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Erin, Excerpt from a book I’ll never write.
Lies for convenience. Lies Lies Lies. Regardless of protection. It stinks of rejection. Hopeless. Abandonment. Feeling lost. Why lie over tiny things? Looking right into my eyes. This is not gonna end well. I want you to be my forever. Growing old together. I feel like it’s getting further out of reach. I’m just a leech.
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Wasteland upon wasteland

How much more then should

man take from his reservoirs

before he is forced to plant

And sow seeds that are then

Too late when it all finally sinks?

Water is worse hotter than it is

Cold and frigid and frozen

Imagine boiling and writhing

In the pains of his passions

Grow more than one reaps

Plant more than one takes

Let the earthly heart breathe

Let the airy spirit finally free,

remember once that there

were perfect winged beings

But then who once had fallen

The perfect ones, or the loving?

- our better angels, us, spreading our wings

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Non riesco a capire il perché se sono al mare ti penso sempre, anche dopo anni, anche se non è successo niente anche se non ti vedo più. Ti dedico il mio pensiero e il mio affetto perché gli amori impossibili sono quelli destinati a durare per sempre.

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Do you ever write something not because you believe you’re going to make some profound difference to anything but because you just want to immerse yourself in that world? I’m craving some neo-noir cyberpunk dystopia for exactly that reason.

I want to spend a few months with my brain wandering gargantuan buildings, neon-lit and grimy, picking through a criminal underworld, and I want to see it through the eyes of a protagonist who has no patience for anything that gets in her way.

Also, I want to write a book about people in their 30s and 40s. Mostly queer people, because obvs. Who aren’t all white and able-bodied. Where ‘female’ isn’t a defining characteristic and where 'strong’ isn’t the only descriptor of a woman. Because fuck that noise so hard.

I think part of the draw of near-ish future settings is that yeah, shit’s probably going to be way more fucked up than it is now in a bunch of ways, but also I can normalise certain things because it’s my world and I fucking say so. You know?

Dark corporate-overlord shit like 'world state’ concepts are interesting because there’s scope for absolute free movement, lessening the potential for systemic abuse based on ethnicity and country of origin.

I’m always going to be drawn to doomy bleakness but I just want a world where it’s like OK, be whatever colour you are, fuck who you want to fuck, be cool with your body and mind working however they work. Society is a mess, but those things aren’t going to make it worse for you.    

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What Use is Love

What use is love,

My love,

If it’s all tears,

And stress,

Behind closed doors,

On what’s too much,

But not enough,

What use is love,

If I can’t comfort you,

When you’re alone,

Crying on your bathroom floor,

And can’t answer your calls,

And can’t hold you,

Without the door locked,

The use of this love,

If the bravery that comes with,

The hope it brings,

That she could walk down the aisle,

To me,

And her mother would,

Shed tears of joy,

Because my darling,

If you are my queen,

I’ll be your princess,

Even when your kingdom falls,

And your advisors betray,

I’ll be here,

I’ll still hold your hand,

Because even if the world turns their backs on you,

On us,

My loyalty still lies in you,

And it will not waver,

Because what use is love,

My love,

If not for you.

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Apakah yang kau pikirkan selaras dengan pikiran orang lain? Atau, apakah yang kau maksud juga sama dengan yang di maksud -kan- orang lain?

Di dunia ini penuh dengan warna. Mulai dari yang gelap, aga gelap, hampir terang, dan terang, hingga terang benerang, terserah kau pilih yang mana.

Soal memilih. "Memilih” adalah hak pribadi. Dan pilihan warna yang sama atau berbeda adalah tanggung jawab diri sendiri.

Selamat Memilih Pilihanmu Sendiri.

— Lukman

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Arriella gazed out the window. “My father said that a prison of gold is still a cage to the one who knows it is trapped.”

Darla nodded, quietly cleaning. “And what did your mother say of that?”

Arriella smiled softly. “She said that queens should know how to pick the lock.”

Darla paused, then glanced up with a soft smile. "I wish I had met her…”


@cassius-mortemer @writing-and-nutmeg @scribbles-to-feed-the-void @idiotstoobsereve @oneleggedflamingo @ezraspens

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Oc intro

Jorron Varris

Family: Gabriel Varris (brother)

Likes: swordsmanship, horse riding, and talking to Gabriel.

Dislikes: sitting still, staying clean, and people trashtalking his big brother.

Being the youngest, he decided to let Gabriel take on the ownership of their keep and he decided to be a soldier.

It was a good fit for each and they both keep an eye on the other.

But will he start to believe lies about his brother? Or believe his brother’s lies?


@cassius-mortemer @nsanelyawkward @writing-and-nutmeg @quilloftheclouds @oneleggedflamingo @idiotstoobsereve @scribbles-to-feed-the-void

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Out of context quote : "If I start going around in the city looking like a walking marble cake, I'm pretty sure the militia will notice."

hello there!!! can’t wait to know more about your wip since i literally just followed you so this will be fun heh

OKAY so of course! the main character is avoiding the militia (probably mc is on the wrong side of the law, or is guilty about something, or trying to run a covert ops and gotta remain undetected). maybe they’re in disguise as well, and someone, either well-meaning or cheeky, goes like ‘how about you dress in this yellow-brown concoction’ and your mc’s like, what. no. shut up i’m trying to go under the radar here, what even?

which ALSO means that, of course, the people in your setting don’t regularly dress in yellow-brown colours, and being in those colours is something that would stand out and would capture the attention of everyone around – unfortunately, including the militia.

(also, i’m assuming that line is snark and i love it

nice to meet you once again!!! hope to see more of your stuff around soon!

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Flower magic used to be very powerful. Now, only the strangest, oldest souls could make it work. I only met one flower magician in my life, a woman who was part fae.

She told me that one of her ancestors had married a lady of the fair folk. He was a very famous gardener. People from all over the kingdom would come to see his flowers. And the richest of them paid a fortune to own only one of his black roses.

The fairy lady fell in love with him. She bore twins. Yet, as it is known, the fair folk are rarely fond of humans and such unions are not welcome. The lady, despite her love for the gardener, could not abandon her people. So, she kept the girl to raise it among her kin, while the gardener took the boy to raise it among the humans.

However, some of his fairy magic remained. The boy grew up to be a great gardener like his father. People said he could make the flowers blossom just with one touch. The trees would listen to him sing and grow taller.

Rumours said that once two men tried to break into his house, to steal his money. They didn’t go past the door. The ivy dragged them inside the ground. Two months later, villagers found their shoes and no-one ever heard of the two men again.

The woman I met, she was also as powerful. She had all sorts of peculiar herbs in her house. Some of them were not even of this world. Black garlic, golden oranges, those are not easily found in the realms of men. And some weird flowers, red-wine with purple stalks. She never admitted it, but I knew. Those flowers come from Hades and if used correctly can bring back the dead.

She was a very kind and sweet woman. I stayed with her for almost three years. She taught me all she could about flower magic and herbal medicine. I succeeded in the latest as for flower magic; I know next to nothing. Three years are barely enough to scratch the surface of the subject. I had other things to do.

Before I left, the woman made me vow to never reveal her name. Witch hunters were on the rise back then. For those of fae blood, names are serious business. I want to believe she is still alive today, safe somewhere far away from here.

The flowers on the sink drain are growing faster and faster, follow the instructions. I must go.

P.S. That noise coming from the kitchen, it’s not just water. Good Luck!

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