cheese, a fistful of proud red grapes. "It's not much, but. You know."
He waves his hand. You know.
"Oh, and the cook sent this too." He retrieves a glass bottle wrapped in another tea towel; you can feel its warmth. Mulled wine. They water it down in the kitchen for children, you know, because you are not old enough for the proper strength, but it's comfortable and familiar like a bedtime story. He pours some into a mug and offers it like a pilgrim leaves coins at a waypoint.
"Thank you," you say, gingerly taking the mug. Heat passes through the tips of your fingers, into your palms, up your wrists. The first sip is tentative, spicy-sweet, unsure that your body will not reject it and you will retch his kindness all over the attic floor – but it makes it down your throat and doesn't come back up.
Progress is progress. Calm is calm.
"I'm sorry," Verain says quietly, small hands on the cold skin of your knuckles. No shortage of people have said this to you – but this, your churning insides say, is real. You believe him. The corners of your mouth manage a smile, and he smiles at you in turn.
You drink your wine and sit quietly with your soon-to-be brother until the lanterns dim and you drift off to sleep next to him, slumping, head on his shoulder.
There's not much else you could ask for, in the end.
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pre-publishing notes for extras part one (coming tomorrow i pray 🙏🏽 if not tmr than next saturday 🥺) for those interested
i am incredibly busy this wk so the final final edit of my fics isn’t gonna come till later, like next Wednesday or the weds after that or something.
but do not worry i am not changing anything major, unlike in previous edits. It’s just fixing little stuff (hyphenation, some grammar, places where AO3 fucked my italics, changing “chief naval officer” to chief of naval operations [i literally have no clue how that error happened as i got it right in some places and wrong in a bunch of other places like wtaf], removing brand names that show idk what the fuck im talking about, etc.). The most substantial edit is I’m adding one sentence to the slider one-shot where ice tries to convince slider that he and maverick are only tying the knot for financial purposes, and “so the govt doesn’t fuck one of us when the other dies for real.” that sentence was in my original draft and idk why it got removed.
i will not be editing the hangman one shot (besides fixing the proposal date), the airplane one shot, or the wingmen one shot because i do not really care for them and they have been overwritten by other sections of my fics. the bradley one shot is also pretty much going untouched
ONTO THE EXTRAS. Unlike some of my other fics which are M-rated & therefore kind of implicit, these extras are a littol bit edgy & explicit. Not beating around the bush anymore. I am warning for possible triggers, mostly related to disordered eating and, like, a BUNCH of casual suicidal ideation/discussion of suicide. Also it’s E-rated.
however that isn’t to say it’s not mostly fluff lol. there’s SOME sex but u know me.. it is sex as symbol not sex as sex... (You know what they say, $20 is $20 and writing practice is writing practice) I wanted to expand the scope of my original fics—more politics, more complications, more backstory, so that’s mostly what it is. Not everything revolves around goose anymore. It’s also about the rest of the world
parts of it will also obviously just be me dicking around, a disclaimer
not every scene that I’ve posted in a wip wednesday made the cut. I got rid of a bunch of them that were boring/repetitive. (so, my apologies to the anon who told me they liked the sickfic excerpt, for instance—the one where mav sprains his wrist is basically the same thing, we don’t really need to rehash the “taking care of each other” motif twice)
prolly download these somewhere else because it really is just 70k of a wall of text with no chapter breaks and we all know how ao3 is
thanks for reading! as always! ❤️❤️almost at the finish line here! part 2 (post TGM mission) hopefully next Saturday :)))
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Anyone else ever just-
*makes an au that started out as a really vague idea*
*au starts to form more clearly as you write out the vague idea*
*you think the au is full of sillys*
*au is actually characters experiencing The Horrors with a few sillys thrown in for flavor*
*you are left to stare at your document in horror as you realize the monster that your silly little vague idea has become*
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I uncovered an archival Maverick photo from messenger chat files this week ❤
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i want
sometimes, you just want something so hard you have to lie about it, so you can hold it in your mouth for a minute
most days i want to live
to experience
how real hunger has a real taste
most days the garden‘s almost enough.
your vulnerability
little pink flowers
on the sage, even though
the man said we couldnt‘t eat it. not this kind.
and i said,
then, gosh, what‘s the point?
not all days. but most days i do
but
i don‘t want
to be vulnerable
in a field i am the absence of field.
this is always the case.
wherever i am
i am what is missing
do you love me enough that i may be
vulnerability is courage in you and inadequacy in me
weak
with you? do you love me
i‘m drawn
stripped of everything
to your vulnerability but
that might be lost, for only
the things i will
have
repelled by mine
for ever?
Dancing Greatly, Brené Brown | 《山河令》 Word of Honor (2021) | Lies About Sea Creatures, Ada Limón | Most Days I Want To Live, Gabrielle Calvocoressi | Keeping Things Whole, Mark Strand | Essays In Love, Alain de Botton
companion piece to this
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