Unfortunately Im Physically Unable To Touch Any Of My WIPs Even Though I Am Brimming With Creativity

Unfortunately I’m physically unable to touch any of my WIP’s even though I am brimming with creativity (don’t worry I can access them just fine) so I’m just gonna amoeba over here and if anyone wants me to write something specific (send me an ask I beg you) I’ll write it I promise

Find the word tag

Man, @oh-no-another-idea you gave me some tricky words! Thanks for the tag!

(I had to go to TWO different WIP’s for this lol, so it’s a bit long) as a byproduct, you get an introduction to one of my other WIP’s that I haven’t mentioned before. It only minorly has a name.

(The rain story. Scintillating title, I know)

He caught her arm and turned her to face him. “The rest of us stopped being teenagers a long time ago. The government sees us as adults, and so does the rest of society. And even if the rest of society doesn’t link us all together, the government does. So, you screw up, we all feel it,” He sent a look back at his bodyguards, and they disappeared. “It’s not just about you, Three. It isn’t about what you want, even if you’re the baby. This is about how we all make it out of this alive”

She made a disgusted noise. “Is this living though?” She gestured to the walls and bloodstained floor. “Murder, gangs, weapons that the government uses for its own gain. How is becoming the villain living?” She sent Lex a vicious glance. “That isn’t living, Seven, and I would have hoped you would know the difference after everything.”

He flicked his eyes over her face and shook his head. “There’s a big difference between alive and living, Three.” He heaved a sigh. “You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy it. The talents you have, your…Shall we say penchant for death—you can’t tell me you don’t like it. You cannot be that good, cannot cause that much chaos and death and fear and not relish it at the same time.” His gaze hardened. “I know this isn’t an easy life, but it’s the only one you have. The only one we have. So you need to pull it together. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for the people who bear the punishments for your screw-ups; us.”

She yanked her arm out of his hand. “Don’t you dare try and guilt me with that. I’ve been doing everything for the rest of you for my entire life, and I can’t do this anymore. When am I supposed to do things for me? Do you think I enjoy existing only as a façade? As a criminal, a scary story, an assassin? When do I get to be a person, not a weapon?” Her voice broke, and Lex looked away. She took his silence as an answer, and she turned towards the door, boots scraping against the concrete floor.

“And by the way,” She turned, hand still on the doorknob, “My name is Rain.”

(My siren story. Dunno if I want to disclose the name yet because yk. Copyright stuff, eventually.)

The sun beat down on Lucy’s shoulders as she walked across the deck of the ship. Above her, gulls shrieked relentlessly in response to the tolling of bells in the harbor of Valis.

The bells were a goodbye, fading as the winds and the waves pulled their ship further and further into the expanse of the sea.

Lucy sucked in a breath, saltwater burning her nose, then leaned down to untie a rope, fingers worming between the worn threads. The rope unraveled, and one of the sails snapped open above her, loud enough that she grinned, and one of the newer deck hands yelped quietly.

The deck hand blinked owlishly at her, a red flush spreading across the bridge of his nose—from heat or embarrassment, she couldn’t discern, and she glanced out in time to see the rising clock towers of Valis fade completely from view.

Fast winds, then. Her gaze snagged on a rush of fog flooding its way to kiss the edges of the waves, further obscuring the remnant edges of Valis, and she frowned. And a faster moving fog front.

The deck hand winced, and she looked back to find him looking between her lips and her eyes, as if trying to judge her mood from those two items alone. Internally, she grimaced.

Externally, she shifted to loosen her posture and relaxed her mouth so she no longer looked like she was going to kill this deck hand for flinching at the sound of a sail opening.

“It’s fine,” Lucy said smoothly, checking on the fog front out of the corner of her eye. It would slam into them in minutes, and then they would be blind.

Blind on open water, in a country where they were not always considered the biggest threat. Her crew was—but ignorance is a powerful shot of courage to those who wish to prey upon easy targets.

The deck hand shifted nervously.

“You’re new, right?” she continued, and he gave a sheepish nod. “What’s your name then, you.”

The deck hand blinked again, and she began to wonder if Elira had picked up another mute—fine in practice, but she was rusty with sign and was loathe to make another crew member feel alienated within their own home simply because of her inadequacy.

A moment later, the deck hand spoke, and she smiled at him.

“Aven.”

Lucy didn’t ask for a last name. This ship was a home, a haven, and a safe place. Sometimes being safe meant only having one name. Lucy didn’t disclose her last name either.

“Nice to meet you, Aven. You hailed from Valis?” The fog crept closer and she shifted on the balls of her toes. She really needed to go let Elira know about the fog—the rest of the crew was below deck. Normally, there would be more watchmen stationed for weather and threats. A whole division. And yet, here Lucy was, alone on the massive craft of wood, with Aven.

Aven scratched the back of his neck, and when he spoke, Lucy picked up a lilting accent. “No. Just got picked up through there—I traveled for a bit. Three weeks, bleedingly hot. I heard about a ship that took people who were willing to work in, though, so I made the journey.”

Three weeks didn’t narrow down the options of where Aven might hail from, but Lucy sensed he was being intentionally vague. Either a bad past, or a private person.

Both, she respected. Elira likely knew where he hailed from, and if Elira had adopted him into the crew, then Lucy was fine with it.

The back of her neck tingled, as if someone had blown into her ear and whispered ‘danger’.

Lucy snapped her gaze from Aven to find the fog reaching for the ship with expectant tendrils, like a young one reaching for something new it could demand and receive. The top of her spine tingled again, and her mouth filled with the taste of iron and salt.

If it was a normal fog, they would be alright. Sit dead in the water, watchmen manning the edges of the boat to ensure nothing struck them, and eventually the fog would pass.

This was not a normal fog.

“Salts,” she cursed vehemently, and she bolted for the captain's quarters, rattling down the halls so loudly she heard voices stop behind the doors she was passing. She heard Aven yell a startled query behind her, and then she slammed through the door of the captain’s quarters and let it hit the wall with a cacophonous rattle.

Elira looked up from an ink scrawled stack of papers, hand reaching for a dagger. The violence eased from her brows as she saw Lucy’s face.

“Lucy, love, we really must have a talk about your manners—” Elira began teasingly, and Lucy cut her off with a sharp breath, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Fog front incoming from the northern side. It's rolling off Valis,” Lucy strode to Elira’s desk to rustle through one of the drawers, hands scrabbling through meaningless stacks of compasses and daggers until she found what she was looking for. Her fingers hooked upon the cord, and she shut the drawer on the mess now spilling from it and thrust the object at Elira.

“We have protocols for fog. Let me just call the watchmen and we’ll get everything sorted,” Elira said with an air of confusion, and then her gaze dropped to Lucy’s outstretched hand and her voice stopped.

“You need to put this on,” Lucy said, fear riding its way up her spine. The taste of magic was stronger now, and her whole body was vibrating with the proximity to it.

Elira’s face slipped into that of a captain with ease, and she took the pendant from Lucy and slipped it over her head, guiding it over her curly dark hair.

“Not normal fog, then.”

Alrighty folks, time for tags! @oh-no-another-idea, I’m tagging you back :) @jay-avian @silver-ink-iron-words @silvertalondagger @averyconfusedhuman @imaginativemind29new your words are anguish, glimmer, steal (or any variation of it) and misery

Little snippet for you, fae flavored ❤️

“I love you infinitely, pet,” the fae murmured into her ear, and Clara laughed.

“I love you too.”

The fae smiled against their ear.

“But not to infinity?”

“My infinity is not the same as yours. You have it, and I never will,” she breathed, and stepped back.

“I could give you infinity,” the fae said smoothly. “If you wished.”

Clara laughed again.

“You know that’s not how immortality works.”

The fae got a confused twist to their mouth, like something she said irked them, but it was gone as quickly as sunlight over running water.

Clara tugged their hand.

“I love you for all of my eternity, however short. And I do not wish for immortality. I wish to spend my moments with you until I have no more to cash in.” She smiled at them, and whatever trouble had lingered between their brows vanished. “Does that not mean as much as your eternity?”

“I suppose it does, pet.

The fae still had that easy way about them, all long limbs and fluidity.

“Now. What was it you wanted to show me?” She asked.

Impossibly, the fae smiled more.

“Come, pet. Let me show you,” they lifted one elegant hand and the door glided open behind them. Clara followed them through in time to see the lights flicker on, one by one.

Her breath caught.

“What—“ she paused, her throat closing. “What is this.”

The fae turned to look at her, pride glimmering behind their eyes.

“My art gallery. Do you like it?”

Clara choked.

“Art—no. No, this isn’t art. How could you—“

She turned for the door, wishing for nothing other than to let her feet carry her from this wretched place, fast, fast, fast—

It slammed, shimmering as wards fell into place. Wards she knew held her name, entrusted on a now broken promise. Wards that would kill her before she was allowed to pass.

The fae glided deeper into the cavernous space, all white walls and gleaming pristine floors, as if they hadn’t heard her.

“It is beautiful,” they mused. “Nothing in here comes close to matching your beauty, though, pet.”

“Please,” she said under her breath, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from dragging across the pieces of ‘art’. “Let me go. Let them go. Stop this.”

The fae paused their careful stride.

“Oh, pet,” the fae simpered, and suddenly they were tucking her chin into their palm. “I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can,” she said bluntly. She thrust a hand towards the glimmering doors.“Just release the wards.”

The fae clicked their tongue. “I would,” they smiled, and it was just a touch wicked. “If I wanted to.”

Clara forgot to breathe, fury and sickness and betrayal rising in her chest and sinking into her stomach like lead.

“How can you not see how wrong this is—“

“All I see,” the fae interrupted, almost gently, “is beauty, forever cherished and kept. There is no pain or suffering here.”

“Of course there is,” she bit out. “You aren’t human. You don’t understand what this would even feel like.”

“I do this to understand, pet.” The fae tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I hadn’t found it before you. But I think you’re the answer. Out of everything in here, I cherish you the most. To have you depart from me would surely kill me, and see, it’s the most human thing I’ve ever experienced. Love,” the fae said wistfully.

“So then let it happen. Let me die in my own time. Feel the love and the loss and the grief, and then you’ll be more human than you ever have been. Then you’ll understand.”

The fae smiled like they were talking to an unruly child.

“Oh, darling pet. I told you, I do understand. You have given me understanding; I cannot bear to have you apart from me. So I’m doing the most human thing of all. I’m keeping you.”

“You cannot keep a human being—“

“This is what selfishness feels like,” the fae murmured. “It’s a vicious thing, I’ve found.” They smiled at her. “I quite like the burn of it.”

“You can’t do this to me, I won’t let you,” she swung her fist into their chest and it felt like hitting the side of a mountain.

The fae sighed.

“I never said you would let me,” the fae tucked her close to their chest, ignoring her as she writhed and shouted. “Oh, darling Clara,” they murmured, and her knees went slack. “Do stop fighting me, won’t you?”

Her body followed the command even as her mind protested, her spine quivering at the use of her name from a being like the fae.

It had never matter before. The fae had never used her name, even when she had given it as an act of love. Even as she blindly trusted them, they never once let those syllables fall from that ever sharp tongue.

But now— now they used it as a weapon, just as they used the rest of their words.

The fae ran a hand lovingly over her forehead.

“I must thank you,” they said as they picked her up, striding towards an empty pedestal. They took the time to position her just so, ensuring every angle of her body was perfectly aligned. “You have taken the beast of me and turned me human. And oh, is it so delightfully painful.” The fae clucked quietly to themself. “And such, I cannot bear the loss of you. Now, Clara dear, stay still for me.”

Her muscles froze into stone, ropes of concrete twining up her bones until she was more a statue than rock itself.

The fae smiled in adoration.

“You always were my favorite. Don’t let the rest of them tell you otherwise,” the fae strode for the door, stopping to call after themself. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here, pet. I love you, eternally.”

The wards shimmered as the fae passed through, until Clara was left alone in a room of living statues that stretched for miles.

Her mother had told her never to trust the fae, but she had sworn this one was different. And judging from the hundreds of frozen humans in this room, they had sworn the same. She wondered if they cursed her, silently, for her stupidity. She wanted to tell them she was sorry.

She had been wrong. And so had they.

So she stayed—they all stayed, statues in an art gallery borne of the delights of a creature with stolen humanity.

Safe, and loved, and oh so still.

Forever.

Having to send things to people is disgusting and I hate it and I crave it

Find the word game

Thank you @jay-avian for the tag you lovely human. These are a disjointed mess but the words are in there I swear.

Yes, that was the problem. Lex was right. And she hated him for it, for looking at her and the blood she left behind and somehow knowing that she had liked the silence of it, the thrill, the heart pounding act of destroying something. A building. A body. A life. But mostly, she hated herself. What messed up person enjoyed the thrill of murdering someone, and then going home to make blueprints for weapons so devastating they could destroy half a city?

They found her three hours later, leaning against a wall in some random corridor she had decided was quiet enough, faces grim as they pulled out restraints.

Rain smiled and offered up her wrists. “That took you less time than I thought it would. You must be getting faster at this.” One of the cops gave her a disgusted look, and she winked. “I really am an upstanding citizen then, pushing the police force to better themselves. Really, I should be commended-”

They took one last step forward, and the door to the warehouse slammed shut with a final, rattling thump.

“They’re going to die,” Melody whispered, and Jules didn’t disagree with her.

A second later, the screaming started. The camera was abandoned on the ground.

Minutes later, two faces appeared in front of the camera, torches materializing in their hands. They wore skull masks—one with the horns of a bull bending over their face, the other with a blank white oval painted with the claws and pincer of a scorpion.

There was a grim air to them as the light flickered over the shadows of their masks. There was blood speckled all over them.

“They want me to come back,” she said after a moment. “It’s an offer.”

Waters looked at the wounds deep and violently etched into the skin, deep trailing symbols covered in barely drying blood. Around them, the grass was splotched with blood in a massive pentagram, a star with seven sides. At the very top, dug into the grass so erratically there were clods of dirt flung everywhere, was the word ‘Mercy.’

Jules walked to it to get a better view, taking care not to step in the blood. Melody glanced down at the faceless body and stood to follow her.

When Lucy finally stopped tasting the sickening mixture of salt and iron on her tongue, Elira told the crew to wait half a mark more before swarming to the surface. When they did, they found sunshine dappling the planks of the hull, a slight breeze brushing against any bare skin.

Tag you’re it!! @imaginativemind29new @clairelsonao3

I’m too lazy to tag more people so it’s open season for anyone who wants to hunt for words!

(I’m proud of that pun)

Character Pen Pals!

I was looking through some writing exercise ideas for myself earlier and came across one that was essentially to write a letter to someone. Then I thought how cool it would be to write a letter from OC to OC. But then!

What if we wrote letters as our characters to each others' characters?! It doesn't have to be physical letters of course (unless you're okay with that, then feel free to privately message whoever your pen pal is the address/P.O. box you want. I personally love getting mail and making fancy letters)

You can send people your letters in their asks (if they're okay with it) and they can answer with their own letter. Reblog if you want to participate and put in the tags whichever of your character(s) you want to send/receive letters with, along with a little bit of info about them to start. Feel free to ask people for more info about their characters if you need it. I'm sure they'd love to share!