Out of Context! What happened in your story the last you worked on it?

Oh shoot, what have I not been writing?


Constance Penrose:

And she was beginning to love them as much as she resented them. That was a recipe for becoming Letitia’s shadow, in truth. She was a tangled ball of conflicting desires and strangled justice. It was never a pleasant place in her own mind.
Constance wished she could stifle the burning rage in her, like Mother did.

So, this ONC has an angry Lord’s granddaughter angry over an injustice done to her, that she has to swallow to keep status, and it’s going to force her to choose to be a librarian in a haunted library.

Drink Deep: trigger warning. Small kid avoiding monsterous human man. Justice is served.

Leena had no voice. She did shake her head, which he caught when he glanced her way. “This is the consort’s wing, the place they stuffed your mama in before they hid her and she died. And these are things that made a Consort’s life bearable. But I don’t need that. You won’t live long enough to…”

Up Leena shot and ran around the room to get further away from the man. She had no clue what he meant by his words, but the child was precocious enough to understand that she wasn’t going to sit there and wait to find out.

The man tripped over poorly tucked away cloth, small pieces of furniture, had to leap over the bed when she crawled under, the wash stand was knocked over and the porcelain jug shattered upon impact. The whole while, Leena screamed at the top of her lungs, and the madman behind her kept laughing, calling out, “Yell harder, no one can hear you!”

All good ideas come to an end, and soon she ran into the statue, and gripped its leg in both her little arms, sobbing, “Go away!”

The man gripped her shoulder and started to forcefully pry her off the statue when Leena looked up into the face of the statue, taking in the dark horns and even darker hair. She swore it blinked at her.

With all the strength in her exhausted little body, she clung harder to the statue’s thigh, and looked up into those eye and said one pitiful little word, “Please!”

It slowly nodded and stood, placing a hand over her head to bury that little face closer to his leg as the man who scared her screamed louder and louder, until he lost his grip. Then there was silence, save for the sound of water falling to the floor, like a ripe watermelon bursting.

The statue laughed lightly, and picked up Leena, enveloping them in a world of feathers before reaching down to pick up the little Princess. To bring her into a reassuring hug, brushing his cheek against hers. It had stubble, like daddy, which helped her feel like she was at home and missing all at once.

Unlike the feeling of danger, these thoughts were too mature for her to sort out, and she sobbed her little heart out on feelings too big for the little body to handle.

Leena was found in the main halls curled around a bloody gold chalice made of a skull and wormy branches, sleeping innocently.

As for the scary man? The largest consort’s suite was found with a hoard of questionable toys and a complete skeleton scattered throughout, decorating the walls much like the stars in the children’s room.


I have no idea XD

It just does.

This is what it looks like:

They were in an alley of sorts and beneath her a night sky sparkled. When she shifted her gaze toward the light, there was a city where the ground was a bright blue sunny sky with white fluffy clouds lined up like cobblestones. In the sky, flowers were blooming downward, and yellow and orange butterflies fluttered in formation like geese.


Across the city, Hathor stood in one of Lyriumia’s biggest bookstores – Chapters and Tales. She looked thoughtfully at the shelf before her, chin rested on her fist, eyes flicking over the titles on the spines three books, trying to decide which one to get. After another moment, she grabbed all three and added them to the ever-growing pile in Colt’s arms.

“Do you truly need this many?” Colt asked, looking precariously at the top of the pile now towering over his head.

Hathor blinked at him with her wide, violet-gold eyes. “Yes,” she answered simply, then turned to continue down the aisle.


death and destruction, more death and destruction. there was a skinless woman briefly, but it’s okay, she’s supposed to be like that.


Drink Deep:

1st edit of 2nd ONC begun:

It wasn’t unusual for rivals to the throne to rebel and be locked in a tower. They often whithered away without a trial, allowed to slowly be driven mad by the excessive loneliness. This was Ivan the Bloodthirsty’s fate, as a prince who could not inherit his father’s throne.

He was born to a mother who began screaming in agony when she met men she didn’t know. It was enough to curse him with the title of the Mad Prince. That was a decade before he stood numb and mute at her execution.

King Boris ordered for a new executioner. This ensured his beloved Dancia behaved just as terrified in the hour of her death as he endured in private.

The official law she broke?



:eyes: peculiar lol

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is this inspired by russain history?

I used Slavic names to keep it a bit thematic, and I don’t think it’s going to have a heavy correlation.

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Definitely XD

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ahhh ok.


No idea what’s going on XD But I like it.

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the context:


Lara’s sense of humour in a nutshell


the award for “werdest paragraph of my life” goes to…


oh my gosh XD Lara XD

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I shall return with something…soon.


The mayor’s speech on the news ends, Marta and Teresa hang up a nice flower wreath (totally not for vampire protection), and Diego decides to butt in just before Marta heads to bed.

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Thorn’s like, “I gotta go now.”
Pinti and friends are like, “aw, no, stay for a bit longer.”

Hathor and Colt have finally gotten to the end of book shopping :relieved:

“I am almost afraid of the cost,” Colt muttered.
“It won’t be that much,” Hathor told him confidently.
“One-hundred and eighty-two coin,” Emily said.
The two stared at the cashier.
Colt eyed Hathor. “What was that you said about it not being much?”
“Oh, shut it,” she said, rummaging through her purse before placing a handful of coins on the table. “I’m pretty sure I got it right.”
“You did,” Emily said, sweeping the coins into her hand. “Receipt?”
“Yes please,” Colt answered for Hathor who was about to say no.
“Why?” Hathor asked.
“Because no one will believe me otherwise . . .”