Hey! The name's Mitch, a master of procrastination with writing. You can be one, too, which is simple: just don't write it lol (actually, please do)
I love pumpkinduo aka c!Schlackity (thanks to @almostdeath I'm forever grateful). Currently experiencing Francis Mosses brainrot (he's so relatable I love him). Any pronouns are fine! I'm mitchisabitch for AO3, and smutsterprocrastiwriter for my smut blog.
Here's my masterlist below the cut! Let me know if there are broken links, thanks!
oneshots.
-- pumpkinduo/schlackity --
dad jokes | work problems | tus labios | warmth on a cold night | hard to be sober | a kindled warmth in me
-- glackity --
i'd love you to leave | calm my storm | the illuschlatt (illusion)
-- cc!schlatt --
"schlatt" | dose of love for the night | please don't leave me alone
-- antisepticeye --
realizations | perfume | i am intimidated by your touch
-- other works --
two-way feelings | c!sam + c!foolish x reader
his intoxicating lips | c!karlnap
industrial l'manberg | alternate l'manberg
original poems.
lapel on a suit | two sides on a sphere | love soap | an ignition through the silhouette | head-turner | sighed feelings in the library | aftermath habits | guess I should be mature to be enough for you | kind, cold kiss | bewitching eyes
fan poems.
-- pumpkinduo/schlackity --
a superior's heel | an unforgettable you | we're the protagonists in this stage | in love with your crime | sword of sorrow | let this old love burn | radioactive haze
-- c!technoblade --
someone's thirst for blood | nonexistent peace | a bloody glass of wine
-- other fan poems --
souls freed | c!hannah and c!boomer (this is platonic I don't ship em)
the irreplaceable lover | c!dnf
is it all familiar to you? | l'manburg
you and me and the waters | c!tubbo
lights out, lover | gonchandrey
the bride who kept her oath | c!quackity
Warning: Mild gore, character death (not forever), obsessive love.
Summary: Glatt figures one way to make Quackity happy, no matter if Quackity agrees with that method or not.
Soft thuds of horse hooves stepping on sand could be heard on the empty landscape, swooshing of sand travelling down with every taken step. Quackity was using one arm to cover up the one good eye that he still had to prevent the flying sand from messing with his vision. He was still questioning how sane or reasonable it was to make all this travel just to see the ghost, who decided to put in the extra work of leaving letters behind instead of talking to the duck hybrid directly. Not that Schlatt was ever good at communicating.
Its not like Quackity has an entirely free schedule. Why is he even bothering to show up. Its not like he is going to hear anything new, he didn’t get the book, his country needs a total reconstruction, there is no spot for this meeting to be squeezed in. Yet he still goes there. Quackitys grip on the lead strengthens as he contemplates turning around. Not getting much time for the decision when his mare stops on her own in front of the entrance to the cave. Nothing really changed here, the entrance is the same, shitty and handmade turnstiles. Not like those could hold anyone back, even if Schlatt insisted that Quackity pays to enter, those metal bars are turning with the slightest amount of push, not having any mechanism that would make it payment dependent.
Quackity let out a long exhale before jumping off his horse, slightly tapping the side of her long face, looking around, having to fully turn his head because of the limited vision available, stepping over to one of the metal bars, tying the leash to it before jumping over the turnstiles, landing with a dull thump as his dark leather shoes met the stone floor. Despite the high temperatures outside, the cave stayed pleasantly cool on the inside thanks to the thick layers of rocks that served as an isolator, not absorbing the heat of the sunlight. All of the feathers on the mans body rose and ruffled at the sudden change before laying back into place.
-Sweetheart! I knew that you would come!- The overly enthusiastic tone of the ghosts voice rushed to disturb the almost peaceful quiet, causing Quackity to frown. No matter what sweet name Schlatt said, it always sounded fake. The voice was genuine. Quackity knew him for long enough to tell apart the tones that he used and this one, it was genuine. Maybe that was what was throwing him off or maybe he was overthinking every word, every gesture this ghost made.
-You said it was important. I don’t have the whole day.- The owner of Las Nevadas tried to stay cold and professional in the ghosts presence, though it clearly didn’t give an intimidating effect, considering what a soft smile bloomed on the grey face. The ghost was making smooth steps forwards, barely touching the ground.
-Of course its important! I wanted to talk about us.- the man tilted his head, slightly twitching with the long sheep ears.
-Are you…serious right now? I already told you, there is no “us”, Schlatt…- Quackity was interrupted by a loud exclaim.
-Glatt!-
Quackitys brows furrowed, and the corner of his mouth slightly twitched up in a discomfort expression.
-You are working for me. We are not together. Is it really something that is hard to understand?- Glatt only blinked at him a few times, even though both of them knew that he had no need to do so. He let out a low chuckle.
-I don’t know what you are talking about, pumpkin. We are married…I think, you are just so…so stressed out by everything- with a soft smile, the ghost took a step closer.
-Handling this all on your own…everyone messing with your mind…when was the last time that you were happy, my dear? It must be so painful…all this living, trying to survive…suffering and worst of all, remembering all of it…- Glatts eyes softened, imitating a sympathetic expression, even though his eyes were deprived of life. Quackity huffed with annoyance, he was just wasting his time here. Of course the only thing Schlatt wanted was to rub the duck hybrids failures in his face, even if it was done with a mask of genuine adoration, that seemed to never fade. The ghost seemed to never stop smiling. Not picking up hints when people were annoyed with him, trying to “fix” relationships that are in ruins through words and soft gestures.
-If talking was all you wanted to do then you are wasting my time, Schlatt.- the man rolled his eyes before turning with the heels of his shoes to face the entrance, feeling a prickling feeling in his throat, as if the very atoms of the air have turned into crystals of ice, piercing the inside of his neck, a shiver ran down the duck hybrids spine as he could feel the temperature drop.
-Its…not very nice to turn your back to me, while I am talking, Alex- the ghosts voice was heavy from cold, calculated hurt.
The rock ceiling seemed to crumble, smaller pebbles were falling down and the cave seemed to move, the metal bars stuck in the solid structure moved, seemingly opening a straight escape but soon the falls seemed to close off, as the pebbles and bigger stones rushed to “repair” the open wall. There was no time to pay attention to that detail when the man began to hear a faint sound inside the stone walls, as if they were hollow. Clinking that echoed through the cave. Quackity never saw Glatt use any weapon and he wasn’t sure, what he had to look for.
The yellow feathers on Quackitys body rose to alarm as he slowly placed his hand on the handle of his netherite axe. The mans heart fastened its beat, wanting him to move, rushing adrenaline through his body. Quackity was frantically turning his head, trying to follow the sound of metallic rattling, as his breath fastened, coming out in clouds, when he returned his gaze forward and opened his mouth to say something, his mouth fell close as he couldn’t see the ghost in front of himself anymore. The man took his axe fully out, starting to take steps back, still turning his head, trying to predict the trajectory of anything that would be aimed his way. He could hear a high-pitched sound, how something was cutting through air but before he managed to turn his head and swing his axe, a chain went right through his non-seeing eye, a loud crack echoed against the walls of the cold cave.
The axe fell to the ground with a sharp clung as Quackity couldn’t keep his grip any longer, leaning forward but not meeting the ground himself. Glatt materialized back into vision in front of him, holding his body and slowly lowering himself on his knees, taking Quackity with him, as the sharp pain was paralyzing the man’s body.
-Shh…just a little bit longer…I promise that this will make everything better…- he was whispering softly, with the warmth care in his voice, as blood was streaming down Quackitys face. The duck hybrids hands were trembling, he struggled to coordinate them, trying to touch his face and form a grip on the part of the chain that was sticking out, blood pouring out of his mouth as he was trying to say something, not able to turn his gaze away as every movement of his eyeball was influencing the pierced socked, causing more pain to bloom in his head.
-I wouldn’t try to pull it out, love…you know how much more messy that would be…- Glatt reached up to take Quackitys hand in his own, intertwining their fingers, forcefully pulling the mans hand closer to himself to press a kiss against the back of the ducks hand.
-As soon as your heart stops beating…you will forget that this ever happened, I promise…and we can be together. You and me….just like you always wanted…like what you talked about when we were waking up together…- letting go of the mans hand, Glatt reached towards his face, gently brushing the blood off of the corner of his lips.
-Do you still want a garden wedding?-
Quackity couldn’t look away, trying to say something, trying to curse the ghost out, trying to muster the most loathsome expression but everything was just overturned by the pain that was spreading in his body, the corners of his remaining vision were slowly turning to black. The only thing that was an indicator to his consciousness still being there, was the soft humming that was coming from the ghost that was holding him and softly brushing with his thumb over the bright, yellow ear-wings.
There wasn’t much time needed for Quackitys body to go completely limp, there was no heartbeat to count and the blood finally stopped pouring. The ghost still gave it a few minutes, sitting in silence before slowly pulling out the chain, letting the remaining blood mix in with the fluid from the mans eye. Glatt carefully lowered the body, so the duck would stay with his head on the ghosts lap, pulling his own sleeve over his grey hand to slowly brush off the blood and clean his lovers face. The sound of rocks moving back into place, accompanied their quiet time together, as the sun outside was slowly setting down. It’s a shame that Glatt doesn’t posses any bandages but he knows what alternative he can use, after all, the dead should be treated with respect and he knows how important that was to his fiancé.
Leaving the mans body on the floor, the ghost got up to float over to his chest and roam through it, continued to hum an old-fashioned song before he managed to get out some flowers, white, yellow and red. He looked down at the bottom of the chest that contained some of Ghostburs blue flowers but those were no fit for this funeral. Glatt made a sharp turn before returning to the body, using the stems of the flowers to combine them, making a flower crown first before adding a change, an round extension down, so it would cover up his sweet ducklings eye. The ghosts corners of the mouth formed a smile as he bowed down to press a kiss against the mans forehead. Now he only needs to put his lover to rest.
On the other side of the cave, stones started to move aside, opening a staircase that led down, glow lichen were spread along the path, illuminating the way. Glatt positioned one of his hand on Quackitys back and the other beneath his knees, picking the limp body up effortlessly, he was slowly walking down the hall till he finally reached the room that he prepared. A small, man-made river running across, from one end to another, planted grass with flowers, some handing vines with glow berries. Neither Schlatt or Glatt had a big passion for decorating but the ghost spend his time making this place worthy of his lovers body. The grave pit was positioned in the middle, surrounded by bright flowers.
Glatt took steps closer before kneeling down and softly placing his fiancé down in the pit on top of some sheets, so the rough ground wouldn’t be the only thing keeping him warm. Soon the pit started to fill up with soil, covering up the body that is cooling down.
-Soon…I will see you again, my love- the ghost softly whispered against the ground. Now its only the question of time, It doesn’t take long for ghosts to manifest, though they usually spawn farther away from the spot of their death. After all, seeing your own body would be rather distressing.
Glatt wandered outside, watching the moon rise to the sky, as the blue light illuminated him and his cave. As the only thing that was left to him was having patience to wait. The ghost closed his eyes, brushing with his thumb over the dried off blood on his sleeves.
-Glatt!- the ghost heard someone else’s voice, higher, softer, so familiar that made his dead heart wish to beat again. Soon he felt arms wrapping around his neck.
-I found you!- Quackitys voices sounded genuine and joyful.
-You did…you did, my love- Glatt slowly opened his eyes, reaching forward to wrap his arms around the young man, as his lips were forming a soft smile, slowly wagging with his tail.
So...I decided and took the time to write another Schlackity poem. After so many months on hiatus with writing anything about them here. I managed to get a spark of writing about their whirlwind hell of a relationship once again to conclude this year to pass, and embrace the year to come.
to my embrace.
a schlackity poem.
sincerely dedicated to @almostdeath.
There’s a manuscript you kept in your pocket square
Written with a candle beside me, in the pitch dark eve
You wondered if I would still expect to meet you there
At the paradise we built, where I watched you leave.
I could recall the days we weren’t devoured by our fears
Calm, dreamy days tinged with some sort of innocence
Yet our promises to uphold this love for years and years
They were dying from our detriments and dissonance.
So, how did we get here?
I straddled on your lap after you laid across the settee
Breathing cigarettes, crumpled clothes on matted floors
Just like my paramour when he was intimate with me
But I’d pretend these lips of his I’m kissing were yours.
Two carnal alcoholics, harbingers of death and danger
Sometimes I wished we had an entirely different start
Our souls have been corrupted by money and power
It keeps tearing us and this damned metropolis apart
And all the happy-ever-afters.
But even after all this, left grief-stricken and in ruins
The rock bottom can still unravel something new
Beyond the tints of venomous lies and bloody sins
I’ll someday find the golden truth, and so will you.
Go, pull up and open the paper from where it hides
I know you’ve never read it until this lonely night
‘Let’s wake from the death of our old selves and rise;
Return to my embrace—I swear, I’ll love you right,
#in the article it says that the sailboat sailors were concerned because they could not be towed quickly because of the kind of boat#so they asked Götheborg what type of ship they were and warned that they would not be able to go above a certain speed#and götheborg went ' we are also a sailboat. 50 meters length. no worries :) '#and the poor sailboat sailors were just like ' That's not possible. they have to be messing with us' and then the ship Rolled Up (via bunjywunjy)
I'm crying. Here's a photo of a sailor from the Götheborg watching over the little sailboat in tow:
From the story:
We repeatedly emphasized that we were aboard a small 8-meter sailboat, but the response was the same each time: "We are a 50-meter three-masted sailboat, and we offer our assistance in towing you to Paimpol." We were perplexed by the size difference between our two boats, as we feared being towed by a boat that was too large and at too fast a speed that could damage our boat.
The arrival of the Götheborg on the scene was rapid and surprising, as we did not expect to see a merchant ship from the East India Company of the XVIII century. This moment was very strange, and we wondered if we were dreaming. Where were we? What time period was it? The Götheborg approached very close to us to throw the line and pass a large rope. The mooring went well, and our destinies were linked for very long hours, during which we shared the same radio frequency to communicate with each other.
The crew of the Götheborg showed great professionalism and kindness towards us. They adapted their speed to the size of our boat and the weather conditions. We felt accompanied by very professional sailors. Every hour, the officer on duty of the Götheborg called us to ensure everything was going well.[...]
This adventure, very real, was an incredible experience for us. We were extremely lucky to cross paths with the Götheborg by chance and especially to meet such a caring crew.
Dear commander and crew of the Götheborg, your kindness, and generosity have shown that your ship is much more than just a boat. It embodies the noblest values of the sea, and we are honored to have had the chance to cross your path and benefit from your help.
"Our destinies were linked for very long hours" is just knocking me out.
So... I found this and now it keeps coming to mind. You hear about "life-changing writing advice" all the time and usually its really not—but honestly this is it man.
I love the lawyer metaphor, because whenever I see “John knew that...” in prose writing I immediately think “how? How does he know it?” Interrogate your witnesses. Cross-examine them. Make them explain their reasoning. It pays dividends.
First, let me preface this with something very important: you can treat all of this advice as SECOND-DRAFT ADVICE. It is so much easier to rewrite this kind of stuff once you have words on the page. Telling yourself the first draft is totally appropriate and acceptable.
What we’re talking about here are FILTER WORDS (and to some degree verbs of being). Yes, “thought” words are included. But so are “heard, saw, looked, tasted, smelled” etc.—most words having to do with the senses.
This isn’t black and white advice; sometimes you’ll use these words and that’s okay. They’re not WRONG. They’re just weaker. And they’re weaker because they create distance between the reader and the experience of the character.*
If you want your reader to feel like they’re experiencing the story right alongside the character, you want to cut down on filter words.
*This is particularly important with first person and close third POVs. The reader always knows whose eyes they’re seeing through and thoughts they’re privy to. So you don’t need to tell them “I saw X.” Or “I heard X.” Or “I thought Y.” You can just jump into the action/observation as it’s happening.
This is also where you want to pay attention to verbs of being.
“It was rainy.” Versus: “The rain pounded against the roof.” Or “The rain howled like an injured animal.” Or “The rain tapped against the window like an anxious lover.” All of these are inviting the reader deeper into the experience of the story by using stronger verbs and similes. And, at the same time, they stir feelings (instead of TELLING feelings). And feelings keep your reader engaged. Engaged readers keep turning pages; engaged readers become FANS.
i want romance. i want intimacy. i want the 2 am love making. i want consistency, loyalty. i want the random looks of admiration. i want to know you're just for me. i want date nights. i want love so pure and true. i want it because i can return it.
You should only write in present tense with extreme caution.
not because it's bad or anything but because if you do it even once you're going to be editing the bits where you shifted tenses out of your writing for the rest of your life
if u write in present tense enough times in a row, you can switch this problem around & get confused when your present-tense narrator is talking abt something that happened in Their past. I recommend this bc it keeps u on ur toes
