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#I Wrote Willow hopefully well.
tremendum · 1 day
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hi!! tiss i, bringer of the art thingy for '''me and the devil'' (fucking amazing song btw, could be applied to both of the men she has been promised to)
anyhow
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she :] so thing is i truly do think that how you've described her clothing, the meaning it holds (the meaning she wasn't tought) is truly sick!! it's sutch a visual to me. though i would of hopped she'd worn it longer, continued to be a green ghost through hallways, houting paul in meetings and dreams. i do get when and why she took it off so easily, how it didn't mean as mutch as it could of if not for her mother, the breeding program.
also please do forgive how fucking compressed it is, mspaint isn't a big fan of deetails.
um. i think i could of done better with her clothing, how it flows and folds around her body, like the branches of a willow tree, growing oppon her like moss. but :/, hm, got too into it without meaning to and now we're here. i though of the light backdrop as when she's first on caladan, seeing pauls green eyes and grinding her teeth, trying not to steam. doubt it reads so, tho. (should of given her longer nails caked with blood, but mmmm, hands are fucking frustrating)
and! i had fun with this :], so i was thinking about a past and a more current present form of her? (the pale horror marking her face as she watches how her parents bodies flinch for the last time, black flames and all that. no veil and sword at her hip, warm greens enveloping her as she watches forward ((side eyes paul?))) dunno dude
hope you're well, sorry for the far too many words
HI!! first off im floored and beyond touched that someone was inspired to make something so beautiful based off of what i wrote???? omg? but i have to say this is absolutely stunning! EXACTLY how I imagine reader's clothing/style/everything. you've done incredible work. so talented.
i completely agree!! the clothing and its meaning is an important theme (hopefully that conveys throughout the next couple chapters as well) for the story and I hope you like where it's headed... no spoilers ofc but the symbolic clothing has not disappeared! You have captured the flowing style of the dress and veil so well and I can't even tell you how perfectly you captured my vision for the veil and headpiece and my god the DETAIL you put into it... i am so so touched. its truly beautiful, I keep coming back to look at it as i write the next few chapters!
I love the touch you put with the backdrop - the first few moments when they see each other for the first time and she's just a green ghost, mysterious and simmering under her veil when she sees his eyes. truly fucking incredible art.
also, the blade - it is so perfect. It's literally exactly what I imagined - in the style of Harkonnen blades, similar to Feyd-Rautha's to honor her nameday and their future marriage. and the way you placed it above her head; protecting her, or haunting her. maybe both.
I wanted to explore the concept of preserving culture with this story but focus on how customs and traditions can get lost in the sands of time and within the fall from power. & how the unusual dynamic (Paul knowing about her culture, and her not) shapes their relationship. I think you've done an incredible job bringing her to life - your attention to detail is incredible.
I am so completely obsessed with this, it's gorgeous. If you do feel inspired or would like to create more (the past and present ideas are amazing!! yes!!!), I would love nothing more than to see them and talk about it!! If you don't mind, can I link this post on my next chapter so readers can see it???
I love this so much, and if you choose to make more, i cant wait to see it all :) i could talk about this art forever. thank you!!! you're so talented!!!
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copperbadge · 1 year
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Hi Sam, I finally bought and read Six H. and it has brought me so much joy! It was one of those stories that I tried to pace myself reading because I knew I would miss it when I was done (and I do!). Now, if it isn't too cheeky to ask the author of all people, I wanted to ask if you could think of any 'read alikes'? I was reminded in the best way of Ocean at the End of the Lane, which is one of my favorites! Eery but not scary, magic that does not need to be explained...? But mostly: THANK YOU!!
I'm so glad you enjoyed Six Harvests! As much as I've been enjoying the hell out of writing the Shivadh novels, Six Harvests is probably the book I'm most proud of -- I think it really was a kind of "master piece" in the traditional sense of demonstrating mastery of a craft. At least, in relation to my own work; I don't think I'm like, Master Of All Writing, but I feel that I've developed a mastery relative to where I began that I'm very proud of.
As for read-alikes...hm, that's a difficult one actually. I don't know if it qualifies as "not scary" but the aesthetic of Six Harvests was absolutely informed by Carnivale, the television show -- not for the faint of heart but extremely enjoyable if you like your historical drama with a heavy side of the supernatural (it is quite violent and some aspects haven’t aged wonderfully, but it’s still a great watch). Also if you haven't read my book Nameless, it's very much in the same vein as Six Harvests. And kind of fun to compare the two I think, because Nameless was the first novel I wrote and aside from the romances, Six Harvests is my latest.
I think if you enjoyed the "magic that doesn't need explanation" and eerie without scary, I would look around in general at magical realism. It often gets confused with urban fantasy, but magical realism’s essence is that there are magical or surrealistic aspects to the story that aren’t systemically explained, and generally advance the reader’s understanding of the story without always directly impacting the plot. I love magical realism as a genre and there's so much good writing in it, plus it was originated by latine writers so the majority of it is by nonwhite, often non-American authors so it's very horizon-broadening for a lot of readers.
I raided my old book reading log for some magical realism, so I did come up with some authors and titles! Julio Cortázar's short stories are fantastic and I really enjoyed Blow Up and Other Stories. A very famous one is Like Water For Chocolate by Laura Esquivel, and Chocolat by Joanne Harris is a fun book and a GREAT movie. I don't recall much about them but I recall very much enjoying The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón and Isabel Allende's The House Of The Spirits. G Willow Wilson's Alif The Unseen is very very intense, but also extremely compelling and "readable", like it's a big book but it reads fast. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is most well known for 100 Years of Solitude but I haven't read that one; I did very much like his Strange Pilgrims.
Hopefully amongst those will be many things you enjoy! Readers, feel free to chime in with your own recommendations either for magical realism or for comps to Six Harvests in comments or reblogs. Good luck and happy reading! :)
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myfavouritelunatic · 6 months
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Writer Asks
Thank you so much for tagging me @yletylyf @demonscantgothere @theriverwild @thrillofhope and @coraleethroughthelookingglass! Feeling the love! (and finally finding the time to do this haha :P)
How many works do you have on AO3? 17!
What's your total AO3 words count? 225,854 (the most I've ever written in a year in my LIFE)
What fandoms do you write for? The Rings of Power. But starting to dabble in general Tolkienverse/Legendarium.
What are your top five fics by kudos? - Your Blood, Your Power - Made the Pieces Part of Me - I Felt It Too - The Blacksmith - Barred
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always (unless in a rare couple cases when I've had some odd or negative ones.) I think engaging with the readers is super important, and I love when I comment on other author's fics and they respond to me, so I happily do the same!
What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmmm that's a tough question. Probably my first piece 'I Felt It Too', even though I write a kiss into the infamous log scene, it still doesn't end happily for Haladriel. Feels!
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'd say maybe 'Shake Like the Bough of a Willow Tree' because it's a version of Haladriel's first time together and it ends with them just being happy and in love.
Do you get hate on fics? So far I've been lucky to only receive two hateful comments (they weren't really hateful just misunderstood and harsh) on one of my fics. Basically they disagreed with something I made the 'reader' do in The Blacksmith and felt inclined to let me know. Was an interesting experience.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh yes I write smut haha. I mostly write het smut but have written a little f/f and m/m stuff as well. The Blacksmith even has a m/f/f threesome in it! I don't mind writing darker stuff either, so you'll typically find blood, biting, and choking kinks in my smut too.
Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written? I don't yet write crossovers but I may dabble down the line. Never say never! My latest fic 'And Horror And Madness Walked' is sorta a crossover/mashup between TROP and The Silm, so that's as close as I've gotten.
Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge, nope.
Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope but totally open to it if someone ever wants to!
Have you ever co-written a fic before? No I haven't, but if I ever did, I know exactly who I'd do it with - my partner in crime @pursuitseternal ❤️
What's your all time favourite ship? Definitely Haladriel/Saurondriel. No ship has EVER compelled me to write so much.
What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have a Galadriel x Female Reader fic called 'Ensnared' I started a few months back that got put to the side when 'Your Blood, Your Power' took off. I would love to go back to it, mostly because I had a lot of fun writing the Gal x Fem Reader pairing in 'The Blacksmith', but I don't know when I will if ever. Hopefully one day.
What are your writing strengths? Twists! haha. I love a good twist and have been told I'm quite good at writing them. I also write poetry so any chance I get to write more poetic sounding prose I absolutely love.
What are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I think my vocab needs expanding. Thesaurus.com is my best friend haha. I have a habit of reusing words I think. Also planning my fics. I need to get better at planning my fics. Somehow lol.
Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? The only instance I believe of me ever doing so was using some elvish in 'The Blacksmith'. That was fun. I love the creativity of using different languages in your story, it really helps with the immersion.
First fandom you wrote for? It was never published of course, but when I was in early high school I wrote (and never finished) two Harry Potter reader insert fics. What I would give to read them back now hahaha. Bless 14 year old me.
Favourite fic you've ever written? Oh boy this is tough... it has to be The Blacksmith. Only because I'm so proud of what I achieved with that story. The longest thing I've ever written (102k) and complete with twists and turns that I cannot even believe I conceived and wrote. Plus the response I got from those that read it was so damn nice and I still think about some of the reactions I got on it. And I literally have made friends for life because I wrote and posted that story. It changed EVERYTHING for me. I'm so proud of it and so thankful it exists. Tagging (apologies if you've already done it): @pursuitseternal @heronamedhawks @gil-galadhwen @scriberated @youwearfinethingswellwriter @somebirdortheother @ichabodjane @klynnvakarian @90shaladriel @hazelmaines @myrsinemezzo @nenyabusiness @tmwillson3 @jhalya @hikarielizabethbloom
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asterhaze · 8 months
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If you get this, answer w three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs! Anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog :)
Thank you for the ask! I have enjoyed talking about myself a little bit lately.
Serious: I also art! Though I haven't posted any of my newer stuff online because my tablet broke and some of my traditional work is stuff I want to eventually draw digitally and hopefully sell. I'm terrified of AI taking away my dream of being a super cool artist writer dream before I even have a chance. So yeah.
Silly Fact: I have a horrible phobia of mascots. It inspired a comic idea that I will probably end up writing about evil mascots that try to take over the world and cause the apocalypse. It's a pretty serious phobia that councilors and therapists have tried to help me with but nothing has worked because I've refused exposure therapy. There are some masks that trigger this phobia, but honestly it's mostly helmets!
Random: I only started writing seriously last October, and the amount of progress I have made this year shocks even myself. This is hard for me, but here is an example of my writing from last October versus something I wrote a few weeks ago.
October:
Glen stood beneath the willow tree in a small graveyard. He stated down at two small graves whose names had been worn away by time. But he knew them well and kept them close to his heart.
"Maria. My love. I miss you dearly, even still to this day." Glen began, going down on one knee to brush his hands across the grass. "I wish I was there with you. Wherever you are and whatever is beyind this life. I wish we could sit beneath our willow tree and I could tell you how much I love you again."
Last week - a longer piece that may or may not make it into a final draft-
“Now your suit really will be ruined. Your socks too.” But I have the money now to buy new clothes. Who cares, Maria, about suits and pants and socks and shoes? Who cares about arranged weddings? Who cares about any of that when you’re dead, dead, dead and I’m here, here, here? I’m still here, here, here… He reached out, brushing his fingertips along the front of the tombstone, weathered smooth by time. Faintly he could see the first letter of her first and last name but the rest was worn away. He traced the letters, very gently, before pulling his hand away and putting it back in his lap. Willow had cried and cried so many times sitting here before Maria’s grave. Mourning her, missing her, wishing desperately that she would come back to him and forgive him for everything and being left with only memories. The tears had dried decades ago, but the longing in his chest and the aching in his soul still remained. Now he just stared, his eyes glossed over, his lips moving without a voice as he spoke in his imaginary world where Maria was fussing at him for this, that, or the other. He knew he was crazy, or ill, or pretending, or at least that whatever he was doing was wrong but it made him feel better. Talking there, remembering things, it made him feel complete despite reminding him otherwise and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that people left him alone at the graveyard, let him spend however long he wanted there, or maybe it was because he was close to her again. Eventually, when a headache was starting to form across his temple, he imagined Maria turning to him and smiling. Still wearing that horrible dress that flattered only her body, sickly yellow. Maria fluffed her skirt, slapping it when she was done, before turning to walk away. Won’t you take me with you this time? Can’t we go together? I’m tired of living without you, Maria. Maria looked over her shoulder, a sad look over her sunshine eyes, as she sighed and turned away. “You’re too good.” And with that, he imagined her walking away and fading from his vision in a great glowing light that blinded him until he closed his eyes so tightly shut he prayed he would never be able to open them again. Anything else he would see would just tarnish it. Tarnish his memory of her, but eventually he did open his eyes, and there was all that was left of her before him. Faded, worn, and nearly falling apart. Here Lies M….M…. Loved Forever.
Tagging: @mthollowell-writes @rainisawriter @doublegoblin @gummybugg @veetvoojagigthemagnificent
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girl4music · 1 year
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Yep. If they’re really doing that Harry Potter HBO series, they really do need to fix this Ron. The amount of times I’ve had to defend Ron as a very loveable and well written character to fans that have ONLY seen the movies…. Countless times. It was actually exhausting.
His characterisation, representation and development IN THE BOOKS is phenomenal and speaks a lot to why he is one of my favourite fictional characters ever.
In the movies. He was basically Joxer or Xander.
And I mean… I like those characters too but it was clear they were undermining them deliberately to give the HOUSE POINTS to Xena/Gabrielle and Buffy/Willow. And they do the exact same with Ron in that pretty much ALL of what makes him a LOVEABLE and RELATABLE character in the books is given to either Harry or Hermione in the movies to make them look better than they actually were. I mean they’re great characters on their own in the books - don’t get me wrong. But Ron was always my favourite character in the books and my least favourite in the movies. They really did dumb him down to make the other two in the trio smart or heroic or useful and him just idiotic with a mean streak every now and again just for kicks.
So yeah, I think as far as this goes, a fix is overdue. Even if this is the only thing they change. That’s fine. Because Ron was shafted like crazy in the movies compared to the characterisation he got in the books.
In fact he was so well written in the books that he is probably my favourite male fictional character of all-time. Out of any art/entertainment format ever.
Rowling just wrote this wonderfully dynamic male character that you would rarely ever see on TV. And I guess the movie Ron only proves that statement true. Honestly, people need to read books more over just watching TV shows/films or playing video games because books can afford real depth of characterisation because there’s not as many limitations and restrictions as there is in visual media. It’s a format that’s so assessable and versatile that character-focus as well as plot-focus is delivered. You don’t get that with TV shows and film. Especially now.
But yeah, Rowling’s Ron is an incredible character. And I have high standards when it comes to characterisation so that just tells you everything. So I hope HBO delivers us the Ron that should have been which will hopefully by extension fix Ronmione too.
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cosmetichorror · 5 months
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Guys I wrote a fanfic surrounding Purah pre and post calamity
This takes place before calamity strikes, and her thoughts directly after.
TW in tags! Read with caution
————————
May 1, xxxx
6:00 am
With the princesses birthday so close, Robbie and I have stepped up our experiments. His majesty doesn't want Zelda experimenting with us anymore, but Robs and I are trying to find a way around it.
Zelda’s powers still won’t awaken, I wonder if there's something we could do to help?
6:25 am
Robbie won’t shut up about his little crush. I am being forced to work on a mechanical robot that Robbie plans to use to confess his love to his “Dearly beloved Cherry”. A waste of time if you ask me, but he's always been over the top.
Test #1
We powered the bot up, and it immediately started sparking. Swiftly turning it off, we found an exposed wire.
Test #2
Less sparks, but not quite there yet. When fixing the exposed wire, I believe we may have knocked something loose, as the bot twitched and powered down after approximately three-point-four-five seconds.
Test #3
This one was more successful, but it still needs work. The bot stayed on for about ten seconds, and made out the word “Cherry” in Robbie’s voice before smoke started to pour out.
I never quite understood Robbie’s obsession with Cherry, he’s always so insistent on being professional when Cherry is around– When I am quite sure Cherry knows little to nothing of science. Nonetheless, Cherry is a nice guy. I’m positive that he and Robbie will have a nice life together. (That is, if Robbie can get over this over the top announcement of his love…)
8:46 am
Finally we get to work on the guardians a bit more! These machines could save the world, I just know it. The king has graciously agreed to bring in caged monsters of different varieties to see how the guardians react to them– along with a very brave, armored soldier with a bokoblin mask to see just how well programmed they are.
5:30 pm
Guardian attacked and killed all the monsters
It did not attack the soldier with the boko mask, even when provoked
I noticed something strange while testing the machines. The guardian we were working on kept looking at the castle, occasionally letting out a shrill whistle and shuffling from side to side like some kind of spooked animal. This behavior has not been seen before– If you can even call it that. But this does bring up the question of if these machines have minds of their own. More experimentation is necessary.
May 3, xxxx
6:00 am
Reports of strange behavior from the guardians continues. They all keep looking at the castle, as if they see something, or are waiting to see something. Robbie theorizes that perhaps there is some machine hidden in the castle, similar to the divine beasts, guardians or shrines. If that is the case, maybe the guardians are drawn to the castle for that reason? We’re heading to the castle to speak to His Majesty about this.
8:56 pm
We arrived at the castle approximately one hour ago. The King has graciously offered Robbie and I a place to rest, and we will discuss the guardians with him (and hopefully the princess) In the morning. Along with this, we may have some time to work with the other scientists here!
May 4, xxxx
1:23 pm
The discussion of the guardians went well. The princess was prohibited from even listening in on the conversation. Robbie and I agreed to perhaps find a way to update her with everything on her birthday. She turns seventeen in eight days, perhaps then the King will be more lenient with her highness.
6:04 pm
Robbie and I worked with the other scientists at the castle, and we got to catch up with some friends and discuss if they’ve noticed the guardians strange behavior.
Willow seemed worried about the guardians strange behavior. Then again, she was always the nervous type, but she has a fair point. If it really is just some machinery in the castle, why are they reacting just now? It’s a dilemma, truly. I asked some others their opinions on it. Keid said it was likely just a malfunction– and while that could be true, these machines are older than all of us combined, It doesn't make sense why all of them would be reacting in the same way. Sylled said he was sure it was nothing to worry about, and that Robbie, Willow and I are being too dramatic. I disagree.
May 9, xxxx
6:33 am
Robbie, Impa and I were supposed to go with Zelda and the champions for her seventeenth birthday, but mother has fallen ill. Impa and I fear this may be her last days, so we will be in Kakiriko with her to keep her company. I told Robbie he can go with Zelda, but he insisted on coming to support Impa and I during this time. I truly am grateful for him.
May 11, xxxx
6:00 am
Zelda and the champions should be near Mount Lanayru. We got word the princess will swing by to tell us how everything went with her prayer– We can only hope her powers awaken.
Robbie, being the genius he is, found a way for us to do some experiments to take our mind off of things.
He brought some weapons and little parts for us to work on. If we can perfect these sheikah tech weapons, the king could give us a big pay raise! Impa was willing to test them out.
5:30 pm
Test #1
We were working with this ancient shortsword, albeit with some modern enhancements. The blade was so sharp, it sliced almost all the way through a tree. It would have been even better if Impa had chosen a different tree– Mrs Krell was NOT happy with us nearly slicing her plum tree straight down.
Test #2
Ancient shield. It seems rather simple, but is great at deflecting and is very portable!
Test #3
Ancient bow. And by far, the best bow I've ever seen! Impa never learned how to use the bow, but thankfully Robbie knows how! He said he’s really not that good– but upon shooting the arrow flew straight! After comparing it with a normal bow, the difference was striking! Something about the ancient bow made the arrow fly straighter and further… I look forward to testing this with Robbie further in the future
Test #4
Robbie brought along a prototype chest piece made out of guardian shells! This ancient armor is thick and sturdy, and rather durable. It glows similarly to that of a guardian, and it lets out a constant hum of magic. We strapped it around a tree and striked, and it took every hit with ease! The royal guard could perhaps benefit from these.
May 12, xxxx
6:00 am
Things are rough, mother is still sick. Robbie has suggested we go harvest some berries and hunt to pass the time and get my mind off of things while Impa watches over mother.
By now Zelda and the champions must be waking up, and getting ready to finish the last leg of the journey. The sun is beautiful today, I have hope.
2:45 pm
Many of the other village goers send condolences, as they know mother is soon to leave this world. I can only hope she will live to see Zelda awaken her powers as I know she will.
May 22, xxxx
I am tired.
Mother is dead. Willow is dead. Cherry is dead. Keid, Sylled, Rubie, Faro, Ehdo… so many are dead or missing. The calamity struck at exactly 7:00 pm May 12, the evening of Zelda’s seventeenth birthday. It sprouted from the castle, like some… I don’t even know. A snake? A hog? In truth I’ve been staring at this paper for ages trying to think of what to write, but the words are all jumbled together.
I can’t sleep. I keep waking from nightmares. And I swear I can still see the blood on my hands.
June 18, xxxx
2:23 am
My head is full of cotton, I can’t sleep. I keep having the same nightmare, over and over. Thinking about it now, it’s more of a memory than anything. I am constantly anxious. I have no one to go to now that we all had to go separate ways. Loud sounds make me jump, thunder scares me terribly, and even the color red leaves me nervous. I have to have a candle burning at both ends of the night. I’m almost embarrassed to admit— but I am afraid of the dark now. I swear I can see red glowing lights out of the corner of my eye alongside mechanical figures.
Realistically, I recognize I am fine. I should be fine. Despite my knowledge that I am okay, I don’t feel okay. I don’t know if I ever will be okay again.
Impa, Robbie and I were right outside Kakiriko when it happened. Strangely, the memory seems far too fuzzy, and yet too clear. The ground shook, and a red haze spread overtop the kingdom. Immediately, we knew what had to be done. Robbie went to the citadel, Impa went to find the princess, and I went to Hateno for the other scientists stationed there.
I can only say what I heard happened from Impa and Robbie, and they were so shaken up some details could be incorrect. Robbie said by the time he got to the citadel, everyone was dead. Impa said she found the princess, and was ordered to save people in Castletown while she and Link fought the calamity. She helped a young woman and her little brother escape the ashes of their family home and arrive at a safe spot— only for them both to succumb to their injuries hours later. She told me she didn’t know where Link or Zelda was.
Robbie had fled from the citadel and ended up in Hateno as he knew I’d be there too, and he was hoping to find Impa along the way.
I barely made it to Hateno myself before the guardians reached there. I had enough time to go to the lab up on the hill and speak to the other scientists. Two were missing, Ravja and Vien. poor Yuko and Yuno, the twins were worried for the two of them as they had gone out to gather some truffles hours earlier and had yet to return; They told me and Robbie to hold down the fort while they went out to find them. I’d see all four of their bodies in a mass cremation site later on.
Robbie was pacing around the room while me and him argued over how to deactivate the guardians as they crept closer to Hateno village. Fort Hateno was being swarmed from what I heard. While running through the village to see what I could do to help, I briefly spoke to Link’s father. He asked me if I knew how to wield a sword, and gave me one of his. He said something along the lines of “I’m too old to keep fighting. I hope you’re as great in battle as your sister.” Personally, I wasn’t planning on leaving to fight, but that sword would come in handy.
It was all a blur of people screaming, hiding, and rushing the injured and dead into town. People were already screaming, but then I heard people cry out and weep openly. As I ran down to see what had happened, I saw two sheikah warriors carrying the hero’s limp body. I saw his father run up and grab his son, holding him close as he cried. I had never heard a person let out such a visceral cry. The warriors— Uvno and Wren told me the princess ordered them to take Link to the shrine of resurrection, and that they needed the sheikah slate, which is in my possession.
I remember a lot from this moment. People screamed and wept— not for themselves, but for Link. He had grown up here and many recognized him. I think what was most horrific about it is some people weren’t sure if that was Link. The only way they were absolutely certain was his telltale blue tunic. His face and side was mangled, with skin hanging off and muscle torn out and burned away in chunks. You could see some bone sticking out from certain areas on him from where the guardians had blasted him head on— and even then the bone was cracked and burnt. One of his ears was hanging on by a lone flap of skin, and his chest was a bloodied mess. The worst was on his chest, but the tunic and blood made it look not as bad as it was.
It was hard to convince his father to let go of him. He clung to his son with all his might and pleaded with the gods to take him instead. We didn’t have time to explain what we’d be doing to help him, we just took him and ran while some locals wept and held him back to comfort him. Some other locals were kind enough to lend us two horses for us to borrow.
Everything after that is both a blur, and yet far too vivid for my liking. Thank the heavens for Robbie, those prototype weapons and armor came in handy. Monsters were everywhere, you could look in any direction and see at least two of every species– it would have been fascinating if bodies of strangers and familiar faces weren't littered around. As we entered Fort Hateno, it was overrun with guardians. And yet, none were functional… Actually, rethinking it all, I feel like a few were still active, as I do recall the sound of beeping as we galloped past. Robbie told me not to look behind us, so I didn’t. And even if I wanted to, I was too worried about keeping a good grip on Link’s body.
He was still warm, but he was obviously dead. I looked at his face for too long, and saw just how bad it was. His eyes were open– at least, as far as I could tell. One half of his face was covered in blood, dirt, debris and peeled up skin. I couldn't see his eye clearly on that side of his face, and I think it was badly damaged. The other half of his face had burn marks, and bits of debris and shrapnel sticking out of some places in his skin. But his eye was half open, though I wish it wasn't. He had this blank, empty, dead look. Of course, that does make sense, he was very much dead, but that didn’t make it any less disturbing. It was nauseating, I had to look away.
Even thinking about it leaves my head turning.
June 20, xxxx
5:20 pm
Nothing is getting better, if anything it's getting worse. Hateno is more depressing than ever. I went on a walk outside the village yesterday to clear my mind and saw a man who hung himself. I don't blame him.
I haven’t left the lab since.
Feb 2, xxxx
12:43 am
I still can't sleep. Nothing helps me sleep. I don’t want to sleep, either. I keep seeing it all.
When Robbie and I were on our way to the Shrine, we saw many things. Dead, living, injured, all ages… We didn’t have time to stop. We had to keep going. I try not to wonder if any of them survived, or if they had families.
The only times we stopped was to use the bathroom and for the horses to rest and eat. We ourselves didn't eat, though we did drink water occasionally. Getting food would take too long, and even if we had food, I think I would have thrown it back up. The smell of metallic blood was constant, the rain kept it from fully drying. Eventually I would grow used to the scent, but I never got used to the sight of it.
Monsters chased the horses, Robbie used every arrow we had to keep them at bay. When we did stop, Robbie would guard Link while I ran to find people who would have arrows to spare. But living people were few and far inbetween. I am ashamed to admit I have stolen many weapons and arrows from the corpses of the fallen.
July 2, xxxx
5:11 am
May 12 still lives on my mind. When it stopped raining we were around three fourths the way to the plateau. And when we reached there, we had to leave our horses and run up all those steps with Link.
The monsters were hot on our trail, our weapons were cracked and rusting from use, but we managed to keep it up.
By now Link’s body had grown stiff to where I could no longer reposition his limbs. It was strange to feel and hard to think of, so I kept on going. Not that we had much choice, it was do or die. Even now it still feels like do or die. I try not to think on how he felt in my arms.
By that point Robbie and I were bruised, cut, hungry and exhausted. But we had no time to pause and take a break, not when we were so close. The monsters knew we had Link. Its as if they knew where we were taking him. Although that made the trip harder, it also gave me a flicker of hope, because if those things were trying so hard to stop us, maybe it would work?
The shrine was untested, no one knew if it would work, but I hoped it would.
Even now, I still hope it will.
July 4, xxxx
6:23 am
People keep asking me if I’m okay. I tell them I’m fine, but I’m really not. How could anyone be fine anymore? Over half of Hyrule's population is rotting in unmarked graves. Countless men, women, children and elderly, all too mangled for anyone to place names to what's left of their faces.
I’ve gotten word of what villages and settlements remain. Seven. Seven settlements remain. One zora, one goron, one rito, one gerudo, one sheikah, and two hylian. Zora’s domain remained intact for the most part thanks to its guards. The path to the domain was mostly destroyed, however. The easiest way there is to climb now, as you avoid the many lizalfos that now inhabit the area. Kakiriko barely survived, almost everyone I knew is either injured, dead, or forever disabled. Goron city is mostly okay due to the hard terrain and hardy gorons, but many guardians litter the path up there. Rito village survived as well, most of the young fledgelings were able to hide, but I heard news that many went up to Vah medoh to try and help Champion Revali, and all but two were struck down and killed. As for Gerudo town, they are one of the few places that remained almost completely unharmed. The guardians could not reach them through the billowing sandstorms, but the lizalfos killed any who left the town.
Only two hylian settlements remain out of the thirteen main ones, not counting the multicultural villages or outposts. All in all, out of the thirty eight villages, outposts, buildings and military training areas, seven remain all together. Hateno is one of them, and I heard Lurelin survived intact as well. Three fourths of Hyrules population is wiped off the map, and yet we still ask each other if they are fine, when we already know the answer.
I am tired.
July 12, xxxx
I find myself lonely more often than not. Even when I talk to others I am lonely. I can’t remember the last time I genuinely laughed or smiled. Everyday is the same, a simple repeating loop that never changes. I consider giving up at times, but I keep going because I need to be there when Link wakes up.
When we reached the shrine of resurrection, I could barely keep myself standing. My legs wee weak from running and it felt exhausting to even breathe. I sat Link down and slammed the Sheikah slate onto the pedestal repeatedly. We could hear monsters in the distance, and my ears were ringing. It wouldn’t open at first, no reaction at all. I was so stressed and overwhelmed, I broke down crying, and I started kicking and hitting that pedestal as if that would help. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but I remember begging for it to open. Robbie had said something to me, but I don’t think I was actually paying attention. The stiffness in Link’s body had begun to leave as he went more limp again. I had grabbed his arm and brought it up to the pedestal. It worked, surprisingly. Seems the trick to opening it up was Link all along.
Robbie and I rushed Link inside, almost dropping him.
The inside of the shrine glowed blue, there was a sort of ethereal feel to it all. I swear I could feel the pulsing of some sort of power– A part of me wants to say it was almost like magic, but the scientific part of me wants to make a logical reason. Perhaps the pulsing of electricity?
There was a sort of tub in the back of the room, with an object I can only describe as a light or cover overtop, hanging over it. Link’s clothes were bloody and torn, so Robbie and I quickly took them off, we’d have Impa fix it. She helped Zelda make his tunic originally anyways, so it all works out.
When we removed his shirt, I almost passed out. His skin peeled up easily along with the shirt with a sickening sound. His muscles and tendons were melted and barely held his skin together. His chest overall was a mess of blood, bone and guts. His skin was charred black in some places, peeling up in others with chunks missing to where we could see his innards. Before then I had never seen someone’s guts sticking out, but I suppose everything changes. We quickly removed the rest of his clothes and put him in the tub. As soon as he was in there, it started to fill with a thick liquid of sorts. It was a vibrant blue, and was thicker than water. We watched as it filled up past his face and overtook him completely. Robbie ushered me to put the slate on the pedestal so he’d have a way to get out if– when he awoke. As we ran out before the doors shut on us, Robbie pulled out his bow and some bomb arrows he had been saving, and shot at the stairs as we ran up. I stood outside and yelled at him to hurry up, but he said he wouldn't leave until the stairs were gone. He wanted to make sure if anything broke into the shrine, they couldn’t reach him. As soon as the stairs were nothing more than a pile of rubble, he ran out just in time to miss getting trapped. But we had one last thing to do.
As we ran back down off the plateau, Robbie planted bomb arrows at every crack and weak point, ushering me to do the same. When we ran out of bomb arrows about half way down, we started improvising with fire chuchu jelly, and taking what we could find from corpses nearby.
When Robbie set ablaze those bombs, the stairs came crashing down in a mess of smoke and debris, but it was done.
As soon as our job was done, I fell to my knees and puked. Robbie had started crying, and he took off his goggles for the first time in a while. I think we both sat on the ground (away from my vomit) and sobbed for ages. We were exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and covered in blood, most of which wasn't ours. I think on the way back to kakiriko I had thrown up three more times.
We had only spent a few days in Kakiriko before we went our separate ways. I’ll never forget the feeling of leaving the most important people in my life.
If Hylia is real, we’re her joke book. I wonder if she’s laughing down at me right now, and I hate her. If she’s real, she’s a monster as bad as the calamity. I’m cursed to live with this blight inside my mind, I fear I’ll never be me again. Maybe Hylia is dead, and soon we all will join her as well. And when the stars call my name maybe I can rest knowing I did my best, but I don't think I’ll ever forget again. When I close my eyes I see the horrors, and when I speak all that comes out is a mumble. All I can do anymore is focus on my work, but it’s not the same. In truth I’d rather be dead than live knowing things may not get better.
If Hylia is real, when I die I will face her and her wrath if only to make her know she is the real monster. If there is any God out there, my only question is why they hate us all.
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justalittlebitbored · 3 months
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hi lovely!! i know the willow series is on hiatus, but i have so many outcomes in my head that i had to share with you! whether you decide to finish the series or not is up to you but the chapters are amazing and so well done. the way you describe the readers thoughts are so human, it’s all so enjoyable.
anyways back to what i think would happen, i totally think once rem and the reader confess it’s so going to be one of those angry love confessions. ugh like it’s obvious that her self esteem isn’t that great; we see it with rem and with Alex. So her lashing out finally after he interrogates her or maybe asks her why she’s been so weird would be kind of euphoric and relieving for her.
this is just one the things i’ve been thinking about, but truly your series has been my roman empire since i read it today! 💗💗
happy belated new year and i hope all is well either way you 🫶
hi queenie!!!
thank you so much for the love, I want to finish the series badly as it was all planned out and all but I just need to motivation to do so. hopefully soon?
the fact you said the series is your Roman Empire fills my heart with sm joy!!!!! I could potentially get part 3 up soon bc it’s only missing like 2 scenes I think from when I wrote it in May so if I knock two brain cells together I could post it potentially
I love that you have thought that they would have an angry love confession scene, looking at how I’ve written it that does seem like it is coming but I am an angsty girl so I had something different in mind.
I was thinking a sad confession scene between them both and she thinks it’s the breaking point of their friendship when he confesses too and it’s just so sad and tearful and wholesome.
I actually would love to explore an alternate ending where the confession is angry I agree it would be so freeing for her.
you know what babe willow tree part three is getting posted tonight. ITS HAPPENING!!!! and it’s bc of u
thank you for ur sweet message i love u girly pop
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Sunshine Daydream
Birdrick time! I just wrote and edited it over the space of the previous 3 hours so hopefully it’s alright. I just had the idea and wanted to get it out of my system lol
Summary: Birdrick fluff. Just a sweet time between our favourite space couple. It does get a little bit spicy for a couple of paragraphs but it’s very mild (no nudity or genitals or anything). There’s brief mentions of (unspecified) drug use but this is RnM so it’s fairly standard. There’s no set timeframe, it could take place at any point in the show. ~1.2k words
Rick meanders through a meadow, a pleasant breeze sweeping floral scents up to his nose. Rays of sunlight caress his face, warming his skin and glinting off iridescent beetles lurking in the grass. He pauses to observe the insects for a minute, basking in the rare opportunity to just exist without stress or judgement.
Eventually, he reaches a border of willow trees and ducks through their tickling tresses into a clearing bisected by a quiet river. The trees hide him from outside eyes and muffle distant sounds, lulling his mind and senses into relaxation.
From underneath the water, Birdperson emerges, flapping his wings. The motion sends drops cascading around him, and they glisten against his skin. He’s distracted by his bathing, and Rick knows he’s sufficiently hidden from view by the rushes framing the water’s edge. He uses the opportunity to remove his shoes and socks and roll up his trousers. Finding a gap in the reeds, he steps carefully into the shallow river and wades over to join the other man.
Birdperson is angled with his back to Rick, so Rick guides his arms carefully underneath BP’s wings and wraps them around his chest, resting his chin on the other man’s shoulder.
“Hello, Rick.” Birdperson rumbles affectionately, his deep voice reverberating along his bones so that Rick can feel as well as hear it. 
Rick presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. Birdperson turns and wraps his own strong arms around Rick, and Rick leans back into them, letting them take his weight. They support him easily, as easily as they’ve supported him countless times before when he’s been injured in battle, or drunk, or when he’s fallen asleep while working and stirred to find himself being carried to bed.
Birdperson leans forward to meet Rick’s lips with his, and the change in angle means he’s practically dipping Rick like a ballroom dancer. Rick feels an unstoppable, cheesy smile stretch across his face, and he knows that BP can feel it too. Sure enough, the lips against his move into a similar position, and Rick hears himself giggle like a schoolgirl. Birdperson pulls back slightly so that their foreheads are still touching, gazing adoringly into Rick’s eyes. 
With a couple of beats of his wings to clear off the excess water, he takes off, flying them the short distance to the shore. No matter how far Birdperson flies with Rick in his arms, Rick is sure it could never be long enough. Something about Birdperson’s presence, his strength, makes Rick feel giddy and light, even on the ground. With the addition of actual flight, the rush of wind through his hair, the exhilarating feeling of soaring above the ground in a way that’s impossible for his own species to experience without the aid of technology, it’s downright amazing.
However, despite all this, Rick is anything but disappointed to land. Birdperson lays him down gently amongst the rushes, the tall stalks providing further privacy. The other man kneels between Rick’s splayed legs, his arms either side of Rick’s torso, and leans in for another kiss. Rick lets his arms drift up and loop around BP’s neck, his fingers brushing against soft head feathers. Birdperson’s own hand comes to rest on Rick’s hip, his thumb moving in slow rhythm. Rick tugs at Birdperson’s feathers, firmly but not painfully, and is rewarded by a sort of gaspy chirp sound moaned into his own mouth and a squeeze of his ass. Rick can’t help but smirk from pleasure at having caused the usually stoic man to make such desperate, expressive sounds. Birdperson draws back from the kiss and gives him a look that Rick knows to mean that the smirk is about to be wiped off his face.
Sure enough, Birdperson moves his arms and, in a lightning-quick motion, removes Rick’s hands from their position and pins them down to the ground either side of his head, simultaneously shifting his lower body so that he’s also restraining Rick’s legs. A hot surge of pleasure rises through Rick’s body as he’s overpowered by someone genuinely bigger and stronger than him. There’s something so hot about knowing that he’s completely at Birdperson’s mercy, legitimately helpless.
The two stare at each other intensely, Birdperson admiring his work. Tension hangs in the air, both of them daring the other to break it, yet neither of them wanting to. Birdperson waits for Rick to either respond cockily so that BP can punish him, or to show how flustered he is and be teased; Rick waits for Birdperson to break first and get carried away by his own libido. They’re both locked in a game of chicken, each urging the other to give in to their lust.
“Rick?” 
The voice is decidedly not Birdperson’s, jarring Rick out of his reverie. The fantasy splinters into shards and falls away to reveal the reality: Rick in the garage, sitting at his workbench in front of a forgotten project, an old photo album open next to it.
“Rick!” the voice comes again, more frustrated this time, and Rick places it as Morty’s. “Didn’t you hear me calling? Dinner’s ready. Mom says if you don’t join us for at least one meal this week, she’s making you drive Dad to his LARPing thing on Saturday.”
Rick groans, annoyed at both his daydream being interrupted and the prospect of having to babysit Jerry. “Fine, Morty. I’m coming, OK?”
As he gets up to leave, he pauses for a minute to glance down at the trigger for his fantasy: a photo taken at one of the festivals he and BP had attended together. Unimpressed with the lacklustre show and high out of their minds, they had wandered off from the actual site of the event, ignoring a sign specifically instructing festival-goers not to trespass. They had taken a leisurely stroll through a field and found a river, where they’d sat with their feet dangling in the water, talking about everything and nothing until the landowner had burst in and chased them off with a gun. The photo had been snapped not long before their sudden eviction, Rick grinning with his tongue out and an arm draped around Birdperson in a manner far too intimate for a friend he’d met only a few weeks earlier. However, Birdperson hadn’t minded, smiling along as widely as his unemotive face permitted. 
Looking objectively, they’re both high and greasy and young. But through the rose-coloured lens of memory, Rick can see how happy they both are - even him, for what had been the first time he could remember after Beth and Diane had died. He sees the beginning of a decades-long friendship - and possibly something more. Even though he’s taught himself over the years, painstakingly, to keep his guard up, something about BP always manages to break through. Years of nihilism can’t hold up against the insistent, sappy hope he still holds that Birdperson might one day return his feelings.
“Rick?” Morty’s voice interrupts for the second time that day.
“Yeah, yeah.” Rick waves him off. He spares one final look at the photo before leaving to join his family, the ghost of a bittersweet smile on his face.
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lampmanliveblogs · 1 year
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New glyph combo acquired! I watched a few more seconds and saw that it stops falling objects. I also managed to actually get a few decent enough glimpses of it to make out what the entire thing looks like.
It’s one light glyph, surrounded by one ice glyph and one fire glyph. Hmm… not sure if I see any connection there to negating or lessening gravity. I guess light is, well, light.
On a more important note, Luz did that thing I do every other week where I decided that Today Is The Day I’m fInally Going To Get My Life Together and then just never do. Her To Do list for the day includes constructing a fully-functioning portal door, something that took Philip at least ten years, figure out every possible glyph combination which would probably require a lifetime or more (which is not really an option for Luz, unless… you know) and figure out Belos’ evil plan and defeat him. And even I’m not sure what Belos’ plan actually is, much less how they’d go about defeating him.
Suffice it to say, Luz is taking on maybe a little too much.
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This made me burst out laughing. Is Belos evil? Do you think!??
Also, wasn’t Ruler’s Reach the name of that book King & Luz wrote in that one episode in season one?
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It got better.
The real question is, who was he trying to send that picture of Little Rascal to? Probably one of the Emerald Entrails. My money’s on Willow.
(that profile picture, it’s… it sure is something)
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I wasn’t too far off with what I said about Luz making that reminder months ahead. She and Camila apparently have some tradition that they do every year and this being the first time in years that they’re apart for this occasion… it’s got Luz catching the sad. And so she tries to distract herself with working on a hundred things at once, and as a result, accomplishing very little.
On another note, that is Eda’s old grudgby jacket she wore back in Wing It Like Witches*. It looks good on you Luz. Maybe you should try it on. See if its fits. Who knows, maybe what you need to get out of your funk is a new wardrobe.
I’ve seen art of Luz wearing that jacket, is what I’m trying to say.
(*i went back to rewatch a scene from that episode and I spotted Raine in a photograph in Eda’s photo album)
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So Amity has her own problems that can distract Luz. 
So today is the day of the Bonesbrorough Brawl which sounds like some kind of wrestling thing, but I assume magic is involved too. Or maybe it’s not at all like wrestling and just straight up duels or some such. That doesn’t exactly look like a wrestling outfit Alador’s wearing there (I’ll talk more about the photo in a sec).
But today is also the tryouts for the Emperor’s Coven. Odalia has already signed Amity up for it and Alador assigned an Abomaton to, ah… escort her there. Now, I don’t know when witches are considered adults on the Boiling Isles, but Amity is what? Fourteen? Maybe fifteen? Isn’t that a little to young to be joining the army? I know Hunter was probably younger, but he’s a special case… then again, he was serious about the Emerald Entrails joining and they were around Amity’s age, soooo…
Amity, of course, doesn’t want to join the Emperor’s Coven. In fact, she doesn’t want to join ANY coven anymore. She just wants to go to the brawl, compete and hopefully win, like her dad once upon a time.
It is not lost on me that this is something Amity wants to do with her dad, you know, something they can share and have in common… and meanwhile, Luz had something she wanted to do and share with her mom. So much for a distraction.
Let’s talk about the photo  for a sec. Obviously, we have Alador as the central figure. He’s obviously much younger, his eyes are brighter and doesn’t have the bags they do in the present. His hair looks a bit more well-kept although his hands are still stained (thought that could be from the fight). He had the goggles already. He’s also wearing some kind of tank on his back, probably for his abomination goop.
If we look in the lower right corner we can see Odalia. It’s kinda hard to tell, but I think she might be blushing? If we look a bit above Odalia, on one of the large skulls in the background, we can see Eda and Raine watching the spectacle from above. On the lower left we find Darius booing. Already Alador’s rival back then, huh? Also, the person with the fangs next to Darius kinda looks like a vampire, which we know exists on the Boiling Isles.
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brittanagirlcrush · 10 months
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When You Find Forever
This is also posted at FF.Net (but for some reason the link doesn't work)
Brittany is a four hundred year old vampire who has just fallen in love for the first time. She wants Santana to be hers … forever.
A/N: Found this in an old file. I wrote it during my Buffy the Vampire Slayer days but it didn't really resonate with me so I abandoned it. Found it yesterday and realized it just * might * work for Brittana. I cleaned it up but I'm not sure it worked as well as I'd hoped. Hopefully, this will make sure you don't forget me while I work on my longer fics ;).
(Yes, I am aware that I switched the spelling from Brittany to Brittanie then back to Brittany – I was trying to differentiate between Brittany present and Brittanie past.)
(I am eleven chapters into the next installment in my Brittana world and am hoping to have it finished by the end of July. * fingers crossed *)
M for some sexy times.
*~*~*~*~*~
Moonless night, lightning arcing over the ocean. A balmy breeze brought Santana's scent to her. Four hundred years, thousands of sights, sounds, and smells … and hers was the first to take hold of Brittany's heart. Four hundred years had lead her to this woman. And tonight – tonight she would make Santana hers – forever.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Santana walked to The Coffee Spot and ordered a sweet tea before making her way to the comfortable couches in the back room.
Tucking her left leg under her as she sank into the worn leather couch, she thought about Brittany and smiled. Brittany had asked Santana to meet her here tonight. The call had come out of the blue which was kind of unusual. Brittany wasn't really a “spur of the moment” girl but, then, Brittany was still quite a mystery. Maybe Santana just hadn't seen her spontaneous side.
She thought about what she did know about Brittany; it wasn't much. They'd met moonlight surfing one night, the only two people on the beach that night. Santana had thought she was the only person who enjoyed surfing by moonlight so Brittany being there had surprised her. Pleasantly so.
She and Brittany had started talking after several runs and they discovered they had more than moonlight surfing in common; campy movies, fantasy novels, board and card games, and several of the same 90's tv shows, including Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Brittany said it wasn't completely accurate but it was still entertaining and Santana enjoyed teasing her about it because, of course, Brittany knew so many vampires.
Brittany always laughed and said “Hey, you never know.”
It was almost dawn when Brittany finally stood to go and Santana headed home.
Their biggest disagreement was always over who was hotter: Willow or Tara. Santana, a slim brunette, was attracted to the curvier Tara while Brittany, who was an athletically built blonde with curves, was completely infatuated with Willow.
The best thing they had in common was that they were both nocturnal. Santana had always hated mornings and had never been able to sleep at night. It was too quiet at night which made the noises and thoughts in her head too loud. Daytime was better for sleeping; cars and people, the sounds of children playing – the noises of life that kept all her personal noises at bay.
She remembered the first time they made love. It had been around five in the morning and they'd just gotten in. Santana was going to drive home when Brittany looked at her and uttered one word as she took Santana's hand.
“Stay.”
And with that, their lips met, parting as they exchanged tongues. They had kissed before, but not like this. Brittany's tongue dueled with, caressed and then sucked Santana's into her mouth, scraping it with her teeth. Santana ran her tongue over Brittany's lips, her hands on Brittany's hips, pulling the girl into her. Brittany maneuvered them to the bed and Santana had covered the blonde with her body, sliding her hands up Brittany's sides and under her shoulder blades, clinging to her as her lips moved to Brittany's ear. She teased the ear with her tongue, suckling the lobe as Brittany gasped then moaned.
Santana felt the heat between her legs as she nibbled and sucked Brittany's neck, Brittany's moans and sighs making Santana hungry for more of Brittany's soft skin. She separated from Brittany for a moment – just long enough to strip both their shirts and bras off. She paused for a second, drinking in the sight of Brittany's flawless skin and full breasts.
“You are so beautiful,” she breathed before leaning back down and recapturing Brittany's lips, their breasts rubbing against each other.
Brittany groaned into Santana's mouth as Santana settled her knee between Brittany's thighs then began kissing, sucking and nipping at the exposed flesh of Brittany's neck, throat, collar bones, and shoulders, delighting in every gasp and groan the escaped Brittany's lips, exciting over every shudder and arch.
Brittany arched against Santana's knee, her body begging for more as Santana trailed her tongue over Brittany's heated skin, circling each breast with tongue, teeth and lips, getting tantalizingly close to her nipples without touching them.
“Oh, gods, Santana ,please,” Brittany whimpered.
“Please what?” tongue flicking closer to the nipple.
“Please,” she pleaded, “take me, please.”
At that, Santana smiled and ground her knee into Brittany's center as she captured one of her nipples between her teeth; sucking it, flicking her tongue roughly over the nipple. Brittany gasped loudly and arched hard, her body responding to Santana's love making.
Santana continued rocking into Brittany, assaulting each nipple and breast with her mouth; tongue, teeth, lips each taking their turn. Brittany arched hard with a scream and Santana felt dampness on her knee. Grinning, she pulled back and looked at her lover. Brittany's face had a besotted look on it. She looked at Santana in awe.
“You...you made me cum...oh my gods...how...”
Santana chuckled and stripped her jeans and panties off, then helped Brittany out of hers. She laid a towel down then climbed into the bed next to Brittany and pulled the comforter over them.
“I listened to your body,” Santana said quietly, “and it told me what to do.” She smiled as Brittany's eyes began to drift closed. “I love you,” she said softly, kissing Brittany's forehead and pulling her close.
A smile played at Brittany's lips as she murmured “I love you, too,” before drifting off to sleep.
*~*~*~*~*~
“Penny for your thoughts,” a quiet voice said.
Santana grinned up at her lover. “Brittany in my thoughts,” she said as Brittany sank down next to her, planting a slow lingering kiss on her lips. “Mmmm...hi there.”
“Hi,” Brittany grinned, “been waiting long?”
“Not really,” she answered, “still ice in the tea.” She rattled her glass as proof.
“You were pretty far away when I walked up,” Brittany said, taking a sip of her latte.
“Thinking about you – about the first time we made love.”
Brittany blushed. “I couldn't believe you made me cum without really touching anything but my breasts. Still can't.”
Santana grinned and leaned close in. “Want me to do it again?” she asked, her voice breathy as her tongue snaked out and caressed Brittany's ear.
Brittany groaned. “Dammit, Santana, that's not fair. Gods, you made me wet.”
Santana giggled and pulled back. “I can't help myself when I'm with you.”
“Vixen,” Brittany grinned.
“So, what'd you want to talk about?”
Brittany sobered. “Not here, okay? Let's go back to my place.”
Santana frowned. “Okay – but can we get something to eat on the way? I'm hungry.”
“When aren't you hungry?” Brittany laughed.
“I'm always hungry,” she said, standing up and offering Brittany her head, “it's just not always food I'm hungry for.”
Brittany blushed and took Santana's hand, grinning as she stood up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They found themselves in Brittany's room after they'd eaten, Brittany sitting cross-legged on the bed looking seriously at Santana.
“Santana...” she started.
“Yeah?” Santana smiled at her. “Why so serious?”
Brittany took a deep breath and started again. “Santana, I love you. My whole life, I've never loved anyone the way I love you.”
Santana frowned. “I love you, too, you know that.”
Brittany nodded and looked down at her hands. “I know and that's what makes this so hard. I'm not who you think I am, Santana.” She looked back up at Santana, tears spilling down her face.
Santana moved closed to her lover. “Hey … whatever it is … we'll work it out, okay?”
Brittany nodded and started for a third time. “Santana, I want us to be together. Forever.” She looked up at Santana who smiled encouragingly and nodded. “The thing is … I'm not going to age or die,” she looked steadily at the other girl – no turning back now. “Santana, I'm a vampire.”
Santana looked at her like she was waiting for the punchline. “Brittany, come on … what's going on?”
Brittany sighed, knowing there was only one way Santana would believe her; taking a deep breath, she morphed. He face was almost unrecognizable as her brow creased, her canine teeth lengthened to sharp fangs and her eyes burned red.
Santana yelped and backed away, stumbling in the process and falling to the floor, scuttling further away.
Brittany re-morphed. “I'm sorry, baby. I …”
“But … but … we've been to the beach – your skin is almost as dark as mine.” Santana looked incredulous. “This isn't real … this can't be …”
Brittany relaxed her features and started explaining again. “Sunlight doesn't kill us – we're just not crazy about it because our eyes are sensitive to the light and we do burn easily. It's not fatal. It's more of an allergy. I've been tanning for centuries to minimize the effects of sunlight on my skin but it still hurts my eyes.”
“This is crazy! There's no such thing as vampires!” Santana was shaking her head. “They're fictional. When do you … feed? How? Have you killed anyone?” Brittany slowly moved toward Santana, not wanting to spook her. Santana looked at her with a mixture of fear and betrayal on her face. “Why now? Why tell me now?”
Kneeling in front of her, Brittany took her lover's face gently in her hands. “I want to spend eternity with you. I want you …” she took a deep breath then plunged in, “I want you to join me.”
Santana gaped at her.
“I'm not expecting you to answer right away. I know it's a lot to take in. Think about it. In four hundred years, I haven't loved anyone. I want us to be joined forever. I love you, Santana.”
Santana recoiled from Brittany. “I … I have to … I can't …” she stammered, pushing Brittany away as she stood up and went to the door, leaving without looking back.
Brittany collapsed on the floor, sobbing against the side of the bed. She had known it could go badly – had been prepared, she thought, for Santana to walk away. She'd been wrong. She wasn't ready for this – her non-beating heart shattered.
There was a whisper of air and the scent of not-Santana in the room. “Go away, Constance,” she said, not looking up from where she lied huddled on the floor.
“Is that any way to talk to an old friend?”
The silky voice sent shivers down Brittany's spine – and not the good Santana shivers. Brittany swallowed a sob. “We were a lot of things, but friends was never one of them,” she said coldly, suddenly very weary.
“Your mistake, dearheart,” Constance continued as if Brittany hadn't spoken, “was telling her instead of just turning her.”
Constance stretched out on the other side of the bed as Brittany looked up and glared at her. Her movements were deliberate, designed to remind Brittany of nights long ago.
They had the opposite effect – Brittany remember those nights in a different light now. Oh, she remembered the sex. The countless hours of games and “toys”. But that's all it had been: games and toys. Constance had turned her without her permission in a moment of angry passion.
*~*~*~*~*~
It had been hot, Brittany remembered – unbearably hot. It was Paris, 1608 and Brittanie Du Maurier was a privileged nineteen year old in the court of King Henri IV. She was being courted by many handsome young courtiers but it was the Comtesse Constance LePossileaux who fascinated Brittanie. Older, sophisticated, married to a Count who was ages older than she, Constance represented everything Britannie aspired to be and Constance had apparently taken a liking to the young woman. She took Britannie under her wing, introducing her to the crème de la crème of Parisian society and schooling her in all manner of the finer things in life; wine, art, theatre. Britannie had been awestruck.
One night, unable to sleep from the heat, Britannie had slipped down to the water pond in the courtyard and slipped into the bath-warm water wearing nothing but a sleeveless cotton sheath. She floated for a bit before getting out, the sheath made shear by the water and clinging to every curve. The air was warm, but a slight breeze cooled her skin and she felt her nipples tighten under the sheath.
“You should be more careful at night, darling,” came a voice sultry and smooth as silk.
Britannie felt her heart leap to her throat and a thrill of excitement shoot up her spine at having been caught. “Who's there?” she called in the direction of the voice hidden in the shadows.
Constance, naked skin luminous under the bright full moon, stepped from under a moss covered tree.
“My, my lady...” Britannie stammered, trying not to stare at the Comtesse.
Constance less walked than glided toward Britannie.
“Yes, my dear?”
“Forgive my impropriety,” she said, lowering her eyes, “it's just been too hot to sleep.”
“We'll see,” the older woman said, circling the younger woman. “You are a lovely young thing, but you need training and you shall, of course, have to be punished.”
“P-punished?” Britannie looked up, eyes wide with fear as she thought of the dungeons.
Constance's laughter was like bells on a Christmas horse. “Don't be afraid, dearheart,” she said, capturing Britannie's chin in her hand, holding her gaze. “You won't be permanently damaged.” With that, Constance captured Britannie's lips in a punishing kiss, bruising the girl's tender lips as Constance's tongue thrust harshly into Brittanie's mouth. With her free hand, she cupped Britannie's breast and brutally pinched the nipple.
Britannie's cry of pain and surprise ended in a moan swallowed by Constance's greedy mouth.
Breaking the kiss, Constance turned away leaving Britannie breathless and bereft.
“Come,” Constance commanded, leaving no room for argument.
Britannie, for reasons she didn't understand at the time, felt her sex tighten at the tone of Constance's voice and hurried to obey, eager to please.
Brittany shivered at the memory. Her “training” had begun that night. Constance had been a stern Mistress – finding any excuse to beat her, usually until she bled.
Brittany hadn't known, until the night Constance turned her, that Constance was a vampire. In retrospect she recognized the clues but, at the time, she didn't even believe in vampires. She remembered in vivid detail the night she was turned.
Britannie had been flirting with a handsome young Duke who had expressed an interest in courting her. She and Constance had been together for five years and Britannie was ready to end it. She was tired of being Constance's slave, of being beaten and ill-used for Constance's pleasure and amusement. She needed to marry and have children so she would be taken care of. She liked the Duke – he was handsome and kind and would make a suitable husband. After promising to meet the Duke in the morning for breakfast, Britannie had kissed his cheek and slid from his arms. She hurried to her rooms and closed the door, flush with excitement and giddy with thoughts of the handsome Duke. She had no sooner closed the door than a hand slapped her face hard accompanied by a harsh whisper:
“You ungrateful slut!”
Britannie, hand to her burning cheek, looked up from the floor where the slap had sent her. She had never seen Constance so angry – her face was somehow disfigured but Britannie couldn't quite put her finger on why or how.
Grabbing a handful of Britannie's hair, Constance dragged the young woman to the punishment room.
“Assume your position on the cross, whore!”
For the first time, Britannie balked at the command. “No.”
“WHAT?!” Constance raged at her.
“I said 'no' Constance. I will no longer be subjected to your punishments. I am going to marry the Duke and you and I are at an end.”
Face mottled with rage, Constance grabbed the younger woman with a vice-like grip and forced her to the cross. Britannie felt the shackles tighten on her wrists and ankles and screamed, earning herself another hard slap.
“You are mine, you worthless cow! I decide when we are at an end!” Constance's eyes glittered with cruelty and, for the first time, Britannie was afraid. Gone were the tiny thrills of excitement these punishments usually elicited. Constance moved slowly and deliberately, making sure Britannie saw the clamps and the metal tipped cat o'nine tails. Putting the clamps on Britannie's nipples, Constance gave each of them a vicious twist causing a cry of pain to escape Britannie's lips.
“That's just to start, you miserable little nothing. Before the night over, you will well and truly know pain.”
The first lash was harsh and raised welts on Britannie's soft breasts and smooth abdomen. Again, Britannie cried out.
“Pray for mercy and forgiveness whore!” Constance snarled as she snapped the whip again and the metal again bit into Britannie's skin.
She would not beg, she decided. She would die first.
Lash after merciless lash – the tips gleaming silver, then red, in the candlelight as her blood flowed freely from the countless wounds the cat opened in her skin. She didn't know how long the beating lasted. The floor ran red and she passed out only to be awakened by a bucket of piss dumped over her head.
“Stay awake, you filthy slut – the best is yet to come.”
Wounds stinging with the urine's acid, Britannie started to cry despite her best attempt. She would not beg. She would not break – not now, not ever. The cat was dipped in the cheap whiskey they served in the taverns and the beating began again – re-opening closing slashes and creating new ones. Britannie fought to stay conscious, to avoid more piss but it was in vain as Constance dumped a bucket of cold water over her, then a bucket of the cheap whiskey. She screamed again but still refused to beg Constance to stop.
“Stubborn bitch,” Constance screamed, her face transfiguring into something hideous and inhuman; her teeth elongating and sharpening to points. “I will make you mine forever!”
Britannie screamed as Constance stepped up and sank her fangs deep into Britannie's neck. She could feel her pulse pounding as her heart fought to compensate for the blood Constance was draining from her. Her vision went red – then there was nothing until she next awoke, still tied to the cross, a faint coppery taste in her mouth, her limbs numb, body aching.
“Good morning, darling,” Constance's voice was smooth as silk again.
Britannie winced. Loud. Bright. She could hear the horses whinnying in the barn as though they were in the room with her. Constance's voice grated on her nerves.
“Wh-” Britannie couldn't speak, her mouth dry and her throat sore.
“Oh, darling, isn't it marvelous? We're going to be together forever,” Constance grinned and Britannie felt her blood run cold at the sight of Constance's fangs. No – she couldn't – vampire? No – vampires weren't real. But …
“Yes, yes … I'm a vampire,” Constance said impatiently, “and, now, so are you.”
Britannie sagged against her restraints, unable to believe what Constance said, all the while feeling the blood pounding in her ears and hearing the breathing and heartbeats of other souls in the castle. She gave in and let oblivion claim her.
The next time she woke up, she was alone in her own bed; Constance must have thought turning Britannie would hold her. Britannie growled as the bloodlust coursed through her; she was hungry and needed to feed. Instinctively, she knew what she had to do; that must have been why Constance left her alone; she'd known Britannie would need to feed and instinct would tell her what to do.
Britannie slipped from her room and found an unsuspecting chambermaid. Grabbing her from behind so she wouldn't recognize Britannie (and, truth be told, so Britannie wouldn't recognize her), she sank her teeth into the woman's neck, slaking her bloodlust but not killing the woman. She achieved a moment of clarity as she fed; she needed to leave. Now.
Quickly dressing, she gathered the gold she'd been hoarding for the past five years. She had never been stupid and had realized, after that first night with Constance, that she might have to leave in a hurry one day. She donned the men's clothing she had hidden and, after cutting her hair and putting on a cap, stole away into the night. At that time, she had no idea Constance could track her scent. All she knew was that she didn't want to be recognized and she wanted to get as far away from Court as possible before Constance knew she was gone.
It had been weeks before she got out of France, learning the rules as she went. Rules about sunlight, stakes, and holy water; entering private dwellings and the risks of not feeding. Most were myths she had heard as a child, confirmed (as rumors) in the small taverns on her way out of the country. She didn't know where she was going – just that it was away from Constance.
*~*~*~*~*~
And now, Constance was here. Four hundred years and a new world away and Constance had found her again, after following her from France, to Bulgaria, Germany, Belgium, Poland and finally England. Each time, Britannie slipped away. She was tired of running but she would not submit to Constance ever again. Not after finally knowing what love truly felt like.
“I told you we were going to be together forever.”
Brittany felt the chill in those words and looked at Constance. “How did you get in here?” she said more confidently than she felt. “I didn't invite you in.”
Constance's laugh was like ice. “Dear girl, the invitation only rule doesn't apply to vampires – only humans. Some archaic magical curse to make sure we couldn't enter a dwelling and destroy the humans in their own home.” She shrugged. “It gave the food a sense of security.”
Brittany just kept looking at her, weary beyond measure. “Whatever you want, I don't care – just go away.”
Constance stood up and hovered over Brittany. “I'm here to reclaim what's mine you stupid, stupid whore. I own you. I made you and you will be mine or I will destroy you.”
Brittany gaped up at Constance – undisguised disgust on her face. “Never again, Constance. You will never touch me again.”
Brittany snarled as Constance grabbed her roughly by the hair and pulled her to her feet.
“I will do what I want and you cannot stop me.”
Brittany was reminded how strong Constance was as she struggled to free herself. For the first time since her escape, Brittany was afraid – and then the door opened and the blood froze in Brittany's veins, fear giving way to stark terror.
“Brittany, I'm …” Santana stopped dead in her tracks.
“Santana! RUN! Get out of here!” Brittany flailed at Constance, kicking and scratching, anything to keep her away from …
“Ah … Santana,” Constance sneered, “the slut who stole my slave.” Constance snarled and viciously pushed Brittany to the floor. Constance turned on Santana, her face morphing into a twisted parody of itself, Brittany clawing at Constance's legs.
“You should have listened – and run when you had the chance.” Constance reached for Santana and grabbed her roughly, pulling the girl into her and sinking her fangs into Santana' throat.
“NO!” Brittany screamed, finally finding her feet and lunging at the two women, intent only on saving Santana. She grabbed for Constance and was stunned when she found herself in Santana' arms, the dust that used to be Constance settling over them. “Wha – what …” Brittany looked at Santana who held up a wooden pencil.
Santana shrugged and smiled wanly. “I grabbed it when I saw you two and then you yelled. Saw it in an episode of Buffy once … guess it worked, huh?”
Brittany collapsed against Santana, sobbing and clinging to the other girl as the emotions of the past two hours rushed over her.
“Shhh … it's okay, baby,” Santana held onto Brittany, lightly stroking her back and softly whispering soothing noises into her ear.
They stood like that for a long while; Santana gently rubbed Brittany's back until Brittany's sobs finally slowed and stopped. Brittany pulled back from Santana, face streaked with tears. She sniffled, “My nose is running.”
Santana giggled and handed Brittany a box of tissues from the dresser.
“You came back,” she said after blowing her nose and mopping up her face.
“Yeah, I did.”
“But … why?”
Santana smiled at her. “Because I took a walk and after the noise and arguing in my head quieted down all that was left was my love for you. Okay, so you're a vampire. A little unsettling but I love you. No matter what else, that's what it comes down to.”
Brittany looked at her hopefully. “Forever?”
Santana gazed seriously at her lover. “Forever,” she answered.
They moved to each other and kissed hungrily, tongues dueling as they stripped each other. Santana led Brittany to the bed and pushed her onto it, straddling her. Brittany felt the same thrill she always felt when Santana took control, juices flowing between her legs. Santana began kissing Brittany's neck and throat, hands expertly stroking Brittany's breasts – cupping and caressing them – tweaking her nipples as her teeth left little marks all over Brittany's skin.
Brittany moaned and arched up. “Oh please, Santana...please...”
Santana chuckled and pulled back. “Please what?”
Gazing up at her lover, Brittany said, “Take me...make me yours.”
Santana smiled and captured one of Brittany's nipples in her mouth, sucking it between her lips and holding it tightly between her teeth, tongue lapping at it. As Brittany squirmed, Santana moved to the other nipple then kissed her way down Brittany's body, pausing here and there to mark Brittany's soft skin.
Brittany continued to squirm and arch, center wet with her pooling juices. She ran her fingers through Santana' hair, holding Santana' head to her body. “Gods, Santana, what you do to me,” she moaned.
Santana chuckled lightly then buried her face in Brittany's mound, breathing in Brittany's scent before slowly dragging her tongue through Brittany's slit, savoring the juices. She then moved her tongue in a circle around Brittany's clit, not touching it until she drew it into her mouth, sucking hard at it. Holding the bud gently between her teeth, she tortured it with her tongue, flicking at it, bathing it, mercilessly assaulting it as her fingers probed Brittany's velvet walls, pressing into the soft spongy spot that drove Brittany wild. She reveled in Brittany's groans and cries. Moving her fingers faster and deeper into Brittany, Santana briefly lifter her head from Brittany's clit. “Cum for me, my love,” she demanded.
Brittany cried out for Santana as she came hard against Santana's hungry mouth. Wave after wave, the orgasms crashed over her. “YES! Oh, gods, Santanaaaaaaaaa....YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” she screamed.
Santana lapped greedily at Brittany's juices, slowing only when Brittany's cries of ecstasy became whimpers. Removing her fingers, Santana moved up Brittany's body until she reached her face and then kissed her deeply.
“I love you, Santana,” Brittany said, tears forming and slipping free.
“Forever?”
Brittany nodded.
Santana looked at Brittany seriously. “Then take me. Make me yours,” she said, baring her neck.
Brittany stared at her, “Are you sure?”
“I've never been more sure of anything in my life,” she responded huskily, “I love you, Brittany, and I want to spend eternity with you.”
Brittany reached for Santana and kissed her deeply. “I love you, Santana. I didn't want to turn you against your will.” In quiet tones, Brittany told Santana about Constance, the “relationship” they'd had, how Constance had turned her and why Constance had shown up tonight. “It was exciting at first but...” she trailed off.
Santana smiled, “Now I know why you like it when I take control.”
Brittany blushed, “Yeah.”
Santana cupped Brittany's chin and looked deep into the other girl's eyes. “Brittany,” she said commandingly, “bite me.”
Brittany needed no further encouragement. She drew a nail across her own collarbone and looked at Santana, “When I bite you, drink from me.” At Santana's nod, Brittany pulled Santana' head toward her and sank her fangs into Santana's neck, holding Santana's head to the blood spilling from her collarbone.
As the world spun, two lovers clung in an eternal embrace – claiming each other – Forever.
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lowkeyed1 · 6 months
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Twenty questions for fic writers
thanks for the tag, @jaimebluesq
1. How many works do you have on AO3? 11 total! i've only been writing again since may. i'm afraid my fanfics from the dawn of (my) time are pretty much lost at this point but i can live with that, lol
2. What's your total AO3 word count? 108,407
3. What fandoms do you write for? just Willow (2022) so far, the show that has consumed me body and soul.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Velvet Fist, Iron Glove - my kit/graydon romp that supposes they had to go ahead and get married at the beginning of the series, and also graydon is harboring a secret (no, not that one. He's a trans man). It's gradually expanding into a greater tir asleen polycule fic with some bits of plot still to come, but kit/graydon is definitely the central relationship. 27 kudos
Thrown Like a Star - my graydon/boorman fic, the first one i started with in may, when i looked on ao3 for some fics about them and didn't find a damn thing. they start hooking up on the shattered sea, and that changes how things play out in canon, and post-series as well. 24 kudos
Zombie Crack: Night of the Living Dental Dam - a silly halloween ficlet about kit/jade and some halloween roleplay. 16 kudos
Funhouse Crack: Mirror Maze - another silly halloween ficlet about kit/jade, having their first date at a carnival. 13 kudos
Shattered Sea Crack: It Came From Beneath the Mud - yet another halloween ficlet, about the gang telling campfire stories on the shattered sea. 13 kudos
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? every single comment, pretty much. i love to talk with people about what they see in my stories, to hear about what stands out, what it makes them wonder. i get so many good ideas from that, too! and it means so much to me when people comment, of course i'm going to say something, even if they just say they liked it. the value of the encouragement cannot be measured!
6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? hmmm i don't really do angsty endings but to be fair i don't really do a lot of endings so far, i'm just eternally WIP. some of my halloween ficlets end with everyone dying but they're not really very serious to begin with so i don't know if that qualifies as angst, hehe.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? probably (Take You) Higher? my big WIPs are going to have happy endings but that's one that's actually finished. ends with two idiots falling in love and hopefully setting out for a brighter future than they were originally envisioning for themselves :)
8. Do you get hate on fics? not so far, but i'm writing pretty niche at this point.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? *looks at my list of works* *looks back at the camera* oh. maybe a bit? m/m, f/m, f/f, f/m/f, some fluffy vanilla, some light kink and bdsm, some omegaverse. LOVE first times. i really like going into detail in general.
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? not so far, although i feel like willow would be a good crossover with xena. very similar feel to both shows, and i'm not just talking about the lesbians.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? i don't think so?
12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? did some great round robins back in the day, but nothing recent.
14. What's your all-time favorite ship? it's gotta be graydon/boorman. nothing has eaten up as much of my brainspace as this. i just love them too much.
15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? god. i do not know how i'm going to finish these things but i'm going to keep writing either way. they're getting finished or i'm going to be updating from the nursing home, bet.
16. What are your writing strengths? interior monologue & smut. i really love wallowing in feelings and sensations.
17. What are your writing weaknesses? planning. outlining. estimating the length of time or word count of any part of a story. petty jealousy of more popular writers, lol. wanting comments T_T
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? i would outsource that for sure.
19. First fandom you wrote for? xena! writing m/m slash in another one of the most notorious lesbian fandoms. my niche i guess, haha... ha.... hehe?
20. Favorite fic you've written? i'm going to sound so annoying when i say this maybe but i love them all. i write exactly what i want to see and i love to reread them. but thrown like a star is my favorite, because it's the one that got me writing again after a long hiatus, and it's the love story i was dying to see.
Tagging: @bisexualshakespeare @bifuriouswaterbender @rotaryshakes @woobifiedvillain @queen-of-meows @aurorawest @mareebird @cenobitic-anchorite @peterbenjaminparkour @storyspinner91 @blackdalek and anyone else who'd like to join in :D
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annaroselyn · 1 year
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Any RC books you recommend to a newbie like me?
Also me, calling myself newbie when I joined RC March 2022... but don't blame me... my studies and real life kept me soo busy that I haven't played/read a lot. I've only read Heaven's Secret 1 , Shadows of Saintfour and other two books which I didn’t liked (something with actress like Red Carpet Diaries and the other about a life guard).😢
Hopefully you can recommend me something exciting!!! 😊
I did not like My Hollywood Story or Wave Patrol either.
Arcanum is my absolute favorite book on RC. I never hesitate to recommend this. This is the same author for Heavens Secret and Shadows of Saintfour. All the LIs are great and the story is intriguing. There are a bunch of jump scares so I don’t recommend reading at night. Bert was my LI and season 2 was my favorite of the series.
Legend of the Willow is another completed series I love. The author also wrote Moonborn (number 2 on my favorites list) and Psi. There are four wonderful love interests, you can’t go wrong with any of them. The clothing is beautiful and the art is truly lovely. I would like to recommend Moonborn as well but it is an older story that suffers from poor translation and is also very long. I love it but I read it a long time ago when it was still being released.
For currently releasing books I recommend The Desert Rose and Theodora. These are beautiful books with great love interests and well written stories. Have tissue ready when you read Theodora. Also Heart of Trespia: great story, wonderful LIs, and friendship routes with the characters you don’t romance.
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cyle-stuff · 1 year
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Hello Owl House Fans And Welcome to My Analysis of The Trailer for S3 E2 ‘For The Future’
(This post contains stuff from the trailer and past episodes only! No leaks!)
This analysis (that kinda turned into a theory on this one) had to be break down into a few parts (apparently there’s a photo limit… and I think photos help with understanding, plus I originally wrote this with photos so I broke it up) so hopefully people don’t mind
(Part 8/10)
Previous/Continuation———————————————————————
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Next we see Amity, Mattholomule, and Luz in a room as they look over at some explosion. By their faces it’s obvious they weren’t expecting that explosion, could the explosion be an accident or deliberate attack?
There’s also something very interesting in the background.
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There are three pictures in the background, two partly covered and one we cannot see what the picture is. One picture is a figure that I can’t figure out what it is, but the other picture is actually something we seen before.
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It’s this scene from S2 E12 Elsewhere And Elsewhen. And it’s because of this scene, that one picture, I think I know what’s going on in this scene.
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Notice how those pictures are on a string? Notice that glowing spider? Well Owl House fans, let me remind you of an episode called S1 E15 Understanding Willow.
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To summarize this mini theory, I think they are taking out memories that Luz has. Not to erase them or anything, to be honest I don’t know why, but that’s what it seems like.
Anyway moving on from mini theory and continuing with the actual analysis of the trailer.
(Part 8/10)
Previous/Continuation
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sunlitmcgee · 2 years
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Somewhat Belated HWHBH Chapter 85 Behind the Scenes!
Hello, hello! This was meant to come out very soon after this chapter was posted, but as you all know, stuff happened with dear Mister Technoblade, and I was too upset over it to write it, especially about such personally touchy themes that this chapter involved. But hey! Better late than never.
This post will have discussions of all the triggers this chapter had, mainly those around themes of neglect, abandonment, and references to spousal abuse/mistreatment. Please be mindful! And be safe :)
with that all said...
this chapter was a very heavy one for me personally. Heavy in a way much like chapter 81, but different in that while that chapter was about the overall effects of lifelong trauma, this one was about a very SPECIFIC kind of trauma. that of course being trauma caused by failure/negligence/abandonment by a parental figure...specifically one you never properly met.
Tommy never knew Willow before the events of this chapter happened.
Tommy never knew that Willow even EXISTED until she was talked about to him by XD when Jordan and Lani came to Snowchester. 
Tommy only knew 2 things before he went into that diner: That Willow was his birth mother, and that she left him.
Willow, on both a story and a meta level, is meant to be a stranger. She is an OC. A character spawned purely from my brain that I made to fill the role of HWHBH!Philza’s ex-wife instead of Mumza, because as you all know HWHBH!Phil is an abusive bigoted piece of shit, and because of that I didn’t want to subject Mumza to him, so I simply made an OC to act as her narrative meat-shield.
Willow is not from the canon DSMP story. And because of this, you as readers don’t have anything to draw from when it comes to her behavior or personality like you do with other characters. You all know c!Tommy will always be a loud yet kind-hearted young boy. You know c!Tubbo will always be calculated but very warm underneath. You know c!Ranboo will be a shy anxious yet very sweet young teen, and that c!Wilbur will always be a well meaning dick while c!Sam is a loveable yet pitiful wet rag of a man. You have your references and predispositions. That’s how the DSMP and fandom is in general on the fanfic side of things.
 But you guys didn’t get that with Willowinnit.
She’s a stranger to all of you as much as she is to Tommy.
That was important to keep in mind for me when I wrote her. I wanted her to feel like she didn’t belong. A puzzle piece that can’t fit into the picture Tommy’s made of his happy, idyllic. A one off(but not completely) character that you’re not intended to get attached to, but are rather meant to sit and stare at in a sort of silent, unabashed, slightly disturbed wonder.
You’re meant to go “Wow. This lady up and abandoned her two kids to live with a man who abused her and never came back to get them for all of 16 whole years. that’s really quite fucked up.”
then that thought is hopefully followed up with-
“but, well. she was also abused by her former husband. so that certainly played a role in it.”
Originally, I had plans to describe the kind of abuse Willow went through. I was either gonna have them mentioned by XD in passing or shown in a few choice flashbacks. I still want to have those scenes at some point in the fic, but I decided to hold off on them this chapter, because this chapter wasn’t about Willow’s abuse and trauma, but was instead centered on Tommy’s pain from her abandonment.
This chapter wasn’t about her.
It was about Tommy’s pain from her.
This was just an introduction.
If that makes any since.
This chapter really, really deeply hurt me. It hurt much like the first chapter centered on HWHBH!Phil is. I’m with a few of y’all when you say he’s uncomfortable. He is. And there’s a reason for it that I think I’ve been able to guesstimate thanks to reading a handful of comments and reflecting on my feelings about it.
I think that the reason HWHBH!Phil and anything related to him causes so much discomfort is this: HWHBH!Phil is an everyday kind of monster.
He isn’t a cunning mastermind.
He isn’t a spiraling and pitiful poet.
He isn’t a powerful hog with the strength of a god.
HWHBH!Phil is just an old man. An old. bitter, nasty, bigoted, snarky, smarmy piece of fuck that’s stuck in his ways and is too stupid to even think to try to change. Maybe once there was hope for him to get help in overcoming his own inner demons. But now it’s too late, and even an Angel of Death looking into his soul can see that he’s just as rotten as the man who beat this awfulness into him.
As I once said, HWHBH!Phill will be getting his own backstory-type fic. 
 This is why this chapter was so painful for me. It hurts to look into HWHBH!Phil and the themes that are connected to him. It hurts, because it’s personal for me in a way that the rest of this already deeply personal fic just quite isn’t. In a way that hits a bit deeper. Bit closer to home, if that makes much sense.
Willowinnit is a parent who left her children for dead. Maybe not intentionally, but she knew better than anyone what Phil was really like. She knew that he was going to hurt them. But still, she left.
And now one of her sons is dead.
And her ex-husband did murder him.
And now one of her sons is alone.
And now he fucking hates her.
And now she has to live with that. She has to live with that.
I’m proud of this chapter. It’s gonna be a long long time before I write another one like it.
I hope you all enjoyed it! I hope you all enjoyed this and seeing my thought process. It’s always hard to put all these thoughts and feelings that I have about these characters into words, but I love to do it, and I love when these posts get reblogs or comments where people add on or share additional thoughts that they didn’t comment on the fic.
That’s one of the reasons I made this blog in the first place :) lol
anyway! that’s all I had to say! hope you all have a nice day or night or whatever! I’m gonna try to go to bed so I can get up early and work on the rest of the new chapter. hope to have it posted soon! maybe before sunday :”)
byeeee!
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ellowynbeimler · 4 months
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Jan 4
Dear Dad,
It’s been a couple of days since I wrote to you last. I know that I don’t have to write you, like, every day. But it’s helpful to me. I think. I mean, I hope at least. I will keep doing it for me, even if it doesn’t help you.
I’m actually still kind of bummed that I lost all those other letters I sent you. They would have been super cool to show you when I get home. Hopefully, I remember everything reasonably well. I mean, it shouldn’t be too hard.
Mostly. I think. I mean, I don’t have the best memory, but it’s not the end of the world for me if I don’t remember everything. Some people might even think it’s for the best. But I’m still going to remember some of the more important things.
Like how Grace Got the scars on her back and how Zunair got into music. The way that Reese has taken care of me even if he doesn’t seem to like me very much.
All of it is important to me, at least. And when I get home, I hope we remain friends.
I know I’ve said this before, but we might leave soon.
Willow says that we can jump between a couple of smaller towns to get to the place with the wizards who might be able to help uS. A somewhat safer way to travel, I mean, as close to safe as we can get in the situation that we’re in. I mean, I’m going to assume that it’s not actually that safe. Being that until we’re somewhere warm and safe, it’s not actually that safe. I’m going to assume we’ll freeze to death on the way there, but I’m sure there’s something I could say would make sense, but I really don’t think it will.
I don’t know how long it’ll be until we get home, but it’ll be a lot sooner if we don’t freeze to death. If I recall correctly, too, there’s something we can do to avoid freezing to death with our group. I’m pretty sure that we can survive if we go to different safe places to sleep at night.
Speaking of safe places to sleep at night, we’re really lucky that Zunair is still alive cause he hasn’t been telling us where he’s going, who he’ll be with, or what he’ll be back at the apartment.
So Zunair Got in big trouble when Riley found him dozing on the stairs early this morning, and he was nearly frozen. She ended up having Reese help her drag him to the temple to make sure he wouldn’t die from hypothermia. He didn’t, in fact, die of hypothermia, but he napped on the stairs instead of coming up them cause he was “too tired,” which, according to Riley, is a sign that he was dying of hypothermia.
So, she no longer trusts him or his ability to judge situations. And he is pretty suhe’se’s dumb. Even I know that it’s a bad idea to sleep on stairs when it’s cold out, he’s probably going to be under supervision for a while. He was let out of the temple quickly enough once he’d been warmed up, but he wasn’t really ready to go, so Mrs. Dw sent him to bed and threw a bunch of blankets and stuff on him.
Riley thinks she’s going way too easy on him, but what else is there to do in this situation? He could have died, didn’t, but he could have!
I’m glad they’re okay, even though I think they’re done. But also, why didn’t anyone help him earlier?
That’s also not something we need to worry about too much because he’s not dead. In fact, perfectly fine. Even though we were all worried.
We’re not actually talking about it, even though I would like to, because we keep getting in these situations without talking about them when we probably should. We’re just not talking about it. Again.
Instead, we’re talking about leaving again. Riley has wild hair about it now. I think it’s cause of Zunair, but we’re not talking about it even though we probably should.
If we leave soon, we’ll probably be able to get there soon. But with a high chance of freezing to death, never forget that you don’t really have any money, and they’ve mostly been living off the charity of others in this place.
Riley thinks we might be able to get to the next place easy peasy though. Since she’s the primary driving force in our group or at least the major stop-go force. That we’re going to go when she says we should. We’ll probably leave soon because she’s already planning and figuring out where to go. When we’ll need to stop.
But then we can go and stop at a bunch of little places along the way. Probably. If we have money. And if we have blankets or something that can keep us warm, we can probably survive if we can’t stay there overnight. There really being anywhere in between us and the wizard.
But we’ll see about all of it.
Love you, dad. Hopefully, I’ll be home soon.
Jack
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maddilynmuse · 1 year
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Man. I was looking through some old emails today and found a gem I forgot I wrote. I’ve completely forgotten what I intended to happen next, but I think some of y’all might like it! Also, I’m ~*purple*~ because I just updated tumblr and, uh… maybe it’s because I’m on night mode but I couldn’t see my text otherwise ^^’ Hopefully it doesn’t do the same for the rest sljfjlsl I don’t want to turn each paragraph purple @~@
Rue turned off their alarm – which had been going off for at least an hour now – and opened their windows, letting sun stream into their room unblocked by the window. It was a lovely, quiet morning in Hewetown, a bit chilly with the promise to warm up. Dew was still on the ground, and the air smelled sweet. A lovely day, and Rue wasn’t enjoying an ounce of it, once again haven been woken up for a fourth time this week by a bout of fitful sleep plagued by feelings of suffocation and a soreness around their neck until they finally gave in, combing up and down the street long past dark and into the morning. Their boots were covered in mud, hands much the same. Honestly, it was a miracle their neighbors hadn’t called the police yet. At least, they hoped it was just a miracle, or perhaps simply neighbors that slept like the dead. With that done, they went back to the kitchen only to see something already waiting for them.
“Rough night?” their grandmother, Willow, said as she passed them an entire teapot. It was an odd blend, chamomile, mint, ginger and yerba mate tea, but a particular favorite of theirs after a long night. Albeit not so much because of the taste, but more for the energy boost.
Rue drank it hot, hot enough that the taste barely mattered anyways – just as Yerba Mate should be consumed – relishing the heat in their throat and chest, even easing away some of the phantom tightness. Only after they’d had a full cup of tea did they nod, trying their best to clear their throat even as it felt like it was being pinched shut. “Ye-Yeah…” They’d need more. The water was still hot, so they dropped some sage in the teapot and poured another cup.
Willow gave them a sympathetic look, rubbing their back. There was no hiding from her that they hadn’t been sleeping well, waking up feeling like they couldn’t breathe, and they both knew it wasn’t from any normal illness or some sudden development of sleep apnea. Something was wrong with something somewhere nearby, and they were going to have to find it or it might drive them mad.
Rue had a secret: they had magic. Not just used magic, but had magic. Their parents had said it was a curse, or rather, that they were a curse, long ago, and maybe they were right. Magic was, despite what some might think, not always inherently bad, but the kind of will, desperation, and deliberation it took to actually perform anything usually never led to anything good. Oh sure, lots of good people tried it, sometimes good things happened from it, but most pulled out before they could have anything to show for it besides a lesson learned, maybe a weird story or a small memento. But nothing came free, magic included, though the cost didn’t strictly need to come from the user’s pocket. Someone had to pay, eventually. At least, that’s how it typically went. And then there was Rue. They weren’t sure if they were someone else’s cost, someone else’s outcome (intended or not), or something else, but they at least knew they’d always seen and felt things others never did. No amount of trying to ignore it made it stop, but they found ways to cope. Such as lovely cups of tea after long, hard nights. But if this pressure in their throat didn’t ease up, they felt like they were going to go mad…
Though thankfully they didn’t have to wait much longer – a kid said good morning to them through the windows, half-dragging a dog almost twice her size, and Rue had to cough up their tea, suddenly wheezing for breath as they looked at the dog. Willow rubbed their back, raising an eyebrow, but she knew.
Rue ran out to the girl, Cindy, they were pretty sure. “Hey, is that your dog?” They winced at their own voice, it sounded so hoarse, but they’d fix that soon.
“Um… yeah… He’s Shadow…” Cindy said, staring at her feet with that tone of voice when a kid knows they’re caught. “Are you sick?”
“Ah, just sang too much, made my throat sore.” A white lie, but believable, they were known to sing to their plants. Their hand went out to Shadow’s head.
“Careful… He doesn’t like a lot of people…” Cindy said.
Shadow was a massive thing, pitch black and open-mouthed, panting for breath and paws dragging until he flopped on his side, eyes rolled up and bloodshot. He was thin... Rue’s hand slid to Shadow’s collar, a black thing that barely showed against his fur; the collar was digging into his throat, blood staining the dark fabric. Shadow whined as Rue traced scratch marks, feeling phantom pains in their own neck – Cindy was saying something but they couldn’t focus on that, not with Shadow right here like this. They couldn’t breathe, throat closed like a vice was around it, aching and constricting tighter and tighter-
Rue pulled a pocket knife and sliced the collar off in one smooth motion. Shadow threw his head up with a sudden gasp, limbs moving around as the god-awful weight came off of his throat, and bolted down the street in a mad dash. The maddening tightness in Rue’s own neck finally let up and he let out a sigh of sheer relief, a week’s worth of nightmares and crazed searches sliding off their shoulders.
Cindy, leash still in hand, stared at them, saying nothing for a while before moving off with a mumble of, “Dad’s gonna be mad…” and watching as Rue walked back into their house.
“You could’ve just gotten them a new collar,” Willow said.
“No. Not before I passed out, at least. And no one lets a collar get that small that long on purpose, not if they’re also hiding the dog well enough that no one else has spotted it.” There was something worse at play, and it would probably come back to haunt them. But there wasn’t much to do for now, so they just sipped a cup of tea, content to ride it out.
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