#my writing

[typewrite-dragon]

Bound Are The Eyes That See All - Chapter 7

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Welcome home, Gerry : )

[practiceuniversepoet]

🥂 MajestyEternal is Online 🟢

For ourself we would say that we came from a very unremarkable place.

In what remains of our faded memory there is a small room, filled with a simple warmth…

We can't recall why we walked away from that simple time, like most all else it was given for what we have received.

Only three things were retained. That faded memory, an old poem, and a longing in our heart for something precious we can no longer find.

In those moments when that feeling consumes us we can only wonder if the choice we made was right. It is impossible for us to know.

How can you judge the burden when you don't know the weight? How can you know worth when you can't remember what you were paying it for?

We know not even if those who might remember are still of this world or if they have passed beyond memory of the world we once knew as home.

Those nights of loss and longing are the longest…

But when the light comes we turn it around and we smile. We try to bring that half remembered warmth here to the people before us now. We offer shelter from the storms of their worlds. We hope that it is enough, that that is what we were made for.

And we hope like the poem in the frame that one day we will come to the end of this eternity and know the reward for our sacrifice.

If I could I would stand here long after you are gone. I would hold the hands of those others you left behind. I would tend the gardens you once tended and protect these lands you walked upon If I could I would stand as a bulwark against the grief your passing would leave in the world When they cried out I would be their strength I would become what it means to sacrifice all for your memory I would be the wind that soothed this once burning world And when the stars went out I would return to your arms and finally rest Secure in your love

[roboticspacecase]

Home Is Where The Heart Is C-15 | RoboticSpaceCase

Home Is Where The Heart Is C-15 by RoboticSpaceCase on Patreon. Join RoboticSpaceCase's community for exclusive content and updates.

Got some writing done! :D Second to last chapter of Home Is Where The Heart Is, is up for $5 patrons! <3

I learned while writing this that my 10yr old keyboard can and will have its keys FLY OFF if I type too fast, so I'm in the market for a new one once I find a job lmao

Hope you're all doing well! <3

[forsaire]

Relics

Drabble 195/272 part of my KCD2 Codex Challenge.

Category: General Main characters: John & Samuel Relationship: Platonic TW: None

“Yes…” John muttered, turning over the book in his hands. He delicately traced the ornate detailing on the outside. “Yes, this looks very good.”

Samuel stood patiently while John inspected the book, carefully rifling through the pages. He then looked up.

“I didn’t know you were so good at making forgeries…” he commented slyly.

“What? I don’t-”

John gestured to Samuel’s hand, a smear of black ink still adorning the pale skin. Samuel let out a breath and clasped his hands together behind his back. “It’s what you asked for?”

“It is. Good job.”

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[melonclawy]

Smoke and Mirrors | Read it Here

Part One: Before | Word Count: 2,978

Content Warning: Bigotry (transphobia, homophobia, ableism) including usage of slurs. Additional warnings will apply for future chapters.

When working a temporary job at a meatpacking plant, Frankie meets a mysterious individual with a dangerous air. The deeper she finds herself drawn in, the more she discovers that nothing is as it seems.

Author's Note: I wanted to share the first part of a character exploration piece that I've put up on Toyhouse. I expect there to be at least two more parts of similar length to this one, if not longer.

Once it's completed, I will share the full piece here and on my Substack.

Preview below the cut.

  He appeared nearly halfway through their second shift, when the sky began to grow to a more faded shade of gray but the sun hadn’t yet crested the shelled-out carcasses of the surrounding slaughterhouses. There was no noise, just the feeling of hair rising on the back of her neck, and when Frankie turned away from the truck she saw him. 

    They were loading trucks in the frigid November air, trying to keep their hands from going numb by sticking them under their arm pits when they walked back from the truck to get another case. Normally snow on the ground meant they could move more slowly when packing freezer trucks, but there was a huge push from management to get product out on shelves before Thanksgiving. Which meant the processing plant needed temporary workers to move shit for shit-- and so last week James went around the bar and gathered up a crew to schlep greasy boxes of pig flesh for fifteen hours a day.

    He was tall, taller than most of the other men who worked in the meatpacking plant, but gaunt. He had greasy, pale blonde hair and even paler skin. He wore a bloodstained smock and a lit cigarette dangled from one bony hand. He leaned against the wall just near the door that led inside the plant from the loading dock, watching them shuffle through the snow and load boxes.

    Frankie made eye contact with him and stiffened. His eyes were a dull, glassy blue that nonetheless seemed to pin her in place. If there was emotion there, she couldn’t read it, but there was a gleam of something cold in his gaze that hovered just above vacancy. There were people who looked at you and saw you as more than what you were, who could reach through your eyes and pick at the details of your soul through your body. This was the opposite-- when he looked at Frankie, it was as if he saw her and only her. The flesh, the meat, the bones, nothing else attached to it and no interest in what he did see. She shivered, even though she forgot the cold.

    He stood outside and smoked his cigarette, stretching his fifteen minutes into twenty, then finally ground the stub into the slush underneath his boot and went back inside. Frankie waited another five minutes and then sidled up to Charlie while they were both in the truck.

   “Did you see that guy?” She hissed.

    “What, the guy out here smoking?” Charlie set her box down, then glanced over at the loading dock door. “Yeah, I did. He was out here for a while. He say anything to you?”

    “No. But there was something fucking weird about him. I felt like he was watching me.”

    “You’re just paranoid, kid.” Charlie clapped her on the shoulder and steered her out of the truck. “C’mon, we’ve still got two more trucks to pack after this.”

    The air temperature dropped, and snow began to dwindle down from the sky. Frankie tipped her head back towards the sky, but when she closed her eyes she still felt watched.

Thanks for reading! You can read the full chapter on Toyhouse.

[forsaire]

Rathaus and Town Hall

Drabble 194/272 part of my KCD2 Codex Challenge.

Category: General Main characters: Henry, Hans, & Bartosch Relationship: Romantic TW: None

Hans dragged away the guard he had silently choked out, hiding him behind a barrel in the corner of the room. Henry searched the man’s pockets until he found a key to the door that led into the basement. The storage room of the Rathaus housed a chest with an important relic had been tasked with retrieving. Deep in von Bergow’s territory, they had spent hours slowly making their way through the city in the dead of night.

Henry unlocked the door and the two of them shared a nod. Down the stone steps, the flickering of a torch danced across the floor. They slowly made their way into the jail, two cells on the right side and the passageway to the storage room on the left.

Hans immediately turned towards the storage room, but Henry paused. There was a body lying inside one of the cells. As he approached the bars, he sucked in a breath. He instantly fumbled for the keys and unlocked the door, throwing it open and rushing inside.

“Henry!” Hans whispered angrily. “What are you do-”

But Hans stopped in the doorway of the cell.

Sprawled out across the floor in tattered clothes, dirtied with blood and grime, and covered with bruises upon his limbs, was Bartosch. Henry collected the limp man in his arms, the once confident knight now weighed down by weakness. One eye was swollen, dried blood ran from his nose, his lip was split, and he wheezed every time his chest rose.

“Bartosch…” Henry said quietly, eyes frantically scouring the man yet hands only able to hold him against his chest gently.

Bartosch slowly raised his eyes, recognition gradually lighting them up like a dim ember. It looked like it took a lot of energy for Bartosch to raise his arm, weak fingers linking around Henry’s wrist.

“What happened…?” Henry whispered incredulously.

“Henry,” Hans piped in. “We have to be out of here by sunrise. We can’t stall.”

Henry stared at Bartosch for a few more seconds before raising his eyes in determination. “We’re taking him with us.”

Hans’ eyes shot open. “Are you crazy? He’s on von Bergow’s side!”

“Does it look like he’s with von Bergow?” Henry demanded. “Go find the chest!”

Hans looked like he wanted to argue more, but knowing they were running out of time, he just let out an annoyed huff and snatched away the key from Henry.

“We’ll get you out of here…” Henry said quietly, brushing away the sweaty hair that stuck to Bartosch’s forehead. “I promise.”

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[asclepus]

i want to fucking kill

or break something into pieces

or just fuck you

ugh fuck you

why are you like that?