#i posted an excerpt of this earlier tonight!

[cryptid-crow13]

Sooo I have three finished chapters for the dead on main fic I'm writing. I'm debating on going ahead and posting the first chapter on ao3, but I'm not sure SO

Here's an excerpt from the beginning of chapter one :)

Danny didn’t know what they did to deserve this. They’d gone three years in Gotham without directly interacting with any of the vigilantes. There were a few close calls, but three years! The closest they had gotten before tonight was that time they ran into Red Robin at a corner store buying coffee. They had stared at each other’s exhausted expressions, nodded, and went their separate ways. Now, here Danny was, half out of their window and on the fire escape, staring down at the vigilante (anti-hero? former? crime lord?) that had fallen onto their dumpster before he crashed onto the alley floor.

Danny debated turning around and acting like they didn’t see or hear anything, but they knew they couldn’t do that. Their core and their conscience whined at the thought of leaving an injured vigilante like this. Danny had been about to go out as Reaper, but apparently, they had new plans. They could practically hear Gotham's laughter. They sighed and went back inside. They grabbed their keys and strapped one of their knives to their thigh. They most likely wouldn’t need it, but you never know in Gotham.

When Danny opened the backdoor of their shop, they saw that Red Hood had managed to at least sit himself upright against the dumpster. “Uh, you good?” Danny asked and immediately had a gun aimed at them. They raised their hands and kept their posture relaxed. “Hey, you’re the one that crashed into my dumpster.”

Red Hood kept the gun aimed at them and tried to stand up. He almost dropped the gun when his knee buckled, but he managed to catch himself. “’M fine.” He said and the words came out in a metallic growl.

Danny propped the door open and sighed. “Look, either you pass out here, and then I carry you inside or you let me walk you inside now.”

Hood stared at them for a long moment before he lowered his gun. “You’re the weird mechanic.” He said.

Danny laughed. “Glad to know my reputation precedes me. Now, inside?” They asked as they gestured behind them into the shop. Red Hood nodded and leaned back against the wall to holster his gun. Danny moved closer to him, projecting their movements as much as they could. “Come on, big guy. I don’t trust you won’t pass out as soon as you try to walk again.” Danny said as they moved to support the vigilante’s weight.

“Big guy?” Hood asked absently and Danny felt their cheeks warm a little. They decided to ignore it. Red Hood slowly shifted his weight a bit more onto Danny before he seemed to realize they could actually support him properly. The man smelled like blood, leather, and gunpowder. Danny slowly walked Hood into the repair shop and sat the man down in a chair behind their front desk.

“Stay,” Danny ordered and pointed at Red Hood before they turned and walked into their supply closet. Danny grabbed their large medkit off the shelf and walked back. They nodded when they saw Red Hood had actually stayed in the chair. They knew from personal experience how stubborn vigilantes could be. Danny moved a stool in front of the man and opened the medkit on their desk. “Injuries?” They asked, straight to the point.

Hood hummed. “Took a bat to the knee and probably ripped some stitches.”

Danny squinted their eyes and crossed their arms. They knew that couldn’t be all if the man almost passed out earlier. He must have only been able to walk semi-normally due to experience. Hood stared resolutely at Danny, but eventually he relented.

“I probably have a concussion and had a bullet hit me in my side. It passed through.”

“Shit, you have an open gunshot wound? Why didn’t you tell me that first?” Danny reached out to move the vigilante’s jacket out of the way so they could try to get a look at it. Hood waved their hands off and shrugged off the jacket himself. He kept the guns he had in shoulder holsters. Danny hissed when they saw the red bandages over Hood’s side.

“Stubborn ass vigilantes,” Danny muttered as they turned to go wash their hands.

They heard Hood laugh and groan when it jostled his injuries. “You’re funny, Nightingale.”

“I try. Now,” Danny pulled on gloves, “let me see. I’m not gonna have you pass out from blood loss in my garage.”

--

Let me know what you think :D

#danny can't help themself and has to help when someone that's injured is almost literally dropped right in front of them #dpxdc #dpxdc fanfic #dead on main #dead on main ship #trans danny phantom #bc its important to me <3 #cryptid crow caws

[havendance]

Hot Girl Shit (The Feminine Urge to Die Young)

(a.k.a Live Fast Die Young Redux)

AO3

Fandom: Batman

Featured Characters/relationships: Cassandra Cain & Claire Clover (Gotham Girl)

Wordcount: 6100

Summary:

Cassandra and Claire are both living lives with an expiration date when they meet. Claire has powers that burn time off her life with every use. Cassandra has a death match with Lady Shiva scheduled, one that she knows she will not win. In the brief period their time overlaps, a friendship blooms.

I am back on my niche-fic posting shtick! I am getting so much writing done while procrastinating on Batman for Dummies Ch 3. I have inserted Claire Clover and the "I am Gotham" arc from Batman (2016) into the post-crisis continuity roughly post-Officer Down for purposes of throwing these girls together. Enjoy.

(Thank you to @creetchure for betaing this for me!)

Excerpt:

Gotham is sluggish in the late summer heat. Warm, even at night. Humid from the bay. It doesn’t bother Cass, though she misses the breeze on her face. She wears the mask; it clings to her face like a second skin: warm, soft, already slightly damp from sweat. A second skin, a better face.

The last time she went out, Cass didn’t wear a mask. A mistake, Batman said. She could have hurt Barbara. Might still hurt Barbara, if the people who saw her make the right connections. Cass doesn’t want to hurt Barbara. She has her own cave to go back to now. Far away. Alone. It’s safer that way.

She is out now, in Gotham, an itch under her skin. She trained earlier, but it didn’t help. She needs to be out, needs to help. Gotham is slow tonight. Quiet. Too quiet. It itches.

Batgirl runs from rooftop to rooftop, searching, but still: Gotham is too quiet. Too still. There’s no one out, no one to fight. Maybe it’s the heat.

She stops on a rooftop, listens to the city around her. Gotham is never completely quiet; something is always moving. It is the same tonight, but calm. Maybe she should go back, train some more. Maybe this will be a wasted night. 

But no. Sirens wail past. She sees flickering light on the horizon, smells smoke. A fire.

Batgirl runs.

The firemen beat her there. It’s an apartment building, burning quickly. Too quickly, the water not doing much to slow its devouring progress. All around are people: watchers and residents gathered around in their pajamas, smelling of smoke, some more than others. There are fire trucks, ambulances. Some people shout orders. Babies cry. Everyone is talking.

It’s too much. Dozens of voices blend together into one single mass of unknowable language. It reminds her of before, when everything was that unknowable mass.

The burning building gives an ominous creak. The shouting intensifies as firefighters begin to pull back. 

A single voice, screaming and crying rises over the cacophony. Cass listens. 

“—my daughter!” the woman is saying. “My daughter, she’s still in there. Please, someone! She needs help!”

There. There’s the woman. “Where?” Cass asks.

For a moment the woman is shocked. She looks at the bat emblazoned on Cass’s chest. Recognition sparks in her eyes. “The third floor,” she says. “Will you—”

Batgirl is already gone, running towards the fire. Everyone else is running away. They shout at her. She doesn’t listen.

She can feel the heat through her suit: burning fire. She is close, almost in and then—

A rush of air. She is… in the air. Someone is holding her. She strikes on instinct. She wants them off her. She wants them to let her go.

“Hey!” the person says. The voice is young, a girl. “I don’t want to drop you.”

Cass looks. They are high up. Flying. The drop is survivable, probably. She has her grapple, but: the girl didn’t drop her. She couldn’t break her grip. Cass stills.

“Good,” the girl says. “I’ll set you down in a second.”

They land on a rooftop. It’s away from the fire. Too far.

“I know you’re—” the girl starts to say.

“Bring me back,” Cass says.

“The building’s about to collapse! It’s dangerous.”

“No,” she says. “Inside, there’s a girl. I need to—”

The girl inhales, nervous. “Where?” she says, turning back to look. Then, before Cass can answer. “I see, I’ll get them, wait here.”

“Wait—” Cass starts to say, but the girl is gone, flown off. She’s not human— metahuman. Batman warned her about metahumans. The girl is wearing a blue and grey costume, a cape. Cass is curious. She waits.

The building collapses in a fiery blaze. A minute later, the girl returns.

“I got them both out in time,” she says. ��They’re okay.”

Both. That means there were two. Cass only knew about one. “How?”

“Ultra vision to see them and then speed and flight to get them out.”

“You stopped me,” Cass accuses.

The girl looks apologetic. “I’m invulnerable. You would’ve died. You’re Batgirl, right?”

Cass nods.

“I’m Gotham Girl. At least, I was. I don’t know if I’m going to keep being her. I mean— I don’t know.”

She’s fidgeting: nervous, uncertain. Cass could surprise her; she sees the weakness in her form. It would be easy to exploit, except… speed, flight, maybe strength. Part of her still itches to try. Instead, Cass asks “You know… Batman?”

She nods. “He’s helping me out.”

An ally then.

“Can… can I ask you something?” Gotham girl asks.

Cass shrugs. She waits.

“Were you scared— running into the fire?”

“No.”

“You could’ve died.”

Cass shrugs. “There was… someone to save. Nobody dies.”

“Oh,” Gotham Girls says. She looks like she has more questions. Cass doesn’t want to answer them. She turns to leave.

“Wait.”

Cass pauses on the edge of the roof. 

“Can I— I mean, see you around?”

Cass shrugs and jumps off the roof.

Continue reading on AO3!

#cassandra cain #claire clover #batgirl #gotham girl #live fast die young #my fic #havendance writes #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated

[rexcat]

Going through my phone and feeling inspired from reading so many great fics lately (shoutout to Formidable by Effervescent_Equilibrium ) I’ve stumbled upon something I kinda forgot about that I’m cleaning up *-* no clue how long this will take me, but here’s an excerpt that I thought was kinda :)

——— ~Serpents~ ——— (this is post-Destiny and Fate, pre-Double Double Cross)

Exasperated groans and the slam of a fist on wood are the telltale sounds that TF’s cleaned out yet another unwary soul.

Graves turns to the bartender and orders immediately- and something unusually pricey for his tastes. TF practically bounces over next to him, eager it seems to give the less-fortunate gamblers some space. TF raises an eyebrow while looking over between Graves and the cup filled with a dark crimson liquid.

“I told ya, on me”

“Those coins really gunna start a fire in your pocket?”

“Well.. it’s just... some of its from you-know-where”

TF’s mouth drops open, and his expression quickly cycles from confusion, indignance, and finally fear but then he quickly calls after the bar tender. “Make that two! ..err-three!”

He winks back at Graves, “A tax for making a lil extra on the side”. Graves chuckles, slightly annoyed yet also relieved to rid them of the gold pieces as fast as they can “Ya got me.” TF sucks his teeth while throwing an arm up in a dramatic gesture. “Next thing I know you’ll be sayin ‘let’s split 60-40!’”

—

By the time they leave the tavern, faces flushed and bellies warm, the sun has long set. They begin to make the trek up the winding allies of Bilgewater towards their current, particularly clever hideout. Tf is wearing the biggest, stupidest grin.

“Well? You wanna take a guess at how I did it?” He says once they’re sufficiently distanced from the tavern.

“Oh that’s just your god given dumb luck.”

“Not bad” TF continues, ignoring Graves’ comment.

“Huh?”

“I didn’t do anything tonight.”

Graves remembers the look TF had in the midst of the games, eyes dark, excited. No magic other than the thrill of the gamble.

“Seems like you were having fun” Graves says softly.

“Yeah.. I figured I would let go and see what the cards had in store for me. ‘Guess they’re still on my side.”

The echos of revelry pour out from the various drinking halls or ‘dens of theives’ to be more accurate- and get swallowed up by the vastness of the night sky and waves breaking on rock. A chaotic symphony in constant motion, and yet to Graves, a sound of home and comfort.

“Well, you were so generous with your coin earlier I wondered if you were gunna treat me to dinner as well?”

“I’ll treat you to more than dinner,” is what he wants to say, but in an exceedingly rare moment of bashfulness Graves thinks better of it.

“I don’t know if your luck goes that far, your highness.”

Pretending not to hear for the second time, TF continues “I won’t even be picky, so long as it’s not fish.”

———— to be continued by a lot !

If anyone reads this I am super welcoming of feedback QQ it’s been a crazy long time since I’ve written anything.

The main focus will be about magic and the sea and Twisted Fate because that’s my jam.

#i really want to finish this! #writing is so difficult y’all out here moving mountains #cartomancy #cardistry #is apparently a word #fanfics #twisted fate #league of legends #tfgraves #malcom graves #tobias fate #tf x graves #twistedgraves

[onlyswan]

Hi Art! I am glad to hear that you are having a day/night to slow down not be too busy, I had a busy day today hehe but I'll be re-reading your latest drabble to wind down before bed hehehee btw I also saw a post earlier on instagram that reminded me of iw!oc and now it made me wonder what would oc's insta would look like, would it have many dump photos, outfits/mirror shots, flower and animals photos, tho I bet they would for sure post short book reviews. Also do u think there would be like very very subtle hints of kookie in some like those lowkey type of photos, not really flaunting but showing they got a man that makes them happy hehehe that's all

hi anonie <3 thank youuuuu so much and i hope you rest well tonight !! you’ve worked hard 🥰❤️

omgomg definitely !! dump photos from museums/nature walks/vacations <3 and for their outfit checks their photos are always taken by jungkook so 🥺 eekkk they post close up shots of their pretty accessories taken by them though <3 LOL book reviews would definitely be such an oc thing to do so expect book excerpts in like every post too. also just random photos tbh like food, fruits, flowers, clear waters, animals, the sky 🥺 as long as they match the feed or else the post is getting deleted hehehe mostly bright colors !! and occassionally some polaroids/films !! :]

NOW HONESTLY one thing about oc is they’re gonna flaunt and they’re gonna be passive aggressive as hell doing it🧎sure they post lowkey type of couple photos but they’re not always reaaaally subtle yk? like there are pics of them kissing but maybe oc’s phone is covering their faces orrrr them cuddling in bed <3 (are they nakey or not?! that is the question…)

but also. just know there’s a dedicated highlight to bam and with every tap you can watch him grow bigger and bigger 🥺🥺🥺

#had to stop myself from rambling again sorry sorry 🫶🏼 #art’s post office ☁️ #bookmarked

[strangersatellites]

happy WIP wednesday to all who celebrate! thank you @outpastthebrakers for tagging!

enjoy this reformatted version of an excerpt I've already posted on here!

“Hey. I wanted to apologize– about earlier,” he looks down at his lap where he plays with his fingers in an effort to seem shy. “I didn’t want to come out tonight but my sister dragged me and I was being a dick about it. I was honestly just trying to embarrass her. I didn’t think it would cause a scene or anything.”He looks back up through his lashes and Eddie is still just staring.

The longer he sits the longer Eddie stares and says nothing. Steve could sit here all day, but Working Steve darts his eyes around like he’s nervous. 

He slaps his hands to his thighs and takes a breath before he makes to stand and leave.

“Well, that's it. I just didn’t want–”

Eddie catches him around the wrist for the second time tonight and his voice is low when he interrupts with “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”

Sassy Steve in his head says “you actually weren’t talking at all.” But he sits anyway.

He folds his hands in his lap and meets Eddie’s eyes which are rolling again.

Eddie nods his head to the side. “I don’t bite, sugar. C’mere.”

Sassy Steve shrugs in his head and doesn’t have a retort this time. He shuffles down the booth a little closer to Eddie but still a respectable distance from the stranger. 

He’s clearly not interested in that.

“Jesus fucking–” he mutters under his breath as he grabs at Steve’s thigh and in a surprising show of strength drags his legs over his lap.

Before Steve can object he’s got his hand around the back of his neck and he’s all but snarling into his ear. 

“I’m going to say this once and you will have one minute to answer me, do you understand?”

Steve visibly gulps and nods.

“I don’t buy that stupid fucking excuse for a second, Harrington. Tell me why you’re actually here.”

Steve is sober in an instant.

And see this, this is what he's good at. What he knows.

Because the best way to lie is to almost tell the truth.

And Steve Harrington tells a great story.

#this is a super secret fic that only like three people know about #but I WILL tell you #that I just finished chapter two and the total word count is up to 19.7k 🥴 #oh look #gin's eddie being a jackass #I can hardly believe it #gin writes

[valleynix]

i meant to post here earlier about me being happy i’m closing shift tonight so i could work on TPtM, then i jinxed myself and got slammed, so… here’s an excerpt, 4 1/2 hours later :D

#i’m REALLY hoping to get done with this sometime soon #i’m not really near the end but i’m through the hard part #i think

[umbracirrus]

I keep mentioning that I have a WIP to share, and I was trying to wait until Wednesday to post it but I'm just too excited about it! It is part of the vampire Balgruuf AU which I started going on about last week when I wasn't feeling too well, and now that I'm mostly feeling better, my thoughts are a lot more coherent and I really want to write some more for it! No better time for a vampire AU than October too!

This is going to be forming part of the beginning to the fic, and like usual for my Balgruuf content, it will be featuring my Dragonborn OC Elyse - though she is only mentioned in this excerpt.

---

The difference in Whiterun between night and day was rather stark once the crowds had started to dissipate from the Bannered Mare, and little more than a small handful of guards patrolled the city walls.

Signs of life were near to non-existent, with only the sounds of a faint breeze echoing between buildings or cutting through branches of trees and shrubs breaking the eerie silence.

Light came only from the occasional lantern and torch, not that they did much given the thick layer of fog which had befallen the city. It was usual for the time of year, having gone from the pleasantly warm summers which the hold would experience to the chill of autumn and winter which was more akin to the normal temperatures felt across much of Skyrim all year around… however, it was often not as heavy or thick as it was at that moment in time. If one were to hold their arm out before them, that was likely as far as they could see without the aid of a light source.

“As I have said numerous times already, we should have stayed in Riverwood, Balgruuf. Even if we know the city like the back of our hands… something does not feel right in the air tonight,” Irileth stated quite bluntly as she and Balgruuf entered the city through the main gates with a small guard escort. “This mist, and the chill in the air… Stay on your guard.”

Balgruuf stared at his housecarl from the corner of his eyes, and found himself somewhat uncomfortable with just how close she was to him, but sighed. “I have business early in the morning which Proventus could not rearrange, nor could Gerdur rearrange my visit to her mill – I had no choice but to return, Irileth. Besides, we will be back in Dragonsreach within the next few minutes. Nothing can go wrong between then and now-” The sound of one of the guards accompanying them tripping over one of the cobbled stones of the path just in front of them on account of the fog cut him off, and he sighed once more. “Beyond the occasional stumble. We will be fine.”

With a snort, Irileth shook her head. “Famous last words…”

For the most part, he had been right… they were fine. At first.

It was about when they could barely just make out the young Gildergreen in the mist that the temperatures in the air seemed to drop, and both Jarl and Housecarl hesitated… no less when they both heard footsteps against the stone, slow and methodical, and gradually growing louder. Whoever was nearby was close to them, and getting closer.

“Whoever is there, reveal yourself now!” Irileth eventually yelled when the tension of the unknown presence became too much, though little more than an amused chuckle echoed through the air. Irileth was already reaching for her blade, and Balgruuf moved his hand to rest on the hilt of his own just in case too. He was already beginning to regret his decision of heading back to Dragonsreach, or at the very least not stopping off earlier in the city to wait until visibility was better, even if it meant dropping into the Bannered Mare or seeing if Lydia was awake still in Breezehome (or better yet, that Elyse had made one of her rare overnight visits to her home).

A hint of red suddenly cut through the deep grey haze in the air, appearing like twin pinpricks which were… staring directly at him.

Then there was another, larger red light which began to emerge, though not a soul had the opportunity to react to it before it had hit him square in the chest. His breath was knocked out of him as he stumbled back, heel catching the border of the waterways which framed the Gildergreen’s plaza, and sending him stumbling back with a splash into the water in the direction of Heimskr’s house.

He had no idea what that attack had been beyond it clearly being magic of sorts, nor could he expend the energy to properly think about as to what it could have been as he was more focussed on the pain from his fall… and that he barely felt able to so much as try and pull himself up and out of the running water.

There were faint sounds of yelling and some sort of commotion nearby, and he could just about make out Irileth snapping out orders before frantic footsteps made their way over to him.

“Balgruuf! Are you okay?!” Irileth called out as she took hold of his arms and helped him back up to his feet. For a few moments, he found himself disoriented as he tried to find his footing and remain upright before he had to reach up to straighten out his circlet. “The guards have already apprehended the attacker, he foolishly ended up running directly into them. Should be on his way to the dungeon as we speak…”

He had to take a few deep breaths before he could speak. Now that he was upright once more, he felt winded more than anything, a slight tiredness seeping into his body which was likely down to the spike of adrenaline from suddenly being attacked wearing off. “I am fine. Just wanting to get back to Dragonsreach before any further… interferences crop up in this fog.”

#spoiler alert: he was not okay. just nobody knows it yet. #meg has done some writing #vampire balgruuf au #skyrim fanfiction

[twosides--samecoin]

on music in fallout

There were some posts going around about music in Fallout I saw and I wanted to post an excerpt from my fic, Long Time Running. This is from Chapter 6, "Thunder Road". I write my fic with diegetic music to address culture in the series stagnating and limiting music to the 50s; I name every chapter after a song. Music in video games is a money/licensing game and in fan content we can do way more, so here's how I do it! My style guide here is italic = "voice in the room not from characters in conversation" as in the DJ/music. Here I show an example of music being a rare thing; it's different everywhere you go because people just have the music that managed to be saved and passed on or scavenged after the bombs dropped. I was a music nerd before I was a Fallout nerd and addressing this in my writing was something I was excited for, so without further ado: The radio DJ’s voice interrupted the silence. “Hi, it’s Delia, we got the weather monitor fixed. It’s only a few degrees below freezing tonight and I’m not in a sour mood anymore, so.. Here’s a favorite, for my favorite. Here’s Thunder Road.” 

Olivia’s eyes widened as harmonica and piano played together. She turned towards the radio. “Are you serious right now?” 

“What?” RJ asked. 

"..The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways. Like a vision, she dances across the porch as the radio plays.."

Jack smiled. He knew what this song was about and wondered just how well she knew it. He caught Olivia’s eye as she turned away from the radio. RJ saw Jack’s shit-eating grin and knew it meant he figured something out with her. A smile that could mean he was having fun, or he could checkmate you. 

The same glance Olivia and Jack shared about him earlier.

"..Roy Orbison singing for the lonely, 'Hey that's me and I want you only,' Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again.."

“I- what, why are you looking at me like that-” 

“Good song, huh?” he responded, smiling at her.

"..Don't run back inside, darling, you know just what I'm here for.."

RJ didn’t quite understand what Jack was getting at. The radio was low enough that he could hear the music, but the lyrics were harder to hear from across the room. 

“Bruce fan?” Jack asked her.

“Yeah, um.. I like him.”

Jack’s heart melted. “My wife, Nora, was a huge fan. We have the first seven albums on one holotape,” 

“Wait, no way-” 

"..So you're scared, and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore.."

“Yeah, way. How many Bruce albums you got in this vault, huh?” 

“I don’t,” Olivia told him, looking almost apologetic. “I only get to hear Bruce when he’s on the radio.” 

“Agh.. I wish I knew. I could have brought that tape with me. It’s at home.” 

"..Show a little faith, there's magic in the night. You ain't a beauty, but, hey, you're alright.."

She nodded and lost her smile, staring at the ground again. A Bruce fan denied all but a few radio plays of just his signature songs. Nora wouldn’t accept this. “So, y’know, about this whole thing. Helping Duncan and moving to Boston, right?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed.

He smiled at her. “What would Bruce Springsteen do?” 

She turned away as a smile spread across her face. “Shut up,” she told him, covering her mouth. “You shut the fuck up about him,” she mumbled.

“I think I know what he’d do,” Jack said as he got up and stood in front of Olivia, his hands on his hips.

She sighed and looked at him with an expression that made her look like a child trying to avoid a hard conversation behind a thin veil of attitude, crossed arms, pout and head tilt. “What would he do?” she asked.

“I think Bruce would take a free flight to Boston to help Duncan and then write a whole album about it, that’s what he’d do.” 

#what would bruce springsteen do #long time running #my oc #fallout #fallout fanfiction #robert joseph maccready #bruce springsteen #fallout meta #fallout 4

[jonismitchell]

top five poems! (based on that akhmatova excerpt you posted earlier)

i have an entire note on my computer for favourite poems, so it's difficult to narrow down, but right now i'm feeling:

the more loving one by w.h. auden (if equal afffection cannot be, let the more loving one be me)

a talk with a tax collector by vladimir mayakovsky (poetry is like getting at radium, the profit is in grams but the work in years)

soliloquy for cassandra by wislawa symborska (i loved them. but i loved them haughtily. from heights beyond life.)

tonight i can almost hear the singing by silvia curbelo (this is the way things are with us. sometimes we love almost enough.)

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond by e.e. cummings (nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.)

#i always have to fight the urge to put like. siken in these #i promise i read a lot of poetry i'm actually very discerning about it #i do write poetry (i am a poet) so i'm particular #anyway after rereading these poems there is something in my chest i can't name #poemwithoutahero #asking with you

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Sensitivity of Horses, Part 2

A sequel to this story, which you'll probably want to read although I don't think it's strictly speaking necessary to make sense of this one. Eagle-eyed readers will note that this is not the other story I posted an excerpt from earlier. That one is still coming. I was just in a Hangman mood.

Pairing: Hangman Adam Page x OFC

Word count: 1,338

Content advisory: sexual content (non-explicit)

You try to stay out of sight, mostly. It’s not entirely possible, of course, there are plenty of people who know who you are, although, you can’t help but notice, a lot who don’t. The place is growing. He’s part of something exciting, exactly like he deserves. No one is rude to you. You’d thought that maybe they would be but the worst you get is that some of them look at you funny, like you’re an old part being inserted into a new car. You don’t fit. You’ll screw everything up. 

In private, they won’t be so cagey. They’ll laugh and whisper among themselves. What the hell is she even doing here? Didn’t he leave her? I knew she’d come back begging. Fair enough. You deserve their scorn. You deserve his. 

Your first glimpse of Adam hits you in the gut. You knew it would but it’s still enough that you have to steady yourself against the wall. He’s still so beautiful that you can’t believe he was ever yours, let alone that you screwed things up. Oh how you screwed things up. He was feeling broken and you took a hammer to him but here he is now looking like a golden god with that title and his friends. So much better off without you. It’s incredibly selfish what you’re doing, showing up here. 

It’s a while before he’s on his own, a while that you have to hide in the shadows because there’s no way you’re going to approach him when people who care about him are there. They’d throw you out on your head before you said more than a word to him, which is probably a good instinct. But eventually he’s left alone and in the open, grabbing himself a bottle of water from catering and that’s when you approach. 

“Was starting to think you were just going to spy on me from a distance all night,” he sighs without looking up at you. 

On top of everything, it hurts to know that you’ve been so clumsy and obvious. 

“I thought about it,” you answer truthfully. “I wasn’t sure if it was a great idea for us to talk. Or for me to be around you at all.”

He shrugs. “It probably isn’t.”

That’s when he looks up and, once again, you feel your knees turn to water. Those big, vulnerable eyes, blue like a field of cornflowers, flash at you and all you want is to wrap him up under your wings and protect him, except that what you need to protect him from is you. 

“I guess you’re here now,” he grumbles. “Might as well talk.”

He brushes past you and heads down the hall without another word and you trail after him. It would be better for both of you if you left. You shouldn’t walk with him into his dressing room. But you do. 

He keeps his back to you when you enter and your eyes drift longingly over the curve of his perfect ass, which is when he glances back. He gives you a hard look before he drops onto the little sofa. He hasn’t had a match tonight. He hasn’t even had to get into his gear. But he still gives the impression of being exhausted.  

“What’s up?”

“I… I brought the papers,” you stammer, reaching into your purse and taking out the hateful bundle. 

“You couldn’t have just had your lawyer send them over?”

“I could have, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig from the water bottle. His tongue swipes his lips quickly when he puts it down and you feel an immediate stirring in your core. He notices that too. 

“Figured you’d be at home taking care of ol’ Kenny,” he smirks. 

That shot lands. You deserve it. 

“Do you seriously not know?”

He gives a mirthless half-laugh. 

“I heard things didn’t work out with you two.”

“He dumped me about a month after you did.”

“Wow. Didn’t realize it was that quick. He really was just using you.”

Again, this is no more than you deserve. 

“Yup. That’s exactly it. I couldn’t deal with what you were going through, so I had an affair with a guy who seemed like he might actually be interested in me, you found out, and as soon as Kenny realized he might actually have to be in a real relationship, he kicked me to the curb.”

Adam glances down but you still notice how his face twitches in anger. Is it at you? At Kenny? Is it possible that there’s still a part of him that hates to hear that you’ve been hurt? 

You open your mouth to speak but he leans forward and snatches the divorce papers out of your hand before you can. He glances through them and, predictably, lets out an exasperated sound before tossing them on the table next to him. 

“They don’t work if you don’t sign them,” he snorts. 

“I know.” You can hear the wave of tears rising in your voice and focus on not giving in. You don’t want him to think that you’re trying to manipulate him by crying. “I just thought…”

He glares right at you, every emotion flowing through him in full view. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I have a pen.”

You fumble through your bag until you find it and reach over to grab the papers, but he grabs hold of your arm before you can reach them. He holds you like that for a second before pressing his face against the inside of your arm, pulling you ever so slowly closer. The contrast of his soft lips and the coarse hairs of his beard sends every one of your nerves into overdrive. You feel yourself start to tip forward but he rescues you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. 

You can’t look at him, not yet, so you run your fingers lightly over his face and bury yourself in his neck. He squeezes your hips and lets his hands move just under the hem of your shirt. The feeling of his fingertips on your sensitive stomach sets you off and you kiss him, aggressively, with everything that you’ve been holding on to for the months you’ve been apart. The most terrifying thing is that he responds with just as much passion, even though he shouldn’t. 

The familiar, thrilling feeling of his hardening prick through his jeans has you grinding yourself against him, and he responds by pushing his hands further up, over your bra, teasing your nipples until you think they’re going to cut right through the fabric. 

“That what you came here for? You wanted a goodbye ride?”

“No,” you sob, giving into the need to cry, “I don’t want a goodbye anything.”

He leans back and wipes your face with his thumb. 

“So what do you want?”

You let your hand drop and run over the outline of his belt buckle for a few minutes before answering. 

“I want my husband to believe me when I say that I’m more than sorry, and that I would never do anything like what I did. Never again.”

He stares into you for a long moment before pulling you in to kiss you again. The taste of him is so comforting and at the same time so arousing that you just fall into it, losing yourself until he pulls back a little. 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he whispers, caressing your neck and collar bone. 

He looks up at you again and nods a little. 

“I understand,” you murmur. 

With a deep breath, you start to push yourself away but his grip on you tightens. You lean down and press your lips to his again, running your palm roughly over the bulge in his pants and moaning softly into his kiss. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” he repeats, pulling away just slightly, “but I think I might want to try.

#aew imagine #aew fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #hangman page imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

[bonjourviolette]

Another chapter posted, another small excerpt…

•••

Chapter 12 - WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS

As the sun slipped below the horizon, the lights in the valley began to glow brighter than anything he’d ever seen. He sat up straighter, leaning forward to take it all in. Aloy moved to look at him. “It’s pretty amazing, right?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Magnificent.” He tilted his head towards her, but his eyes were focused on the lights below. “They appeared when you recovered Poseidon?”

She leaned closer to him & tucked herself under his arm. “Well, not exactly. They were always there, taking Poseidon just…reset the system.”

Kotallo watched intently as a winged creature, not unlike a slitherfang, danced through the air & crawled its way up the Hidden Ember building. The lights reached all the way into the sky & covered nearly every ruin in color. He could almost picture what this place would have looked like as the Old Ones saw it, with buildings whole, standing tall. 

“Are you going to take a photo of this, too?” she teased, shifting to look at his face. 

Kotallo let out a small breath of laughter. “Would you like to see the one from earlier?” he asked. 

“Sure,” she said quietly, as Kotallo opened his display & shared the image with her. Aloy lifted her hand to her own focus display & slowly traced over the photo, her fingers hovering over the still image of her face, frozen in time. “I look happy,” she finally said.

“Yes,” he said, watching her curiously.

“I’ve never really seen myself like this. It’s different. I mean, not in a bad way or anything. It’s just…it's nice to feel like I can just be a normal person for one night, you know?”

“I hope to give you many more nights such as this, Aloy.”

Aloy closed the image & shifted under his arm to look directly at him. “Kotallo,” she hesitated. “You don’t think it’s selfish to spend our time like this? When everything could fall apart tomorrow?”

Kotallo contemplated what he wanted to say & when he spoke again, he did so quietly. “I think that perhaps in the end, it is the moments like this that truly matter.” Her bright green eyes bore into his & he took a steadying breath. “You have given much for this world already, Aloy. You are allowed a few moments of peace within it.”

Aloy lowered her head & stared down at her hands. “It just feels like no matter what I do, the world is always asking more of me.”

“Then do me a favor, Aloy,” he said, lifting her chin gently. “Just for tonight, let’s forget the world. We will see how it fares without you for a few hours.”

She didn’t say a word, but he could see something in her eyes, something like hope making its way to the surface.

“Tomorrow we will return to our task of saving the world. But tonight, we will simply be two normal people. Deal?”

She closed her eyes tightly & scrunched up her face, taking her time in considering his offer. Kotallo held his breath until she took his hand in hers & settled back into his side. “Deal.”

#horizon forbidden west #hfw #horizon fanfic #fanfic #kotaloy

[theliteraryluggage]

Hi Ace! 👀 - An excerpt from my WIP

👑 - A random fact about one of my OCs

🦀 - A favourite piece of dialogue

☀️ - Current word count

❄️ - Toughest aspect of my WIP

🍕 - My characters' favourite foods

⚽️ - Genre of my WIP (For the "Learn About My WIP!" game!)

Oh wow thank you so much!!

👀 - An excerpt from my WIP

The Trusty Servant was dipped in gloom and smoke as it always was. It was also full to bursting, a hundred voices melting into a pool of noise. It wasn‘t like the noise in the arena though—it wasn‘t all centred around Victor, piercing him from all sides. Crushing him. It felt like something safer, something to dive into and hide behind. Of course he and Finlay drew a few gazes when they entered—they always did. But their presence here was also familiar enough that people knew to leave them alone. That‘s what you did in the Servant. You minded your own business. Even tonight.

👑 - A random fact about one of my OCs

Victor has actually no idea how to deal with people--at least as an equal. He was taught that he's above everyone else and rarely ever even came into contact with anyone of his own status, besides his parents and his childhood friend Finlay. When he first moves out of Ealdor Hall, he is completely inept at social interactions and it's very much a fake it til you make it type situation. That's the main reason he has a reputation for being rude and arrogant. He does try, he just has no idea how.

🦀 - A favourite piece of dialogue

"Do you need any help or--?" "Piss off." The boy turned his head, glaring at him, and it was more than obvious that he was completely hammered. It was also more than obvious that he was not of age. Victor shrugged. "I just wanted to be nice." "Yeah? Well I just wanted you to piss off!"

This is from Victor and Alistair's first meeting that I mentioned in my earlier post. I really enjoy that whole scene tbh.

☀️ - Current word count

The new draft is at 3,775 words. The previous draft uh... somewhere north of 415,000 words.

❄️ - Toughest aspect of my WIP

Two things, tbh. One is the fact that there is no written language in Pravafield. Makes the worldbuilding so much more complicated, trying to figure out how a major city works without books, newspapers, messages, letters, records, legal texts etc etc.

Second is the strategy of a rebellion/war. I am not a strategist, I know nothing about military tactics. And yet I have somehow to figure out a way to make it realistic and believable.

🍕 - My characters' favourite foods

Victor has a bit of a sweet tooth. He really likes pastries and danishes, esp with nuts and spices.

Alistair loves soups and stews, everything that's warm and comforting that he can cling to.

⚽️ - Genre of my WIP

Steampunk / Dystopian

#nihi writes stuff #impartial #writeblr #obsidian victor #ask #answered #ask game #midnights-melodiverse #nihi talks to beautiful people #nihi rambles about their ocs

[winterburnwriting]

Well, in my last post I said I was sick and would get back here in about 10 days. That was a little over 10 days ago, so here I am. I feel much better now, but the break in writing has made it hard to get back into the habit of doing. I have been writing, though. The short novel is now at 14,000 words or so.

The past few days have been pretty productive. I've been getting good hours in, and I got to write a more interesting part of the short novel. I basically wrapped up act 1 and now I'm starting act 2. Act 1 was 4 chapters, but Act 2 might be 5 or 6, depending on how inspired I am for content in the travelogue style.

In terms of word count, I think it will end up looking like 15k words for act 1, 20-25k words for act 2, and 5-10k words for act 3, which might only be a chapter or two long. I don't think this is such an unusual format. I do think I might cut a good chunk of act 1 out, though, as it feels like it drags quite a bit and I think readers would like to get into the travelogue portion faster. It depends how much I end up being able to come up with for act 2.

Tonight I should be able to get a few more hours of writing in. Given the rate things are going, I am hoping to finish my draft by the end of april at the latest. It might be a little earlier or a little later, but that's my hope. Then it's on to an extensive edit where I retool the content and flair a lot of the phrases. I think that'll take a month, at least.

I feel good about my progress though. The short novel should be published by mid summer, if all goes well. Then it's on to my big first novel!

Just a reminder - The names and content are all subject to change. Graphic imagery may be present in all previews. Here's this post's preview excerpt!

"Okay. You're right. Let's haul it in."

Lucy and Bram left the house, grabbed the air mattress and its proprietary air compressor, and returned to the same spot inside. Lucy held one end and walked away from Bram with it so it would be laying flat. She bent down to plug the air compressor hose into the fixture on the mattress itself. "Perfect!" Bram exclaimed. Lucy raised herself back up and drew a short icy breath, her eyes growing like balloons.

Bram looked at her, puzzled and with a raised eyebrow. The mulleted man with broken teeth from the diner was standing right behind him. Bram didn't notice. Lucy tried to speak - to warn him - but she couldn't exert more than air as the stranger raised one hand as if he were a cat about to catch a mouse. "What? Is somethi-" Bram was interrupted. Lucy couldn't tell what kind of strike the stranger had performed before she felt a pain on the back of her head and heard a ringing.

…

Bram woke up, startled. He struggled against a weight. His arms felt strange. They were numb. He noticed his legs felt similarly strange. Strangest of all was his head, however. It wasn't on a pillow. It wasn't on the ground. He opened his eyes and saw he was sitting up on his knees. His arms were immobile. He blinked several times and looked at himself again to see he was bound in rope and chains. The mist was as thick as milk in whatever room this was. It looked like a dungeon.

"Bram?" He heard Lucy say. "Bram???" She repeated.

"L-...Lucy? Honey?"

"I'm over here."

Bram turned his head around, still groggy, and found where Lucy was. He also shook his head as if realizing something. "God, what is that smell? It-" He began before jumping aback. There was a man in the room. Or Bram assumed he was a human man.

The figure stood some 7 or 8 feet tall, with a body just as wide, if not wider. He was drenched in velvet and silk robes and garments, all cobalt, violet, and fir. His head was as round and bald as a golf ball, and just as empty except for 2 large antlers protruding straight back from the back of his head, quite unlike antlers on a stag. The antlers supported what little blonde hair flowed off of the man’s pale head.

#author #creative writing #novel writing #writing #fiction #books #horror #vampire #current wip

[obikinwhore]

No one here so I will post an excerpt of an incest fic still in wip but i actually desperately want to finish because I’m pretty much done with it anyway???

It’s a pseudo incest obikin fic i was supposed to post on national sibling day in APRIL

Anyway here’s wonderwall:

It was late enough that Obi-Wan would be deeply asleep. The excitement of his thoughts have Anakin almost swallowing the greasy burger whole. Breaking speeding laws as he drives up to the house.

All the lights are off in their home, but Obi-Wan’s room upstairs is still lit. Obi-Wan may have passed out in his room waiting to see if Anakin would show up this weekend.

A soft smile works its way over Anakin’s face. There was Obi-Wan being perfect again. Almost like a little housewife waiting for their husband to come home. This recurring fantasy has killed any desire for Anakin to call Obi-Wan tonight prior to showing up. Anakin can pretend on the weekends he comes home that he’s arriving after a long work day and getting to see his wife. Dinner ready on the table and a hug and kiss on the cheek.

He walks up to the door and unlocks it as softly as he can. He doesn’t want to wake Obi-Wan up and ruin his chance of jumping into bed with him. Anakin takes off his jacket and shoes and leaves them at the door, making sure to lock the door just as quietly.

The hum of the refrigerator and other various appliances seem to be the only noise on the first level. Once Anakin approaches the stairs, he hears soft vocal noises that sound like they’re coming from Obi-Wan. Maybe Anakin’s luck ran out this weekend and the older man is still awake. Walking up the last few stairs to the second level, there is now a sound like a soft thuddy clapping. Starting soft then getting louder. The soft noises from earlier also increase in volume.

Obi-Wan is moaning.

There is no talking or sounds from the TV. Obi-Wan is moaning and those wet, fleshy sounds start to make more sense too. Anakin stands on the landing of the stairs and feels his blood rush from his head.

Dizzy and overheated, Anakin rationalizes the situation at hand. Obi-Wan is in his room and maybe, just possibly, jerking off.

All this time despite Anakin’s best efforts to hear from outside Obi-Wan’s door while his brother was in the room or the shower, he had never once caught his brother masturbating. He can’t believe his luck now. Obi-Wan’s bedroom door is cracked open with soft warm fluorescent light streaming out into the dark hallway. He will finally be able to hear and watch him in the act.

Anakin becomes starkly aware of his loud mouth breathing. His face feels flushed. Dozens of thoughts flood his head of coming into Obi-Wan’s room and being welcomed to his bed. He feels close to passing out.

His daydreaming almost blurs out the stinging slap that echoes from the room. A whine fills the silence left by Anakin holding his breath. Anakin can’t decipher what events would make such noise and it makes the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He has a bad feeling about this.

#obikin #wip #pseudo incest #it will get posted. I just need the fucking strength 😵‍💫

[skinslip]

Did a fair bit of writing tonight, posted an excerpt earlier before I reblogged some old stories I wrote that I adore. Love when a writing session goes well and you don't want to stop. It makes me excited to reshare older stories I am more proud of. But anyway I need to sleeeeeeeeeeps 😴

#personal