Afternoons Indoors

Original Writing Masterpost #1

A collection of my original writing (not inspired by fandoms, fics, and such) is here. It includes poetry and my general ramblings (in progress) here and on AO3. I'm updating as I write, so this masterpost won't ever be 'complete'.

If you find something that is inappropriately tagged or if you find something missing, please DM me and I'll fix it.

Enjoy!

SHORT STORIES

Stifling Resistance | AO3 | A short story about a 16-year-old weaponsmith's life in Mughal India.

DRABBLES

One Last Goodbye | Requested by a friend and based on the Instagram prompt: how would a character respond to "I never loved you?"

POETRY

| AO3 |

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 |

Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 |

Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70 | Part 71 | Part 72 | Part 73 | Part 74 | Part 75 |

Original Writing Masterpost #2

Masterpost of masterposts

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Crimson

AO3 | Nesta Week 2025 Masterpost |

@nestaarcheronweek

Prompt: Day Four - Lover (Nesta has had many opportunities for love across Prythain — who do you ship her with? Cassian? Emerie? Eris? Gwyn? Azriel? Cresseida? Any and all ships are welcome!)

A/N: I decided to title this contrapuntal poem "Crimson because the word fits Autumn, blood, and love all in one!

Word Count: 118

A/N: Tumblr wouldn't let me insert a table, so I had to upload a picture instead

#14

Now tell me my dear, which cuts deeper? His words or his hands?

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Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 6 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 56

Hair like wildfire, mind like flame,

He reaches for my soul all over again.

Cheekbones sharp as a knife,

His voice is smooth, holding me in a vice.

Like a lover’s caress, he does beguile,

His wit and charm and everlasting wile.

Enchant and mesmerize and altogether woo,

My broken heart tainted all the way through.

Part 7 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

have you guys done that “what kind of reader are you” quiz and if so what did you get

#20

Why must living in peace require sacrifice? Why must I give up parts of myself that I never even knew existed just to have a chance at survival? Why must I fight a war that is not my own, seeing as I do not recieve the least bit of credit for it, but rather ridicule, most often from the people that started this raging war?

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#15

"How many days have you spent surviving and not living as you were supposed to? As you deserved to?"

"...No one's ever asked me that before."

"Well I think it's high time they did. How much of your life did you spend trying to please others, only to realize some were ungrateful bastards that took your kindness, and compassion, and empathy, and all these other wonderful things about you for granted? Living as they told and ordered and requested and pleased, and cajoled and begged and eventually praised you for becoming the mold they wanted you to be?

"Let me tell you something: every time you let them chip away at your self-confidence, at pieces of you they broke and shattered so thoroughly, every time you allowed them an inch of space, one more string was added to the puppet they wanted you to be, until all you could do was what they asked of you. All you permitted yourself to do. Until it shredded your soul, your very self to fragments so tiny you were scared it would be impossible to put back together, until you believed yourself to be the ruin they wanted you to be."

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#86

I will try to accept myself, my heart, my soul. All those broken and shattered and jagged edges that have hurt others will not hurt me. I will not allow them to. For they are mine. And nothing that is mine, that has come of me, shall hurt me. I will hold them close, will hold them dear, and look at them. Truly look at them, and see what can be done. If I can fix them, or if I must start anew. For if I must start my journey again, this time, it will be the journey of loving myself and my body as I am. Every inch of me, whether ugly or beautiful, clean or scarred, I will accept myself.

I will not be afraid this time. Not of myself or the parts that I keep hidden. Not of asking for help when I truly do need it. For if there is one thing I have learned, it is this: there is no glory in suffering. None at all. And especially not when one suffers alone. 

It will take time to heal myself.

And that is okay.

I will tell myself I am worthy of love and all things good, that I deserve to be here. Because even if my mind does not believe it, my heart knows it. I have given enough, have done enough to be allowed to have a place here, in people’s hearts. I deserve to carve out a place for myself where I am respected, and loved, and desired. A place where I can be myself, where fear does not rule every aspect of me, where I am not overtaken by anxiety. A place where I can breathe. And it has come to my attention that maybe it is not a place at all, but a person. A person who sees me, jagged edges and all, and does not tell me to hide them away, to be ashamed of them, but rather someone who helps me love myself. A person who sees me for who I am, who does not implore me to change, to water myself down for those who cannot handle me. To those, I say: choke. Let them choke on me if they cannot handle my presence.

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Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 22 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 440

My darling Eris,

You do not need grace and fluidity to express your love for me. You already possess it in abundance. It surrounds me and cradles me like a gentle breeze on a warm summer’s day or the crunch of leaves under my feet in autumn. It is what has kept me afloat when I could not swim, a lifeline that I have clung so tightly to like a piece of driftwood it is a wonder I have no lingering splinters, no wood embedded as deeply into my soul as my love for you is.

Every little action of yours has a plethora of love packaged into it. The way you stay up late just so we can kiss each other goodnight, the way you stay in bed a little longer just to catch my first smile of the day so that you can wish me a good morning. How you save the last bite of the pastries for me. Each action is so deeply consumed by your love for me. You are the love you seek. I only hope that I am enough and that I can give you the love you cherish and deserve.

Know that the only face I dream of as I am whisked away to the land of sleep is yours. Those amber eyes, full of such deep pain and longing and a hundred other emotions it would take years to name; those stunning, wicked lips, that have healed me beyond measure. 

Your resilience to life and all its hardships has me enamoured by you. I am in awe. Despite all that life has thrown at you, despite everything, you choose to persevere and you continue to choose to be a good person. For the sake of this court and for the sake of your family, you choose to persist.

You, who have had every reason, and then a few more to become the villain in others’ stories, have chosen to become the hero in mine. You have chosen to fight no matter how difficult it may be. Every day I am inspired by you keep up my own fight.

There are, of course, days when this battle, this war within myself becomes so exhausting I feel as if I want to want the Earth to swallow me whole and never spit me back out. But I have learned, through experience if not anything else, that hiding only makes the problem worse. 

And so I will hope you will stand by my side as I fight, sword drawn, eyes blazing, covered in blood, gore and mud. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 23 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes @enchanthings

#1

Oh, how my heart yearns for a love it will never have.

My heart aches for a love so profound, so deep, so joyful, that I will forget everything and everyone in that love. As I give myself over to it completely and get lost in the deep ocean that is love. It either teaches you to swim, to survive, or it drowns you. Slowly. Painfully. Little does my heart know that the love it longs for does not exist. That this sort of love has been long dead and gone, carried away centuries ago on a phantom wind, to another realm. Perhaps the realms we dream of, the realms we read about and imagine have all the world's love. Perhaps it was stolen from us mere mortals, the long-forgotten gods deeming us unworthy of such a luxury. Perhaps the immortals feast on that love as faerie wine, drunk and wild, while we humans beg, and grieve, and weep, and bargain, to be given even a small scrap of that love. How many of us would sell our souls, bargain with our lives, bleed so thoroughly that it nearly kills us, to be allowed to taste even a droplet of that nectar? To be able to taste it just once? To be able to tell our families, our friends, ourselves, that we have experienced love, true love, at least once in our lives?

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