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amethystunarmed · 4 months

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Okay I absolutely MUST know what 'Behold!' is.

Ooh! I was hoping someone would ask about that!

So 'Behold!' is a yet-to-be-named epic fantasy novel series that I am working on with @little-engineer-who-cant. The two of us wrote a novel together in like 8th grade and we recently reread to laugh about how... inexperienced we were, to say the least.

But we started talking and realized... we could fix it. Oh my god we could fix it, and it became a story about fae courts, the specialest boy to ever live being a tired 27-year-old barista, the most toxic polycule in all recorded history, and a changeling who was stolen in the nineties wanting to know all about what the Backstreet Boys are up too!

Have a snippet of my lovely characters from the Summer Court!

The moment Nightshade slits the Summer Queen's throat, he can feel the power flowing through him. It feels like the pounding of his feet as he runs through the desert dunes, constant, scalding, and unstable. He can feel it licking inside the confines of his rib cage, burning black stripes about the bone. It burns at him, at his magic, destroying what existed to create room for something new. He grits his teeth, clenching around the miniature sun that had begun to roost in his lungs.

“Wonderful work, now release the power to me!” Aziz says. Nightshade can barely hear them over the roaring swell of power in his ears.

It is all encompassing, the power. Nightshade is struck by the thought that he could remake the world in his image, that he could sculpt mountains and burn through enemies and glass the very sands surrounding him.

It is terrible and he wants it out.

“Now!” Aziz shouts. Nightshade is certain it is supposed to be an order, but they are too desperate to be convincing. The roiling sandstorm in his head nearly blocks out all his vision, but he manages to focus on Aziz’s face. They look terrified.

Nightshade barely manages to stay upright as he reaches for Aziz. They catch him, holding him up beneath his armpits. “Nightshade?” They ask, sounding less scared. That is good, Nightshade thinks, though he can’t remember why. He presses his hands to Aziz’s cheeks. Their skin, once so brilliantly warm, feels like ice in his grasp.

“Take it!” he gasps, pulling together the ramshackle remains of his telepathy from the ashes. He links with Aziz, desperate and sloppy. Aziz hisses in pain as Nightshade barrels his way into their mind. He can see all of it, the way Nightshade had lit up with golden power, hair, skin, eyes all radiating light, heat, power. He can see Aziz’s despair when Nightshade didn’t respond, the utter certainty Nightshade was going to betray them and take the Court for himself. And, most powerful of all, he feels the deep, overwhelming desire, like nothing Nightshade has ever felt. He doesn’t know if he has ever felt an emotion as strongly as Aziz has, if he has ever wanted anything as badly as Aziz wants the power currently scorching its way through his veins.

The magic feels it too, the raw ambition that stands as a pillar in Aziz’s psyche. It is drawn to it, bubbling and bounding around it like an excited puppy. Nightshade gives it a choice, and the magic chooses its next host, running from his body, down his arms and into Aziz. His arms scream against the funneling magic, it’s too much, too much power in a confined space, he fears they will explode from his body, he needs more, more contact, more anything, he is burning, oh stars-

As you wish, he hears Aziz’s voice in his mind. And Aziz is kissing him, mouth and nose and chest pressing against him. They wrap their arms around his neck and run fingers through Nightshade’s hairand his body sings with relief. Magic lights up every point of contact as it soaks into Aziz’s skin and Nightshade can feel them growing warmer and warmer in his grip. The last trickles of the magic pour into Aziz and Nightshade’s own magic swirls back into his now empty vessel. He nearly sobs in relief as the cool shadows roll through him, and he easily feels the absolute triumph exuding from Aziz’s every pore, before he is shoved out of Aziz’s mind entirely. Nightshade opens his eyes and is awed by the sight before him.

Aziz is brilliant, radiating heat and light with the power of a thousand stars. It suits them, glittering through the scales on their cheeks. Their braids whip around from a self-made gale and Nightshade watches in horror as the gold beads melt from them, trickling into puddles on the floor. The curtains set alight, the food set out on the table chars to embers, but Nightshade feels nothing more than the comfortable warmth of lying in a sunbeam on a summer afternoon.

Aziz opens their mouth and lets out a loud shaky sound. At first, Nightshade thinks they are sobbing. But a brilliant smile splits their face and Nightshade realizes they are laughing. They reach up, and press another gentler kiss to Nightshade’s lips. He unconsciously returns it, sinking into the comforting heat like a warm beverage on a cold night.

“You brilliant, beautiful creature,” Aziz breathes against his mouth, “I am going to give you everything you want.”

Nightshade can’t wait.

#my writing #behold!#ask game #oc: nightshade #oc: aziz

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that-bat · 2 months

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Making a deliberately angsty oc when I was 13 did more good for my mental health than anything my school ever did to try to help

The school counselors wish they had the power my fursona had

#oc: nightshade #ough he’s like 6 years old now #maybe more if I count the earlier versions of him

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greaterarts · 7 months

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OC-tober day 3: Old OC! Had to go with the oldest OC I have, Nightshade, real name Avery Adler.

He's a 9 year old OC so as you'd expect he has changed quite a bit over time- mind you, less than some others! He's an ancient blood mage who was exiled from his old home for his hubris and lack of morals. In an attempt to 'prove' himself, he spent centuries wandering from country to country, invading communities and destroying them. Through this he would eventually create the Thanatos Syndicate.

More of his story under the cut!

He didn't create the Syndicate alone, however. He allowed Koschei Urusov to be the face of it whilst plotting behind his back. Eventually he would attempt a coup. This time, though, he'd been discovered.

Koschei's brother, Mischa, had long suspected him of not being as loyal as he appeared to be. The coup did not arrive with the force Nightshade has expected; he also did not expect Koschei's firstborn son, Rho, to react so violently. Upon seeing his friends and family in real danger, Rho's divine gifted power fully manifested.

This protected them- in so far that it completely destroyed the glacier they had made their base. Nightshade was violently attacked by Koschei, bound, gagged, and magically sealed.

For the next few years he would be kept as a prisoner, not allowed to leave the Syndicate's new base, a cathedral deep in the Cradle. Eventually however Koschei would relent and allow Nightshade out on a mission- infiltrate the nearby cult town of Haven.

Here he would end up falling in love with Melanie Sawyer. With the call for power inside him finally not the most important thing in his life, he would settle with her as a liason between Haven and the Syndicate. The two would even have a son, Crow. For a time, Nightshade was tentatively happy. This, perhaps, was what his life had been missing.

Unfortunately, Malachai Sawyer would eventually return to reclaim Haven as his birthright, displacing Melanie and Nightshade. To their horror Crow would defect, joining Malachai's side and abandoning his parents.

Nightshade now helps Melanie with the few survivours of Malachai's reclamation, seething at the loss of his temporarily peaceful life and the betrayal of his son. Maybe Crow's choice is the moral debt of what he's done over the centuries of his life, the proof that he can never truly be happy.

#oc-tober #oc tober #bweirdoctober #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #original art #greaterarts #original character #oc #oc: nightshade #i always yo-yo on if his hair is white-blonde or dark purple lol

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kittylordartfinity · 1 year

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#oc: nightshade #art #digital art #purple #angel #angel oc #green #black #sky #goth #kinda!!

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pinguinosentado · 1 year

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I was playing fallout 4 last night and heard the story about the guy pretending to throw grenades and making the noises and I could imagine raiders going back to nightshade and telling her this story and her just thinking that she is surrounded by idiots. I wondered how you thought this would go down. Sorry if it's a stupid ask, I have been rereading better lucky than good and I love nightshade.

This is an amazing ask and I had far too much fun answering it. I'm tempted to make this part of the story. Enjoy the exact moment Nightshade decided it was time to retire.

Nightshade was rarely at a loss for words; she liked to think that was part of her charm. Now, lounging in the shade of Easy City Downs, she found herself with absolutely nothing to say. The crowd gathering near the gate was similarly silent. Everyone within earshot was listening to the story with the same morbid fascination.

"So, anyway, then he starts throwin' rocks, screamin' they was grenades. Almost hit Steve in the head - could've taken his eye out! We was going to start shootin' at him, but then he starts shoutin' like they was goin' off. KABOOM! BLAM!"

Some of the other raiders exchanged glances. Nightshade could hear the wheels turning in their head, like the squeaking of a battered shopping cart as it rolled through the parking lot. Listening to the story was a lot like watching that cart pick up speed and, with magnetic precision, angle itself in the direction of the brand new Tesla parked three spaces away from every other vehicle.

“We thought he was high on Jet or somethin’. Would’ve just let him pass out in the alley and taken his caps but then he starts comin’ at us.”

The crowd made the noises required of a sufficiently engrossed audience. It was around this moment that Nightshade’s brain decided to switch on, helpfully reminding her of where these exemplary individuals had been posted and what they were supposed to have been doing this afternoon. Her inner monologue read it off with less inflection than those reporters who had announced the world was ending all those years ago.

“What were we supposed to do?”

Despite there being more guns than working brain cells in the group, no one seemed to remember what they were for. It was probably better than the alternative - most raiders tried to solve every problem they encountered with a bullet.

“He starts shouting about artillery and picks up a brick. I swear, he jumped six feet in the air when it hit the ground, screamin’ at the top of his lungs. BOOO - and then he cuts off, right, and starts going EEEEEEEE. You know? Like somethin’ blows up and then your ears do that thing? And then! Then he starts mouthin’ words. We just watched him for a bit, then he starts yellin’ in a deep voice. It was somethin’. Really good stuff. Made me feel like I’d actually lost my hearing.”

When Nightshade was first exploring the Commonwealth, she remembered being terrified of everything, including raiders. That fear had aged somewhat poorly but now an old fear began to rear its ugly head, and that fear was radiation sickness.

“Well, I got my gun out and took a shot at him, right?” This was where Nightshade felt her most invested, suddenly and unaccountably terrified that the world had lost some of its color. “Figures the damn thing misfires.” With how badly raiders took care of their equipment, it was a miracle every time a bullet went out of the gun the right way. “I’m trying to fix it, smashin’ it around, tryin’ to clean it, and he just runs into an alley. We all thought he was gone for good.

“Then we start hearin’ noises from the alley. Weird, inhuman ones, like a ghoul munchin’ on a tin can. A second later, he comes screamin’ out, makin’ this awful noise, hands out like this, like he was ridin’ a bike or somethin’. Does this skid thing into the middle of the street and stares us down, makin’ noises like vrum, vruuuuum.”

Some part of Nightshade’s brain was supplying the word ‘motorcycle’ and another part was trying to push a working one to the top of her hierarchy of needs, along with a leather jacket and a dozen other accessories.

“Then, RHEEEEEEEE! And he comes sprintin’ right at us! Full pelt! Thought he was gonna run us down but he swerves around us, throwin’ another rock grenade at us. Hit Bill right in the face as he was goin’ to grab him, didn’t it, Bill?”

Bill said something which sounded a lot like a man who was regretting the fact that he had not ducked in time and was now forced to speak from behind a thick cloth and his own hand.

“Anyway, I goes to grab the supplies but he swipes ‘em out from under me! And then he kicks all this gravel up in my face! I swear, I’ve never seen anyone’s legs go that fast! It wasn’t human.”

The other raiders seemed to take this in stride, remarking that their comrades seemed to be lucky to get out of the firefight alive.

“And you know what he shouts as she leaves? He says ‘Diamond City thanks you for your donation!’”

The conversation devolved from there, though it hardly seemed possible from an objective point of view. Nightshade had been quietly anticipating the end and was now forced to reconcile the internal shuffling of poker chips that was now occurring. She had made a bet with herself and lost, which was always a painful experience because you couldn’t break the cheater’s kneecaps unless you were very determined to make the point.

She stared at the milling crowd and made up her mind. This was it. This was the day she retired.

Two hours later, she was standing inside Diamond City’s walls, climbing her way to the upper stands. In the olden days, there had been such a thing as a pension or a retirement account. Modern workers would have been unfamiliar with the concept but Nightshade had prepared well for her eventual move into civilian life. She had set aside stashes of caps, prepared a dozen safehouses in case she needed to lie low, and had three separate boats ready to depart at a moment's notice.

But all of that paled in comparison to the prospect now before her, a setup so perfect she could not have planned it, with unlimited caps and an unassailable level of safety and security: crashing on Olivia’s couch.

#anon thank you so much for the prompt #i'm glad i was able to get to it today #and thank you for reading i'm always happy to hear people are enjoying the dumb stories i come up with #pinguino answers #oc: nightshade

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junebug-the · 1 year

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A Living Night Mare

Edited: 4/8

Manehattan was awful in the rain.

No matter what Nightshade did, it was awful. She adjusted her umbrella; tightened her jacket; raised a leathery wing up to block a spray from a passing cab, but the bat pony was still soaked to the bone, and the winds chilled her core. Her outfit clung to her damp, dark fur, and pale purple locks stuck to her face. Her tail was filthy, long as it was, acting like a sponge for runoff and grime alike.

Nightshade was miserable.

A long walk laid ahead of her, glimpsed by teal eyes every few moments as she looked up to make sure she didn't run into anybody. Not that there was anybody walking that night. Lucky her that the streetlamps were on, even if they were dimmed by the rain.

She stopped at an intersection, automatically slamming a fist on the crossing button she needed. Better safe than sorry, after all. A moment passed, and even with empty streets, the signals stayed as they were.

Nightshade glared, as if it would change anything. She glared at the stubborn signals, at the darkened facades of the surrounding buildings, and she glared at her own two hooves, for deciding to go on her little trip regardless of the weather.

Nightshade slammed the button again.

Her ears shifted as a door opened behind her, followed soon after by a deep voice. "You alright, Miss?"

Nightshade looked over her shoulder to find the source. A older, pale green unicorn had opened his door, safe from the rain under an awning, with the bright glow of the building's lights framing him in a halo. The storefront itself was nothing to note, just another template with its shutters drawn for the night covered in a large, dimmed neon sign.

Eyes as silver as his mane looked her over, and a brow raised at her damp state as the unicorn took her in. "Get caught in the rain?"

"Thought I could get some errands done before the downpour," Nightshade called back. She shook her wings, casting a small spray of water onto the damp sidewalk. "Lucky me."

Concern bloomed over the unicorn's face, only to be smoothed over a moment later by a warm smile. "If you're not in too much of a hurry, you can rest here for a bit. I've got an enchanted heater, get your stuff dried out." He eyed the mess that was her tail. "Maybe wash up, too?"

Nightshade hesitated. It would be nice, yes. Dry and out of the damned rain, freshened up for whenever the rain stopped. On the other hand, she didn't know who in any hell the man was. Equestria or not, she had every right to be on edge, especially with the news, as of late.

Her discomfort with the rain won out.

"Yeah, alright." Nightshade turned away from the crossing and stepped over to the awning, resignation clear as day in her features. She pulled her umbrella closed as she did, pointing it handle first at the man as she stepped into safety. "Hold this? I'm gonna wring out my tail, don't wanna trail this gunk all over the place."

The unicorn nodded as he took the umbrella, still giving her that warm smile. "I'll leave it in the rack, just inside the door for when you leave."

Nightshade barely nodded as she set to work.

Jade tried not to slam the umbrella into the rack.

Another one of those things was on his doorstep. As if enough of those rats with hooves weren't plaguing Manehattan.

Those monstrous eyes were there when he looked back, and the beast as a whole lightly shook in an effort to get any loose water off of its hide.

He took no small amount of pleasure in watching it flinch at the lights as it came in. Still, Jade kept the warm smile on his face.

"Shower's just up the stairs, second room on the right." The winged demon nodded its thanks as it followed his directions.

It took every ounce of his will not to growl when it took a proper look at his shop. If he had to guess, it was picking which gemstone would be best to steal or feast upon.

Jade waited until he heard the sound of the door to the living are open. Then he lit his horn, covering his hooves in the glow of a silencing spell.

He supposed he had to consider himself lucky.

The others took time. Learning patterns, knowing their routines. Plans to put down the beasts.

This thing walked right up to his doorstep.

Jade glanced down at the umbrella. Oh, what delicious irony it would be.

The umbrella came free from the rack without a fuss. Jade's steps were utterly silent as he followed the monster into his home.

A small nudge pushed his front door out of the way, just as the door to the bathroom opened and the thing crept inside.

Jade slunk down the hall, still careful despite the carpet and his spell.

The bathroom door was slightly open, had been halfheartedly pushed closed by the thing he had let in. Through the gap in the wood, he could see it peeling off its jacket.

He had to move. Now.

Jade shoved with his shoulder, slamming the door open to its fullest.

The beast turned, just in time for the handle of its umbrella to meet her temple with a snap of wood. The poor handle almost shattered under the force.

Jade didn't let the damned creature recover as it staggered against the wall. His horn lit, and with an angry growl, he lit his horn and pulled it off the tiles.

With a noise closer to a roar, he slammed the beast back down.

Its head met the tiles first with a satisfying crack. The rest of its body followed after, and a dull crunch announced the shattering of its neck.

The corpse collapsed on its back, eyes staring lifelessly into the ceiling. Trickles of blood seeped onto the tiles from both wounds, staining the pure white a vibrant red.

Jade grinned to himself. Sure, he'd have to move it, patch up the wounds if only to contain a bigger mess, maybe replace the tiles.

But another demon off the streets made him happier than anything.

"Back to hell with you," he muttered, pride seeping from his tone. Another injustice cleansed at his hands.

The tension slowly left Jade's body as he turned to leave. The sooner he got rid of the body, the sooner he could go to sleep and bathe in his accomplishment.

Jade paused as he stepped through the doorway.

His fur stood on end as everything suddenly felt wrong. The air felt thick. The lights seemed to dim. Even the rain seemed to quiet in the presence.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run and never look back.

Jade looked.

The corpse was still there, same as it was a moment ago. Jacket still half on, form still soaked from the rain, eyes still—

Those slitted pits of teal were looking at him.

Jade didn't jump. He didn't.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and faced forward again.

He took a step—

—something squelched.

Jade looked down.

Flowing from the bathroom was a stream of black ichor, dotted with little spots of white. Strands of pale purple and teal flowed through it, like a liquid nebula.

Jade looked back again.

The corpse was still there. The eyes were still looking at him.

The wounds flowed black.

Jade felt the color drain from his face. He saw the color fade from the flesh and hair of the corpse, turning a lifeless gray as the ichor flowed.

A voice emanated from the remains, deep as night and smooth as silk. "You know, I really thought you would have let me have the shower."

The jaw flexed and moved with the voice, spilling out more of the inky black.

Jade tried to step back. The ichor clung to his hooves, rooting him in place.

"But, I suppose, you just can't help yourself, can you?"

Jade tried to speak around the thick air. Nothing but a rasp escaped him, carrying what little rage he could muster.

Those teal eyes still burned into him.

"We'd better fix that."

The corpse grinned. Teeth upon teeth stared back at Jade, sharp and eager.

Finally, he spoke. "We?"

A claw dug into his leg.

Jade hissed in pain as his attention was stolen. A moment later, so was his breath.

A hand had emerged from the ichor. Pale blue fur covered the limb that dug in deep and heaved.

A face came up next. The first. A female thing that he had picked off between its shifts at a nearby bar. He'd dumped its body in a trash compactor, and still its bones stuck out of its skin.

The glare and sneer roiled with rage, eager to return the favor.

Teal eyes glowed up at him.

"You've heard the phrase 'face your demons', yes?"

A second claw emerged, bright yellow, reaching far to claw his sides—one that was playing the part of a school teacher, marred by deep burns.

A third, as gray as the corpse across from Jade, stuck into his other leg. Once a crossing guard, now missing half of its face.

A faded orange and a deep green reached for his arms, siblings in the university, missing their wings.

Jade knew each and every one of his kills.

All five of them pulled at him. All five of them bore teal, seething eyes.

They'd barely gotten their upper halves out of the ichor before they sank again.

The claws in his flesh brought Jade down with them.

"No! No, you freaks won't have me!" He swung the umbrella hard at the blue thing.

He could only watch as it glanced off, and the green hands digging into his left arm pulled harder.

Jade's knees sank into the ichor as he lit his horn for the third time. A bolt of unfocused magic loosed at the yellow male behind him. "Get the hell off of me!"

The bolt dissipated around it and faded into the pool around Jade as his hips vanished into the black.

Jade had enough. If he was going, he'd still get a few hits in, go far from quiet.

He swung the umbrella again at one of the sinking heads.

It jolted his arm as it struck hard against the tile under the ichor. When his hand slipped under the glossy film, it fell over with a simple clatter.

With only his head still above the black, Jade roared, thrashing against the claws.

Ichor filled the open space as his jaw sank beneath it.

The scream was muffled as the rest sank beneath. Jade was reduced to a silvery mane and a pair of ears, lost in a liquid star field.

And then, he was gone.

The ichor receded. Back onto the tiles. Back into the wounds.

The corpse regained its colors as the last drops returned. The wounds stitched themselves together again, leaving no trace of the injury.

The claws moved, gripping the wall to pull the form up, sitting alone on the tile floor. Another round of dull cracking reverberated around the bathroom as the vertebrae in its neck repaired and realigned themselves.

Nightshade rolled her neck to get everything back into the normal flow. So much for a long walk, good riddance.

The dark mare returned to her plan for her stop. Her clothes were peeled away and left in the rack of the dryer. A quick wash pulled the grime and rainwater away from her fur and hair.

Nightshade stepped out of the shower fresh and revitalized. A quick stop in the warmth of the dryer left her coat feeling fuzzy as the dampness left and she redressed.

She spared a glance at the umbrella.

Ironic, she supposed, that her small friend for the night brought her down for a moment. Still, she picked up the poor tool and ran a thumb along the cracks in the handle. They glowed a muted teal as they were mended, almost good as new by the time she was done.

Nightshade stepped out of the bathroom and set to turning out the lights in the building. It wouldn't do to waste power, after all, not when the previous tenant wouldn't be returning.

Oh, those five had jumped at the opportunity to help. So eager to pay back what Jade had given them.

A low laugh, closer to a cackle, followed the bat pony down the stairs as she made her way out.

And then, a dark shop behind her, she stood under the awning again. The rain was still pouring, showing no sign of letting up.

It didn't matter. Nightshade dissolved where she stood, umbrella and all, collapsing into a mass of smoky shadow.

Swirls of purple and teal and pinpricks of light dotted it as drifted on the wind, leaving Manehattan far behind it.

#Junebug Writes #fanfiction #original character #oc: Nightshade #mlp #horror #anthro #writing #body horror cw #enjoy the night mare!#everybody loves a demon horse #right?#need to remind myself she's a demon more #she's allowed to be spooky #as a treat #violence cw #death cw

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mertensia · 1 year

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They're so silly and evil

I said I would start posting OC art so here it is! We have in order; Mafia boss, religious cult leader and an evil little guy who is somehow their boss

#ocs #oc art #my art #mer ocs #oc: tobacco #oc: Rosary pea #oc: nightshade #forest friends #forest universe #<- its called that because all the characters are based off of forest plants and animals!#these three being the afformentioned #rosary pea isnt actually mine #my friend made her #but its a joknt custody sorta deal with most of the ocs in forest friends since its like 4 of us making characters #original characters #original character art

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spirirsstuff · 1 year

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@rainnotliam told me not to post oc shit so im posting oc shit <3 love you mate /p

so starting off we have some stuff with nightshade

he doesn’t actually live with his parents, he kinda poisoned them as a kid. like not fatally, just badly. they live with their godparents now. also he’s never gone to public school, he was homeschooled because his family was worried about him poisoning the other kids lol.

next we have some stuff on lun

they wake up very early every morning because they take showers in the morning (inferior) and make an actual breakfast every morning before going to auditions, rehearsals, etc. they make a lot of decisions using a wheel. and they make a lot of theater references all the time.

to finish off im gonna talk about gossamer

so i don’t think i’ve ever mentioned goss (that’s what i call him most of the time) aside from once on an ask blog! he’s unofficially divorced with his wife and is actually tox’s dad (though tox will deny any relation when possible). he calls tox by his full name which pisses him off a ton (never call him intoxication he will murder you) as well as always trying to interact which doesn’t do any good because tox hates him and wants nothing to do with him after his “big project” made him leave tox and his mom for a long time, in which tox’s mom disappeared.

anyways please ask questions about them or any of my other ocs i love talking about them

and if you have questions directly to any of them go to @ask-spirits-idiots

#randomrambles #oc: nightshade #oc: lun #oc: goss #nightshade #lun #goss

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ask-spirits-idiots · 1 year

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Nightshade how often do you accidentally eat or drink poison

#ask #chasani #oc: nightshade #i swear i’ll do more but they might not be done quickly #and they might not all have color

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winterpower98 · 20 days

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These were originally meant for Valentine's day, but oh well

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mustbesaint · 1 year

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more of my flower guys, this time Nightshade & Peony

#dnd 5e oc #dnd5e #ttrpg #archfey #eladrin #dnd eladrin #nightshade #peony #saints work #oc: nightshade #oc: peony

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amethystunarmed · 3 months

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find the word!

I was tagged by @marypsue and honestly I have been so excited to do it! The words Mary gave me are sharp, take, moon, pile, and dream. I have to see if they show up in any of my WIPs, and then post the snippet they appear in if they do. I actually managed to find all of them, and was able to show five different WIPs which is fun! So without further ado, here are the snippets!

sharp

Here is a snippet from the sequel to my Nibbly Prophet Mark Chasity AU, Hungry for More, all from Grace's POV:

The figures pull apart when she walks in. They were close, clearly having a private conversation she was not supposed to interrupt. Her dad is panting, his cheeks a vivid red. Were they arguing? Oh, heck, Grace hopes she didn't interrupt something important. Dad turns, and she can see the moment she registers who she is. He smiles, automatically and effortlessly, but his brow furrows. “Grace!” He greets, voice still breathy from the argument, “Give me one moment, dearheart, and I-” “Now, now, Mark,” the other man drawls. “Aren't you going to introduce me?” Her dad glares at him, sharper than she's used to. Her dad has never really gotten mad at her or Mom, praying with them when other, lesser men would yell or snap. It's odd, seeing this temper on her father, even more alien than the lace and makeup and heels.

take

From an original work that @little-engineer-who-cant and I are working on about Fae Courts. The Winter King, Magnus, realizes just how dangerous his visitors from the Summer Court are.

Shade hurls himself at Magnus, practically gliding across the room as though he is not rolling over a bed and across a distance of six feet. Every movement is fluid, easy, with no unnecessary effort made. A knife as long as his forearm appears in a flash from beneath his robes, and slices through the air at Magnus’s throat. He barely manages to catch it with the tips of his claws, and even then, he can tell Shade has enough strength that holding it is going to be a challenge. The worst though, is the presence in his mind. The moment Shade’s arm pressed against his collarbone, a wave of will crashed into his mind, demanding he submit. The force of it nearly staggers him, and he grits his teeth with the effort it takes to stay upright. Magnus had been honestly disappointed when he had met Shade. The supposed best assassin in the realm had appeared to be no more than a lap dog to a stagnant ruler who had no idea exactly what he had stumbled across. He figured Nightshade of the Unseelie Court was a distant memory, declawed by Aziz or tortured into a shell of his former self. However, Magnus realizes this snarling beauty pinning him to a wall, with bared teeth and slitted pupils, putting enough strength behind his blade to sever his head from his body, is Nightshade. And that Aziz hasn’t destroyed him, or even tamed him. He has done something far more dangerous. He has earned his loyalty.

moon

This snippet comes from another Hatchetfield fic, set during Ted's tenure at Abstinence Camp, and my personal theory as to how he survived angering Lumber Axe.

The thing giggles again. It takes Ted's chin between its... Fingers? Hooves? The more he thinks about it, the more it makes his head hurt. "I do so love your fear, Teddy Bear. It almost makes me want to just keep you like this forever!" A golden box shines out of the darkness. Behind it, Ted can see a hulking, fuzzy figure, nearly as tall as Lumber Axe. He wants to get a better look but the box... He can't look away from the box. It shifts and changes as he looks at it, endlessly spiraling fractals of interchanging squares and Ted holds out his hand to grab it, stretching himself forward, desperate and- The light extinguishes. Ted falls back, panting. The moon is in a completely new position, far across the sky. The wind blows again, but in a different direction from when Ted had first begun his run for his life. It is far colder, the backend of the evening chill soaking though the ground. It is not the reason Ted shivers. “Not yet, I think,” it says, almost like an afterthought. “We still have so much time left.”

pile

This is from the yet to be named part 4 of the Would You Like to Add Another Member to Your Party? series, where we get to see what Nancy thinks of Steve joining the Hellfire Club

It happens a week after Eddie invites Steve to the Hellfire table. Eddie is just trying to get his social studies notebook from where it is buried under the piles of loose homework in his locker, when Nancy Wheeler slams his locker door shut. "What are your intentions with Steve?" "Jesus Christ Wheeler!" It takes all of Eddie's willpower to keep his volume normal. "Way to sneak up on a guy!” He grasps at his chest, trying to convince his heartbeat to slow down. It won't though, not in the wake of what she'd asked him. She knows she knows she knows she knows.

dream

This is from a sequel (like, way down the line in the series) to Somebody's Gotta Do It, the first fic in my series where Ted and Duke work to get Peter into Ted's custody (and maybe fall in

“Dude, was he not like, a total superhero when he came and got you?” Max asks. Peter thinks back to the night. To be honest, he just remembers being upset. Upset at Ted for butting in. Upset at his parents for giving him up. Upset at the universe giving him diabetes and fucking up his whole life. He thinks he made it to the porch before he totally broke down. And, even though Peter was fucking pissed at him, Duke had wrapped an arm around him, it had all felt like it was going to be okay. “Yeah, I guess.” “Right!” Max exclaims, “I'd never seen anyone stand up to my dad like that! I thought he was gonna deck him, it was amazing.” Max sighs, staring dreamily at the ceiling. “He's a total DILF.” Peter chokes on his hot chocolate.

The words are a giving are growl, still, anxious, shadow, and purple.

I am going to tag (with absolutely zero pressure) @little-engineer-who-cant @snarky-wallflower @pawpunkao3 @aether-wasteland-s @tapestryoftrauma @nabwastaken @midnightnautilus and YOU (you know, if you want)

#my writing #my fanfic #hungry for more #behold!#would you like to add another member to your party?#It might as well be me #stranger things #hatchetfield #oc: nightshade #npmd #tgwdlm #abstinence camp #tag game #amethystuncensored

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