red-the-dragon-writes
red-the-dragon-writes
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Red | they/them, ne/nem, fuck/fucker or he/him | 20 | This account (unfortunately) is not suitable for minors. I write a lot of fucked up stuff. | check out red-the-dragon-writes.carrd.co for links, an explanation for how to use my pronouns if you're confused, and more information about me and my wips :D
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red-the-dragon-writes · 5 hours ago
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SHOUT OUT TO MY WRITER HOMIES WITH MUSLIM OCS/CHARACTERS;
1. WEARING A SHAWL TO BATTLE IS THE EQUIVALENT OF HAVING GIRLS FIGHT IN STILLETTOS. 
Just so you know, this is what I’m talking about;
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-Is it bad-ass? Abso-fucking-lutely. Is it Practical? Not a chance in hell. Especially not if it’s silk. If it’s cotton, you are skating on thin fucking ice. That bitch will NOT stay on. It barely stays on with me just walking down the street to Walmart. Wielding axes and rifles and swords and daggers? I PROMISE you it will not do the job it’s expected to-WHICH IS TO COVER THE HAIR. (Some muslim girls dont wear them-and that’s fine. But those who DO do it to completely cover the hair in public. Is it ~Aesthetic~ to see the flyaway hairs in battle? Sure, but those aren’t usually practical either. )Consider instead; 
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sport shawls 
-For one thing, it’s actually DESIGNED to be worn to atheletic activities. Archers tuck hems into the collar of their shirts so they don’t get in the way, and track runners pins (ill get to this bit later) them down into the shirts to prevent flyaway bits and to stop them from getting slapped in the face. It’s breathable, stretchy, presentable without being attention seeking. 
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Bawals 
In a pinch, bawals work just as well-as long as you specify that they are COTTON. Unlike the shawl, which are rectangular, bawals are SQUARE, and thus easier to manipulate, fold and pin down. If you wear it right, they carry an equal aesthetic value to shawls, and come in plenty of pretty patterns as well. 
2. I’m not sure about the USA, but the girls I know wear this underneath the headscarf;
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Does it kinda look like a beanie? It sort of works like a beanie too. Hair is slippery. It tucks in any extra hair you might miss just by wearing the headscarf, its harder to pull down and on the event the shawl DOES fall down, your hair is still not exposed. It protects the ears-which is important even on a daily basis, because pins, headphones and any other headgear that might pinch them. It comes in plenty of designs, including ones that has open backs to allow long hair and ponytails. 
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3.SPEAKING OF PINS; I’M TALKING ABOUT THESE BAD BOYS;
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BROOCHES 
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though , i suppose most of y’all are most familiar with safety pins, right?
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what’s the difference? Well, if your oc/character is an athlete, it’s actually LEAST likely they’ll be wearing SAFETY PINS. They’re cheap and super easy to buy in bulk, true, but they also SUPER easy to wear out even with the smallest amount of strenuous activity. Between the three of ‘em, I’d put the brooches as the best option to wear in battle because 1) it has a large surface area, thus hurts less when pressed on with heavy items, which includes bag straps and weapons, (pins are sharp and can poke you painfully);  and 2) more secure-the latch is covered by the gaudy jewellery above, and theyre usually smaller and tighter. Stays on the stubbornnest, even when headscarf is pulled. very roughly. I’m saying that even the cheapest brooches will allow the shawl to be ripped apart before even letting it go. 
3. They probably ponytail their hair. Because Come On, guys.
Anyway it’s been bothering me and I just thought if yall could bother knowing the difference between skin tones for POC you could bother with muslim practicalities too. Or something 
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red-the-dragon-writes · 5 hours ago
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i think letting your characters not know why shit happens is an important part of worldbuilding in fantasy actually. like you can have the guy who can explain obscure things if you want but irl how many people do you know who can explain precisely how gravity works? saying "it keeps you on the earth" is one thing, sure, and "it pulls things towards the center of mass" is more precise, but no one is breaking out the math, you know? Or like, who's gonna look at the northern lights and go "This happens because of such and such ionizing radiation in the sky." Most people don't know that off the top of their heads, and especially in fantasy worlds literacy and scientific learning are rarely at the forefront of the average person's education.
This is mostly an excuse for me to justify my characters saying the most fucking bizarre shit about the world and never explaining it. "Why does one set of moons only appear once a month or so? I mean, there's stories about it, and I've heard such and such, but I don't know, man, does it matter? I'm tired. You can stare at the moons if you want but I am going to bed." It is my personal belief that this makes the world feel realer. Denser. There's enough shit to know about; deliberately leaving things outside the characters' sphere of knowledge makes it more like the world we live in.
and it also gives you a chance to let your characters' different interests show! If you got one guy who loves space, just absolutely obsessed with astrophysics or whatever, and your protag likes animals and doesn't care about that stuff, you can have that character go and launch into the complicated details of ionizing radiation in the upper atmosphere and the northern lights and solar winds and stuff. and you can have your protagonist listen or zone out. and then respond. boom, you have established quite a bit about both characters in that one exchange, but the fact that there is information, unnecessary random shit, that people just either know or don't know about-- that's realistic, you know? sometimes people know things. Sometimes they don't. Let them not know.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 6 hours ago
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Not only is having worldbuilding threads that are mentioned once and never picked up again not a flaw in fantasy media, I'd go so far as to say that a lack of such threads is a flaw. If everything ties up in one neat little package, you're missing the point of fantasy worldbuilding. Like, don't do it on every page, or your setting is going to be an overstuffed mess, but every so often you are not only allowed but obligated to casually drop some utterly batshit worldbuilding detail and then just never follow up on it. Maybe some rocks are sentient. You don't owe your reader an explanation. Just fucking go for it.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 6 hours ago
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Sometimes people like to write things about florist’s shops.  Here are two things you need to know, the most egregiously wrong things.
1. It makes no fucking sense to sketch out a bouquet before you make it.  Every individual flower is different in a way that cannot really be adjusted the way other building materials can be adjusted, and each individual bouquet is unique.  Just put the fucking flowers together.
2. No one — in months and months of working at the flower shop — has ever cared what the flower/color of the flower means.  No one’s ever asked.  It’s just not something people tend to care about outside of fiction and it’s certainly not something most florists know.  You know what florists know?  What looks good and is thematically appropriate.
Here’s an actual list of the symbology of flowers, as professionals use it:
Yellow – for friends, hospitals Pink – girls, girlfriends, babies, bridesmaids Red – love Purple – queens White – marriage and death (DO NOT SEND TO HOSPITALS) Pink and purple – ur mum Red, orange, and yellow – ur mum if she’s stylish Red, yellow, blue – dudes and small children Blue and white – rare, probably a wedding Red and white – love for fancy bitches
Here are what the flowers actually mean to a florist:
The Fill It Out flowers:
Carnations – fuck u these are meaningless filler-flowers, not even your administrative assistant likes them, show some creativity Alstroemeria – by and large very similar to carnations but I like them better Tea roses – cute and lil and come several to a stalk, a classy filler flower Moluccella laevis – filler flower but CHOICE Delphinium – not as interesting as moluccella but purple so okay I guess Blue thistle – FUCK YEAH, some fucking textural variety at last!  you’re getting this for a dude, aren’t you? Chrysanthemums – barely better than carnations but better is still better Gladiolus – ooh, risky business, someone understands the use of the Y-axis, very good
Focal points:
Long-stem roses – yeah whatever Lilies – LBD, looks good with everything, get used as often as possible Hydrangeas – thirsty fuckers, divas of the flower world and rightly so, treat them right and they make you look good Gerbera daisies – the rose’s hippie cousin, hotter but no one admits it Peonies – CHA-CHING, everybody’s absolute favorite but you need guap Orchids – if this isn’t for a wedding you’re probably trying too hard but they’re expensive so keep ordering them
You know what matters?  THE CUSTOMER’S BUDGET.  THAT’S TELLING.
-$20 – if you’re not under 12, fuck off, get your sugar something else $30 – good for bouquets but an arrangement will be lame $40 – getting there, there’s something that can be done with that.  you can get some gerbs or roses with that and not have them look stupidly solo. $50 to $70 – tolerable $80 – FINALLY.  It sounds elitist but this really is the basic amount of money you should expect to spend on an arrangement that matters.  That’s your Mother’s Day arrangement.  You’re probably not going to spend $80 on a bouquet. $90 to $130 – THE GOOD SHIT, you’re likely to get some orchids $130+  – Weddings and death.  This amount of money gets you a memorial arrangement or a handmade bridal bouquet.  Don’t spend this on a Mother’s Day or a Babe I Love You arrangement, buy whosits a massage or something.
Miscellaneous:
Everything needs greening and if you don’t think that you’re an idiot. 
As a new employee, when you start making arrangements, you can’t see the mistakes you’re making because you’re brand new and you’re learning an art form from the ground up.
With a few exceptions customers don’t have a clear plan in mind.  They want you to develop the bouquet for them.  They want something that will delight their little sweetbread but you’re lucky if they know that person’s favorite color, let alone flower.
Flower shops don’t typically have every kind of flower in every kind of color.  Customers generally aren’t assed about that.  Most people don’t care about the precise shade of the rose or having daffodils in July, because they’re not boning up on flower language before they buy.  That would imply that they’ve got a clear bouquet in mind and, again, they don’t.
Being a florist is essentially a lot like what I imagine being a mortician is about.  You’re basically keeping dead things looking good for as long as possible.  You keep the product in the fridge so it doesn’t rot and look horrible by the time the family gets a whack at it, and in the meanwhile you put it in a nice container.
Anyway that’s flowers.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 9 hours ago
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ideal career: gay trophy husband
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red-the-dragon-writes · 9 hours ago
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You Won’t BELIEVE How Many Em-Dashes Local Writer Can Squeeze Into One 5K Word Fic
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red-the-dragon-writes · 9 hours ago
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Friendly reminder that if you ask about my OCs, you are actually doing me a huge favor.
You are:
Letting me know that my character/fic is important to you, which is so very important to me.
Making me think deeper about my character and therefore expanding his/her personality or backstory.
Making me think about my character which helps me to overcome writer’s block.
Encouraging me in my writing (which, let’s be honest, it’s a battle)
Letting me know that I am seen and that I’m not doing this for nothing.
So thank you, and don’t ever feel like you are wasting my time by asking me anything about anything.
This has been a PSA.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 9 hours ago
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hey you know that project you've been thinking about endlessly for an ungodly amount of time? go start it. yes, you. don't look at me like that, just start writing. you're talented and incredible you've got this!
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red-the-dragon-writes · 9 hours ago
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Role Switch WIP Asks
1. Choose one of your minor characters. How does the plot unfold from their perspective?
2. Your hero is now the villain. What happened differently in their life to lead them down this path?
3. Your villain is now the hero. What happened differently in their life to lead them down this path?
4. Imagine that your protagonist dies at the climax of the story. How does it continue without them?
5. Choose the character who has the closest bond with your protagonist. What would have happened if they’d never met?
6. Which character in your story has had the best luck? Which character has the worst luck? Imagine that they’ve each gone through the things the other has gone through. How are they different?
7. Take two characters in the story who have never interacted, or the two characters who know each other the least. What would their relationship be like if they knew each other better?
8. Your two closest characters have been split apart by an argument. What was it about?
9. Choose a character, and imagine that they’ve been forced to betray their dearest ally. What forced them to do it, and how do they feel about it?
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red-the-dragon-writes · 9 hours ago
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Welcome Back, a CLH short
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The part that is previous in the chronological order (but not necessary for understanding this thing): [The Gays: Unburied]
Word count: 2382 words.
TW/CW: body horror with graphic description, pain w. graphic description, please tell me if I need to add anything!
A/N: This is it. This is the weird emotional rollercoaster thing I was talking about. It's... both darker and lighter than what I usually write. I'm not sure how to describe it, but off-beat dark humor + self-discovery galore fits it best. Enjoy?
Current taglist (contact me to be added/removed):
@enchanted-lightning-aes @47crayons @the-titular-bird @sleepy-night-child @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @a-completely-normal-writer @pagesofcursive @rainycatto @pandawriterstuff @aditiwrites
Welcome Back
“Hey, Elin, do you have a moment?” Lev’s voice made Elin open their eyes.
They were in their office: a dimly lit room full of strange potions, old books, what they called “spare parts” - you shouldn’t look too closely at what those are - and, probably the most prominent sign of their profession, giant amounts of thread.
When Lev called them, they were chanting a spell from one of their books, drawing symbols in the air over something on their office table covered with a sheet. They interrupted their movements to raise their finger in a “just a moment” gesture, after which they traced a few more symbols, a yellow glow following their finger, and slammed the palm of their hand into the object under the sheet. A bright flash, the sound of an explosion, and everything seemed to be exactly the same. Except it wasn’t.
The figure under the sheet moved, raising its- her head, looking around. A moment later, Angelica was sitting on the table, swinging her legs in the air, her smile as wide and carefree as ever.
“Welcome back,” Elin breathed out, wiping the sweat from their forehead, “and try to stay with us a little longer this time, okay?”
“What do you mean?” Angelica tilted her head, a few locks of dark-blue hair covering her forehead, ”I stayed alive for three whole weeks! That’s a personal record!”
Elin sighed and rubbed their temples.
“Anyway, what did I miss?”
“Umm,” Lev interrupted, “We… it appears we have a problem. Elin, may I borrow you for a while?”
“Sure. It’s not like I need rest after performing one of the most difficult spells in existence,” Elin squeezed out a sour smile, stretching on their way to the door, “I promise to get you up to speed later, Angie. So, what are we dealing with?”
In a classroom near a broken window, a disheveled figure sat in a trapping circle, one of their arms wrapped around their legs, the other lying near them on the floor, disembodied. Disheveled was what they looked like at first glance. After a more thorough look at their form, the word decaying came to mind. The student who brought them back tried their best, but the illusion of life can only last so long.
At first, they didn’t notice the differences, distracted by their chase of that pesky vampire, fueled by their rage, but now they were stuck with themself. With their corpse, to be exact.
They tried to ignore it. The knocking sound their fleshless hand made when it touched the floor, the strange, unfamiliar movements of their body. But some things couldn’t be ignored. Their mouth felt wrong: after a few seconds of shock, they discovered they had no tongue. Breathing didn’t work, so they gave up on that. They didn’t want to think about what was going on inside their body.
They told themself they were lucky that there are no mirrors in the classroom, but they were stuck with something much worse than reality: their imagination.
“How long have they been like this?” Elin asked, peeking through the keyhole.
“A few hours now. They were fine at first: they tried to kill Evgeny, we talked about education, things were going great! But then, when their arm fell off...”
Elin nodded and, without further questions, opened the door and walked over to the trapping circle.
“Hello there! Wonderful day today, isn’t it?” Elin asked, leaning over to see the undead’s face. This ridiculous statement shocked them enough to raise their head and look at the newcomer.
Even though the sight displayed to Elin was far from pleasant, to say the least, they did nothing but smile in the most honest and friendly way.
“I wouldn’t call this day a particularly good one, sir”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But ‘sir’ is not really my cup of tea, and it’s a bit too formal, anyway, don’t you think?”
The figure from the circle looked Elin over one more time. They were quite a sight, wearing a red bowtie, a white shirt, a red vest that was made of nothing but pockets, a long, black skirt, high-heel shoes, and a tiny blue cylinder that held onto their thick, curly hair by nothing short of a miracle. A bird skeleton with a matching bowtie sat on their shoulder.
“What should I call you, then?”
“My name is Elin, but you can pick a nickname if you want. I’m fine with anything. And what may I call you?”
The undead stared at Elin. This was too good to last. When will they finally notice? When will they run away? Why won’t they run away? “Louis. My name was Louis, I think.”
“Nice to meet you!” Elin said, beaming, and it didn’t sound like a mere courtesy form. “Now, I was told that something seems to be bothering you. Would you mind telling me what that is?”
Do they really not see? Without saying a word, he picked up his arm and waved it in the air.
“Oh, that. That’s not really a problem, is it? I can sew it back on, good as new.”
“That’s not the worst part,” Louis lowered his detached arm, trying not to look at any part of himself. He thought about how he could see, considering the state his eyes must be in. If they’re still there, of course. He tried not to think about it. Then he thought about how he could think, and what must’ve become of his brain. He tried not to think about that, too.
“Tell me, then! I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Louis fell silent, staring at the floor. “All I want is for it to go away,” he said finally, in a small, weak voice. “This-” he gestured at himself, “can you get rid of it?”
“Well… I could do that. But I have something better to offer. I think you might like it, too. But first, there’s something I must ask you.”
Louis raised what he hoped was still his eyebrows.
“Do you hate magic?”
“What?”
“Do you hate magic? Because what I’m offering is very much magic. Moreover, magic will become a part of your life forever, and that would be just bad for everyone if you really, deeply hate magic.”
Louis froze. Did he, really? Everyone at the Order hated magic. That’s why they were there. That, or because all of their ancestors did it, so it would be strange to pick a different profession. That, or they wanted to see magic - just a glimpse, just for a second, even if you have to kill it to know that it was real. That, or…
Something bumped into Louis’s leg. He looked down to see a tiny bird skeleton in a bowtie ramming its head into his leg. It looked up at him and tilted its head. “Meow?” it asked.
Louis reached out and petted the little thing, the bones of his hand clanging against the bird’s skull. It gave out a purr and buried its head further into what remained of his palm.
“Hey there, fella,” Louis smiled, petting the bird’s skull, “you’re a friendly one, aren’t you? Who’s a good bird? You are! Yes, you-” a quiet chuckle reminded Louis where he was and what he was doing. He jerked his hand away from the bird as he tried to recompose himself.
“Kitty likes you,” Elin said, the happy chuckle still in their voice, “and she’s not the one to trust new people.”
Louis just nodded, looking at the little creature. She now climbed onto his leg and was pushing his hand with her beak for more pats. And of course, Louis provided more pats.
“Just… do whatever it is you want to” Louis sighed, looking back at Elin, who was staring at the picture of Kitty and Louis bonding with childlike happiness written on their face.
“Shouldn’t you at least ask what I’m offering?”
“Eh. I suppose it doesn’t get much worse than this.”
Elin shrugged and dug through the pockets of their vest until they found a small flask.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll help”
“I’m not… I’m not sure I still have the, you know… internal organs necessary for drinking”
“Doesn’t matter. This just has to be inside of your body” Elin handed him the flask so that it would be inside of the circle.
Louis studied the liquid on the inside. It looked transparent and didn’t seem to have a smell, not that he was sure that he could sense smells. “Looks like water”
“Yep. It’s a special kind of water. Pretty rare, too. It's called the water of death, even though the result is closer to the opposite. Only crows know where to get it for some reason”
“That sounds like absolute gibberish,” Louis thought but kept it to himself. Instead, he took a long sip of the liquid from the flask. And regretted it immediately.
Do you know that funny feeling when you’ve been sitting for too long, and your legs feel sore all over as if tiny needles are pricking them? Imagine that but to a hundred. A thousand. Flesh that had been dead for years trying to start feeling again. The first feeling to wake up was pain.
The water fought its way down his throat, or rather made room for a new throat in the mess that was there now. It reached the stomach area, squishing, stretching, and tearing everything in a way that would make the contents of his body internal organs. The liquid settled for a second, allowing Louis just enough time to try and scream. Then, it went to the head, and screaming became a dream ten circles of pain down. His sight blacked out as that demon pretending to be water ravaged through his brain, nose, ears, face. His vision snapped into place as two renewed eyes took their place in their eye sockets. A moment to rest, cry and scream, and his limbs were under siege, new flesh and muscles fighting for every inch of space. It took an eternity until the last drops of agony settled near his left wrist, and everything was over. He had the time to scream now, but he couldn’t. He was empty and overwhelmed at the same time. He felt terrible. He felt great. He got up from the floor - he didn’t notice how he fell - and the hard wooden floor pressed against his hands and feet. He shivered under the light breeze that entered the classroom through the broken window. He sneezed, involuntarily covering his nose with his hand. His soft, warm nose with his soft, warm hand. He looked at his hands again. His right hand was a completely normal, human hand, with skin and veins and nails. His left hand was a skeleton all he was down to the wrist, after which his arm looked ordinary.
“Well, how are you feeling?” A voice he managed to forget about asked
“Fine,” Louis said, still studying his hands. He felt the difference in his voice: instead of sound simply exiting the body, it was his voice. He used his lungs, vocal cords, tongue, and teeth. Incredible.
“If you’re wondering about the hand,” Elin said, trying to read Louis’s expression, “it’s a sort of payment. You see, it’s technically against all the rules of the universe to resurrect a person. So, it’s a way to get through a loophole. You’re not completely alive, just about ninety-eight percent of you”
A soft “oh” was all Louis could say.
How was that of any importance? He could breathe. He could blink. He could smile and feel the muscles on his face stretching. His vision became foggy, and he realized one more thing he could do: cry. And he cried, and he laughed, and he felt the wet, warm tears run down his face and fall into his mouth. He could taste how salty they were, and that was the best thing he ever tasted. Elin didn’t bother him.
After about half an hour of this, they said: “I will go get you some clothes, then,” and quietly left the room.
Louis froze. So that’s why it felt so chilly. A feeling of warmth on his cheeks indicated that blushing worked too.
“So, how are… things?” Lev asked Elin as they exited the room.
“Don’t try to convince me you haven’t been watching the whole thing. I know you.”
“Oh, I would never-” Lev tried his best to make an honest face, but in all the centuries of his life he still didn’t learn how to lie.
“So, what size would you say he is?” Elin asked, already heading down the corridor in the direction of the storage room.
“Umm- a medium-sized... human… size? We have those, right?”
“Weren’t you in charge of ordering uniforms? I thought you’d know the sizes.”
“Yeah, I was, but I just ordered a lot of everything and hoped it would fit somebody.”
“Well… if it works, it works, I guess. We’ll figure it out.”
“Wait-” Lev caught up to Elin and grabbed their shoulder, “shouldn’t we think about this first?”
“About what? Providing him with clothes?” Elin raised an eyebrow. Kitty, who was back on their shoulder, tilted her head.
“No! Just, listen. They were a monster hunter, and now, after you brought them back, they won’t be able to leave places with magic. Like the academy. I know the safety standards here are… not the best, but isn’t it just like trapping a fox in a cage full of rabbits?”
“He’s hardly a fox. He’s more like a severely misguided cat. Besides, if he really hated all things magic, the spell wouldn’t work at all.”
“But still...”
“You keep Evgeny around, don’t you?”
“That’s different! He was a monster-hunter centuries ago! I didn’t have to worry about over a hundred kids back then”
“And now you have Evgeny to stop this guy if he turns out to be a fox after all. And me, and Angie, and Arthur, and Bylur, and literally everyone at the academy. We’ll keep an eye on him.”
Lev opened his mouth. Lev closed his mouth. Lev sighed. The rest of the way to the storage room was quiet.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 10 hours ago
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“Do you- are you having some kind of problem and acting out for attention? Because honestly, property damage is the way to go for that- “
masjdfhdl REX
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red-the-dragon-writes · 10 hours ago
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An unfortunate side effect to being a disaster of biology, undead freak of nature and general anatomical failure was that Rex never quite outgrew the size he was when he was somewhere between eleven and fifteen.
why is this so funny
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red-the-dragon-writes · 10 hours ago
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Morning came too late, the way it normally did; there was already noise and life and shit going on before Rex woke up and he was about ready to stuff cotton in his ears by the time the sun rose. He was starting to see why none of the people he knew who actually lived in cities spent much time in their Secondforms. It was too goddamn loud. It was always too loud, and he did this every night, so he was intimately aware of how too-loud it was, and he did not make any smarter choices. He got up and got a can of coffee and poured it into a cup and pulled out a small bottle of alcohol, this one a much more welcome gift also from Haven, and poured about half of it into his cup and then drank the whole thing, and then he went and rifled through his cabinets looking for fruit or candy only to conclude (ugh) that he’d eaten all of the fruit and candy in the house before he left and (uuuugh) would need to interact with people (uuuuuuuugh) in order to get more. Hell of a way to start the morning. Rex compensated for his tragic lack of sugar by drinking another coffee.
my writing is really fucking spectacular sometimes
(alas, this is not from WiB. This is from a different thing that is not done and also i'm pretty sure is just an excuse to write porn? i dont remember honestly but it is funny as hell)
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red-the-dragon-writes · 11 hours ago
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"It is fascinating, is it not? How such a small feeling can be so strong that it makes them break all the rules for it."
A small smile graced Aiden's features. Talon had to look away.
"It is foolish, if anything," he scoffed. "It only causes them problems and they are too blind to see."
Aiden's soft expression changed into a pout. "You are a cold man, Talon, you know that?"
The man sighed. "I am not cold, I'm a demon. And demons do not have time for something as pathetic as mortal love."
The angel shook his head. "The only thing pathetic is you talking ill of love, just because you do not understand it," he said.
A sharp laugh escaped Talon’s lips. "Oh, but you do?"
"No, I do not. But I try to. Because unlike you," he poked the others chest with a slender finger, almost accusingly so. "I am not afraid of it."
"I am not afraid of love," the demon said quietly, turning away.
"Then why can't you even look me in the eyes while you say it?" Aiden behind him asked.
Because I am afraid of what you might see there, Talon thought, but said nothing.
general tag list: @deadlycupid @writing-is-a-martial-art @writingamongther0ses @blueinkblot @wildswrites @abiandwriting @theroyalcoven @7devills @myhusbandsasemni @authortango @sleepy-night-child @charleeyy
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red-the-dragon-writes · 11 hours ago
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Please don't worry if you write slow in comparison to others. 100 words a day? 50 words a week? 5 words an hour? Those are all words that weren't there before and that's so great.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 11 hours ago
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Writing fights is weird because everyone always wants to write a cool fight but I also like to write accurate or at least plausible fights, and real fights don't like... last that long. If Rex is fighting someone, either he wins, or he loses, but it happens quickly. They don't trade hits over and over for twenty minutes while snarking off, and if his enemy were going to do that Rex would just kill them because he doesn't have the patience for it. (See: all those sequences where a character starts to speak and Rex just shoots them in the face.)
anyway i'm thinking about how the scene where Felyx tries to kill Rex and then Rex basically just pins him to the floor and is like "stop????" is not... cool really, but if I were in that situation that's what I would do too. I wouldn't like go into an all out battle with my friend, I would simply attempt to get them on the ground so that we could talk it out. i guess that's all it really comes down to, in the end, too; what the character would do. And since I'm writing Rex and Rex is therefore filtered through me, that's what would happen there.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 12 hours ago
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Hedonism is beautiful and romantic and sexy and very cool in my opinion and also according to facts
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red-the-dragon-writes · 12 hours ago
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A brief and ugly summary of surviving cold climates
For visitors and writers alike.
You were never meant to be here. Never forget this. You are an ape of the equator, built to run the savannah and swim in tropical waters. Whatever terms and conditions your body has, they are void here. Mother nature never certified to function in a Death World.
Enduring the cold is never a matter of “how much” as much at it is “how long”. Think of it as the water levels of the vieogames you have played. No matter what equipment enables you to remain longer, you can’t stay there indefinitely. The coat that keeps you warm and toasty for three hours in -15 is enough to keep you functional for an hour of -40.
Whatever the locals say, listen to them. Err to the side of caution if you must. You may not endure what they can endure, but you SURE AS FUCKING NOT cannot survive what they say cannot be endured.
That being said, alcohol is a filthy fucking liar and so is anyone who offers it to you. The warmth it gives is an illusion, and a sign of damage. You are worse off feeling comfortable with a mouthful of whiskey as you are freezing your gonads off stone cold sober.
Winter tires. Studded winter tiers are a MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH when you drive on a frozen road. That being said, whatever the locals tell you that your car will need to run as theirs do, take it. Taking the risk of being pranked is worth survival, and you can always stab their tires in the spring if they were shitting you.
Eat. For the love of god, make sure that you eat. Heavier meals might be unpalatable at first for someone used to lighter nutrition, but maintaining bodily warmth in a cold climate takes up a lot of energy, and you will feel tired and drowsy for a long while shile your metabolism adjusts to producing more heat than Mother Nature ever intended. The skinny people in your party are especially vulnerable, ensure their well-being on a regular basis.
If you have a smartphone/other essential technology on your body, keep them close to your body to keep them warm. They were not designed to be frozen any more than you were.
Sleep is death. SLEEP IS DEATH. Never, ever stop to rest in the cold, if you do not have the means to make a fire/otherwise produce heat. The cold tires you out because keeping warm takes energy, but taking a rest will not return your energy. If you feel the need to sit down and rest because you are tired because of the cold, call for help. This is not a hyperbole, if you feel like you are too tired to go on in a cold climate, CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE. If you fall asleep in the snow, you will not wake up. Hypothermia can and will literally kill you.
Avoid skin-to-snow-contact if you can. It hurts because you were not supposed to do it. Consider ice to be like acid. Touching is bad for you.
Feel free to add to the list if you feel like I missed something.
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red-the-dragon-writes · 12 hours ago
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When a character doesn’t realize they’ve been, like, shot or whatever and they hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they’re just staring at it like wtf is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them. That’s good stuff.
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