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#wip as i re-read
matcha-b · 2 months
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nevermoor fanart ✨✨
[ID: digital art of morrigan crow from nevermoor in a black dress with white sleeves. the background is solid purple with orange outlines of an umbrella, a bird and some sparkles. End ID]
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nostradel · 1 year
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Portal sketches and posings
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pavedinashes-if · 2 months
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Demo Snippet (around 4.2k words)
You voted for the following scenario: D x wet MC.
The following part shows a D (gn) in a crushing stage. The scene is written from D's POV. [They, them = D; You = MC]
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Beware SPOILER:
This scene will be IN THE FINAL GAME. Slight changes may be applied. The scene in the game will be a bit different as it will have MCs POV and also include choices.
If you don't want to be spoilered then please do NOT read below the cut. If you wish to proceed, enjoy.
[Wednesday, November 5th, 00:46,
- Hamburg, Germany]
The storm began suddenly, half an hour ago, and relentless it still is. The windshield wipers worked diligently but struggled to keep up with the deluge, transforming the lights outside into a rare spectacle of colors against the endless darkness.
“I don’t care. They will do as I demand.” 
“Mx. Petrov, I doubt this will work. They…”
“They what? Will say they don’t have the money? We both know they do. Let them play coy if they wish.”
“But…” a sigh, “what do you want me to do?”
A familiar silhouette on the other side of the street, a light lilac appearance against the mix of lights and the all so dark shadows of the night. Could it be? At this time of the night? Here?
“Mx. Petrov?”
Yes, it is you. Or are their eyes betraying them? Walking through the pouring rain. What are you doing here?
“Wait until I tell you otherwise. Don’t act.”
“Understood.”
D presses the red phone button. Their focus on a more important matter now. They speed up, passing between two other cars. The street lights in front of them change from orange to red the moment their dark limousine crosses the intersection to turn.
D’s eyes are fixed on the person walking towards them, in the neon light of the billboard, struggling against the strong wind, the full force of this disastrous weather making the familiar shadow pull their lilac beanie further down into their face. As D's car approaches further, they are now finally able to verify it is indeed you.
They stop around 20m before you, their fingers tapping against the steering wheel for a moment - just a moment to consider. Then they press the seat heating button of the passenger side, grab the umbrella behind their seat and step out of the car, the engine still running.
You almost run into them. It takes a few moments, a few blinks to see clearly what, or better, who you nearly bumped into. Once you recognize the face in front of you, your expression changes.
“Mx. Petrov?” your eyes widened, water running down your forehead, lashes kissed by drops hanging on them and your mouth…slightly open in surprise. What a sight.
Without another word, there is a firm grip on your arm, and they pull you along. It’s not forceful but determined, and so you follow along now safe from the pouring rain as they lower the umbrella over your head, shielding you as much as possible. Stopping in front of a dark luxury car, they hold the umbrella over your head while opening the door on the passenger side. You seem to hesitate about entering their car, from what it looks due to your soaking wet clothes as your eyes wander from your clothing to the inside of the car and finally up to them. 
“Get in.”
And you follow suit and sit down. Good. When you pull your legs in, the door closes softly. D exhales, their hands resting for a moment on the door frame before they turn and proceed to the back of the car; the trunk opens automatically, and they toss the umbrella inside. A few steps in the rain, then they open the driver’s door.
They catch you looking around, sitting there stiffly on the soft leather seat. With a loud thud, they close the door. They run their hand through their wet hair and wipe the water from their face. Turning around, they take a dark cloth from the center console, handing it to you. With a shaking hand, you take it, making their eyes rise to yours. You’re cold. They hope the seat heating warmed up a bit for you meanwhile and will grant you the tiniest bit of comfort soon.
They push themselves up from the seat and crawl to the back. With a quick grab, they pick up their neatly folded long coat from the back seat, and return to the front. Your cheeks are a bit blushed once they look back at you. Hmm, you’re warming up quickly. Good. Without any further comment, they unfold the coat and place it on you.
“W-what? No, please, this will ruin your coat,” you try to intervene. But D ignores you and instead continues to drape the coat around you. 
They are close, very close, as they carefully place the collar of the coat around you, their fingers brushing against your cold skin. You tense up, making them once more catch your eye. Slowly D sits back down in the driver seat, their eyes never leaving yours.
“What happened?” they ask in the most neutral tone they manage.
You swallow, then take a deep breath before you respond. “My bag got stolen, with all my things. My keys, my phone, my purse. I was on my way to Pat, when, well, when I ran into you.”
A moment of silence.
“Pat is not in town tonight.” 
“She’s what?” you say, surprised. “Is today the 5th already?”
D nods. Then they check the mirrors before stepping on the gas.
“Where are we going?” you ask them. You seem nervous, your voice betraying your nonchalant attempt of normality for this situation.
“To my place.”
“W-why?” you stutter.
They don’t spare you a look as they maneuver through the lanes “You’ll get sick.” 
“No, this is not necessary. I’ll just…” Then you sneeze.
A short, unintentional low chuckle leaves their lips. At least that should keep you from arguing. 
From the corner of their eye, they see how you slide further into the seat, sinking into their coat. An unknown tension finally falls from their shoulders, and they manage to shift their attention fully towards driving. Ten more minutes. A small turn on the volume, and the music is humming like a forbidden whisper between you two. The streets are less busy right now, and even the rain has decreased a bit.
When your head falls to one side, D immediately turns to check if you are ok. And you seem to be. Actually, you’ve seemingly fallen asleep. Your breathing calmed, visible by the raise and drop of your chest. The street light in front of you switches to red, and they halt, a moment to study you, welcomed very much right now. You look so peaceful, a strand of hair clinging to your forehead, following the natural curve of your cheek and further caressing your jaw. They catch their own breath deepening as their eyes roam down your face, then to your body, hidden under their coat. Unconsciously, their thumb rubs the soft leather of the steering. The corners of their lips curl up at the little snore which leaves you when you move slightly. As the light turns back green, they carefully press the gas pedal down, to not wake you. Not far anymore.
Several streets later, they notice that you stir awake, looking around, yet they don’t spare you a glance. You seem to be confused as you probably try to figure where you are right now. The last tight turns have been a more delicate matter, but finally, they arrived at the harbor, the light of the underground parking shining ahead. Slowly they approach it, the wheels rolling for a bit as they step off the gas and finally come to a halt. They can feel your eyes on them, but this is not the time. There will be enough chances to talk later. If you wish.
The barrier opens and D continues into the underground parking in silence. Not sure why they are tense, they focus on the last meters before they can finally get out of the car - not soon enough. A few more turns and they arrived, 18B. Is the paint a bit off? They turn the ignition off, the silence of the engine almost screaming. Once the seatbelt is off, they open the door and notice your hand moving underneath the coat.
“Wait.” They say, without looking at you. 
Circling the car, they open the passenger door and see that you stayed seated, like asked. Good. Their coat is still tightly wrapped around you and actually… you didn’t move the slightest bit. How... interesting. They lean down and carefully remove the coat from you, placing it over their arm as they offer you a hand to step out of the car. You take it, your doe eyes locked on theirs. 
Once you stand stable, they pull their hand back, letting go of you, noticing how your hand follows their movement for a bit, as if not wanting to lose touch.
“I am sorry.” They whisper as they open the coat once more. 
You look irritated at them, brows knitted “What for?” 
“You’ll have to wear this for a bit longer before you can get out of the wet clothes.” Sincere sympathy is evident in the hum of their voice when they wait for you to slip into the sleeves.
Your face relaxes at those words and you smile at them, catching them off guard for a moment. Their eyes fall to the curve of your lips. As soon as you slipped into the coat, D closes the strap around your waist properly while you stand still and wait for them to finish. One last look into your eyes, and they offer you their arm. They see how you raise your own, but don’t interlock just yet; your hands are still a bit red from the cold, slightly trembling. Is this... still the cold in your bones? Your full focus is on the movement of your arm as you seem to decide whether to take them up on their offer, but then you insert your arm. Together you walk towards the elevator, and they feel how you press your body a bit closer to them.
D presses the button, and the doors open, gesturing for you to enter as they let go of your arm. They stand next to you and are about to pick a floor when an old, unhealthy man approaches, calling out “Stop the elevator!” He laughs hysterically as he struggles to hurry up. Absolutely not. D looks at the console and presses the “Close doors” button. Unfortunately, the elevator takes too long, and the man just manages to push his hand and foot between the closing doors just in time, smiling, and hyperventilating. D takes a large step, stopping the man from entering the cabin.
“Get out.” D says in a calm yet stern tone.
“What? Why?” the man asks flabbergasted, his eyes skipping from D to you.
“I said. Get. Out.” D repeats, their gaze focused on the irritated man standing in the door, while his foot is still inside the elevator. 
“Well this is rude, Don’t you know who I am?” D knows “I will call the securities. I can…” the man protests, but D takes another step towards them, so close they’re almost in their face.
“I won’t repeat myself.” This time a threatening undertone in their voice, they almost wait for the man to make a remark. But he doesn’t, instead he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, quivering as he panicky looks from D to you and back again, before he steps out of the elevator, a bit more white around his nose than seconds before.
D takes a step back, next to you. Eyes still locked on the man who looks like he might throw up any second. Then D holds a card to the sensor of the elevator, and presses the button to the 22th floor. The door closes. 
When the door of the elevator opens again, the floor feels different. D leads the way, the sound of your steps in their ears reassuring them you follow them. Their penthouse is at the end of the floor but somehow the way seems to be longer than normally. It doesn’t help though trying to figure what is off, so they focus on their own steps. And yours.
With one click the door opens and they hold it for you to enter, watching you closely as you do. You had removed your beanie in the elevator and your hair was a wild mess. Just like you. Stepping inside, their eyes follow your figure for a bit as you take a look around, then they lock the doors from the inside, their hand resting on the cold metal as they take a designated breath. You are still roaming around the massive living area, your eyes busy absorbing all details as it seems. And so they let you be as they pass the open kitchen counter and proceed to the bathroom without a word. 
The master bathroom is warm already, a pleasant woody, amber scent in the air. Just like they expect it to be. They let their eyes scan the dimly lit room for anything that might need attention, but everything is perfect to the smallest details. D approaches the shower, the dark tiles polished impeccably, their eyes falling to their soap bar, where they stay for a few heart beats without blinking. A quick image of you carassing their senses. Gone. They remember that they have liquid body wash in their cabinet, so they take it out and place it on the shelf in the shower, turning the bottle so that the label is aligned perfectly straight. You would need a large and a smaller towel probably, together with a bathrobe… Hmm. Their gaze falls to the hook on the stone wall, their own velvet burgundy robe hanging there. Their eyes linger as their mind wanders once again. They quickly dismiss the thought, remembering they should have another unworn black one - and luckily they do, placing it on the chair next to the shower, together with a pair of brand new slippers. Everything seems prepared so they walk towards the door just to stop in the frame. D takes a step back for a last check in the mirror. They look a bit tired. But that’s nothing new. A quick correction of hair and that’s it. This will have to do.
By the time being, you are standing by the large window front, looking down at the harbour. Like a statue out of the movies. They don’t want to startle you, so they announce themselves by softly calling your name, almost purring it. You turn. And smile. Their heart skips a beat at the sight of your smile. 
“Everything is ready.” 
You raise a brow “Oh.”
They wait until you decide to walk towards them and almost catch up before turning around and slowly lead you to their bathroom. As you enter the bathroom you seem… overwhelmed. D looks around, they are not sure why their bathroom has this effect on you. There have been other people in their master bathroom before. But it was rare, and a long while ago. Stepping closer to your rooted body they place their hands on your shoulders and you tense under their touch. More careful now they remove their coat from your shoulders before placing it on their arm. You turn and look at them. You. Stare. Waiting. What for? Oh, well. 
D takes a step back. Their gaze not wavering from yours. Yet, instead of saying anything to you, they turn and leave the bathroom.
Once out of the room D takes their phone out of their pocket and dials a number. 
“Good evening. I need something in 20 minutes. Net. Da. One […] Net, just one. Spasibo my friend.” 
D places their phone down on the counter, turning to the direction of the bathroom, the sound of the running shower barely to hear. They tap their fingers at the stone plate impatiently. Then their phone rings, the name on the display catching their attention. They let it ring, Once. Twice. Then they pick it up. “Plans changed.” Another tap on the display and they hung up. Again a glance to the bathroom. Their finger tapping gets more frequent.
About 18 Minutes later there is a knock at the door. D unlocks and opens it, the girl with the bag wants to enter yet D stops her, shaking their head. 
“I’ll take it from here. Spasibo.”, handing her a hundred Euro bill. 
She casts them a smile “Oh no, my boss told me to not take any money, everything has been paid for.”
“This is not for him.” Is all they add, the bill still in their hand.
She looks shocked at them. “I-I can’t, I am sorry Mx. Petrov.”
“You can. Have a good night.” Insecurely she takes the note from their hand. D closes the door gently in front of her. Leaving her staring at the money in her grip.
D places everything on the kitchen counter, preparing your favourite food just in time for you to return to the living area. 
You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to, you have their full attention already. They wait for you to take a seat and you do, more relaxed than before you showered. The fact that there is only one plate, for you, seems to irritate you. 
“What about… won’t you eat? With me?” You tilt your head at them.
A slow shake of their head is your answer. In return you give them a slow nod instead.
Your eyes go wide at the sight of your favourite food, you must be starving as you start to eat, your eyes almost rolling back with the first bite. And D - they are hypnotized by how you give in to this pleasure, their knuckles white from the unconscious pressure the adapt to the stone counter. When you bite into a juicy pear you moan in delight, a mouthful of satisfaction not being your tease alone. And of course there has to be some of the juice dripping down the corner of your mouth, kissing your lips so sensually. You try to lick it off with your tongue, the view alone making D swallow. The juice seems to be your enemy though, or D’s as it runs down to your chin and you quickly wipe it with your finger, before slowly sliding it into your mouth. A sharp pain in D’s hand, they grimace shortly before taking their hand from the counter, clenching and unclenching it repeatedly. Maybe that was a bit too much pressure. D’s motion makes you look up, catchin their eyes. You blush deeply. Huh, and here they thought… nevermind.
The next 10 minutes you spend in silence. D having decided to preferably just stick to observing you, especially since you are so engrossed in your meal.
When you are done, the plate is so clean, almost new. After taking a last sip from the glass in front of you, you laugh. What a surprise. You seem so much more relaxed indeed. That’s good. Then, you yawn. Something drops in D’s stomach. They sigh.
“Let me show you where you’ll be staying tonight.” D’s expression turns sober when the words leave their mouth. 
Just like many times before, they lead the way, and just like that you once more follow suit.
With a gentle push D opens the door in front of them and you peek inside the low lit chamber.
“Is this the guest room?” you ask as you step inside, looking around the ambient scenery unfolding around you. 
Their eyes scanning your curves in their bathrobe. Stopping at the seductive shape of your behind, teasing with every step you take.
“I don’t have guests.” Their response making you turn and face them. Confusion on your face as you tilt your head.
“Oh, I thought…” you ask with obvious hesitation but you do not finish your sentence. 
Taking a step into the room themselves, they approach you until they are in arms reach. Even in the dimly lit room the blush of your face is easily visible. Another step. You nervously remove a strand of hair from your face, which just immediately falls back.
Another step.  “What did you think?” their eyes bore into yours. Now they stand only inches away from you. The smell of their soap on your skin rising to their nostrils. A shiver running down their spine, when the image of you using it foamed up or even directly on your skin crosses their mind. You don’t answer, your mouth slightly open. Their eyes fall to it and you lick your lips nervously. 
A moment passes. 
Then they raise their hand to your face, very slowly. You don’t move. Their fingers touching your side, making a breath leave your lips. Focussed on their own hand, they brush the wild strand behind your ear carefully. Then, torturingly slow, their finger runs down your neck. Their heart racing, and by the beating in your veins, yours too. They swallow, brows furrowed, blinking away whatever thought had just crossed their mind. They remove their hand from your skin and drop it to their side, their eyes not focused on you anymore, but on something behind you, something very far away.
“Go to bed.” They hush, very low, barely audible.
Turning around on the spot they leave the room - and you, closing the door behind them silently. D stops a few steps into the living room. A deep breath. What did just happen? They shake their head. Another deep breath, their chest feels tight. A tingling feeling in their fingers. They look at their hands which are trembling. They clinch their fist and try to shake away this lingering sensation that seems to creep up their neck. 
A drink. Yes. That’s exactly what they need now...
Hours have passed since they left you in the bedroom. Their mind wandering to the image of you in their bathrobe, to the smell of you, again and again. Not even the fourth glass did help distracting them from their circling thoughts, the papers in front of them being nothing but a barren try to pass time. Yet all they did was move them around from one side to the other without properly reading them. If anybody asked, they couldn’t even tell what they read a hundred times this night. 
Frustrated, they close their eyes, surrendering to their exhaustion, if only for a moment, allowing their thoughts to drift once more. Your image immediately fills their mind's eye - your wet hair framing your face, the surprise in your wide-open eyes as you looked at them, your mouth slightly agape. They bite their lip, their heart racing, their body tingling with growing excitement. Perhaps just a few more moments of distraction. Fighting it proved futile, so why not give in to their fantasies, if only briefly?
They envision you, the garment accentuating every movement as you emerged from the shower. Their gaze, irresistibly drawn to the most subtle curves, knowing nothing lay beneath the fabric, tantalizingly close. D stretches their neck, exhaling slowly as warmth spreads between their legs. A heavy desire weighs upon them, pulling them down, their head swimming from the alcohol coursing through their veins.
The sound of steps calls their attention and they turn, their eyes once more falling to the view of you in their bathrobe. And here, it hits them as if they see you for the first time. Actually pretty much like it hit them when they first saw you. Their eyes open wide in awe for a moment, their senses awake again, for the fraction of a second they forget to control themselves, but this passes quickly and they hope you didn’t notice, they grit their teeth to keep their mouth shut. Waiting.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Their jaw clenched. They don’t even manage to nod. Just stare and wait for you to say something. Anything. But you don’t, and they gesture for you to take a seat opposite of them. Their eyes glued to you as you stride slowly to the empty spot, the moving fabric allowing for a forbidden glimpse of your thigh, immediately catching their attention. You sit down and cross your legs, your eyes falling to the papers in front of them on the table. Yet all they can look at is the bare skin presented to them from the knee down to the slipper on your delicate feet. Your skin looks so soft, a healthy colour that must’ve returned after the shower you had. You wiggle your toes slightly, which makes them realize they might have stared for too long and once they look back to you face, you are already looking at them with a subtle smile.
“May I?” You ask, pointing at the drink in their hand. They slowly look down at the content of their glass, then at the half full bottle of 50 year old Macallan Lalique at the table. A sly yet lazy smirk on their lips, a pleasant surprise, as you’re most probably not even aware of what you want to try. Without hesitation, they lower the crystal tumbler to place it on the table to pour you one as well, when you stop them mid-move.
 “No.” you say meaningfully, then nod at their glass. They narrow their eyes slightly, tilting their heavy head at your interruption. With a swift and fluent movement, you lean forward, over the table, this position granting them full view to the bare skin not covered by the sumptuous weave. Their eyes scanning every bit of exposed skin as if their life depended on it. A warmth creeping up their neck and twirling in their guts. Then your hand closes in around the glass, the tips of your fingers touching theirs, making them look back at you.
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raccoonspooky · 1 year
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Do you think bo sinclair's slutty little waist and his mommy issues have any correlation to each other?? Does he store his trauma in the cheekage of his ass and thats why hes caked up?? Anyways surprise new fanfic.
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sesamenom · 1 month
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hoping to get my maedhros maglor week pic up tomorrow if the tech side of things runs smoothly
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hotspurpercy · 2 years
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btw, i'm planning on being more active this summer, and i'm looking for new writeblrs to follow! please rb this post if you:
are a writeblr
write horror/gothic/fantasy
are active at the moment
and i'll check you out!
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because I feel like it, have a snippet! gonna try to get this posted by the time I go to work, but in case I don't (because I should probably prioritize eating something), here's the first few paragraphs of the "Worst Day Ever"-inspired story I just wrote :)
The ocean pulls him out of the plane, but Buck can still hear Bobby yelling for him over the roar of the waves above him. He treads water furiously, fighting against the current, fighting to get back to his captain, to save him and the mother stuck in her seat. “Bobby!” he yells as the Pacific claims the plane and finally pulls it completely under. He knows it’s fruitless, that Bobby would sacrifice himself before letting her go without him, but Buck can’t take his eyes off of where the plane sinks among flames, hoping against logic that his captain will emerge from the surf. “Bobby! Bobby!” he screams, jerking when he feels hands around his shoulders. He resists, still trying to swim towards the sinking metal. He needs to get to Bobby, needs to help him—he can’t lose him. He’s not strong enough though, and soon he’s pulled onto the dinghy, Hen’s voice cutting through the rush of blood pounding in his ears. “Buck,” she says, wrapping a shock blanket around his shaking form. “No!” he argues, refusing to turn towards her away from the ocean. “Bobby! No! Pops! Pops!”
tagging some besties, please lmk if you would like to not be tagged in the future <3 @lilbuddie @the-likesofus @wikiangela @honestlydarkprincess @poughkeepsies @shortsighted-owl @loserdiaz
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lettersbyelise · 1 year
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"You really can’t get enough of me, can you?” “What if I can’t?”  One step, and he closed the gap, hands lifting to cup Potter’s face. Potter let out a rough exhale and his hand wound around Draco’s wrist, holding him there. “Then that makes two of us.”
Paper Rings (Ch4) - by @lettersbyelise
(Drarry, 50k, rated E. Hogwarts 8th Year/Epilogue Compliant)
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encrucijada · 6 months
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i did some small writing for disasters to sleep through today
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anto-pops · 10 months
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A few people have already seen it but I'll leave this sneak peak of the Yule Ball fic here as my apology for moving at a snail's pace
“What in Merlin’s name are you wearing?” 
Sebastian gaped openly at Garreth, internally fighting the laugh that threatened to spill forth from his mouth despite his best efforts to smother it. The Gryffindor was decked out in quite possibly the most atrocious set of dress robes he’d ever seen, and judging by the look on the red-head’s face, he knew it too. It was frilly and lined with lace, and the material looked like a curtain that had been snagged off a window and stitched into something resembling clothes. 
Garreth’s face contorted into a pained expression, chancing a look down at himself and curling his hands into loose fists. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 
“I’m sure you don’t,” Sebastian remarked, lifting his glass to his lips in a bid to hide his growing smile. “Can I guess? Please let me guess–”
“No,” came his flat reply. 
“What is it?” Ominis asked curiously, turning away from the long table of finger foods to join in the conversation. Unlike Weasley, he looked like the epitome of poised finesse in his dark, tailored suit. “Whatever it is, it smells old.” 
“Oh, it looks old too. Seriously, where on Earth did you find such an antique?” Sebastian teased, and Garreth’s eyes made a full trip around their sockets before he waved off the jab. 
“Ha ha, very funny. If you must know, these have been in the Weasley family for years–” 
“Clearly.”
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So earlier today I introduced some of my WIPs to some new people, and I realised that many people might not be familiar with those two WIPs.
Kriya Petri: fantasy (with body horror & dystopian elements). Setting: A country called Fillor on a planet called Thuluke. In Fillor, to bind yourself to the one you love, you require a trinamate potion to seal the bond. 'Trinamate' is marriage (though that is a rather crude translation of the word). But to get a trinamate potion legally, the couple needs to be… acceptable. A man and a woman who plan to have at least one child. Yes, it's been 1000 years since the global apocalypse, but 'sufficient reproduction' is still a concern among the Filore people (plus it's a moral virtue for the Divine Monarchy, who reside on the cloudlands, with an iron grip on the institutes of Fillor). A potioneer wants to elope with their lover, but the pair is, let's just say, not acceptable. So what are they to do? The potioneer brews a trinamate potion on their own, finding the closely guarded methods & ingredients for the potion through who-knows-who, bunch of shady people. The potion explodes. The potioneer knows the punishment for something like this. They'll be condemned to Kaewoe (so will their lover, if anyone finds out), a realm so deep below the ground that it's close to the core of the planet. Kaewoe, where the mind & body are destroyed by the horribly high concentration of magic. Kaewoe, the names & lives & loves of all who enter it, all slowly turned to unknowledge. Good thing stealing identities is absurdly easy in Fillor! The potioneer wipes all memory of their crimes & love (or else the Thought magicians would know), flees to the city of Naebo. Their name is now Kriya Petri,
.
Welcome To The Real World: scifi, fantasy, surrealism, horror, tragedy
This one's in very early stages Inspired by Frankenstein Setting: The Great South Asian Rip in Reality, where physics (time & space both) is just completely twisted. The year is sometime in the 2070s. Sometimes it's the 2040s outside the Rip. Depends when/where you step out. Moh-maya, reality's very fabric & everything that keeps up the illusions that comprise reality, are very malleable in here. Main character: Kabir aka Moksh. A closeted Indian trans man who lives a double life, perhaps even a triple life. One in which he's a cis woman & a regular bright STEM student (STEM studies also include study of moh-maya). Another in which he's just some guy with good friends (the most authentic of his lives), where he goes by the name Kabir & uses moh-maya to present as his true self. If only temporarily. (it's painful, mentally & physically, whenever he has to revert to the female form). The third is some mad scientist bullshit, he's going by the name of Moksh among his fellow mad scientists & his main project is a moh-maya Frankenstein's monster that others can share their consciousness with, such that they can experience shape-shifting more easily & go where they physically aren't, do things they physically can't. Let's simply call it the 'entity'. Due to many reasons, creating this entity is pretty illegal. Hence the new name & collaboration with fellow shady people. the plot, put shortly: he starts doing vigilante justice w/the entity & then goes far & gets more & more consumed w/work & things go verrrrrrryyyyyy wrong despite starting with (dubious but) good intentions.
in this second one i neglected to mention the fact that you, as the reader, get front row tickets to the main character's spiral into madness & justifying murders thru the entity + the entity is a whole person & has opinions + a whole lot of other stuff, I DID mention that this WIP is in very early stages but holy fuck i could go on & on about it (just not in a way that can be packaged in a structured & sensible introduction)
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bloodcounts · 6 months
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for marbletober day 6, a sneak preview of my brian-centric fic "startup.exe" a three-chapter story interpreting how brian became hoody. the following is from chapter one, "chrysalis":
Moving would be difficult, not just for costs alone, but also being so far away from his family and friends. To leave this small town behind and head for opportunities he wouldn’t get at home is a big risk. But if he ever wants to put his degree to use and help people, then maybe he could do something with his life. Make a difference. He wonders if this is how Brian from Marble Hornets felt when he left behind everything and everyone to escape his claustrophobic life. To leave behind the ‘loop of unhappiness’ that plagued him since he was a teenager. Did he ever think he would miss it? He remembers the script, Sarah's character mentioned Brian broke up with her suddenly and unceremoniously. And over text, no less. Except Brian doesn’t feel like he’s trapped in that loop. He’s content with life, it’s just become predictable. There’s comfort in predictability for him, because he can rest assured that the next day is going to be okay.
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slowips · 12 days
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faithfully yours or haunting sounds interesting 👀 - Mimikyu
@andromeda-nova-writing
faithfully yours is an office!AU where reader notices that kaeya brought lunch and the cuisine is... unique. turns out they grew up in the same town, and as they start to grow closer, they learn more and more on how their lives intertwined... (sort of).
the term faithfully yours was adapted from the prompt that stared the story.
haunting is a canon compliant piece that takes place after the inazuma's war. kazuha goes to sumeru to meet with an old friend who he somehow got connected to, and as reader walks him around town, it becomes increasing clear that to reader, kazuha never left.
this story was inspired by how i misread one prompt, and then it took a life of its own, haha.
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To that anon who thinks about Trust Fall everyday, extreme same. I've read that fic like 4 times and when you post more spommy slut it WILL kill me 🙏🏻
smut-slut typo
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yekoc · 8 months
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I would love to hear if anything changed from the start to finish of the porn fic! It's one of the few fics of yours I've followed along with the posting of in real time.
more than any concrete change it was that i started writing without being sure of what a happy ending for the characters would constitute in the story. i think i tried to give myself a handful of outs -- initially, there was going to be more of a plotline with lewis's independent work as a career goal for daniel. i also put the job posting sign in the cafe window literally just in case i decided daniel or max needed to end the story as a barista. i was worried about writing a story that would somehow be, like, correct for the porn industry itself in terms of an ending, and a) who am i to ever figure that out and b) i really had to sit down and--with the immense help of @veryspecificfantasies who literally talked me through this on the phone--just decide what would work for these characters in this story. but i didn't know what that would be until i actually started writing the last chapter.
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leatafandom · 7 months
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Dropping in to give you a reason to work on your Spangel 😆
You know I wasn't gonna do 100 words for any anons I got tonight but for you dearest I will try, and I'll give you a snipping from what I've been trying to finish for like.... oh god it's been so long. Let's not think about that...
I'm still messing with a good title for this, right now it's called, Vampires Make the Worst Patients.
"You just had to go a play hero, eh?" Spike’s lips rocked with disapproval as he stood to fill a mug with otter’s blood to heat for him, both knowing that Angel’s diet wouldn't be enough to flush the poison from his tainted blood.  "Not now, Spike," Angel huffed in a tired grumble, holding his right hand to the bleeding and green-tinted wound across his chest and soiled shirt. "Yeah, well, you ought to hear it," Spike replied, shoving the mug into the microwave and glaring at it as it whirled. He turned from it to look over the re-bandaged wound and the perspiration that beaded unnaturally on Angel’s forehead. He shifted on his feet, turning to face him fully. "Not always gonna be ‘round to bleed for you."  Angel huffed a pained laugh, shifted on the chair, and cracked open an eye to look at the blonde. “I don’t need you to bleed for me, I’ll be fine. Just give me the blood.”  Spike rolled his eyes and jaw, his arms bracketing him while his fingers gripped the counter at his back. "Can't lie to me, Peaches. You ain't fine. The swill you drink ain't gonna be enough," he said, still looking over the weakened state of his elder. “I know it pains you to say it, but you need me,” his lips turned into a cheeky grin, enjoying the idea of Angel needing his help despite the prick of knowing the auburn-haired vampire wouldn't admit it.
Thanks again for the reminder to work on it! I ended up editing a lot more than writing, but I think I'll spend some more dedicated time on it tomorrow. I feel like it's almost done, besides the smut. Hopefully, I'll be happy with it soon, and it also has the smut. It needs the smut. xD
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