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dark-pink-fantasy · 1 month
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livelaughwhump · 5 days
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Valentine's Day
The Valentine's Day collab is finally here!
This is Elliot's POV. Cedar's POV will be on @ofclrosewriteswhump 's blog, but I will be adding both to the Worthless Masterlist.
I hope you enjoy!
Content: sickfic, an obscene amount of fluff, overwhelming gayness
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Elliot had begged Lyra not to text Cedar. They'd been planning their Valentine's date for weeks and Elliot couldn't bear to be the reason it was ruined.
He'd woken up that morning feeling achy and lethargic. His throat was sore, his nose was stopped, and beads of sweat continued to appear at his hairline, no matter how many times he tried to wipe them away.
Of course, Lyra had noticed right away that something wasn't right, despite how hard he tried to hide it.
“Please, Lyra. I'm fine, I swear!” Elliot begged. “Just don't tell him, please.”
Lyra already had their phone out with Cedar's messages pulled up. “Sunshine, you're sick. Your date isn't for another week, it's no big deal.”
“But if he finds out, he'll cancel it! He'll be too worried about me. He always—” Elliot coughed and gagged as he was forced to swallow back down the phlegm that had traveled up his throat.
Lyra sighed. “I'm sorry, sunshine, but I can tell you feel awful. It's only gonna get worse if you don't rest.” They sent the text and Elliot felt his heart plummet. “Now, let's get you to bed.”
That's what led to Elliot laying in his bed, sobbing quietly into his comforter with Dumpling curled up against his side, but that was several days ago. Since then, Lyra had been doing everything they could to help him rest and heal enough before their date. However, it wasn't enough. It was the day of Valentine's, and Elliot was still bedridden. That morning, Lyra had informed him that they were going to run some errands, but that Marlie was on her way over to keep him company. That eased his worries a bit, until all that was left was the guilt of ruining Valentine's Day.
Elliot was cuddling with Dumpling while watching a movie on Lyra’s computer when the door to his room suddenly opened. He glanced up to see Marlie standing in the doorway and instantly brightened up a little.
“M-Mar—” Elliot dissolved into a coughing fit, his throat burning as he did so. His eyes watered and he reached for a tissue, only to find the box empty. Elliot groaned and laid back down on his bed.
Marlie rushed to his side, mumbling a quick “be right back,” before returning with an unopened roll of toilet paper. “Sorry, Bluebell. I wanted to be quick. Do you need water?” she asked softly, sitting next to his bed.
Elliot nodded. “I'm sorry, Marlie. You-You don't have to d-deal with this.” He ripped off a square of toilet paper and blew his nose.
Marlie put a gentle hand on his shoulder, comforting him the best she could. “I don’t mind. I want to help you.”
Elliot sniffled and threw away his makeshift tissue. “Are you sure? You-You don't h-have to.”
Marlie nodded. “Of course. I brought a couple bottles in my bag. Here, Bluebell.” She handed him a water bottle before thinking of something. “Do you want help with anything?”
Elliot shook his head. “Can-Can you just k-keep me company? I-I don't know where L-Lyra went and-and I don't wanna be alone.”
Marlie nodded, knowing he was overthinking. “Of course! Do you want to watch anything?”  She offered to hold his hand, knowing she’d get sick anyway with her weaker immune system.
Elliot shrugged. “I was just watching some m-movie that Lyra had saved. I'm not really p-paying attention.”
“Okay, want to keep watching it? It's fun being with you. Is it okay that I’m holding your hand?” Marlie spoke softly, hoping to comfort Elliot. She giggled when Dumpling’s whiskers tickled her hand.
“Are-Are you sure?” Elliot asked. “I-I don't want to g-get you sick.”
Marlie nodded. “It’s okay. I've always gotten sick easily but it’s worth it for you.” She smiled at him gently.
“O-Okay then. Um…can-can you h-hold me while-while we watch the movie?”
Marlie smiled and immediately climbed into bed next to him. She opened her arms. “Of course, Bluebell. I'm always happy to hold you.”
Elliot smiled and crawled into her waiting arms. He snuggled into the warmth of her embrace as Dumpling curled up beside the two of them. Just as Marlie repositioned Lyra’s laptop, the sound of her phone buzzing startled them both. Elliot looked up at her, confused. “Who is it?”
Marlie reached over with one hand, keeping her arm around Elliot. “Lyra, they want to know how you're feeling. Are you doing okay?”
Almost as if on cue, Elliot broke into a coughing fit, his lungs and throat burning. He reached for the glass of water Lyra had left him and downed half of it in a matter of seconds. Once he was finished, he wiped his mouth dry and set the glass back onto the bedside table to his left. His voice was raspy and nasal as he said, “N-Not r-really.”
Marlie rubbed his back. She tried her best to comfort him and make him feel better. “Do you have any cough medicine?” she asked after sending a quick text to Lyra.
“I-I'm not sure,” Elliot answered. “B-Broderick was supposed to g-get some, but-but I don't know if he's b-back yet.”
“Want me to text him?” Marlie asked, holding Elliot close and offering the comfort she could.
Elliot nodded. “If-If you don't m-mind.”
Marlie nodded. “I don't mind at all. Want me to keep holding you?” She asked, pulling out her phone to send the text. “Done.”
Elliot nodded. “Y-Yes, please.” He shivered and curled up to her.
Marlie held him close, trying to warm him up.
“Can-Can I have a blanket?”
Marlie nodded, “Of course!” She wrapped a blanket around Elliot, holding him close in her arms. “Now we wait for a response.”
It was a few minutes later that Broderick finally responded, the text reading, “Just picked up some cough medicine. Should be back in a couple minutes.”
Marlie looked at her phone, once again startled by the sudden noise. “Broderick says he'll be back soon.” She sent back a quick response, thanking him.
Elliot nodded. “Th-Thanks, Marigold.”
Marlie held him closer. “Happy to help, Bluebell.”
Elliot was still shivering, though much less so than before. “You're so w-warm.”
“I’m happy you think so.” Marlie smiled, relieved to feel Elliot relax. “Want me to ask Broderick for another blanket when he gets back?”
Elliot nodded. “Yes, please.”
Marlie brushed his hair, knowing how much he liked the feeling. “It should only be a few minutes. He’ll be here soon.”
Elliot closed his eyes and reveled in the gentle touch at the top of his head.
Marlie smiled, humming quietly until she heard footsteps approach the door.
Elliot opened his eyes just in time to see Broderick peek his head into the room. “Hey, guys,” he greeted. “I've got some cough medicine and an extra blanket.”
Marlie smiled. “Thanks.” Not knowing what else to say, she resumed brushing Elliot’s hair.
Broderick stepped into the room, set the medicine beside Elliot's bed, and handed the blanket to Marlie. “How are you feeling, sweet?”
Elliot briefly glanced up at the medic and shrugged. “N-Not great. S-Sorry for-for causing so much trouble.”
“It's no trouble at all, sweet. This is my job. Just take one of those tablets every six hours and let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, okay?” Elliot nodded, and with one last friendly smile, Broderick left the room.
Marlie helped Elliot with his medicine; the tablet being small helped. She wrapped Elliot in the fluffy blanket and held him close.
Elliot cuddled up to her and laid his head in her lap. “Marlie?” He asked.
Marlie responded with a quiet hum, continuing to gently brush Elliot’s hair while he rested his head on her lap.
“Do you think Cedar's m-mad that-that I ruined our date? I-I haven't s-seen him in almost a-a week.” Tears flooded Elliot's ocean-blue eyes as he imagined the worst. “What if he b-breaks up with me?”
Marlie looked at him worriedly. “He's not breaking up with you. He's been trying to find a way to make your date fun while you're sick. I don't know exactly what he's planning but he's been trying lots of Spanish recipes.” She gently brushed his hair.
The worry and fear in the pit of Elliot's stomach didn't fade. “Then-Then why hasn't he come to s-see me?”
“He wants to perfect it. You know how you were going stargazing? He's going to bring the stars to your bedroom. Want to call him to feel better? I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Lyra’s helping him out with the finishing touches.” Marlie softly brushed Elliot’s hair. “It was going to be a surprise so I can't tell you what exactly Cedar’s bringing for food or how he's going to make a stargazing date for the both of you. I just know he's been tracking stuff down at thrift shops and astronomy places.”
Elliot felt even more guilty. “I-I ruined the surprise?”
Marlie shook her head. “Not at all. You know the basics of it but you don't know what Cedar is bringing here. That’s not ruining the surprise.”
“O-Okay,” Elliot said. “Um…when-when is he gonna be here?”
Marlie glanced at her phone. It was around late afternoon or early evening. “About an hour. I think he wants the sun to be down before coming.”
Anxiety swelled in the pit of Elliot's stomach. “Do-Do I look okay?”
Marlie nodded, not wanting to overwhelm him. “You look great. How about putting on a skirt or your new dress if you want. I can do your hair while you're in bed too.”
Elliot nodded and quickly jumped out of bed to go change.
Marlie followed, ready to catch him if he slipped. “Careful, you're still sick. You don't have to dress up a lot. Just do what you can, okay?”
Elliot ignored her concern and quickly scanned his closet for something nice to wear. “I just wanna look nice,” he said. “If he's putting all this effort into a n-nice date, I-I don't wanna look like I've been sick.”
Marlie nodded in understanding, walking over to Elliot to help him find something he liked. “What about your flower dress?”
Elliot examined his black, floral-patterned dress. It hung to his knees and had puff shoulder sleeves. He'd gotten it recently on a trip to the mall and had yet to wear it. “Do-Do you think he would like that?”
“He’d love it.” Marlie smiles at him. She was so happy to see him excited for a date.
“O-Okay.” Elliot grabbed the dress and bolted into the bathroom to get changed.
Marlie waited patiently, petting Dumpling while Elliot changed.
When Elliot emerged, he gave a twirl to show Marlie the whole thing. “What do you think?”
Marlie beamed, eyes glowing at how happy Elliot looked. “You look amazing!”
“R-Really?” Elliot asked, giving himself a once-over in the mirror. “Do you think I need shoes or anything?”
Marlie shook her head, standing next to him. “No, you guys are staying home. Kinda like a movie date but better.”
Elliot nodded, his breathing quickening.
Marlie looked at him worriedly, guiding him to sit. “Bluebell, he wants to bring stargazing inside. You’re safe, I promise.”
Elliot's breathing didn't slow. “I-I just w-wanna be g-good enough for-for him. Wh-What if he doesn’t l-like this? What if he gets m-mad at me for-for being sick? What if he's doing this just to b-break up with me?”
Marlie brought him into a hug, knowing his past relationships were horrendous. “You're perfect to him. Bluebell, he's so happy with you and will love this. He's not mad and he won't break up with you. I promise. Want me around for support?”
Elliot melted into her embrace and tried not to cry into her shoulder. “N-No that's-that's okay. I-I don't want him to-to get m-mad.” Elliot flinched when the distant sound of the doorbell rang. He gasped. “That's-That’s h-him.”
Marlie took his hand. “He wouldn't. Want to walk to the door with me?”
Elliot nodded and shakily reached for her hand.
Marlie gently squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, he’ll be so excited to see you.”
Elliot nodded once more and nervously followed her down to the front door.
...
Marlie opened the door, Dawn helping Cedar carry a box of food.
Elliot's breath caught in his throat. He felt like it had been months since he'd seen Cedar, even though it had only been a week. Anxiety churned in the pit of his stomach at the sight of his tall boyfriend.
“Love? How are you feeling? I'm so happy to see you!” Cedar smiled. “Happy Valentine's day.”
Elliot couldn't help the way his cheeks warmed and the dorky smile that grew across his face. “I'm f-feeling better now. H-Happy Valentine's Day.”
Cedar’s smile matched Elliot’s eyes, smiling as he saw his boyfriend. “Ready to start the date, Love?”
Elliot nodded. “I've m-missed you.”
Cedar set the box down in Elliot’s room, Dawn and Marlie following him. “Same to you, Love. I'm so happy to see you.” Cedar smiled as he opened his arms.
Elliot smiled back and practically collapsed into his boyfriend's strong arms. He had to stand on his tiptoes in order to kiss Cedar, but it was worth it. He just hoped Cedar wouldn't end up sick after this.
Cedar caught Elliot and kissed back. “I love you so much.”
Elliot's cheeks began to ache with how wide he was smiling. “I love you too.”
Cedar’s smile grew. “Ready to start, my Love?” 
Elliot giggled and nodded before dissolving into a coughing fit.
Cedar put an arm around him, rubbing his back until it finished. “Do you need to lay down, Love?”
Elliot nodded. “S-Sorry,” he croaked.
Cedar lifted him gently onto his bed. “No worries. How about starting dinner?” 
Elliot nodded. “Th-That sounds good.”
Cedar smiled, opening the containers of food that he had brought. “Take your pick, my Love.”
As Elliot's eyes scanned the multiple containers of food, his cheeks warmed. He couldn't believe that Cedar had done all this for him. “I-I can't decide. Everything looks a-amazing. Did-Did you m-make all this?”
Cedar blushed and nodded. “I packed so many. Maybe a little bit of everything? Is that okay with you? I just made our date sick safe, my Love.”
Tears began to prick the corners of Elliot's eyes at the sound of those words. “I-I just can’t believe you d-did all of this for me.”
Cedar gently brushed his tears away, kissing his forehead. “Of course, Love. I knew it would break your heart to miss out and I wanted to see you. I'd come over even if it meant cuddling and falling asleep.”
Elliot's lower lip started wobbling. “Can-Can I have a kiss?”
Cedar replied by gently kissing him, holding him close.
Elliot melted against him, heart pounding. He couldn't believe the lengths his boyfriend had gone just to make him feel special on their first Valentine's Day together. As he looked up into Cedar's forest-green eyes, he whispered, “I may or may not have just gotten you sick.”
Cedar brushed Elliot’s hair. “That’s okay. Seeing your smile makes it worth the chance.”
Elliot's cheeks warmed and he couldn't help the giggle that escaped his throat. “You try to make me blush on purpose.”
Cedar matched Elliot’s smile, chuckling. “I try to make you smile on purpose, my Love.”
Elliot tried to force himself to stop smiling, but it remained stuck to his face. He couldn't help it. Something about looking into Cedar's eyes made him indescribably happy.
Cedar smiled back, happy to see his love smile. “Ready to start eating?”
Elliot nodded, unable to take his eyes off of his boyfriend.
Cedar kissed Elliot’s forehead, serving multiple dishes for the two of them. “How about some candles? I brought some scented ones.”
Elliot nodded, cheeks beginning to ache from the smile that wouldn't leave his face. “That sounds nice.”
Cedar kissed his head gently. “That’s great. I’ll light them.”
Elliot giggled and watched as Cedar lit the candles. As nice as they were, the sudden aromas initiated a round of several sneezes and a few coughs. He reached for a tissue, his face burning with embarrassment.
Cedar looked at him worriedly, rubbing his back. “Do you need anything, Love?”
“Can-Can you hand me my w-water?” Elliot asked as he tossed the tissue into the trash. He sniffled. “I hate being sick.”
Cedar passed the water to Elliot, rubbing his back gently. “I know, Love. It’ll be over soon. I'm just happy I could get everything ready in time for our date.”
Elliot nodded. “I-I was so worried when you d-didn't come to s-see me at all. I thought m-maybe you were b-breaking up with me.”
Cedar kissed his boyfriend’s cheek softly. “I’m sorry I didn't reach out. I wouldn't break up with you, Love.” He felt guilty, knowing how he hurt Elliot.
Elliot nodded again, blushing. “I-I know. I just o-overthink sometimes, I guess. Marlie helped c-calm me down.”
Cedar smiled at him. “She’s good at that. I'm happy you guys have each other. You're amazing.”
Elliot smiled and took a bite of the dinner Cedar had made. He was still in awe of all his boyfriend had done for him. He'd never felt so loved before.
The smile on Elliot’s face made the whole evening worth it. Cedar smiled back, eyes so full of love and adoration.
As Elliot ate his fill and set down his plate, he said, “So, M-Marlie said you were gonna b-bring the stars to me. Wh-What did she mean?”
Cedar smiled, getting up to open a suitcase and take out a few star projectors. He plugged them into the wall and the ceiling mirrored a starry sky. “This is what I did to bring you the stars, my Love.” He kissed his boyfriend’s head, lips brushing his fluffy hair.
Elliot stared in awe at the starry sky projected across the ceiling. Never, in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a date like this. “This-This is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Cedar held Elliot close. “Anything for you, Love. You are the best boyfriend a man could ask for.”
Tears welled in Elliot’s eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”
Cedar brought his boyfriend into a loving kiss.
Elliot melted against him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy, if he ever had before. He felt safe and comforted and so, so loved. In that moment, nothing else mattered; not his illness, not Christian. If only for one moment, Elliot let himself be happy.
-
I hope you enjoyed this! This was so much fun to do because I'm absolutely obsessed with Elliot and Cedar's relationship.
Please be sure to go read Cedar's POV!
Not tagging the taglist because this isn't whumpy Worthless content
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the-cypress-grove · 6 months
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Prompt: 80
He had loved her from the moment he first saw her. She was slipping nightshade berries into her grandmother's tea and laughing at a joke her sister had just told.
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hey hey
hey its nightshades writes stories this is my new acc since i accidently deleted my old one sooooo
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ehc-on-ao3 · 8 months
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Wednesday Addams = Chuck Tingle?
Okay, listen, I know this is a phenomenally stupid idea, but it came to me like a bolt of lightning and I just had to inflict share it with my poor unsuspecting followers.
Imagine a Wednesday Addams who is still struggling to get her Viper De La Muerte novels published. Taking a break from writing one evening, she borrows her roommate's laptop and scours the internet to find out what, precisely, the general public is reading nowadays. Lo and behold, she discovers that trashy erotica seems to be the current flavor of the month (year, decade) and kinda snaps. That weekend, she goes to town, purchases a laptop of her own, gets her own internet connection (there's no way she's using the school's wi-fi), and makes it her mission to write the absolute worst piece of insane garbage smut possible. There's still a plot and character arcs because, let's face it, she's still Wednesday, but her goal seems to punish anyone stupid enough to like this sort of drivel and make the mistake of giving her story a shot. In less than a week, she's written, edited, and digitally self-published (under a pseudonym, obviously) her anti-magnum opus: The Butch, the Femme, and the Were-Cadillac.
Much to her horror, it is a hit.
With positive reviews pouring in and growing demands for a sequel, Wednesday is seriously contemplating locating a spell that will allow her to travel to the past and refuse Goody's offer to save her life, a desire that only grows when word of the work starts spreading around Nevermore.
For the sake of his mental health and Wednesday's, as well as the lives of everyone at the school, Thing opts to keep secret a small but active AO3 account dedicated to fanfic of this work.
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marblesarelost · 1 year
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Tales From the Nightshade Clinic Part 5
Chris looked down at the forms in front of him, his entire face wrinkled up, before holding his head up with his left hand, pen still in his right.  “The hell,” he muttered to himself.
“Oh hello, dear!”  He looked up to see …again, the hell, he wondered.  The little old lady seemed familiar, but he didn’t recognize her right off the bat.  She was smiling at him as if she knew him, though, so he decided to play nice.
“Hi.”
“You are Chris, aren’t you?  I know I’ve seen you in here before, and I know Deena.  Such a sweet girl.”  She stayed about a foot away from his table, just hanging on to her purse in one hand and her coffee cup in the other…and she was old…and she might know something about this bullshit.
“Uh, yeah.  I’m Chris, Deena’s my aunt.  I don’t know that I know you, sorry?”  
“Oh!  Oh, my manners, I’m so sorry.”  She came closer, set her cup on the table and held out her hand.  He stood, like Mom taught him, and shook it gently.  “I’m Mrs. Guzman.  Well!”  She looked down at the papers on the table.  “Oh my.  You’re coming to work at the clinic?”
“Uh.”  He stuttered, looked down himself, and saw the emergency contact card had “Nightshade Clinic” at the top of it.  “I, um, yeah.  Just like, janitorial stuff, but Dr. Hirai and Matt, the nurse, said I could maybe learn some basic stuff too.”  The lady just beamed at him, her smile becoming even brighter and wider as she adjusted her glasses.
“Well this is lovely!  I’m a member of the board that oversees it.  I’m sure you’ll see me, I bring in lunch for the staff every other week or so, and we have a little meeting – but oh.  You might not be there, it’s usually very, very late, and you’re still in school aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m a junior, but it’s almost summer,” he shrugged.  “Figure I can stay later over the summer.”
“Well, we’ll have to see, you know, child labor laws and all of that,” she said.  “But I’m sure we can teach you more than just – what are you being hired for again?”
“I’m supposed to help Bobbi with like, cleaning and manning the front desk and stuff, like getting folks to fill out their paperwork, you know.”
“Well, that might mean handling money or trade, too,” she said, leaning in and dropping her voice a little.  “And some of that trade might be…a little strange, to a young man like you.”
“Oh, Aunt Deena and I go mushroom and herb picking,” he told her.  “And…I mean.  I’ve helped her with some other stuff.”
“Ah.”  Ms. Guzman sipped from her cup.  “The sort of thing the little fluffy bunny wannabes would faint over, I take it.”
“Yeah, probably.”  He remembered the blood spraying over the fire, the way it sizzled.  Remembered the smell of bay and rosebuds.  Remembered the way the moon had sung to him that night.  
She changed the subject, though her smile grew sly.  “So you won’t have any issues, then, if one of our clients brings in…a brace of rabbits, say.  Fresh.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Excellent,” she nodded.  “Now what were you frowning so hard about when I came up, dear?  I know our applications aren’t that tricky.”
He pushed the tax papers at her, and she giggled.  “No, you’re right.  These are tricksy.  Did you need some help?”
“Please?”
“I would be delighted to walk you through it.”  She started telling him where to put what, and he followed her directions carefully – “You always want to put single if you can, dear, they’ll withhold more, but that means you’ll get something of a windfall next spring.  And if you’ll take an old lady’s advice, do try to save at least five percent of your pay.  Ten is better, but five is usually more doable at your age.”
When they finished, he stacked the papers neatly and put them back in the manila folder they’d come with.  He stood when she did, picked up his bag and held the door for her as they went out into the sunny afternoon.  “Um.  Ms. Guzman?  Can I ask a question?”
“Of course,” she offered, heading for a gorgeous, absolutely fuckin’ beautiful, red convertible.  Classic, he knew that, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the model.
“Why do …why would the clinic have us do taxes, if most folks who work there are…you know.  Different?”
“Oh, dearie.”  She opened her car door, dropped her purse on the seat, and the breeze picked up, blowing hard, but she looked perfectly unruffled, not a hair out of place.  “Listen to me.  The clinic has many, many people who come there and who work there who are, as you say, different.  But the IRS is a monster even the largest wolf, even the bloodiest vampyr, even the eldest of the Sasqui won’t challenge.”  
He couldn’t help laughing at that, and she winked before sliding behind the wheel.  “Have a lovely day, Chris.”
“You, too, ma’am.”  And she was gone in a flash, pretty car pulling out on the road and heading down Harrison Street, leaving him…a little more confident, to be honest.  He grinned, hefted his bag, and headed for home.
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novawitherfall · 10 months
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I'm not one for games. Don't try to play me.
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2/6 Main Character Pieces
Enter: Bryz Nightshade!
Took me forever to get this one out. But, alas, she's here!
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gothicmama · 2 months
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Reference art and bio for Diables
Name: Diables
Specia: Shadow Creature
Age: 200+ years
Gender: Nonbinary (he/they)
Orientation: Asexual
Appearance: Natural form is just a cloud of shadows that they can manipulate and move, they cannot become corporeal or solid, they "wear" a full body suit to give them the illusion of a body and then wear clothes on top of it, their preferred outfit is a jester's mask and a suit.
Backstory: (In progress, but Imma be honest, I made him just to he Basilina's boyfriend)
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floral-experiments · 5 months
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Story introduction
Hello hello! My current online name is Brugmansia, after my favorite flowers, angels trumpets.
I'm an 18 y/o artist and writer who is very into medical science and fantasy. I'm currently working on a story called Project Peony that I plan to involve in a mini writing series that explores experimentation and modern science in an alien world.
Project Peony is very, very, very vaguely based on the modern retellings of Hades and Persephone but if all romance was replaced with dark psychological horror.
It is a story that takes place as part of a larger universe and story I'm working on with my partner called CrossRoads. While Project Peony does not directly affect the main story it is meant to explore my portion of the world that I've been creating for a few years.
That part of the world is a planet called Desil that exists in a completely different dimension from Earth. It is full of many strange humanoid creatures with my main focus being a species called Opusille.
They have a large and complicated world that is a mix of magic and science, but the science is my primary focus in this story.
Project Peony is going to hold many dark subjects such as:
The affects of a fantasy war being fought with magic and science mixing.
The ethics of 'human' experimentation for the greater good
Creating lab born children that are born with the purpose of being soldiers
Extreme psychological abuse
Medical abuse
Torture and body deformity
Age gap relationships with the intention of manipulation
Toxic relationship dynamics
Many mentions of child death
And the largest story point of all, Does artificial life deserve human rights if it's capable of emotion and complex thought
If any of these topics are unappealing or upsetting then don't bother reading this story or looking further into my account.
This story comes in two parts and I will refer to them as Project Peony and Project Peony: Failure to show the different parts.
Most of the story will be told through reports made by scientists with art to follow. I'm not the best at digital so most of it will come in the form of traditional artwork.
Information about me
I am agender and go by all pronouns but I would prefer they/them.
I'm on the aro/ace spectrum and I have a partner of almost 5 years.
I plan to attend college soon to study nursing and later on marine science.
I am autistic and would greatly appreciate the usage of tone indicators when speaking directly to me.
That is all I feel you need to know :).
Boundaries
This list will be updated as often as I feel necessary.
Don't bring your fetishes around my characters.
Don't make disgusting jokes at me or my characters.
If you have an issue with my content the block button exists.
If I am unintentionally making something genuinely offensive please tell me and provide proof so I can apologize and remove it.
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juliawriting · 6 months
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Brief character introductions - Noah Hargreaves, the deuteragonist of Daydreams and Nightshade.
Read the story here!
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writing-with-sophia · 8 months
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Poison list
While it's important to approach writing with creativity and imagination, it's crucial to prioritize responsible and ethical storytelling. That being said, if you're looking for information on poisons for the purpose of writing fiction, it's essential to handle the subject matter with care and accuracy. Here is a list of some common poisons that you can use in your stories:
Hemlock: Hemlock is a highly poisonous plant that has been used as a poison in various works of literature. It can cause paralysis and respiratory failure.
Arsenic: Arsenic is a toxic element that has been historically used as a poison. It can be lethal in high doses and can cause symptoms such as vomiting, abdominal pain, and organ failure.
Cyanide: Cyanide is a fast-acting poison that affects the body's ability to use oxygen. It can cause rapid loss of consciousness and cardiac arrest.
Nightshade: Nightshade plants, such as Belladonna or Deadly Nightshade, contain toxic compounds that can cause hallucinations, respiratory distress, blurred vision, dizziness, an increased heart rate, and even death when ingested.
Ricin: Ricin is a potent poison derived from the castor bean plant. It can cause organ failure and has been used as a plot device in various fictional works.
Strychnine: Strychnine is a highly toxic alkaloid that affects the nervous system, leading to muscle spasms, convulsions, and respiratory failure.
Snake Venom: Various snake venoms can be used in fiction as deadly poisons. Different snake species have different types of venom, each with its own effects on the body.
Digitalis: Digitalis, derived from the foxglove plant, contains cardiac glycosides. It has been historically used to treat heart conditions, but in high doses, it can be toxic. Overdosing on digitalis can cause irregular heart rhythms, nausea, vomiting, and visual disturbances.
Lead: Lead poisoning, often resulting from the ingestion or inhalation of lead-based substances, has been a concern throughout history. Lead is a heavy metal that can affect the nervous system, leading to symptoms such as abdominal pain, cognitive impairment, anemia, and developmental issues, particularly in children.
Mercury: Mercury is a toxic heavy metal that has been used in various forms throughout history. Ingesting or inhaling mercury vapors can lead to mercury poisoning, causing symptoms like neurological impairment, kidney damage, respiratory issues, and gastrointestinal problems.
Aconite: Also known as Wolfsbane or Monkshood, aconite is a highly toxic plant. Its roots and leaves contain aconitine alkaloids, which can affect the heart and nervous system. Ingesting aconite can lead to symptoms like numbness, tingling, paralysis, cardiac arrhythmias, and respiratory failure.
Thallium: Thallium is a toxic heavy metal that can cause severe poisoning. It has been used as a poison due to its tastelessness and ability to mimic other substances. Thallium poisoning can lead to symptoms like hair loss, neurological issues, gastrointestinal disturbances, and damage to the kidneys and liver.
When incorporating poisons into your writing, it is essential to research and accurately portray the effects and symptoms associated with them. Additionally, be mindful of the potential impact your writing may have on readers and the importance of providing appropriate context and warnings if necessary.
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chloehazeljane · 11 months
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“Do No Harm” by Chloe HazelJane
Original Post On: chloehazeljane.com
I swear by Apollo the physician, and Asclepius, and Hygieia and Panacea and all the gods and goddesses … I will use those dietary regimens which will benefit my patients according to my greatest ability and judgment, and I will do no harm or injustice to them. I will not give a lethal drug to anyone if I am asked, nor will I advise such a plan
The oath was sacred, and Rose had broken it.
She had spent most of her life as a student and, eventually, a practitioner of the healing arts, hanging on nearly every word of that oath as a Christian would every word of the Bible. She had thought it would be a simple thing to follow, but, as it turned out, it was not. As she turned the tiny glass vial over in her hand, she wondered if the only way to right her wrong was to drink what was left of the dark, purple liquid within it.
“Rosy?” The night was dark, somehow darker than Rose had ever seen it, and the chirp of cicadas nearly overpowered the soft brush of feet in the grass behind her. She didn’t move her gaze from the vile as someone sat in the dirt beside her, carrying with them the faint smells of rosemary and thyme. “Come on. You need to look at me.”
Rose shook her head, swallowing past the heavy knot at the base of her throat. “Lucy, I killed them.”
Lucinda sighed. “Yes, you did. You killed them. Is that what you want to hear?” When Rose said nothing, she nudged her in the rib. Hard. “I didn’t think so. Look at me before I make you.”
Rose raised her eyes to meet Lucinda’s. They were big and green, her red hair falling in front of them as it fell from her braids. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but not in anger as Rose might have expected them to. She was worried.
Lucinda grabbed Rose’s wrist and yanked the vile from her hand. She got to her feet and looked out at the cluster of houses below the hill they were positioned atop. Only a few still had lights on, the rest so quiet it was as if nobody lived within them. On the edge of it all, a few men were digging deep holes in the ground, their motions repetitive and disconnected.
“You are the reason these people are going to get to live another day. Think about that.”
Rose shook her head. She didn’t understand how Lucinda wasn’t angry with her or how nobody had come to make her pay for her crimes. Why had they just let her walk away? “I killed their children.”
Lucinda scoffed and turned quickly on her heel, drawing her arm back. She let the vile fly and watched, expressionless, as it shattered against the bark of a nearby tree trunk. “That’s one way to look at it,” she said, depositing herself back on the ground at Rose’s side. “If you want to ignore the context.”
There was nothing Rose could do to hold it back anymore. She gasped and keeled forward, allowing her face to fall into her hands as she began to sob. Lucinda’s hand on her back, drawing her into her arms, felt faraway, like the touch of a ghost, as her brain began to flood.
For weeks, a fever had swept through the village and Rose, who lived with her family on a larger property just outside of the village and often tended to its people, had been called in to help. She had answered the call without hesitation, not fully prepared for what it would entail.
There was no indication as to where or how the fever had originated or if it had ever been seen elsewhere before. Nobody could pinpoint a patient zero—too many people had gotten sick at once, all without a common factor that could have resulted in their sickness—but the symptoms were too severe to deduce to a mutation of a common illness like influenza or a SARS virus. People were vomiting blood, breaking out in hives and strange pus-filled rashes, losing their senses of smell and sometimes even sight, coming down with fevers higher than Rose had ever seen, and dropping dead left and right.
Eventually, it had started to seem like the adults and older children who hadn’t already contracted the virus were immune to it, including Rose and Lucinda—Lucinda had grown up in the village herself and returned to tend to sick family. But the small children continued to get sick, and the longer the outbreak went on, the more violent their illnesses seemed to become. Even worse, not only did none of them seem to be surviving, but it was taking them longer to die.
Finally, Rose had turned to the last form of treatment she could think of. Belladonna, better known as deadly nightshade.
She had started using it on the children once they became sick enough there was no turning out. Now, the village was free of the fever.
“I know you think you broke your oath,” Lucinda said, “but you didn’t. Giving them the nightshade was a service, an act of mercy. Not harm.”
Rose lifted her head and rested it back down on Lucinda’s arm that was wrapped around her torso. “I also said I wouldn’t administer poison.”
“Rosy, the oath also says you won’t give a woman an abortion. By means of a pessary, though, which isn’t even something we do anymore anyway but that’s not the point. The point is that the oath is millennia old. Not every piece of it must be taken literally or adhered to completely. You need only to remember the base of it: do no harm or injustice, help the sick, and abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm. You are the most empathic person I know, and you did what you did out of love. To end suffering, not to cause it.”
“So I didn’t break the oath?” Rose asked through a shaky breath.
“No,” Lucinda said. “No, you did not.”
Rose allowed herself to settle into Lucinda’s arms, her body free of tension and the knot in her throat gone. She could see the faces of the children she’d treated, see their jaundiced eyes and their tear-stained cheeks, the pain in their faces. She could feel their pain just as clearly now as she had then, and still, she saw no other way she could have helped them. It was allowing them to continue suffering that would have been doing harm and injustice unto them. By giving them one final mercy, she had in turn saved their lives, even if they were no longer with breath in their lungs. They could rest now. And in a different sense, so could she.
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fixyourwritinghabits · 2 months
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Checking In
Good day my fellow exhausted creatives, it sure does be A Time we're going through. There is certainly a lot of things happening at once, and like many of you I'm struggling to stay afloat while desperately playing catch-up. I'll be honest, shit's pretty damn fucked up. Sometimes it helps to take a step back and reflect on some reminders.
Don't panic.
People are facing a lot of hard choices when it comes to what platforms to use, and I know it's pretty tempting to burn everything down. Take a deep breath and think about your options. Nightshade and Glaze aren't perfect, true, but they're open about their limitations and are still tools you can use. Look into alternative word processors beyond Google Docs that won't have AI-scraping. Take your time deciding what to do with your creative output and where to share it. I am Old, and I have seen several social media websites crash and burn. You will always have more options.
Take care of yourself first.
I've seen a lot of people burning themselves out hard over things they can't control. Gaza, anti-LGBTQ issues, American politics, it's a whole lot and it's all overwhelming. You cannot accomplish anything if you don't take the time to put your oxygen mask first. Eat, sleep, turn your phone off when you feel yourself being sucked in. This seems obvious, but it's often the hardest thing to do, believe me I know. You gotta keep yourself going before you can help others.
Small things still matter.
There's a lot of things you can still do even when you feel like you can't. You can sign petitions, you can promote the activism of others. Vote in local elections. Keep yourself informed without drowning - check your news sources once a day rather than all the time. Talk to your friends, spend time with your pets, find ways to help in your local community (a great place to find resources is your library!). Go for a walk with a trash picking tool and a garbage bag. A small difference is still a difference.
Recharge Creatively.
It can be hard to do creative things when you feel like there's so many other important things to do. But being creative - creating art, writing a story, doing a hobby - IS important to yourself and others. Sometimes you have to force yourself to do so - I have to put "watch a movie" on my to do list, or I'll never make time for it. Go to a coffee shop and make art. Play that new video game. Write that silly coffee shop AU. These things are important to you, and they will carry through with what you want to do for others.
Do what you can when you can and you will make it through.
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littlefreya · 9 months
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Summary: Revenge is a dish best-served cold
Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.
A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D
Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)
Neptune's Snare
The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 
Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.
Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 
Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 
It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 
“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.
“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”
“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”
The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                
Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 
She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 
“Take off your cowl.”  
A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 
As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 
Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 
There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    
“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.
“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 
She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 
After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 
Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 
“Are you a mute?” 
Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”
“Captain,” he corrected. 
Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  
The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 
It couldn’t be.
Perhaps she had the wrong man?
Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 
‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’
There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 
August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”
“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.
His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 
His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  
“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.
“And you came to me. Why?”
“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 
August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 
“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 
She nodded, her throat clenching. 
August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 
Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 
“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 
His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 
Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 
“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”
Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.
“What is it that I do, pet?” 
Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.
But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 
“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 
August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 
“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 
His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 
“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 
Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  
‘Do it, do it now.’ 
Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 
Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.
“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 
With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.
 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”
With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.
Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 
“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”
Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 
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vintagerpg · 16 days
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While I have a special affection for Jason Eckhardt’s work, it would be unfair to look at Necronomicon Press and not give some love to their other prolific house artist, Robert H. Knox. As luck would have it, he did all the art on the Clark Ashton Smith chapbooks — some of my all time Necropress faves.
Again, these feel important for their time. When I was getting into weird fiction in the early '90s, I had easy access to most of the important authors. The exception? Clark Ashton Smith. His dedicated collections were all out of print and scarce and a serious effort at definitive collection of his work didn’t get underway until the five-volume set from Nightshade, begun in 2007. Until then, it was the occasional anthologized story, or Necropress chapbooks.
Most of these represent efforts by series editor Steve Behrends to issue corrected texts of stories that better reflect CAS’ intentions. Xeethra (1988) is a melancholy Zothique story that weird tales deemed too poetic. Mother of Toads (1993), an Averoigne story, was too erotic. The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis (1993) is a tale of Mars that was heavily revised for print, which CAS was unhappy about. Another Martian tale, The Dweller in the Gulf (1993) was so tampered with that CAS stopped writing fiction for a time. The Hashish-Eater (1989) is a lengthy, cosmic poem, unbothered by editors during its author’s lifetime.
Knox’s covers are fantastic, but holy wow those interior illustrations for The Hashish-Eater are something else. Dripping, psychedelic vistas fit for Troika. I’ve loved flipping through this one for over three decades.
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katy-l-wood · 2 months
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I don't really know how to put my own feelings on generative AI at this point, other than that I'm just...kind of done caring? It's here. This has happened. Being constantly furious over it isn't going to do anything other than waste energy.
I'll continue to opt out of having my stuff scraped when I can, I'll call representatives, I'll get involved in more court cases if I'm asked, I'll avoid sharing AI generated work. But I am under no illusion that my stuff isn't getting/hasn't been stolen and shoved into these machines. I'm also not really under any illusion that I can, on an individual level, do anything about it.
I've been sharing my art and writing on the internet for nearly 20 years, across multiple sites and multiple usernames. There's no way at all I could ever strip all my stuff off the internet, Glaze and Shade it, and then put it all back. And my current primary styles don't work well with Glaze and Nightshade anyway. And that's just my art. My writing is also spread out over multiple usernames and sites. I've written some very popular fanfiction that I'm sure has been shared and scraped. It just is what it is for me at this point.
Generative AI does suck. It sucks ass. It sucks that every single website is cutting us off at the knees and selling our work out from under us to these AI companies. But on an individual level I'm just. Meh. It's done. It's done, and I can't do anything about it on that individual level, even if I hate that it happened.
I'm just gonna keep on telling my stories, and throwing annoyed letters at the people making these decisions, but beyond that. Meh.
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