RMH
todays bird
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
occasionally subtle
⁂
@theartofmadeline
will byers stan first human second
izzy's playlists!
One Nice Bug Per Day
hello vonnie
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Product Placement
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Discoholic 🪩
Andulka
macklin celebrini has autism
almost home
if i look back, i am lost
dirt enthusiast
Love Begins
seen from United States
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@sburnheart
Just saw your last message and hope everything is okay. Glad to hear from you and we’ll be here whenever you feel up to writing again! Take all the time you need <3
Thank you! I promise I haven’t given up on the fic, but September and October have turned out to be very busy for me, and a lot has happened personally. I’m hoping next week I can start writing again. Thank you so much!
Are you gonna post a chapter today 🥹🥹🥹
I know it’s been a while! I’m sorry, I’ve been going through some things in my personal life and it’s really impacted my ability to write. I’m hoping to be back at it soon!
i just want to say that i read your fic 'cross your thoughtless heart', and it was soooo good! you're a very talented writer and i loved the characterisation and the world you've created! loved loved loved your fic!
Thank you so so much! It means so much to me that you took the time to reach out and tell me!
may all your favorite fanfic writers never lose their hyperfixation and love for your blorbos so they keep writing fanfics about your blorbos forever
I’m curious, what country are you from?☺️☺️
I’m from the U.S!
Between the Shadow and the Soul | Ch. 73
Something about the two males scratched at a door she didn’t remember locking. A low, persistent scrape in the back of her skull. They didn’t move, didn’t blink. Their eyes tracked Cassian, then Azriel—only them. As if Feyre and Rhys and Amren weren’t there at all.
Rage smoldered in their gazes. Rage without focus. As if it had been stoked too long and left to burn out of control.
Feyre’s voice barely rose above the silence. “They’re like rabid dogs. Lost to sanity.”
Cassian grunted. He hadn’t moved from his place near the wall, his arms crossed, expression grim. “Fought like it too. No intelligence—just a desire to kill.”
Elara’s gaze flicked to the trapdoor in the floor. She didn’t need to look directly at the males to feel the wrongness radiating off them. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
“Their actions aren’t their own,” she said, flatly.
Amren turned to her, silver eyes narrowing. “And how would you know that, girl?”
Elara didn’t look at her. She kept her eyes on the males. Their lips were still curled in those strange, half-snarl expressions, their bodies oddly still. There was no recognition in their features. No light behind their eyes. Only the echo of something puppeted. Hollow.
“I’ve lived it,” she said, and her voice came out too tight, too thin. Silence followed, not the heavy kind, but brittle. As if someone had cracked the wrong floorboard and everyone was deciding whether to look. Elara exhaled through her nose. “Not exactly like this,” she added, softer now. “But close. Close enough.”
Click here to read the full chapter.
Between the Shadow and the Soul | Ch. 72
Elara kicked forward, muscles straining against the weight of the Bog. Every motion felt like swimming through pitch. She didn’t get far. The Bog pushed back, almost like it didn’t want her there, like it knew she didn’t belong. It pressed at her, sluggish and cruel, slowing her arms, dragging at her legs.
Then it changed.
It started with something brushing against her ankle—soft, slick. And then it tightened.
Her entire body jolted as something coiled around her leg and yanked.
She twisted, desperate to see, and the water blurred worse with her panic. The thing around her ankle looked like a vine—but not. It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat of its own, and it glistened with something dark and clinging. Before she could reach for it, more wrapped around her other leg, then both wrists, jerking her back like a puppet on strings.
She thrashed, panic rising. Her hands strained against the binds, trying to claw free, but the vines—if that’s what they were—only squeezed tighter, drawing her deeper and deeper into the gloom. The surface was gone. Nesta was gone. All she could see was the faint glow of something vanishing above, and the slow blur of her own arms as she fought.
Her lungs were on fire now. Her chest heaved, instinct screaming at her to breathe even as her mind begged her not to. She wouldn’t last much longer.
Not down here.
Click here to read the full chapter.
"What are you reading right now?" My own wip because apparently I forgot my own writing style
i’m not one of those writers who treats their characters like they’re real people. i treat them like blorbos. like messed up little sims. like dolls with backstories and abandonment issues. normal stuff
Between the Shadow and the Soul | Ch. 71
She flew a little ahead, letting the air clear her head. The wind was cold up here, and her arms ached from holding steady. They’d been flying for a while now. It felt like too long.
She sensed him before he spoke.
“Elara—”
“I promise I’m not going to fly off, Shadowsinger,” she said, not looking at him. Her voice came out more tired than anything else.
They flew in silence, the wind cold between them. Elara kept her eyes forward, scanning the bog below—though there wasn’t much to see. Just more water, more rot, more of that same gray fog curling between broken tree limbs. But Azriel stayed close, his presence constant at her side. She could feel him watching her, again and again.
Eventually, he spoke.
“Elara.”
She didn’t answer. She just kept flying. He edged a little closer, voice low. “We need to talk about the other night.”
“No,” she said flatly. “We don’t.”
“Elara—”
“It’s not the time, Shadowsinger.” She didn’t raise her voice, but the edge in it was sharp.
He didn’t back off. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
She exhaled through her nose, trying not to let the frustration show, even though it was already bubbling beneath her skin. “Maybe because I have a good reason,” she said coolly. “Maybe you should take the hint.”
Click here to read the full chapter.
Reading my own fanfiction is basically just a rollercoaster of emotional whiplash.
20% of the time: “Hold on. I wrote this? This is fire. This is emotionally devastating in the best way. This scene is dripping with tension. I’m a literary perfectionist. Someone give me a book deal.”
80% of the time: “Straight to jail. Immediate prison. Why is everyone’s breath hitching?. I used the word ‘gaze’ three times in one paragraph like I was possessed. Did I think 'his eyes darkened' was profound? Why is everyone clenching their jaws? Why is someone whispering 'their name like a prayer' again?? No one talks like this. What is this dialogue. Why are there so many weird metaphors and em-dashes…”
a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.
5 Tiny Writing Tips That Aren’t Talked About Enough (but work for me)
These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.
1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.
Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of
“She walked to the window,”
try
“The window creaked open under her touch.”
Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.
2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.
Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.
“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”
sets a way stronger tone than
“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”
3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.
Instead of:
"I'm fine," she said.
Try:
"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.
It helps shows emotion, and movement.
4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.
No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.
5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”
Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.
What’s a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! 🍒
"I'm experiencing once what I inflict on people daily."
Between the Shadow and the Soul | Ch. 69
She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned into the wind, eyes closed. Mist clung to the night air, brushing her face like breath. She told herself it hadn’t meant anything. That they’d been shaken. That she hadn’t known what else to do in that moment, and neither had he.
It had been adrenaline. That was all. The rush of fear, the nearness of him, the sharp echo of magic still vibrating in her bones—it had short-circuited her judgment. Anyone might’ve reacted that way, after so much tension wound tight.
Anyone.
That was what Elara told herself. Because anything else—anything real—meant opening a door she had no right to walk through.
Her fingers moved without thought to the leather cuff around her wrist. The stitching was frayed in places—she traced one of them with her thumb, slow and rhythmic. A quiet motion, something to do with her hands while her thoughts prowled too close to the surface.
They all wanted her to believe she was getting better. Like if Elara stayed long enough, followed the rules, sat quietly through meetings and training and dinners, the Court of Dreams would just... absorb her. Assimilate her. Pretend her past — that Munin— was a shadow already outgrown.
But they didn’t know the whole of it.
They hadn’t stood ankle-deep in blood and did not even blink an eye. Hadn’t watched human boys sob and beg for their lives while their throats were slit. Hadn’t left messages scrawled in gore on cottage walls. Rhysand didn’t know. Cassian didn’t. Feyre, maybe, suspected—but she looked at Elara like she was a sad thing, not a monstrous one.
Azriel didn’t know either. Or maybe he did and refused to let it fully land, wouldn’t let himself name it. If he truly understood the depths of what she’d done—what had been asked of her and what she’d done anyway—he never would’ve looked at her like that. Never would’ve let his mouth brush against hers like he had last night. Never would’ve whispered her name like that.
If he saw clearly, he’d flinch.
So whatever had happened between them—whatever fragile, aching thing had stirred to life on the balcony—it couldn’t happen again.
Click here to read the full chapter.
making aus for ocs are so funny cause like. theyre already in a situation… but what if they were in a DIFFERENT situation
me explaining my plot: ok so there’s grief. but like sparkly
