#the muse is fickle

[corrosivesaints]

i have to have multiple wips i cycle thru at all times kind of like how a shark has to be engaged in continual movement or else it will die

[jennelikejennay]

Me: this fic is getting too angsty, I'm gonna write a fun little scene at the park

The fic: time for angst in the park!

[rainingskyguy]

Pick One

nhs/wwx sequel to Safe

de aged wwx & "oh god oh fuck WHAT AM I GONNA DO" jc

wn/wwx archery practice

Didi Laozu

Yiling Baba

Do Not Necromance Your Vegetable Garden

Everyone's Favorite Jiujiu

Sunshot Crack Campaign

( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )

Voting ended onNov 2, 2023

[iwillkeepfighting]

turtleshoes inspiration really be striking either 1) at work where I can’t jot it down or 2) at bedtime where I can’t risk jotting anything down lest the words flow and run away from me in a way that would be lovely ANY OTHER TIME THANKS

[just-horrible-things]

Phoenix

The accident leaves her body broken.

Eyes staring at the sky, mouth stretched open in shock. Both filling with grit as dust settles over her body, her upturned face.

Gasping for thickly muddy air that will not fill her lungs.

Her ribs shift with every gasp.

She cannot move, cannot even begin to form the thought that would direct a movement.

Her ears ring with one ceaseless, whining tone.

Time does not pass. She is frozen in an unending moment. Trapped in flesh and bone that were fit and healthy just minutes ago but now form a torn and shattered prison.

She knows, she knows deeper than thought or words that there is no recovery from this.

She is beyond repair.

The sky is white with cloud. It looks soft, and almost close enough to touch.

Suddenly, there is a face above her. She recognises the man, though she has never seen him before. She knows him from her nightmares.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, no.”

He lifts a chunk of masonry from her arm. She doesn’t feel it. And then she does.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll make this right.”

She wants to speak, but her mouth is locked open, fighting for air.

“Shhh,” he says as he slides his arms under her shattered body. Bones move beneath the skin. “You’ll be okay. Just hold on.”

He lifts, and torn muscles try uselessly to oppose the strain.

Darkness steals the sky from her sight.

Time does not pass. There is only the unending black. Motion. Her limbs bent in places they should not.

She smells pine before her vision clears.

She is still again, save for the straining, twitching rise and fall of snapped ribs. The sky is still white and soft.

There is wood beneath her fingertips. She feels the grain. 

The man moves around her. There is wood in his arms. Long logs of pine, the cut surfaces pale and rough. He piles them over and around her. 

Fear keeps her eyes as wide as her gaping mouth.

The man is gone. 

And then he is not.

There is a bag in his hands, a rough hessian sack. She knows what is inside before he tips it over her twitching, mangled body. 

Chips and chunks of dark, fragrant resin. They pour across her heaving abdomen and down her sides, slipping over each other like coins. The scent fills her mouth and nose – earth and trees, spice and incense.

The largest piece is a chunk the size of her fist. The man places it in her palm and curls her broken fingers around it.

“You’ll be okay once it’s over,” he says. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Her throat buzzes with a choked moan as he forces her arm to bend, placing her hand over her heart.

A flash of orange light in the edge of her failing vision. A rush of hissing sound. The unmistakable smell of smoke mingles with the wood and the resin. A crackle.

The heat reaches her, and she screams with breath she didn’t know she still had. She screams, and screams, and screams.

The fire is merciless.

It feasts on skin and hair and flesh. Fat melts and drips and catches light. Flesh shrivels in the blaze. Bones snap and pop.

The screams don’t stop.

On and on and on and on, wild and inhuman.

On and on and on until the flames finally die away.

The silence is loud after the noise.

The wind stirs. It wakes a little glow from the embers. It stirs the ash from the blackened bones of the pine logs, and likewise from the naked skin of the woman.

It is smooth and soft, hairless and unblemished.

She lies curled around her own knees. Her eyes are closed. Her chest rises and falls gently.

The man lifts her gently from the fire’s grave, heedless of the ash and char that coat his clothes.

“There you are,” he murmurs to her sleeping body. “All over now. You’re going to be okay.”

[jedimordsith]

Once again, I am trying to work. What does the muse do? Prompt a Very Important Discussion about expectations around reproduction in the GFFA that has already devolved into a discussion about alien sex toys and Luke trolling the media. 

The muse wants what the muse wants, I guess?

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Thursday Teasers - Outside Expectations 8

Since we’re on a roll here... 😘

I chew for a moment and watch him shift the flatware. Until it’s just right. The server brings our appetizer. Then I let my eyes roam around the dining room and smile.

“It might not be the five star place you planned on taking me, but it is still pretty swanky,” I say. “The kind of place where you want to stuff your purse full of the rolls because they’re just so good but you’re afraid to because maybe they have security cameras.”

“What?” Graham asks, but I can hear the faint notes of laughter forming in his voice.

“You’ve never bagged the rolls before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he says. “But I may use that line.”

“For what?” I ask and he taps a finger on the table.

“A game my brothers and I sometimes play.”

“Oh?”

“Rate the Food. Only it’s not a normal rating scale. For example,” he picks up one of the rolls and chews thoughtfully. “These rolls...they’re stuff your pockets with them for a midnight snack good. But…” he offers one of the stuffed mushrooms we ordered to me. Once we’re both eating, he nods and then swallows. He looks so serious that I have to bite back a chuckle. “These are you may lose a finger in the fight to get the last one good.”

I laugh out loud at that and ask him to give me more examples.

[extraneousdominomask]

Hey, just to check, did you actually get my ask with the ficlet prompt? I don’t mean to pester you or anything, I’m just worried that tumblr may be eating my asks.

Yep! Made it as far as my Drafts folder and everything. Essentially waiting for ideas on how to handle it