#a journal of plague year no. 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

transbookoftheday · 2 months

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Trans Horror Podcasts

My post about trans horror books last year was much more popular than I expected, and since I've recently fallen in love with fiction podcasts and audio dramas, I thought I'd make a post about trans horror podcasts as well.

If you like trans horror, please give these a try - especially if you enjoy listening to audiobooks!

Hello From The Hallowoods:

Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, an eldritch narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.

Hello From The Hallowoods is my absolute favorite podcast! If you only listen to one podcast from this list, please make it this one - it's so beautifully written and super queer! Also: season 4 starts today!

Trans main characters include:

our nonbinary eye-affiliated podcast host

a nonbinary "Frankenstein's creature"

a transmasc ghost

a genderfluid storm witch

a trans woman who can visit other people's dreams

multiple characters using neopronouns

Camp Here & There:

Good morning, campers! Camp Here & There is a weekly horror comedy podcast tuned in to the loudspeakers of a small midwestern sleepaway camp plagued by supernatural terrors and natural disasters. Sydney Sargent, resident camp nurse, cheerfully reports on all the terror we must face with a big smile. Let’s hope there’s nothing weird about that!

Sydney is a trans man.

Dos: After You:

Things have changed. Deck has fallen in love with someone who isn't human, and leaves a hungry house behind to see him again. Will he be waiting for you? The world has changed… but what about him? Dos: After You is a queer urban fantasy/horror audiodrama available in both English & Spanish

Deck is a trans man.

Jar of Rebuke:

Follow Dr. Jared Hel's journey as he works to re-discover his forgotten past and finds his place within the small Indiana farm town of Wichton and the cryptozoological organization he works for called 'The Enclosure'. These audio journals, and other recordings, dive deep into Midwestern US cryptids and folklore while also telling a mystery about identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.

Jared is nonbinary.

Spirit Box Radio:

Spirit Box Radio is an award winning, horror audio drama podcast about a radio show for enthusiasts of all things arcane. Follow Sam Enfield a former postboy with no experience in the arcane arts, who finds themselves forced to take over running the show, following the disappearance of the previous host. Sam soon discovers there are more than ghosts haunting the show, and finds himself amidst a mystery which threatens everything he knows about the world beyond his tiny basement broadcast studio, and maybe even himself.

Sam is a trans man.

The Silt Verses:

Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations amongst the reeds and the wetlands. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories. This is a world where divine intervention takes place through prayer-markings scratched into stumping-posts, and offerings are left squirming to die in the flats of the delta. This is a world of ritual, and hidden language, and sacrifice. This is folk horror, and fantasy, and a dark road trip into the depths of unusual faith.

Faulkner is a trans man.

The Magnus Protocol:

The Magnus Archives 2: The Magnus Protocol is the prequel/sequel/”sidequel” to the internationally renowned Magnus Archives podcast. The Magnus Institute was an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal, based out of Manchester, England. It burned to the ground in 1999. There were no survivors. Now, almost 25 years later, Alice and Sam, a pair of low-level civil service workers at the underfunded Office of Incident Assessment and Response, have stumbled across its legacy. A legacy that will put them in grave danger. If this intrigues you then it is our pleasure to welcome you to the Office of Incident, Assessment and Response. Make sure you pick up your badge at desk and report to your line manager before sitting down. Oh and stay away from I.T., seriously.

I'm not sure if Alice is canonically trans, but her voice actress is a trans woman.

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esotericpluto · 7 months

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your life 5 years from now

from left to right; intuitively choose the pile you feel more connected to. To make it easier, you can take a deep breathe, close your eyes and ask for guidance to your deities or guides. These are all general messages, so just take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This reading is timeless. If it resonates, feedback is always appreciated and motivates to keep doing pick a card readings. You can donate here.

dividers credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

pile 1

fully intuitive, no cards

I feel like you will have a lot of success in your life, mainly financially. You will be very financially stable and living out your dreams. I see most of you will be in your desired career and learning everyday more about it, advancing in it and adquiring new skills. I see some of you investing money in various ways too, as buying properties, jewels or art pieces. Others might be investing in actions/stocks as well and building a diverse portfolio.

For some people in this group (mainly those who will be 25 plus in 5 years) I'm seeing that you will be building a family too or preparing yourself to build one, however I do advise you to be very careful with the partner you pick as some of you might be investing in a rotten apple without realizing. Do not ignore red flags and be 100% sure this person is fulfilling you and doing more than the bare minimum, as you do not want to regret the person you build a family with. Some of you might even receive warnings of this through dreams, so dream journal and study dream analysis.

Overall, I see, especially for women who picked this pile, that you will be highly successful. I see you having very close friends who are there for you and who are successful themselves, so no jealousy or envy in the scene. I see you all going on trips and nice fancy dates together and truly uplifting each other up.

You will be extremely well educated by then and might even be beginning to take on a PHD by that time. I also see you taking some free courses here and there and truly building yourself up and becoming very well read. You will be a real catch and grow into yourself both physically and mentally. You will be very grounded in all aspects of yourself. I am also seeing some travels around the world and possibly owning a cat or two.

pile 2

2 of cups, 10 of swords, 4 of wands, 7 of pentacles

For those who picked this pile, you will be entering a harmonious time in your life after a long era of suffering and worrying. I see, however, that all this depends on you. You will have to remove your blindfolds and actually take control of your life and make a decision once and for all about yourself and the direction of things. This might be working on yourself, working on limiting beliefs, putting end to toxic behaviors and thoughts you have about yourself or others, going to therapy and doing shadow work. For some of you, this will require the end of friendships/a relationship that won't serve you anymore and you will have to put yourself first, choosing yourself over them, even if hurts you for a while.

For others, this might indicate you are going to be entering a new relationship after worries of never finding the ideal person for you. However, I see that you will be plagued by fears that the relationship won't work or that the person will leave eventually and that you'll have to start from zero with someone new all over again. This is a valid fear, but you will only be allowing these thoughts to drain you out of life and happiness if you don't address them. Not only that, but you will end up easily minsunderstanding your partner or jumping to conclusions that will only put a strain in the relationship. You have been hurt before and you didn't deserve that, but be careful to not project the aftermath of that pain onto innocent people.

I do feel like this partner could be the end game for you, but only if you are willing to truly work through these issues and I'd recommend starting now. When the time comes, be willing to be open with them about the things you have been through as they'll be open minded and understand you better than anyone has. Consider going to therapy too and even couple therapy with them if you have the chance. People tend to think couple therapy is only for when things are going through rough patch or to "fix" things, but the truth is that every couple can benefit from couple therapy and it can help them heal from expectations and fears they carry on from childhood or past connections.

Working through all this will require some time dedication and patience from both, but I see it strengthening the relationship and even possibly leading to marriage and a lot of happy moments together.

I also feel like you might be going through a lot of tiring moments when it comes to your career in 5 years. I feel like most of you will still be trying to find a career/workplace that fits you and where you feel welcome. Others might even not be enjoying your job/employers for being too strict, non-understanding and draining. While you should be collaborative, you should never take abuse or energy draining vampires. You are strong enough to leave and find a better job for you, there are enough of them out there for you and you might even find a better area or truly follow your childhood dreams.

Your efforts when it comes to work will definitely pay off after a while and you will even receive a financial bonus/reward due to this.

I see a lot of celebrations. I feel like some of your friends or even family members like cousins and siblings (i'm also seeing an younger aunt possibly) getting married, engaged or having children. You might also be going to parties or hanging out with friends, trying to maintain a healthy social life. I'm also hearing to keep family close.

pile 3

Lovers, Temperance, 6 of cups, 5 of cups, Knight of Cups, 6 of wands, 7 of pentacles, 3 of cups

So I feel like for most of you 5 years from now this will be a time of self-love and balance in your life. I also see that you will be surrounded by life, with a stable partner/relationship (possibly already marriage for some of you) and expecting a new family member/child, whilw trying to balance things out in your life and home to make space for the new family element.

Because of this new addition to your newly founded family, I feel like you will be reminiscing a lot about your own childhood and how things went with your parents. I feel like they committed many mistakes that you feel resentful over still and that you'll fear repeating. It could also apply to anyone who might have hurt you during your childhood and you fearing the same happening to your kid. However, you're going to choose to look at this as a new beginning and as a way to give someone else the childhood they deserve, since you didn't have yours. I feel like this will help you heal your inner child and release the unwarranted guilt you might feel.

I feel like around this time you might even receive texts from ex partners trying to reconnect, which you will of course decline since you'll be in a happy relationship expecting (although this could also apply for people adopting/using surrogacy btw). Some of you, old friends will reconnect and want to catch up with you. I'm hearing to be careful with who you let back in, but a few of them will be trustworthy and you'll miss them in your life. I feel like some of them might just try to get into your life again for their own benefit and to ask you for money, so be careful. This could also be a family member for some of you.

Overall, it will be a time that you'll see many things come to fruition and you will feel truly victorious. I see a lot of happy joyful moments and celebrations, especially when the little one gets in the picture. I think it will be a very united and bonded family which is adorable.

There will be one month or two that you might need to go into introspection/solitude until you feel better and ready to face the world too. I feel like for some of you this could sadly be some form of postpartum depression, but I see you getting counselling for it and overcoming it without many struggles.

You will be pausing your career for a bit with this, however once you do get back I see people welcoming you with open arms, missing you and wishing you the best. I see you will also be able to get promoted/salary raise in a few months after you get back and so will your significant other, bringing more abundance to you two especially after being a bit tight on finances to make space for the baby.

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niqhtlord01 · 11 days

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Humans are weird: Poop Crystals

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The pace in which human technology progressed over the millennia was rather standard for a class 4 species. Even when accounting the periods of scientific degradation which resulted from natural plagues or religious persecution; it was expected that humans would not achieve advanced space travel until another 2-3 thousand years had passed.

Scientifically speaking human scientists were well more advanced than the society they lived in, but due to the technological limitations of the human race they were held back from implementing their designs. A primary limitation was the lack of a sufficiently powerful power source. They did have many different forms of power generators ranging from solar to nuclear, but to power larger machines often required equally large energy sources. To power their ships alone around a third of their vessels were dedicated to the power cores.

With these restrictions in place travel between stars for humans often relied on decade long journeys in cryo sleep; which ironically required even more power generators to maintain. Their large size made them easy targets for natural disasters such as space debris or prowling space pirates seeking an easy profit margin at the slave markets. These dangers became a standard for human travel until the Terran civilization encountered the planet Nolla 987 and the species that called it home.

During a long duration colonization trip the human ship “Midas” was struck by the trail debris of a rogue comet and knocked off course. The robotic caretakers tried their best to maintain the course, but with the damage done to the ship their primary programming to maintain the lives of the crew kicked in and diverted the ship to the nearest habitable planet for debarkation. Nolla 987 was the closest planet with a stable atmosphere. Originally charted several years earlier but deemed unsuitable for colonization or industrial expansion, it was not ear marked for either and left alone; until the Midas incident that is.

The landing was not a smooth one. Several engines had been damaged and multiple hull breaches resulted in portions of the ship being shredded away during the entry process. It would be safer to say that the Midas crash landed during the final stretch of the maneuver, but with a 73% survival rate of the crew a rather acceptable crash landing.

One by one the crew and colonists were unfrozen to find the ship a burning wreck and only a handful of robotic assistants still functioning. The industrial printing machines were relatively undamaged but without the ships power core they could not be used to print components or tools needed to make the necessary repairs. The crew was then forced to ration its remaining power supply and divided into two teams. The first team would comb through the wreckage and salvage what they could of the wreck while also building shelter. The second group would scout the surrounding area for anything of use and then report back.

It did not take long for the second team to stumble upon a nest of the dominant species of the planet. An insectoid called the “Sectar” which ranged from the size of a house cat to as large as a two story building. These insects digested their food and excreted the waste into a dense crystalian substance that they then used to build massive hive like complexes.

The occupants of the hive had been driven from the hive by the crash landing of the Midas leaving it almost completely empty save for a few eggs and new hatchlings who were not strong enough to flee on their own. Several of the second team members had been scanning the crystal structures while interacting with the newborn Sectar’s. To quote a journal entry of one of them, “They were like insect golden retrievers. Extremely derpy with at least four times as many sets of eyes. They followed us around on their legs like we were their mothers and clung to our legs when we began to return to our ship for the night.”

At least one of the second team was confirmed to have brought a hatchling back to their camp. There was a debate amongst the survivors on if they should try and eat it, but the notion was quickly squashed as they still had food reserves and no one was brave enough to see how the alien’s bio matter would react inside the human digestive system.

The same human who had brought the hatchling back offered it a portion of food which it eagerly ate. Not long after the hatchling excreted a hardened crystal roughly the size of a thimble. When the human made to pick up the seemingly beautiful gem they recoiled as an electrical discharge shocked their hand. This immediately drew the attention of the rest of the crew who began carefully examining the crystal substance. After some rather rough jury-rigging, the crystal was wired into one of the printer machines and to the surprise of everyone powered the machine. The crew quickly learned that the older Sectar’s would produce larger crystal excrements but were extremely hostile and territorial. Smaller Sectar’s were deemed more desirable for the time being as they were easier to train and harvest crystals from.

Within a matter of days the crew had not only collected enough crystals to power all of their machines and send out a distress signal, but also used the new found crystal power to create a full settlement on the planet complete with water filtration, crop fields, and a sizeable wall to keep out the native wildlife.

It would not be for another thirty years before a passing human shipped picked up their distress signal and went to investigate the planet. When they arrived on Nolla 987 they were astonished to find a fully functioning colony complete with limited orbital facilities. Nearly every human settler and their descendants had a Sectar in their household that they would take care of and feed and in exchange use their crystal excrement to power nearly everything they needed to live.

From there it was only a matter of time before the entirety of human space was aware of the events of Nolla 987 and the Sectar species. Within the decade the colony on Nolla 987 became the capital for a fully settled world with dozens of cities and communities. The Sectar species were transported throughout human space and began being implemented in all aspects of society.

There was initial resistance to the new power source by existing power blocks which realized Sectar power would be far more efficient than nuclear powered engines, but unlike other power sources they had squashed in development the Sectar power option had thirty years of trial and error to back it up with research as well as a fully functioning model with the planet of Nolla 987.

Sectar’s became a common sight on every human planet and were treated like common pets. It was even studied that when introduced to different food sources the energy output of crystal excrement could be increased resulting in certain food industries booming overnight. The composition of spices, cooking technique, and flavoring became an entirely new and highly prestigious academic field with the most successful of its practitioners being highly sought after by companies.

The technological capabilities of humanity experienced a massive surge in advancement within fifty years to the point humans no longer needed cryo ships to travel between stars. Those who had been studying humanity found themselves now being introduced to them as humans winded up on their doorstep with a Sectar on their shoulder and a perverse obsession with collecting its bodily waste.

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #funny

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psychhound · 1 year

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How to Survive a Haunting now launched on Kickstarter! Running 3/2/23 to 3/31/23!!

ID in Alt

In How to Survive a Haunting, you play as Stranger, an entity plagued by ghosts who try to possess you, and take over your home and your life. Luckily, you have come across a mysterious old journal, written by a man only referred to as The Journalkeeper. He has spent his life studying ghosts, and made it his mission to record everything he knew about how to defend yourself from them, and how to tame them

On the journey to taming your ghosts, you will represent your accomplishments through tokens, keep a magical deck of cards that help you ward off unearthly possessions, and log your adventure in a journal. The Journalkeeper will walk you through each stage of this process, and teach you how to customize the game to fit your specific needs

Haunting is a gamified mental health aid, designed to help people learn more about how their body works, adopt a challenge mindset, and achieve post-traumatic growth. It is designed with a light horror aesthetic (though no actual scares in the game) to meet people in the mental space that they’re at, and not make light of extremely difficult circumstances. It is geared towards the recovery of those with trauma and (c)PTSD

artwork by @prose-n-scripts

Haunting was inspired by my own journey of recovery and exploration with gamification and tabletop roleplaying games as I struggled for years with PTSD, dysphoria, mental health issues, and more. Games were a safe space for me, and allowed me to grow and heal more than almost anything else. With games, I was able to put the power of recover into my own hands, go at my own pace, and focus on what was important to me

I wanted to create Haunting to help all the people who may find traditional therapy unhelpful, intimidating, inaccessible, or unsafe. Or for others who find therapy helpful but need more structure and guidance outside of sessions. Haunting explores many different ways to help your brain and your body, explains the science and psychology behind its advice in cited research, and never breaks character as a helpful old man giving advice on ghosts

It is geared entirely around building self-efficacy, building resilience, and achieving post-traumatic growth

The funding goal is $3500. This original goal funds for consultant Hayley Twyman Brack, a therapist and avid gamer, to go over the game and make sure everything is cited from the latest peer-reviewed research, and make sure all the psychology advice is up to date on the latest therapeutic practices

I am pulling the knowledge in this game both from my own recovery journey, and my last two years as a social worker working with a large variety of clients with disability and mental health challenges

If we can reach a little further than our original goal, the game will be fully illustrated by wonderful artist Vicky @prose-n-scripts

Please check out the Kickstarter page to learn more and spread the word to anyone who may be interested! I believe in the power of the TTRPG community to make this happen! Thank you everyone!!

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #mental health #trauma #ptsd #ptsd survivor #gamification

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createyourownnarrative · 5 months

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April, 2023

“Are you okay?”

“But You’re doing great..”

Really? Am I? They have no clue. These are people close to me. It hurts so much to be living with an “invisible illness”.

Today, brain fog, forgetfulness, memory loss, fatigue, dizzy spells, and muscle weakness are plaguing me. With a constant subtle migraine..almost daily. I cry. Every. Day. I’m just barely trying to hold it together.

I participated in a local art show, and the opening reception was last night, I couldn’t even get out of bed. No one reached out..until this morning, 1 friend noticed I wasn’t there. And messaged me to check in. I felt so alone.

Every day, I feel like I’m closer and closer to the grave, and I’m scared. I’m only 36. I feel like I’m withering away. [2 years and 4 months in]

I first got Covid in December 2020, then in December 2021.

I created this journal, in hopes that I can reach other people living with chronic illness, to say, you are not alone. 🖤

#long covid #covid19 #covid pandemic #covid #covid isn't over #coronavirus #pandemic #long haul #long haulers #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically ill #invisible illness #invisible disability #photography #art therapy #create

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hornyforpoetry · 1 year

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The Five Stages of Reading Albert Camus

1. The Discovery – ”The Stranger” (1942)

„The Stranger” is unquestionably the best choice for anyone who wants to get to know Albert Camus. It's so simple that it fools you at first. You think it's going to be an easy read, but when you finish the book and put it down, you don't even know your name or if it even matters to have a name. It will probably keep your mind busy for months and make you think about the true meaning of life. You will most likely never be the same person again.

2. Falling in Love – ”Betwixt and Between” (1937) // ”The Fall” (1956) // ”Exile and the Kingdom” (1957)

After "The Stranger" has had time to settle and stick in your mind (a process that takes about six months to a year), it's time to explore other writing. Camus doesn't use the same language in every book, so it's important to be careful what you choose to read after. The best options to fall irrevocably in love with this French philosopher are ”Betwixt and Between”, which is his very first published book, ”The Fall”, which offers a very interesting narrative perspective, or ”Exile and the Kingdom”, his only collection of short stories. After going through these, your heart will be caught in the nets of love for Camus.

3. The Surprise – ”The Plague” (1947) // ”A Happy Death” (written 1936–38, published 1971) // ”Summer” (1954) // ”Nuptials” (1938)

After the reader has gone through the above books, he will have the impression that he knows Camus. Now is the time for him to have the surprise of his life. Camus managed the feat of not giving the audience the same thing twice. That is why each of his writings is unique. Some are easier to read and digest, some are not. At this stage, it is time to get acquainted with its more difficult side. "The Plague" is a story that shakes you to the core and is difficult for even the best readers to get through. ”The Happy Death” should never have seen the light of day, being the first version of what we now know as The Stranger. "Summer" and "Nuptials" are dubbed essays and are similar in format to ”Betwixt and Between”, but here Camus approaches a completely new language, so poetic and refined that it instantly wins you over. Only after the reader goes through these books can he say that he understands a part of Camus.

4. Not just a writer – ”The Myth of Sisyphus” (1942) // „The Rebel” (1951) // Theatre Plays // Journalism Articles

Camus was not only a great French writer. He was also a philosopher (though he never called himself that), a journalist and a playwright. If you are interested in fully understanding Camus, you must also understand his writings in other fields. "The Myth of Sisyphus" is the essay that formed the basis of the formation of a new philosophical current called absurdism. "The Rebel" continues the work started by "The Myth of Sisyphus", going much deeper into the issues related to the meaning of life, art, war, etc. Plays like "Caligula" (1938) or "The Misunderstanding" (1944) are wonderful pieces of art in the history of the theater, while summing up the entire philosophy of Camus. His journalistic articles reveal a Camus involved in society, trying to change something in one way or another through writing. "Reflections on the Guillotine" (1957) for example was an important work that contributed to the abolition of the death penalty in France. Camus never confined his writing to a single specialization, and this can be seen in the skill with which he explored the power of the word in its various forms.

5. Camus the Human – ”The First Man” (incomplete, published 1994) // ”American Journals” (1978) // ”Correspondence (1944–1959)” // ”Notebooks”

At this point, after going through all these readings, we also want to find out who was the man behind the word. Camus put many things from his personal life into writing, but in this selection we have the most personal point of view. ”The First Man” was supposed to be an autobiographical novel, but Camus died before he could finish it. The remaining manuscript was revised and published years after the author's death. "American Journals" captures a highly sensitive moment in his life, an existential crisis in Camus's life. ”Correspondence” is an exchange of letters between Camus and the woman with probably the greatest influence in his life, Maria Casares. Finally, the "Notebooks" are a collection made from the notes that Camus wrote over the years in his countless notebooks. Every intimate thought, beginning of a novel, reflection, trace of feeling, all these complete the image of Camus as a man.

Congratulations! If you have reached this point, you have managed to go through all the stages of knowledge and you can call yourself a true fan of Albert Camus. Now go and spread his teachings to other little outstiders. And don't forget, the only purpose of life is to be happy (reading Camus together).

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workingclasshistory · 1 year

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On this day, 27 October 1940, Japanese planes dropped grain over Ningbo, China during World War II. Two days later, bubonic plague broke out in the city killing 97 people. After the war Japanese military officials confirmed that they had carried out a biological attack, under the supervision of Unit 731. Unit 731 was one of several biological warfare teams which carried out many attacks on China, killing tens of thousands. Some aircraft sprayed bubonic plague, while others dropped ceramic containers full of plague-infested fleas. Elsewhere, reservoirs, wells, livestock and agricultural land were deliberately infected with pathogens including cholera, dysentery, typhoid and anthrax. These continued to kill after the war ended – up to 30,000 in 1947 alone. In addition to aerial attacks, they conducted horrific human experiments, mostly on Chinese communists and partisans, but also on some Russians and other Westerners. Subjects were infected with diseases, frozen alive, dismembered, gassed, raped and more. Hundreds were killed each year after the unit was set up in 1932. Its scientists even published papers publicly in peer-reviewed journals, claiming that the experiments discussed were on non-human primates. Towards the end of the war, all the prisoners and Chinese labourers in the unit were murdered, and Japanese troops tried to destroy all evidence by blowing up the base. Officers and scientists who were captured by the USSR were put on trial for war crimes and sentenced to periods of 2 to 25 years imprisonment in Siberian gulags. However, the US claimed the trials were "communist propaganda," and gave immunity to scientists in exchange for their data, including the sadistic head of Unit 731, Shiro Ishii. The USSR also soon established a biological weapons facility using research from the Unit. Some of the Unit's scientists given immunity continued experimenting on Japanese civilians without their consent, deliberately infecting patients with typhus for example. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2119763184875487/?type=3

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 months

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Wither on the vine

Wekk 1 picture prompt for: Spring picture prompt event by @hotd-bigbang

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Maternal/child death prior to the beginning of the story

Wordcount: 500+words

Summary: Alicent writes about the cherry blossom tree in the Godswood, and her upcoming wedding.

A/n 1: This ficlet is written in the epistolary form of writing

A/n 2: Alicent is 18 in this story

Minors DNI

Alicent Hightower’s journal

5th day in the third moon of 106 AC.— It is still spring, and flowers in the cherry blossom tree have already bloomed in the Godswood. It is the only tree of its nature in Westeros, a gift to the king from the Empress of YiTi in honor of his ascending the throne. There was a solemn ceremony in the Godswood when it was planted into the soil, with a tourney and a grand feast afterward. High lords and ladies came from all over the realm to bear witness, and more than one champion made their name on the tourney grounds. It had been a glorious day, filled with warm sunshine, music, and laughter, and purses growing fat from wagers.

Rhaenyra and I often sat beneath its flower-laden branches and talk and read and laugh. She would share her father’s tales of old Valyria and tales of her little adventures flying atop her dragon, Syrax. She often begged me to come with her, and I always refused. Then she would pout, pursing her lips into a thin line. And then she would smile and enlist my aid in her quest to raid the kitchens for cake.

“I want to fly with you on dragon back,” she once said after wheedling the cook into giving her a tray laden with cake and other sweets. “See the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake.”

What happy times they were! The realm prospered, queen Aemma was with child again, and commoners and nobles alike awaited the birth of a little prince, an heir to wear his father’s crown and put an end to the question of succession for good and for all. Alas! That was not to be. Good queen Aemma perished in her labors, and her son followed her soon after. And that was when Father began his scheming, though, at the time, I did not see it for what it truly was.

A ploy to put me in the king’s bed as his new queen and secure more power for himself.

“I would like for you to seek out the king,” he had said, “and offer him comfort. Viserys is plagued with grief. He will be glad to have a kindly visitor. And Alicent? Be sure one of your mother’s dresses when you call on him.”

As strange as it was, I thought nothing of his request to garb myself in one of my lady mother’s dresses. I did as I was bid, because that was what dutiful children did. They obeyed their mother and father in all things. I obeyed my father and listened to him, never questioning him or his motives, even when my own conscience pressed me to do so. And because I listened to him without question and toiled blindly on his behalf, I am now left without a true friend in court and the companion I once considered as dear as a most beloved sister. I am about to wed a man I could neither love nor desire and produce his heirs year after year, all while the cherry blossom tree continues to bloom and my own wishes and dreams slowly wither on the vine.

Image: Arno Smit/Unsplash

Cherry blossom divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#hotd spring prompts 24 #hotd #alicent hightower #epistolary

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minastras · 1 year

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prev • masterlist • next

profiles 2/2: minding their own damn business

warnings: swearing

taehyun: sophomore. the grinch of romance. keeps to himself. has been stuck in literally the worst dorm ever since freshman year. seriously considered selling a kidney on the black market to escape before he gets the plague.

taehyun's burner account: he's not emotionally stable enough to journal but emotionally unstable enough to need to journal. this was the solution. definitely not used for porn.

beomgyu: sophomore. taehyun's best friend and worst enemy. wants to be left alone. very ‘not like other boys’, but will never admit it. does not trust any popular person ever, no matter what.

kai: sophomore. taehyun's other best friend. very sweet and well-liked. would probably be more popular if he wasn't so shy. y/n's classmate. was in the front row when they faceplanted.

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt smau #taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun smau #txt x reader #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #txt fluff

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eruden-writes · 2 years

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Room & Board - Part 11 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

🦇 🦇 🦇

Early access to Part 12 when it's ready will be available on Patreon!

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

🦇 🦇 🦇

The next day, Tabaeus doesn't greet you in the hall or the base of the stairs or in the kitchen. Between it being a new home and the tension the two of you suffered last night, you try not to look too closely into it. It's better if he's pouting or sleeping in his box in the basement. That gives you time to yourself.

And, more importantly, to study the journal.

After checking in on the sugar gliders, refreshing their water and available food as they slept in their little pouch, you retrieve the book from the anti-vampire box in your office. Settling on the couch, you run a finger over the cover. It's certainly an old book, bound in what you hope is animal leather. That finger traverses the edges of the papers, finding them thick and uneven.

It takes you a moment to steel yourself for what you'll find out. If you'll find out anything. You flip the cover open, carefully, and read the first page. Only a handful of words sit on the first page. A scrawling script, one that you can imagine was done by quill and ink, reads:

Property of Dr. Kieran Bennett.

1882

You press your lips together. Okay, so it wasn't Tabaeus's journal. Or was it and his name is actually Kieran Bennett? Your brain is already buzzing with thoughts and theories and questions as you turn to the next, thick page.

March 10, 1882

In the spirit of research, I - Dr. Kieran Bennett - will be keeping records of the creature found in a long abandoned shed owned by one Thaddeus Thatcher.

As the account has been told to me, the town of Thistle had been plagued with "wolf attacks" on their livestock for the last half-year. A creature, big and shaggy and dark, appeared multiple times from the forest but would soon flee back into her dark recesses.

When residents of Thistle began to go missing, the townspeople accused the creature and began a hunt for it.

Over the course of three days, the town managed to flush the creature out. First, from a cave system. Then, from the aforementioned Mr. Thatcher's abandoned shed, upon which they caught the creature in a net and managed to shackle it.

It now resides in the local undertaker's basement, due to its need for darkness, locked in a cage with a collar around its throat.

I have yet to interact with the creature. I shall update upon progress.

So far, it seems Dr. Bennett is not Tabaeus. Part of your mind files the name away for later research. Perhaps the library will have some information, you think, as you read further.

March 13, 1882

It is largely believed the creature is a vampyr of lore.

As such we keep it fed on animal blood, which seems to suffice for the most part. Its appearance has confirmed it was feeding upon humans.

When it feeds upon animals, its visage becomes more animalistic. Inky black sprouts across the expanse of its body' its ears grow, becoming more akin to a chiroptera's large ears; its teeth become so large, the maw barely contains them and its eyes glow with the embers of Hell.

Adversely, when it feeds upon humans, it has the appearance of a man.

Without thinking, you raise a hand to your throat. Your palm is warm against the side of your neck, where two little scabs have made semi-permanent residence. Faintly, you recall that first night. How Tabaeus appeared so fearsome, so animal.

Had they been sustaining themselves on animal blood, until that point? Had they suffered an injury, resulting in hunting you down? Or was it just that you smelled so good to Tabaeus, for whatever reason, they couldn't resist?

We have yet to test any further hypothesis on the creature, though it has yet to harm anyone. On occasion, it has startled anyone that passes its cage with a sudden charge, but beyond that, it is capable of sitting for hours, doing nothing.

March 28, 1882

Sun burns the creature.

Silver burns the creature.

Cloves and garlic have no reaction.

We cannot test the efficacy of wooden stakes until we feel we are done learning all we can.

It makes the worst howling shrieks of pain.

My heart aches with every test, but we must learn all we can for humankind.

Your brows furrow, considering the slight jump in time. A little over two weeks of no entries, only to have rather scant descriptions of what they had found. Your lips press together, puzzling on the thought.

What happened in that time? Had Dr. Bennett grown closer to Tabaeus, at all? It doesn't seem like it, with the continued usage of 'it,' but you continue on, keeping an eye on the dates.

April 3, 1882

Tabaeus. That is what the creature calls itself. Doubtful it is a God-given name, but one assigned to the creature by the Dark Prince himself.

Though I find it hard to believe such a soft-spoken creature could be from the bowels of hell. Father Bartholomew insists it is, since the holy water burned its flesh. The screams had been wrenching, as two men of the town held Tabaeus down as the priest dribbled water upon its form.

Tomorrow, a renowned surgeon will come to town. The town's council knows this may hamper - if not end - ongoing investigation, but they hope to cut Tabaeus open to understand its innerworkings.

Perhaps there is a cure to wrench the unholy creature away from the source of evil consuming it.

Surgery? Your eyebrows tick up, the picture of Tabaeus's scars flashing in your head.

April 8, 1882

Dr. Forsythe has had to put off the surgery, due to insufficient - and often missing - supplies. It will take him time to attain enough to thoroughly investigate Tabaeus's anatomy.

I took the quiet day to question Tabaeus myself. In the past month, I have gained a familiarity with the creature few other researchers here have. I asked it questions, pressing it for answers, for I may not get another chance.

I also told Tabaeus this. Which seemed to loosen their lips.

Tabaeus remembers little of its life. They are scraps, unhinged and untethered. At times, it seems what Tabaeus remembers belongs to another source. They speak of the memories in an almost unattached way, at times.

It remembers times in ancient Europe and ancient Rome. Of travel with Nordic races. Of long journeys through deserts in Africa. It appears to remember so much of human history, but is incapable of tying it together in a coherent fashion.

Where it was born, it does not know.

How it became a creature of the dark, it does not know.

How it even functions is a mystery to it.

I do not think the creature lies to me, but it is most boggling how its own memory fails to function.

Perhaps there is a connection between its alleged longevity and the breakdown of its memory.

I do not know and I fear we will not find out once Tabaeus undergoes surgery.

April 13, 1882

I have attached copies of Dr. Forsythe's findings.

Pausing from the entry, you flip through the book, seeking these mentioned findings. Nothing seems attached or hidden in the pages. Likely lost to time or, perhaps, an intentional hand. You try not to think of it as you read on.

As an observer, there was much screaming and struggling. Tabaeus was restrained on the table. No anesthetic was used, so the patient could be aware and discuss should questions arise.

Very little talk happened. To be frank, I believe the lack of anesthetic, sedative, or even simply being knocked out was from cruelty on Dr. Forsythe and the council's part.

I digress.

They shaved Tabaeus, much as one would an animal, and cut into his form. They cracked his ribs for a better view. Tabaeus's insides appeared no different than a human's.

Except his heart was blackened, though it still pumped blood as a human heart would. Other than the odd coloration, everything seemed in proper working order.

By God's providence or cruelty, Tabaeus did not pass out of shock nor pain. They were awake and conscious throughout, sobbing or screaming at intervals. They would test their shackles and straps, the restraints creaking awfully under the force.

I was relieved when Dr. Forsythe stitched the creature up, but it was short-lived as he hinted at a need to revisit the site again in the near future.

Once the endeavor completed, Tabaeus could not stand, let alone walk. Four men were enlisted to haul the vampy back to his cage in the undertaker's basement.

I sat with him, quiet for a long time. No questions felt important enough to ask of Tabaeus, in such a condition. Even wrapped in bandages, I could see the uneven stitches trailing down his front in my mind's eye.

Tabaeus confessed to needing sustenance, to heal appropriately.

I offered to retrieve fresh cow's or pig's blood for them, but they shook their head.

"Human blood," it said, voice raw and cracked from screaming. "I need human blood to heal quickly."

Once more, your hand finds your throat. You already suspect what is about to happen.

I offered my blood, to which Tabaeus appeared startled at the offer. Their red eyes, puffy and ugly from their ordeal, found mine.

Instead of allowing Tabaeus to feed from my neck, I offered my wrist. They took it in a gentle grip, such a strange juxtaposition to their long, clawed digits.

The sensation of fangs plunging into one's body is both disconcerting and oddly alluring. I had closed my eyes as Tabaeus supped and images flickered through my head.

Images wholly foreign to me. Perhaps memories.

Whether they were Tabaeus's own or that of their victims' or something else entirely, I cannot say.

I only spoke to tell Tabaeus to stop, when lightheadedness made my thoughts fuzzy.

They did so, without argument. As they settled back in their corner, they murmured a small gratitude. Their glowing red eyes still on me.

I left not long after that, woozy from the interaction and intent upon a nap.

"What are you reading?" Tabaeus's soft words slap you across the face, making you sit straighter on the couch.

They eye you from the door between the kitchen and living room - where the basement stairs come up - with confusion, head cocked at your reaction.

You swallow a lump in your throat, trying to clear the heaviness away with a cough. Briefly, you consider hiding what you're reading. Maybe lying and saying it's a silly romance novel or something boring and technical. The longer you stare up at Tabaeus, the more you realize how miserable they appear.

They're wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. Their hair is a tangled mess. Their cheeks appear sunken and bags hang under their red-rimmed eyes. It reminds you of someone who spent the night crying and frustrated and arguing with oneself.

There is so much obfuscation in Tabaeus's life, not clearly communicating feels wrong. Even if they cannot - or will not - be upfront, you can be. There's a small part of you that intuits there's something deeper, something more complicated, going on than what appears on the surface.

With your finger marking the spot in the journal, you hold it up. "I am reading Dr. Kieran Bennett's journal. It was in the anti-vampire box you gave me."

"Kieran?" That name makes Tabaeus's eyes fly wide as they strides over the distance between the two of you.

Something prickly climbs up your spine, but you shove it away. "Yes, do you remember him?"

They kneel by your knee, attention on the book in your hand. Tabaeus almost puts their hands on your leg, but hesitates and lets them fall to the couch cushion beside your leg instead. Their lips press together in thought, before they answer, "It is muddy."

You can't determine whether that is better than foggy or not. At least muddy implies there's something there to grasp, you suppose. Tabaeus's red eyes flutter shut, trying to pull the memories forth. Their head dips forward, their forehead almost touching your thigh. "I remember he was sweet, in person. A kind soul, but invariably a coward."

Their hand rises from the couch, softly touching their own lips. "He tasted of coffee and smoke and chocolate."

Something in your chest twinged, hearing such soft words about someone else coming from Tabaeus's lips. It almost sounds as if they are speaking of an old lover. Perhaps they were, you realize. Maybe you haven't gotten to it yet, in the journal. Or maybe Kieran was careful and didn't detail it in writing, considering the time and who would be the object of the doctor's affection.

Despite yourself, you find the question lighting from your lips, "What happened to him?"

"I... I am not sure," Tabaeus admits, their red eyes opening, but still not focused as their brow knots. They were still searching their muddled, conflicting memories. You watch as they raise a hand to their chest, rubbing along the spot where the autopsy scar cleaved their chest.

Though your stomach drops as they press at their own scar, you're not satisfied with that answer. With pursed lips, you turn your eyes back to the journal, lest Tabaeus's large, allegedly innocent, gaze interrupts your almost-damning information. "You told Kieran you had problems with your memory, as well. In 1882. That's almost 140 years of you having issues with your memory, Tabaeus."

"What?" Tabaeus breathes and you hazard a glance at them. The furrow in their brow has deepened, as if this is genuinely news to them.

"What am I supposed to believe?" You press, shaking your head as your tone further solidifies. "That you haven't had consistent memory for that long? Or that this is some sort of trick you like to play on humans?"

Your words make Tabaeus's focus swing to your face, their eyes wide with shock and pain. As if you even suggesting something like that was a slap to their face.

"Please, believe me, amata." Their voice crackles with desperation. This time, their hand does land on your knee, squeezing it gently. "I swear to you, I am not playing a trick on you!"

"That's a tall order, all things considered," you say, your attention falling to where their hand touches you. Their gaze follows yours and, as if previously unaware of the contact, Tabaeus jerks their hand away. A small part of you aches as they do so.

Slowly, the vampire tilts their gaze back to you, searching for something. "You think I am tricking you?"

Your eyes are finally drawn to Tabaeus's gaze, the pain that crimps their features makes their already obvious exhaustion worse. Do you think Tabaeus is tricking you?

Something in you can't give a certain yes, just as you can't give a certain no. As you think, your teeth sink into your lower lip. Why would a vampire go to such ends, just to get blood? Especially since Tabaeus could easily enthrall you and essentially make you their unyielding bloodbag. They have relegated a good chunk of their fortune to you, allowed you to buy a house, and seem into it when you are more domineering over them.

Or was it all a joke? A prank? Something to amuse themselves. Get a caring human to give them blood, willingly, while never having to fess up to their murderous past? That doesn't seem like the Tabaeus you know. Though you can't be certain the Tabaeus you know isn't a farce, there's something in you that's more sure of the vampire than it was in earlier instances of your partnership.

"I don't know what to think," you softly admit, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you set the journal to the side. "After last night, how heatedly you talked about Ewan, or even just werewolves in general, you talked like someone I didn't know."

"I, too, felt disconcerted." Tabaeus doesn't even hesitate in the confession. They heave a heavy sigh, their fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the couch. "I apologize for my behavior. I do not know what happened."

Your lips press together at the admittance, wondering how genuine their words were. Or if they were looking for an easy out in the situation. Again, something in you believes them. Maybe it's better to say something in you wants to believe them. But skepticism keeps you a little wary.

"I didn't feel like myself. I felt strange." Tabaeus shook their head. Their hand rises to their temple, tapping there. "There were clashing thoughts in my head. Rage and fear and disgust and hate. All for a person I never met who was a species I don't recall interacting with."

How Tabaeus talks about their experiences makes you think about how Dr. Bennett described their memories. As something detached from Tabaeus. As things spanning across multiple time periods.

That, coupled with their out-of-character reaction, feels like hints. As if you're closer to unraveling what it is about Tabaeus that makes them a mystery.

Once more, it sounds as if Tabaeus's memories - or some of them - are not their own. More than ever, that feels like the correct answer, but not the entirety of it. There's something you're missing. Something that is tantamount to understanding Tabaeus.

Pain throbs at your temples as your stomach cramps. With a deep breath, you loosen the thoughts from the grip of your concentration. The journal revealed more than you were prepared for. You should have planned better and eaten something first.

"I need breakfast," you finally mumble, realizing you have left Tabaeus hanging. You offer them an awkward smile, just as your stomach grumbles.

"As do I," Tabaeus sighs, a small and fond smile tilting at their lips. "Do you trust me to drink from you? Or should I suffice with cereal?"

"You're making me breakfast if I'm making you breakfast." Your retort is more playful than you feel, but you still muster the energy to stick your tongue out at the vampire. A little tension in Tabaeus's shoulders eases, relieved at the return of a more joking element to your interactions. Just before they move to stand, and perhaps even lean over you to latch onto your neck, you put out your arm. "Let's try my inner elbow this time, though. I want to go places and having to bandage my neck is such a pain."

The vampire settles back on their heels again, accepting your arm in their cool fingers. They hold you gently, giving you ample freedom to pull away if you change your mind. There's half a beat, where Tabaeus seems to be testing the waters, before they whisper, "You are too kind, amata."

You're about to ask facetiously if you're also a coward, like Kieran, but Tabaeus sinks their teeth into the flesh of your inner elbow. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, the pain sudden and bright in your synapses. Your head falls back against the couch, as your eyes flutter shut. Tabaeus waits, seeing if you'll stop him, before they begin to suckle.

That odd sensation of the blood pulled from your veins courses through you, making your stomach somersault. Though your toes curl, in a confusing mixture of intimate enjoyment and excitement, your stomach lurches with faint nausea. It's probably not a good idea to do this on an empty stomach, you realize.

The seepage of memories, you find, is less than when Tabaeus is latched to your throat. They are mistier. As if they're projected onto a fog, instead of a solid surface. It reminds you of a laser light show caught by clouds.

Some are memories you have seen before, in your feeding sessions. But there's always a new one to view.

Tabaeus parts from your elbow sooner than you expect. Or maybe you're just a little dazed, you realize, as you blink and lift your head up. There's darkness at the corners of your vision, but you see Tabaeus rise to his feet. They stoop over you, pressing their forehead to yours. There's a distinct beat when you believe they'll continue leaning and catch your lips against theirs.

But they don't, leaving a mingling of disappointment and relief meshing in your head.

"What would you like for breakfast?" They merely ask and you faintly smell the copper-infused heat on their breath.

"Crepes with hazelnut spread and bananas," you say, mostly as a joke as your lips curve at the corners. You don't anticipate the thoughtful look that crosses Tabaeus's features.

They cock their head to the side as they straighten. "Is there a recipe available I may reference?"

For a second, you narrow your eyes up at them, wondering if they are fucking with you. Tabaeus doesn't appear to be joking. And, honestly, you cannot say no to crepes.

You really should get Tabaeus a phone, you realize, as you pull yours from your pocket. After a bit of searching and scrolling, you find an easy looking recipe and hold it out to them. Tabaeus graciously takes the phone with a nod.

"It will be available soon," Tabaeus murmurs and turns to head into the kitchen.

Settling back onto the couch, you sigh and consider the actual chances you'll get an unburnt breakfast. It was hard to argue against Tabaeus's quiet assuredness. As you sink further into the couch, your eye catches on the journal.

Your thoughts loll about Dr. Kieran Bennett's words, the way he phrased things, what his relationship to Tabaeus was. There's a part of you certain the doctor wasn't entirely truthful in his entries. Whether he was taking care due to the time period and homophobia or due to the subject matter involving a 'vampyr,' you're not sure.

Although, the mental trek makes your considerations turn to Tabaeus and the subject of their jealousy last night. You jerk upright as a sudden thought careens through your head. "Hey! Don't you think about deleting Ewan's number, either!"

The rummaging around in the kitchen quiets and there seems to be a thoughtful pause. "Well, I was not planning to, but if that is an option..."

"Tabaeus!" You warn, as you push yourself off the couch and head to the kitchen. There the vampire grins at you and holds your phone high, out of your reach. They wiggle it, in teasing taunt.

The sigh you heave is put-upon as your gaze flicks from your phone to Tabaeus's face. Crossing your arms and leaning your hip against the counter, you choose a smarter route than pouncing on the vampire. "I'm trusting you to not delete his number. Okay?"

"Okay," Tabaeus sighs, lowering the phone. There's clashing emotions on their face. A sense of pride fighting against a small temptation. They hold your phone so you can see the screen, which hasn't left the recipe. "You can trust me not to hurt you, amata."

"Holding you to it," is all you manage to say before Tabaeus turns back to the stove, cooking the breakfast you requested.

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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Four Traps that can Kill your NaNoWriMo Novel

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Dabble, a 2022 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is an easy-to-use writing tool that lets you organize, plot, and create amazing stories. Today, Dabbler Robert Smith shares some tips on how to avoid some common writing pitfalls:

Writing a novel is a journey that can be fraught with peril, challenges, and obstacles. Like any good adventurer, it’s best to be prepared for the traps that lay ahead.

1. Distractions

We’ve all been there: we planned out time to write, but then macaroni explodes in the microwave and all that time is suddenly gone. Or maybe that’s just me.

Regardless of the pyrotechnic capabilities or your cheesy pasta, you’ve probably found yourself distracted from writing before.

There are tons of studies proving how distractions tear down our ability to perform. The best thing you can do is remove as many distractions from your environment as possible. Here’s how to do it:

Set up your writing space to be boring (but not uninspiring!).

You can’t write effectively with a movie on.

You can’t write effectively while talking to someone.

You can’t write effectively while cleaning up macaroni.

Leave tech elsewhere.

You don’t need your phone while writing (unless you’re writing on it).

Hide your most distracting items far away from your writing space.

Turn off pop-up notifications on your laptop, especially email.

Set your writing app to focus mode.

You just need to be alone with your words and notes.

Dabble automatically fades to focus mode when you write.

2. Perfectionism

This one can get the best of even the most experienced writers. When you’re writing a draft, let it be a draft.

Some people will have a higher tolerance for their own grammar mistakes than others. But, if you find yourself grinding to a halt each writing session just so you can rephrase each sentence to achieve beautiful prose, you’re probably letting perfectionism kill your novel. Here are some tips to get past perfectionism:

Turn off grammar and spell check.

I know that this sounds blasphemous, but it really can help with momentum.

You can toggle these on and off super quickly in Dabble.

Set some “no backspace” time.

This one can be even scarier than the last.

This strategy also gets easier with practice.

3. Imposter Syndrome

So you’re all set for those words to flow and that book to come to life. Then even more macaroni erupts in the microwave. You don’t know where all this pasta keeps coming from, and suddenly you’re convinced you’ll never be a writer.

Okay that might just be me again, but you know what I’m talking about. Especially with creative endeavors, imposter syndrome plagues our minds. Here are some tips to get past it:

Read more drafts.

You are probably comparing your work in draft form to completed novels.

Find a writing group to read more drafts and gain community support.

Look up what your favorite authors have said about the drafting process.

Edit your work.

If you’re having trouble believing you’re a good writer, take some time to polish your writing.

This might help you prove to yourself that you’re better than you think.

Be careful not to let this kill your writing momentum.

4. Messy Process

We’ve all been there: notes, pages, and ideas all spread between desks, journals, and apps. It can get messier than a (two-time) macaroni-covered microwave.

Have you ever had an amazing idea, written it down, and then never found that note again? I know I have.

It’s worth taking the time to consider the time cost of each step in your process, from generating ideas to editing your manuscript. Here are some tips:

Write down each step in your process.

Look for steps that can be condensed

Look for better processes

Keep everything in one place.

The best way to make sure you always have what you need is to keep it all together.

Dabble is organized into projects where you can store images, links, notes, plot points, and your manuscript all together.

Make sure it’s a place you can access anywhere (like Dabble). You don’t want to lose ideas.

Now go forth and conquer! May your words be plenty and your stories ring true.

Robert Smith is a Dabbling Writer, and a Writing Dabbler.

All NaNoWriMo participants can use the discount code NANOWRIMO22 for 20% off 1 year of Dabble!

Top photo by Thomas Franke on Unsplash.

#nanowrimo #writing #writing advice #writing tips #nanowrimo 2022 #by nano sponsor #dabble #robert smith

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brostateexam · 9 months

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Carlisle, an anaesthetist who works for England’s National Health Service, is renowned for his ability to spot dodgy data in medical trials. He is also an editor at the journal Anaesthesia, and in 2017, he decided to scour all the manuscripts he handled that reported a randomized controlled trial (RCT) — the gold standard of medical research. Over three years, he scrutinized more than 500 studies1.

For more than 150 trials, Carlisle got access to anonymized individual participant data (IPD). By studying the IPD spreadsheets, he judged that 44% of these trials contained at least some flawed data: impossible statistics, incorrect calculations or duplicated numbers or figures, for instance. And 26% of the papers had problems that were so widespread that the trial was impossible to trust, he judged — either because the authors were incompetent, or because they had faked the data.

Carlisle called these ‘zombie’ trials because they had the semblance of real research, but closer scrutiny showed they were actually hollow shells, masquerading as reliable information. Even he was surprised by their prevalence. “I anticipated maybe one in ten,” he says.

When Carlisle couldn’t access a trial’s raw data, however, he could study only the aggregated information in the summary tables. Just 1% of these cases were zombies, and 2% had flawed data, he judged (see ‘The prevalence of ‘zombie’ trials’). This finding alarmed him, too: it suggested that, without access to the IPD — which journal editors usually don’t request and reviewers don’t see — even an experienced sleuth cannot spot hidden flaws.

#long reads #this is a very troubling read but a good one

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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could i order a dulce de leche roll, pain au chocolate, lemon bar, lemon drop & lollipop with caramel & poppy seeds and #1 from the side menu, ace with a female reader? pls & thank you

hihi ૮₍˶ •ᴗ• ⑅₎ა ❀ thanks for ur patience 💛i love ace & angst and giving ace grief, so i had fun writing this ✨ it came out a lot longer than i meant for it to be but oh well.

2.8k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; hurt/comfort w. angst & smut (a spicy combination, i know); ace is an idiot & so is reader, but i love that journey for them <3 feat. cute stuff oral (f receiving), lots of kissing, ace being handsy, etc. pretentious prose bc i'm a menace 2 society these days.

dreams are fruitless endeavors meant for those who are destined for happy endings — you’ve always known that this will never be the case for you; a bitter truth that is indigestible, requiring several shots of rum to keep it down. jejune. hackneyed. cumbersome. there are not enough weathered journals in the world to spill your secrets to, not enough quills and dark ink to dictate your memories onto random scraps of paper —

(to be ripped into ugly pieces, tossed into the air in fits of madness, the physical manifestation of your anger as confetti, the intensity of the emotion pulsing through you in heavy waves, reminding you that you are still very much alive)

— not enough days in the week to wallow in self-pity. your elegant handwriting that was once the envy of others, with romantic loops and tight lettering, quickly morphs into illegible scribbles, the ire so tangible that it hurts to breathe. so, you simply swallow it back. tuck your discomfort into a minuscule box, compartmentalize your feelings about certain things and certain people — or, rather, in your case, one particular person — and don’t look back.

you must never, ever look back.

on warm nights like this, you leave your window open — you’ve always held on to the belief that whatever negative feelings or thoughts that plague you throughout the day will be purged by the sea salt air. it’s a drunken superstition you heard many years ago, but you’ve held on to the ritual just in case. a breeze caresses your face as you stick your head out and lean against the wooden planes of the thick window sill, your inhale is deep enough that you might just float away.

if you part your lips enough, you can swallow an infinite amount of that magical energy. the night transforms you — makes a reality out of the darkness, rebuilds you from the ground up. a priestess in the making; your body is a temple in ruin, your limbs are sturdy pillars, hair an ethereal spirit roaming through the empty corridors in your chest, your untouched hands an altar cut from marble, your mind a congregation of the devoted followers who have lost their way.

so you close your eyes, soak it all in, hope for the best.

you wonder if you’ll be ingested by your emotions in the near future; you’ve done so well at bottling everything up, the contents growing steadily with time, weighing heavily around your neck. teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you bite down until the pain becomes too unbearable to withstand.

a bad habit, a really, really bad habit.

it’s your fault, really — you understand that, truly you do, but it doesn’t make it easier to accept. if rejection is fire, then you will mold yourself to be an indomitable monsoon — a war that wages on for eternity.

the most logical thing for you to do would be to talk it out, but how can you when the organ in charge of decision-making has taken an extended hiatus for the time being, leaving you under the care of your shameless, impulsive heart.

a succession of knocks on your door makes you flinch, your back ramrod straight when you back away from the window. there are only a handful of people who would come to you this late at night, but you have a feeling — as the door handle turns, as the hinges creak with the slow opening of the door — that your unsolicited guest is actually the most preposterous person in your life right now.

ace has never been one to shy away from a challenge, and you are not an exception.

“you missed dinner.”

not the three-word combination you hoped to hear, and while your heart may be foolish enough to search for hidden meaning behind his playful grin, you know better.

“i wasn’t hungry.” one truth for the night, let’s see if you can manage another.

he tilts his head, dark hair following his movements, and folds his arms against his chest. “why?” he can’t imagine a moment where someone wouldn’t be hungry, so naturally your response confuses him. and it’s that confusion coupled with a dopey demeanor that should agitate you, but it doesn’t; it just complicates things. makes you reconsider, want to rewind time and try again. but you can’t. you can never go back.

“does it matter why?”

you turn away from him, look out of the window again and hope he takes your disinterest as genuine. you can’t deal with him right now, you’d be better off if he could give you time to purge your thoughts. but ace isn’t the sort of man who patiently waits for things like that. he prefers to barge through his problems head-on, to make a mess of things and then scramble to fix them. it’s the rush of life that keeps him going, so why is all of this so damn complicated?

rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip in silent contemplation, he watches you carefully, the gears in his mind ticking slowly and slowly until an idea forms in his head.

if you weren’t stuck in your head, you’d notice him walking closer. “i think i know what’s wrong,” he says after a while; you scoff in response, keeping your back to him, but he leans against the wall on your right side, annoying you with his warm presence. he’s so sure he has you figured out, and you hate it; you want to hate him too, but you can’t because you know that deep down there’s no way you could ever harbor any actual animosity towards him. “no, really. i’m very good at reading people.”

a humorless laugh escapes from your mouth — dry and full of irritation. “you have a lot of damn nerve,” you say, voice raising as you glance at him out of the corners of your eyes. “first you say you want nothing to do with me, now you’re here in my space ruining my night. go. away.” your anger, mixed mostly with sadness — at your ineptitude, at his obliviousness — wafts off of your body in small waves, but ace stands firm, a puzzled expression stamped on his face. so fucking priceless.

“what the hell are you talking about?” his dark brows furrow closely together, lips tugging downwards into a frown. something about that makes you feel uneasy, but you ignore it; your heart is a silly, stupid thing and you don’t have time for it to suddenly grow a conscience again.

you roll your eyes as you partially turn to face him. “don’t lie, it’s unbecoming.” which is rich coming from you. besides, pirates lie all the time, so you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s feigning ignorance. except, he really has no idea what you’re talking about.

“i’m not lying, really!” if this was a courtroom, you’d have already sentenced him to life in prison without parole, but, unfortunately, you could not play judge, jury, or executioner in this instance. another deeper frown settles on his face, but then memories of a conversation from days prior flood his mind. and then it clicks. “wait, did you overhear my conversation with thatch the other day?” the way he casually brings it up only makes your face burn painfully, your mouth and throat drying even more.

“yes,” you say quietly, voice firm. you want to drive the point home, want him to understand that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now.

ace tilts his head again, watching your stiff movements before his lips stretch into a slow, sly smile. “you’re an idiot,” he says lightly, laughing right after. you stare at him, wide-eyed and in shock. his cruelty clearly knows no bounds, and you can feel a piece of your sanity leave you as another crack forms around your fragile heart. because you can’t stomach the sight of him — not out of actual disgust, but because his attractiveness offends you greatly — you turn your back to him and march to your bed, maybe if you scream into your pillow he’ll get the hint and leave.

the universe, unfortunately, loves to torment you, because ace’s strides take him to you in seemingly no time at all. he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you still; if you were warm before, you’re burning up now. it’s not just his body temperature, but really him in general; if you’re not careful, you’ll suffocate. but you don’t move, don’t push him away, if anything you end up relaxing, hands gripping his forearm tightly.

“are you going to listen?” he asks, lips feather-light as they graze the side of your neck. “if you stayed to hear the whole conversation, you wouldn’t have been upset.”

an absolutely ridiculous accusation on his part; you clench your teeth and inhale deeply — a mistake on your part, his scent — rich, heavy; sandalwood and cinnamon — infiltrates your body. if you choke right then and there, you’d die with a piece of him inside of you. the idea makes you want to rip your hair out, so you count in your head and ignore the way you instinctively press closer to him. you also ignore the way his lips coast up your neck until he reaches your ear.

“stop running from me, i’m trying to tell you something.” he’s been trying to say this for a while, but he’s terrible with words and has even worse timing.

you decide to give him a chance to explain, and hum quietly, a shiver climbing down your spine when his lips make contact with the curve of your ear.

“you’re right, i don’t want anything to do with you,” his words slice through the top layer of your skin, “i want everything.” if you thought your heart was foolish before, it’s doubly foolish now. maybe even more than that. you swallow at that, your breath uneven, and wonder just how you let ace complicate your life time and time again. you close your eyes and wet your lips with your tongue; ace takes your silence as a good thing. it means you heard him perfectly clear. and when your nails sink into his skin, he chuckles — the sound reverberating along your skin, rattling your bones, reminding you that his audacity knows no bounds.

“why…” you squeak, clear your throat and try again. “why did you say it like that?” in a way that seemed confusing, you want to say. “i thought…” foolish, foolish, foolish. “whatever.” you mumble that last bit which only makes him chuckle again; ace drops a lingering kiss on your neck, a small fire erupting in its wake. you squirm and try to distance yourself, but his hold is strong and your will is weak. and, because his deviousness never ends, he turns you around to face him properly. you can’t bear to look at him, your proclivity for jumping to conclusions has you feeling all sorts of shame; but ace doesn’t mind, he likes that side of you — likes all your sides, really — so when he gently grabs your chin, tilts it upward, you feel hopeful.

that hope only intensifies when he kisses you; his lips moving against yours slowly, and, because you really are tired of fighting him on every little thing, you relax in his hold, step closer, part your lips and kiss him back. his kisses are soft, experimental — as if he’s testing to see how far you’ll let him go before you run again. but, what he doesn’t realize is, you’ve been holding back for so long that you’re ready to burst. you slip your tongue in his mouth, that fire you felt earlier burns through you and has you pulling him onto your bed, the mattress soft and fluffy. panting lightly, each kiss leaving you more breathless than the last; ace rolls you onto your back and he hovers above, a smirk prancing onto his lips at your dazed expression.

you feel like slapping him, but refrain when his lips are on your neck again, leaving behind lingering kisses that have you arching your back and whining pathetically. ace’s hands are clumsy but fast, doing his best to not destroy your clothes as he peels them off of you. thankful that he put his savagery aside to be a bit considerate for your clothing, you don’t bother feigning shyness, your legs spreading, giving ace the sort of access that makes his cock press stiffly against the front of his knee-length shorts. he tells himself to calm down, to not rush, to savor the moment. he rubs a thick finger up and down the folds of your pussy, your hips twitch and buck forward at his light touch. you shoot him an incredulous look, words stuck in your mouth when he dips his finger inside, your arousal pooling and prettily coating his skin.

if he had it his way, he’d just take his time fingering you, but he can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ve run out of patience with him tonight. grinning, because what else can he do but grin in a situation like this, ace pushes your legs further apart, lowering his head and trailing kisses along the inner part of your thighs. you bite down on your lip, afraid of being too vocal — you refuse to let anyone on the ship hear you — but when he inserts a second finger, begins pumping them in and out of your cunt, all of that determination goes out the window.

“ace,” you breathe, hips rolling, he flicks his tongue against your clit in warning, and you let out an embarrassingly loud whimper that has him plunging his fingers into you deeply. again, he tries to remind himself to keep at a steady pace, but your reactions entice him to be reckless, to see just how much you’ll let him get away with before you’re back to cursing his name. ace gives you a look — one that’ll haunt you when you try to sleep, that’ll have you rubbing your thighs at the memory — before eating your pussy, thoroughly enjoying the way you’re writhing underneath him. he curls his fingers inside of you and you press a hand over your mouth to keep yourself in check; but it doesn’t work, because ace is truly a devil in disguise.

he thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy fast and hard, enjoying the way your slick arousal drips onto his skin, mouth warm as he slurps up the excess. you’re annoyed at how much you enjoy the sound of it, and at how much you like having ace’s mouth on you. he has a maddening effect on you, because you completely disregard your pride and drop your hand, allowing your moans to echo around the room. his cock is heavy, pre-cum seeping out of his slit — he knows he’ll need to take care of it, but all in due time. for now, he’ll enjoy his third after-dinner dessert. he moans against your skin, plucking his fingers out of you suddenly and running his tongue up and down your pussy, swirling around, gluttonous as he devours you.

you buck your hips forward, panting and moaning his name loudly, a tremor passing through you when he sucks on your clit hard. he holds your hips steady, which simultaneously pisses you off and turns you on at the same time. you tug on his hair, riding his face shamelessly as he tongue-kisses your pussy — a messy affair that has you so elevated you can barely see straight. when he plunges his tongue inside you, it’s as if the string that bound you together finally snaps. you babble at him incoherently, body entirely too sensitive, and an orgasm surprises you, has your back arching off the bed completely as your thighs tremble around his head. he works you through the orgasm by finger-fucking you again, remorseless and relentless.

whatever impossible feelings you had for him before only intensify; your fingers are still tangled in his hair even when he pulls away from your pussy, tongue gliding along his lips as he laps up your wetness, grinning at you slyly in the process. you feel your face flush and you grab a pillow to hit him with it. he laughs at your feeble attempt, drops kisses onto your jaw and neck. you sigh before wrapping your arms around him, clinging as you kiss him lazily. despite being a little theatrical and hasty, you’re happy with the turn of events; you just hope that your crew mates were far enough away to not hear the way you fell apart underneath him.

you can hardly deal with ace being smug, you don’t know what you’ll do if the others tease you about him too.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #portgas d. ace #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace x y/n #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace smut #ace angst #ace is a brat as usual i wash my hands of this

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ninja-muse · 7 months

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September is birthday month, if anyone's wondering why my acquisition of books appears to have slipped again (picture #2). At least I'd read nearly all of them before they joined my library shelves, and Winter's Gifts, well, it's really easy to read an Aaronovitch novella within a day or two of acquiring it. Especially since…

September was also week-vacation month, which is part of how I made it to 13 books read but very little explanation for my read-from-TBR-shelves stack (picture #1), only two of which I read on holiday. The two short ones I read in the gap between "finished the latest Book Of Substance" and "started the official Vacation Stack", and Digger was one of my 2023 goals so I decided to check that off. Baking Yesteryear was a surprise/accident. I was telling a coworker how much I enjoyed reading the library's copy and they said, "hey, while you were off, we got a copy too damaged to sell…". And one has to treat oneself in birthday month.

(Vacation was good, in case you were wondering. Camping, so no wifi, so lots of outdoors and reading time and charming rodent shenanigans.)

My biggest regret of the month, by which we mean less regret and more mild bookish panic, is the number of reading copies I appear to have taken home. I have one for Menewood which I'm planning to get to once I finish with My Roommate is a Vampire, and the rest of them were, well, um. Look. When your store buyer and random publishers send you books you'd enjoy and your coworkers finish reading ARCs you've been interested in, things happen, okay? At least at this point a lot of the books are coming out next year, which probably doesn't bode well for my 2024 TBR but that is a future problem.

Also, not doing great at my goal of reading a Canadian author every month. This is the second (?) month in a row I've failed on that front which, yes, is why I'm reading a Canadian author right now. (Also it's one of those ARCs a coworker finished with.)

Beyond the bookish stuff, there's not much to report. I've written a good bit and am surprising myself by how much I can write on my phone during a commute. Had a good birthday. Ate good food. Got fun things. Dealt with slightly more chaos at work than usual. Finished the last season of Great British Bake-Off aired in Canada and am looking forward to starting the Canadian version tonight.

How was your September?

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

Evidence of Things Seen - Sarah Weinman, ed.

A collection of true crime journalism tackling recent social justice issues and big-picture flaws in the justice system.

8/10

multiple #ownvoices essays by BIPOC authors

warning: the usual things one would expect to find in true crime journalism

Infinity Gate - M.R. Carey

A scientist, the multiverse, AI, and the nature of humanity.

8/10

Nigerian and Moroccan POV characters

warning: slavery, fire, xenophobia, war, torture, violence

Thornhedge - T. Kingfisher

Toadling confronts the knight bent on entering the sleeper’s tower.

8/10

Arab Muslim secondary character

Digger Unearthed - Ursula Vernon

A wombat’s tunnel takes her to a very foreign land. She would like to go home please—but there are gods.

8.5/10

Baking Yesteryear - B. Dylan Hollis

Tried and true recipes from the past century.

9/10

🏳️‍🌈 author

The Fragile Threads of Power - V.E. Schwab

Seven years after Red London was saved, some people have moved on and others are still picking up the pieces. And some are asking whether the king deserves to be in power.

7.5/10

POV characters of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 POV characters (gay), 🏳️‍🌈 author

Winter’s Gifts - Ben Aaronovitch

Agent Kimberley Reynolds investigates a case with “unusual characteristics” during a Michigan winter.

7/10

Ojibwe secondary characters

Lud-In-The-Mist - Hope Mirrlees

A bourgeois father tries to save his children from the plague of fairy fruit—which is hard, since it doesn’t officially exist.

6.5/10

warning: classist, misogynist, generally unkind to the disabled and mentally ill

A Long Day in Lychford - Paul Cornell

Something is wrong with the borders around Lychford and the local coven has to put things right before people get hurt.

7/10

Black British main character

warning: mild racism and xenophobia

The Vaster Wilds - Lauren Groff

A servant girl flees her colonial town for the dubious safety of the wilderness.

7/10

protagonist of colour, mentally disabled secondary character, incidental Powhatan and other indigenous characters

warning: racism, misogyny, rape, disease, starvation, murder, death of a child

Board to Death - CJ Connor

Ben turns down a suspiciously good deal on an old board game. Then the dealer turns up dead on his doorstep.

6/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (gay), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay), 🏳️‍🌈 author, #ownvoices

Starter Villain - John Scalzi

Charlie inherits a supervillain empire, complete with a subscription mega-laser, spy cats, and enemies.

6.5/10

The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices - Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins

Two friends go on a holiday to northern England.

7/10

Currently reading:

Like Every Form of Love - Padma Viswanathan

A writer digs into the strange, complicated story of a man she befriended in a marina.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay), Indo-Canadian author, 🇨🇦

warning: domestic and child abuse

My Roommate is a Vampire - Jenna Levine

There’s a room-to-rent in Cassie’s low, low budget. The (hot) guy renting it acts like he’s from the 1800s. Surely he’s just quirky.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay)

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

Stats

Monthly total: 13 Yearly total: 100/140 Queer books: 3 Authors of colour: 0 Books by women: 5 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 0 Off the TBR shelves: 5 Books hauled: 6 ARCs acquired: 12 ARCs unhauled: 4 DNFs: 0

January February March April May June July August

#books #booklr #bookblr #rec lists #read in 2023 #reading wrap-ups #my photos #stacks of books

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gyuvxx · 5 months

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Bro code. K. gyuvin

Profile 1) stuco gang

Sung yn (18): hanbin’s little sister, and president of student council. Nctzen since 7th sense era (doyoung stan), avoids hanbin and his friends like the plague

Hanni Pham (18): yn’s childhood best friend, they were even in diapers together. They ran together for the stuco election and won together. She’s a delusional believer that 1D will reunite

moon jaeyun: student council secretary, and 2/3 of yn’s bff gang. He humbles yn like it’s his 2nd job, but rlly loves her. They met in high school and were inseparable

Anton Lee: met yn and her gang in class, and let jaeyun copy his homework one time, then became 3/3 of the bff gang. He and y/n went on an exchange trip together in their sophomore year and now do everything together

Han Yujin: student council treasurer and baby of the bunch rapper. He’s a music major, and good friend of yn, and close with the basketball team.

Yang jungwon; vp of activities, and head of the journalism department at the school. Works closely with both student council and journalism team to put out newsletters and articles for the school

Lee Sohee: another close friend of yn and vp of communications. He’s close with Anton, and met yn through him. They bring each other coffee on Tuesdays.

Naoi Rei: vp of records. She’s friends with the popular girls who are actually really sweet, and is a good support for everyone on student council. Cosmetology major.

Masterlist* Profile 2* Start reading

#zb1 #zerobaseone #kim gyuvin #kim gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin smau #smau #social media au

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quicksilverdrabbles · 1 year

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To embrace your blood, and give you your voice (2)

Morana: *panting, watching as the dragon finally falls while bits of its flesh begin burning and flaking into the air* What..?

Mirmulnir: Dovahkiin?!

Kaidan: Dovahkiin??

*the dragon falls dead, its eyes focused on Morana as its soul is ripped from its body in multicolored streaks and absorbed by the plague doctor. Streams of yellow light bind themselves around her neck before disappearing*

Morana: ...???

Whiterun Guard: Dragonborn..

Lucien: E-hexcuse me, what?

Whiterun Guard: Ancient dragonslayers.. They could kill a dragon by stealing their very souls.. That's what you just did, right?

Morana: I don't know. It's certainly never happened to me before.

Kaidan: Take a moment to calm yourself, your handwriting's shaking.

Whiterun Guard (2): Eh? Are you sure she of all people is the Dragonborn? Dragonborns are supposed to be able to Shout.

Whiterun Guard: Oh, you're right.. That would be a problem, wouldn't it. A Dragonborn that can absorb souls but not Shout. It's.. kind of funny, in an ironic way.

Inigo: I would recommend you do not speak about this situation being humorous unless you want to lose your tongue.

Whiterun Guard: Huh? And what are you gonna do about it, huh cat? You would really threaten the guard?

Inigo: I will make good on my threats to you and every other person in Skyrim if you continue to insult my friend like that.

Morana: Blu.. Please stop..

Ingio: ... Grr.. You are lucky this time.

Whiterun Guard (2): Can you really blame us, though? She can absorb souls, but without The Voice, is she really Dragonborn?

Kaidan: You shut your fucking mouth right now.

Morana: *tries to write in her journal. Her hands shake, and she drops her pencil. Kaidan won't understand if she signs* ... P-Please stop..

Whiterun Guard: If you people are so eager to defend her, then let her prove she's Dragonborn. Shout for us.

Taliesin: *glaring, dagger drawn* She doesn't have to do anything for you lowlives.

Morana: F-Fus.. *Her breath comes out like a gust of wind, noticeable, but quiet and ultimately powerless*

Whiterun Guard: Ha! Was that your attempt at a Shout?

Xelzaz: Morana-

Morana: F-F-Fus- *coughs, reaching a hand to her throat*

Lucien: Morana! *runs to catch her as she kneels to the ground* Don't force it, please. You don't have to prove anything to these people!

Morana: *trembling* I-I know the word. I can hear it in my mind.. I just- I can't-

Lucien: You're only going to hurt yourself, though!

Morana: Why the hell are people only ever concerned about me getting hurt?? Why am I unable to do things without having to worry about how much it would affect me? Why can't I do this?!

Lucien: Because we care about you-

Morana: You shouldn't! With the way things are going, I'll be dead before the year ends anyways!

Inigo: ... What?

Morana: You shouldn't put a dying woman's wellbeing over your own! You shouldn't have to make accomodations for my weakness! I- *sobs* I don't want that! I don't need it!

Dovahkiin..

Morana: *stands up, pulling away from Lucien* Just once, I want to be able to put my pains aside and do things without suffering! Just once, I don't want to be a liability!

I will lend you my voice, Thuri..

Morana: Just once, I want to be able to aid you all instead of forcing you to worry about someone who should have died years ago! Just this once- even if it's only once- I.. I don't want to be weak anymore!

Whiterun Guard (2): Hey, is she actually saying something right now?

Whiterun Guard: I dunno. Can't hear her, haha.

Morana: SHUT UP!

Whiterun Guard: ?! Shit, she actually spoke-

Lucien: She's been speaking this whole time, you idiots!

Kaidan: Morana..?

Morana: SHUT UP!! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP- FUS! *the shout leaves her throat in a much deeper pitch, hoarse and growling, almost like an actual dragon's cry. It knocks the two guards off of their feet.*

Whiterun Guard (2): Gods above- let's get out of here!

Morana: *falls to her knees, coughing and spitting up blood*

Kaidan: Morana! *crouches down, trying to wipe at the blood soaking her mask*

Taliesin: *kneeling next to her* Gods- Hey, come on, let me see.

Morana: *shakes her head*

Taliesin: Don't be stubborn, they're already gone. I need to see how badly you're bleeding.

Morana: *shakes her head again. She tries to speak, but only wordless rasping comes from her throat*

Xelzaz: How much damage did that Shout do??

Mirmulnir: *a spectre of the dragon rises from its bones* It was not The Voice that injured her.

Kaidan: Oh for fuck's sake, not you again. We killed you.

Mirmulnir: And so I have recognized the power within the Dovahkiin. A dovah without a voice is, mm.. Aan dilon dovah. A dead one. And so, to counter her.. nahlot Thu'um, her voice which has been silenced. She absorbed my voice, as well as dii sil, my soul.

Lucien: How is that even possible?

Mirmulnir: Mm.. Many things about this one are.. folaas. Things that should not be. It is only right that they are.. righted.

Inigo: So.. You are a good dragon now?

Mirmulnir: My voice will remain in the Dovahkiin's possession. However, this form is quickly.. fading. It is possible this will be the last I will ever speak, of my own accord.

Xelzaz: Oh. Well, thank you? For giving her your Voice.

Mirmulnir: It was not my choice.

Xelzaz: ... Right.

Kaidan: Er, hello? Can we maybe focus on the fact that Morana's spouting blood from her throat?

Taliesin: *removed Morana's mask, wiping at the blood properly with a cloth* We need to get you to Danica. We'll have her meet us outside the Temple, don't worry.

Kaidan: Up we get. *lifts Morana with ease, ignoring her silent struggling* Need to cover her face for her before we go back to town. That mask won't do until it's clean.

Taliesin: Use this. It's a veil we got for her a while ago.

Kaidan: I don't even want to ask where you got that thing. Fine.

Xelzaz: Here, let me at least give her a potion to try and stop her bleeding-

Inigo and Lucien: *trailing behind the group*

Lucien: ... Do you think we should tell them?

Inigo: ... Perhaps not. I do not think anybody else heard what we did, not clearly.

Lucien: They have a right to know, I think. If what she said is true..

Inigo: If she told us, she will probably tell them sometime after. Still..

Lucien: Do you think there's anything we could do?

Inigo: ... I do not know.

Inside the Bannered Mare

Danica: *sitting next to Morana on a bed in the private room* Gods, you've really done it this time, Morana. What on earth did you do to injure your vocal chords like this??

Morana: ... I got angry. And yelled. Tried to.

Danica: *sighs* Well, you won't be able to speak at all for the next few weeks. Not even whisper.

Morana: Damn. Thank you for your help, anyway.

Danica: Don't mention it. Although I would like if you would come for a check-up every now and then. It seems like your health declines more and more every time I see you.

Morana: ... It's nothing to worry about. I would rather you don't waste your time. You still have so many patients.

Danica: Right. Well, I'll go let your friends know you've been healed the best you can be. They'll be in in a moment.

Morana: Thank you.

Danica: *stands and leaves, clicking the door shut behind her*

...

Morana: *raises a hand to her face, catching a tear that fell* (No matter how I tried... I was still weak.)

#probably did all the wrong dragon speech here but eh #tw blood #skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #modded skyrim #dragonborn #ldb oc #skyrim oc #kaidan skyrim #lucien flavius #inigo skyrim #xelzaz skyrim #taliesin skyrim #taliesin #ahahaa I love angst #Morana oc

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