HAVOCWRITES

Writer and artist 💜 Any/all pronouns

[havoc-writes]

✦.*+ { Intro + Masterlist } +*.✦

Hello! Welcome to my writing sideblog! You can call me Havoc! 💜

(Main blog @havoc-bloom)

I’m a writer, artist, and music & video game enthusiast! This sideblog is for posting my written works, including (but not limited to):

✦: Poetry

✦: Fanfiction

✦: Original stories/works

I am also on AO3 as Havoc_Bloom ^^

My writing style and content varies extremely by the kind of work, so I’ll try and compile them into neat little lists. This will also act as a masterpost to give you easy access to my work!

✦.*+ { POETRY } +*.✦

Most of my poetry centers around my personal life, struggles with my identity, and navigating the world with disability. I use poetry as a way to express my feelings, both negative and positive. My poetry is generally safe for work, but may mention sensitive or triggering topics such as thoughts of suicide, derealization, sexuality, body dysmorphia/gender dysphoria, homo/transphobia, and ableism.

Poetry will be tagged on this blog as #poetry. Any sensitive topics will also be tagged with “TW” (ex. #TWderealization).

POETRY MASTERLIST:

✦: The Heart-Counting God ✦: eggshell, poppy seed ✦: The Vulture’s Lament ✦: scraping your misery off the sidewalk

✦.*+ { FANFICTION } +*.✦

I am a HUGE fan of Dreams of An Insomniac. It’s one of my favorite series’ of all time, made by the wonderful YouTuber Pastra. In short, I make a lot of DOAI fanfic— especially about my favorite character, Dr. Herbert Lankmann. Expect lots of him, and expect a little bit of self-indulgent xReader/xOC content. <3

Fanfiction will be tagged on this blog as #fanfic and tagged by source material beginning with “SOURCE” (ex. #SOURCEdoai). Multi-chapter fics will be tagged with their title, as I will be posting each chapter as it drops (ex. #HYACINTH). Extra tags/content warnings can be found on AO3.

FANFICTION MASTERLIST:

✦: HYACINTH (All Chapter Masterlist)

✦.*+ { ORIGINAL WORKS } +*.✦

As a writer, I’m also in the process of creating my own original stories! The most prevalent of these— and the one I’ve spent the most time developing— is Gunpowder Seas, about a half-kraken outlaw on the search for his parents with a group of other fantastical misfits. Though far less developed, I may also post about DOGFIGHT, which is centered on war-mechs, their connections to their pilots, and the 300-odd year global war that’s left the planet scorched.

Original works will be tagged on this blog as #originalwork. Separate stories will be tagged by their names (ex. #GunpowderSeas, #DOGFIGHT). While GPS and DOGFIGHT lean towards the young adult range, some chapters or sections may contain triggering content, which will be tagged in the same manner as my poetry. These stories are also ever-evolving! ANYTHING is subject to change!

ORIGINAL WORK MASTERLIST:

✦: Nothing here… for now :]

[havoc-writes]

HYACINTH Chapter 3 is out now!

Chapter 3 of my Lankmann x OC fic is finally out!!! This one’s angsty as hell and has a generous helping of gore, proceed with caution! ^^

You can access it here, or in my masterlist for HYACINTH ^^

[havoc-writes]

scraping your misery off the sidewalk

I’m a pain-collector for the state.

Yeah, civil jobs suck, but it pays my bills.

I pick traumas off the street and pack suffering into big white bags.

Did you know they scream even after death?

(There is something pressing into your lower left abdomen from the inside out.

I don’t tell you, but I hear it.)

Sometimes I keep ‘em, y’know.

The ones that are interesting or weird.

I put them in Mason jars and hot-glue the lids shut.

Back home, I’ve got a whole shelf full.

They’re all fuzzy and white, kinda look like baby birds.

(That is because they are birds.

The worst of everyone was once something holy.

Only the pain-collectors know this.)

I don’t know why I keep hoarding them.

Not my problem.

I didn’t put them there.

(Mine are still tucked away inside my chest.

Septic stillborns; an incomplete miscarriage.

I think, maybe if I let them sit for long enough, I’ll have more and more get stuck between my ribs and lungs.

Suffocate in the prison bars of my chest.

I need more.

I can’t let them out yet.

It’s not enough.

It’s not enough to mean something.)

I’ve always been a hoarder.

[havoc-writes]

The Vulture’s Lament

From the canopy, the world lies out before me

like roadkill;

Ribs cracked open to reveal spine, sinew,

heart and home.

I am not a violent creature.

It is the beasts of this world that claw,

bite,

sever,

paint the earth in brilliant, barbaric viscera.

I am only here to pick up the pieces.

Collect that which is beautiful,

the verve of the gore, vigor of the marrow,

and keep it with me for all time.

My dearest friend, Death—

I show him love in decadent gluttony.

[havoc-writes]

HYACINTH: Masterpost

HYACINTH is my Dreams of An Insomniac OC x Canon fic, featuring Dr. Herbert Lankmann and my own character, Dr. Matthew Morris. It’s currently a WIP that I plan to update regularly! Expect slow burn, canon-typical violence & horror, and the most toxic codependent yaoi you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Tags will be updated as chapters come out. Clicking the links on each chapter will take you to it on AO3!

Chapter 1: DAFFODIL

Chapter 2: WOLFSBANE

Chapter 3: HYDRANGEA

Chapter 4: PETUNIA

[havoc-writes]

eggshell, poppy seed

The world’s gone all golden again.

Campfire hues, flickering embers, warm tea.

I cradle the mug like an egg,

like something that will be alive again.

Xanthous city lights,

the horizon’s many eyes, searching, searching.

They are watching cars.

Say hello, goodbye, hello again.

There’s a warm-hued lamp in the nursery,

leaning over the crib,

light-mother.

“It’s you again,” she says. “Welcome back.”

I lie on my right side, ear to the pillow, to listen.

Sleep tells me another secret.

We giggle like children in our only-knowing.

My yolk spills out over the sheets.

[havoc-writes]

The Heart-Counting God

is standing at the bottom of the stairs,

at the foot of the bed,

soot-furred and onyx-eyed.

He is much like the house dog.

He waits for you to come home.

His hands hesitate before the scales,

does not set down the feather.

One night, some years ago,

I asked Him if I could fall asleep in His arms

and come home forever.

Tonight He is again at the foot of the bed,

but speaks this time around;

“Not yet, child—“ white teeth on gold light—

“Not yet.”