char 🔮 buried in wips
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highthemme.bsky.social
char 🔮 buried in wips
@highthemme.bsky.social
200 followers 930 following 57 posts
🪴 30+ they/them 🇵🇷🇨🇺 partner is @mochidreamz ✨ i write stories about haunted places, the people they devour, and the horrors of space ✨ banner by @roomwithoutawindow
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highthemme.bsky.social
and a bonus "little dude" in the form of the awoken dreamers' patron spirit... small fat ball the armadillo, who blesses you with a protective carapace! anyways i stretch some wod stuff for narrative fun. pray that ches and way survive stolen moons...
Chester stabs the Klaive into Devil's lower back. He twists it where the base of her spine is and wrenches. She snaps, turning on him with a raking claw. As she strikes, the innate sensation of being enshrouded by a hard carapace takes him, and her claws bouncing off of it as Chester's arms wrap around himself. As he's about to unfurl himself in a panic, a voice pops into his head, small and quickly chattering: Careful—they don't suffer from silver the way you do. Watch her claws! The scent of flesh burns thick in the air as Wayland tears one of the silver rods from his body and yanks it free with a roar another and another, even as it clearly burns his palms. He lands crouched, two feet on the ground, and the both of them stand to face three Garou-skinned creatures. Something terrified whispers in the back of Chester Marrowfinder's mind: Those are not Garou. "Stolen Moons," Wayland rasps at last now that he isn't being smothered by silver piercing his skin. "Stolen?" the self-declared Devil-You-Know croons. "Or rightfully won!" Together, the patron that binds them says decisively. Chester holds out the Klaive and Wayland takes it, the blood dripping down between both of their hands, slick and viscous.
May 30, 2025 at 11:54 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPromps

i don't have the word dude but have "guy" enjoy ches hulking out...
"You're a mangey little guy, aren't you? What's the matter… never seen someone like me before? 'Course not." the beast wearing wolf's skin taunts. Chester feels the slow trickle of blood sliding down from his nose as the Beast bites down from the inside of his skull and tears through. This is part of who he is, but the skin always stretches too thin for his liking before it snaps like so much plastic. His Beast comes careening out of his body with all of the force of a transport truck rumbling across the overpass, careening like a comet of steel and diesel from northern leech territory. Tossing his head, limbs growing long and lean, a familiar growl from far off, a howl, spurs him on. He tips his head back to release a sharp howl ("I'm here.") before throwing himself forward. Chester's senses are suffused with the scent of the Wyrm, lungs full of the stench of it and allowing it to fuel himself. He can see rough stitches in the other Garou's fur, a scarified tattoo over what looks like a familiar Bone Gnawer mark in the forearm. The brindle fur pattern is too familiar—it belongs to a member of Bad Company's pack. Chester bares his teeth, enough fucking around. He thrashes and bites down on that arm, just to feel a massive paw on his throat, lifting him back, but only as he tears through the fur, the flesh, snarling and feeling the foam fill his mouth. He squeezes and Chester sputters, scrabbling with claws at the forearm to gather his bearings as he's lifted off the ground.
May 30, 2025 at 11:51 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
also ellipsus released a pride month skin for their website and while i normally don't write on light mode i have been swayed by the inoffensive cream and pastel rainbow! get yourself an online writing platform that has a beautiful mobile version...
a screenshot of ellipsus' mobile site showing the side panel in a soft pastel rainbow gradient for pride!!
May 29, 2025 at 4:19 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

stupid werewolves and their stupid gay problems. this is the real reason garou shouldn't date garou... yet...
"Earth to Wayland! Pay attention to me!" says Bryler's voice on the phone. "I'm here, I'm here, hey—" "No you listen to me. If you fuck this up and Chester has to cart your dead ass in a casket back to me, I'm changing our pack name and you're never going to have a say." Wayland presses the heel of a palm into his eye, laughs. This is such a non-threat, but the message is clear. Come home so we can say hello again. "I'm serious, Walker." "Got it." "Walker." "Moore," he mimicks. And then suddenly, quickly, like Bryler has to hoist the words up as though their weight is boulder-like. Like his lips are smushed into the receiver (as if that's covert): "Love you." "I… A… yeah. Love you, too." he murmurs into the receiver, just as softly. Like something unfavorable could overhear them. "Be safe."
May 29, 2025 at 4:16 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
some werewolves are culturally hip... and have seen alien.

(i like writing about Rage)

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
“Rage feels different for everyone… huh.” he says at last. “I think so. What enrages the Beast depends on the wolf…" Wayland says. "We got our commonalities, but what sets us on fire… that's different.” Chester furrows his brow, thumb slowly rubbing the filter of his dwindling cigarette. “What's yours feel like right now? If you were to reach down and really grab hold of it this minute?” Wayland is poised, standing unafraid this high up. He's leaned against one of the sturdy rebars with his eyes on the lack of moon, mouth twitching a bit into a frown as he seems to search for the answer. “Like some age-old tar pit, like I could wade in if I wanted to, if I needed to, and it'd cover me. It's in there, below the surface.” He turns and Chester tries to read the look in his eyes. Presses his mouth into half-frown when he does and turns out to look at the moon, hiding Her face. New Moon, the stars are bright and Chester’s skin feels electric, Ragabash singing under his skin.  “What about you?” Wayland asks. “Mmh… like something biting into my guts. Maybe it's the Beast trying to chew its way out.” “Saw a movie like that once.” “Alien?” “Yeah.”
May 28, 2025 at 11:49 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
and with alt text because i hit post too soon on my way to work!!!
This begins with a dream that becomes a nightmare, it begins with the gasp of breath. And it began before all of that, when it was as simple as two men, half-spirit and half-earth, standing knee deep in the crux of the Colorado River and the creek that flows just beyond The Junkyard. Their blood mingles in a fast food paper bowl that used to hold ninety-nine cent chili fries. One might think it sacrilegious, but Wayland conducts himself without missing a beat, even if he chuckles when he slices his palm and dribbles his blood into the cup. Chester had made it a point to lick it clean before Wayland had swirled it in the river a bit to get the last of the residue. It sits in his hand as Chester squeezes blood from his own palm into it. They crouch together among the reeds now, the animal things in their souls hiding from watchful eyes among the shimmering lights beyond the Colorado. Wayland mixes their blood together and lifts a crimson-drenched thumb to trail the blood over his cheeks, across his uncut palm, and then slipped into where his shirt has parted to lay the sign of his auspice over his heart in their co-mingling blood. When he moves to do his own, Chester grabs his wrist, looking him in the eye. "You wanna?" "I'm gonna miss Racoon for a bit, let me show 'em the good faith of this."
May 27, 2025 at 12:17 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

the rite of pack binding is so fascinating to me...
May 27, 2025 at 12:15 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

sometimes instead of writing the things you probably should be writing, you write tabletop fanfic for werewolf the apocalypse instead... this one was kind of a gimme for the Bone Gnawer in this fic...
Austin, Texas: The Junkyard — Several days ago, The Junkyard is falling apart and it starts when Bad Company doesn't return from their business in lower Texas. Clever-For-Food, Shakes-the-Can-Before-Giving (Tin Can), and This-Side-Up are a competent trio: A Theurge, Galliard, and Ahroun joined at the hip since their binding as a pack and with such seamless combat tactics, they were new hopefuls in the fight against the Wyrm. With Sardine Breath and Chester down a packmate and recovering, the three had been tasked with following up on reports of several slaughtered Garou found along the borderline. It was supposed to be simple, but Chester knows that sometimes things get out of hand. He should trust his fellow packmate, but part of Chester is still bleeding out over the wound left behind by Lydia. Sardine Breath runs the perimeter at night like she's waiting for her to come home still. Calling in a favor from the Dreamers felt too big, like he'd get a no, but the phone call had picked up almost instantly, Wayland hadn't even balked, offering himself up, his other two packmates already traveling on their own for a short period of time. ("I was starting to feel left out. Lone wolf's not my style anymore.")
May 26, 2025 at 7:40 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
must pick something new...
April 3, 2025 at 12:56 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
a snippet for snippet sunday and yes one of the superhero character's names is dick because it just alliterated wtih the last name i gave him :v suffer.......
A snippet: "We're cool?" "Sure, we can be cool." Dick's eyes softened in a way that was familiar, but not quite right, like something was trying to act appropriately under a gaze of scrutiny. It felt perverse, and Bunny wished they could just reach inside of his skull and see what was going on.
March 23, 2025 at 11:49 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
an accountability 🧵 for #NoSG2025, starring my attempt at a superhero novella, working title "safe & sound"/"sweet bod", two songs that gave me inspiration.

let's go novella spring garden 2025! #WritingCommunity
meet my #WIP! a 3 x 3 image collage: row 1 from left to right: an image of someone with their back facing the audience with light pink hair in a messy bun, an image of tall city buildings towering into the sky, an image of three hands reaching towards each other. row 2, from left to right: someone rising into the sky while one of their shoes is falling off, the word POW in a comic book speech bubble, various ingredients for baking. row 3, from left to right: the word courage, dripping honey, a newspaper that says "everything awful oh god somebody do something."
March 22, 2025 at 2:40 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
:face_holding_back_tears: wow it's really done this feels so surreal... i can rest for a little while now...... getting to see rush of blood finally drafted for the first time ever... aaaaa #writing
100,005 words!
March 14, 2025 at 5:36 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
YAHOO my reward is laundry... then stretching, then more writing... today's a good day to zoom and finish part 2 UGH...
February 23, 2025 at 11:11 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
Well! This will happen, hopefully! Cruise control! (now with alt text).
A screenshot of Reedsy showing 77,605 words written and 100,000 words due February 28th. Currently 584 words have been written.
February 23, 2025 at 1:57 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
Reaching. I meant reaching. As an apology for having to witness that, here's another character collage for my dearest, Casper. Yes he sees ghosts. Yes the name is maybe apt. He knows... and is loved for it...
a 3x3 collage: first row left to right, a group of pale hands reaching downwards desperately, a spiral staircase viewed from the top down, a radio display with the words "I MISS YOU" instead of the track. second row left to right, a series of black ghostly smudges that have eyes, the words "we are all eventual ghosts", a tumblr post that says "*whispers into my coffee cup* help me". third row left to right: a lit up blue neon string wrapped around someone's throat, the words "time passes bye" gradually becoming more and more crossed out in certain places until it just says "bye" at the end, a pair of hands pressed up against slowly fracturing ice.
February 23, 2025 at 1:54 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
73k and the characters are telling me secrets again. Thanks for lore dumping me you absolute rat, I've been trapped for weeks and this is like the first piece of cheese you've given me in forever!!! 🐀 here's a collage for penny. i hate him. thanks.
a 3x3 collage: first row from left to right, a billboard that says your pretty face is going to hell, a set of guitar strings with blood sprayed over them, a series of alcohol bottles on a table. second row from left to right, a red lollipop surrounded in a little smoke, the words "killed my old self but the new me isn't much better", a pair of hands twisted into another hand, both covered in blood. third row from left to right, a microphone underneath a lone light, a pair of hands offering a pomegranate to a hand that is taking some, a light up sign that says "you are in my inappropriate thoughts"
February 21, 2025 at 1:43 AM
highthemme.bsky.social
my feelings posting this:
February 3, 2025 at 11:16 PM
highthemme.bsky.social
It's #FastDraftFeb!

📻 RUSH OF BLOOD
🫀 GENRE: small-town supernatural horror
🌲 STATUS: ~56k words, 1st draft
👻 GOAL: ~100k words

a radio show host realizes that he can't run from his ghosts forever. (trans and enby mcs, multi-povs, twin peaks x pushing daisies x odd thomas)
a 3x3 collage of images row 1 left to right: an overhead view of a spiral staircase, an overhead view of a rushing river, an ornate golden tile. row 2 left to right: a radio tower with a red light, the words "you were dead. yet, here you are" on a white background, a coffee shop window with the word "relax" on it. row 3 left to right: a vaulted church ceiling in many colors with a crucifix hanging, a rushing waterfall, a series of liquor bottles lit by a yellow background. Late-night radio show host Casper Stoker believes that he has finally reconciled with the death of his late boyfriend, Wyatt Lane. However, when he receives a phone call from a familiar number in the middle of his show, Casper realizes that his past is not so easily swept under the rug, and that Wyatt needs his help, along with the rest of Bellows Falls’ clamoring spirits. Casper’s years of repressing his ability to see ghosts are coming back to haunt him, literally. With the aid of a barista from a magical bloodline and a rockstar-hopeful with demons to lean on, Casper seeks to unravel the mystery of the cursed salt mines of Bellows Falls and bring his deceased boyfriend's roving soul to rest.
February 3, 2025 at 2:59 PM