[ID: a neautral-toned picture of an open book, shot from an angle. Above the book, in a serifed font, are the words “memento-morri-writes: a writeblr (re)intro” /end ID]
Writeblr Intro, Take 3 (+ Nav)
Basics:
- Morrigan (aka Morri)
- she/her/any pronouns
- 20s
- student (studying animal behavior & zoology)
- neurodivergent (autistic + ADHD)
- aroace (+ agender)
- ask game and tag game friendly!
My name is Morrigan. I have an addiction to sci-fi and fantasy, and a deep-seated hatred for “insta-love” and melodrama. I write pretty much just fantasy at the moment, but there might be some sci-fi popping up eventually.
Some of my favorite tropes morally grey characters, hurt/comfort & whump, sarcastic characters (bonus points if they’re the narrator), reluctant allies to friends (basically anything to friends), slow-burn romances (or no romance!!!), and magic with a cost.
I only write original fiction / about my OCs, no fanfic. All my snippets are tagged as “my writing”.
My special interest is d&d, and most of the writing I’ve been doing lately revolves around any of my many characters (but mostly my pathetic boys, Rook and Carrion). The tag for it is “dnd writing”, or “morrigan plays dnd”. (link to the masterpost)
I have a personal blog over @six-improbable-things where I reblog random stuff that’s not writing-related and talk more about my ttrpg adventures.
I occasionally post some of my longer writing snippets on AO3 for ease of reading. You can find me there @/memento_morri.
if you want to be added to my general taglist, please interact with THIS POST!
blog navigation under the cut
My Current Projects:
A bunch of stuff about my D&D characters. A mix of prose rewrites of important session moments and completely original backstory stuff. The only writing I’ve done in months, and honestly the work I’m most proud of in my entire life.
- D&D Writing Masterpost
- D&D Character Intro Post
My WIPs (all on unofficial hiatus):
All the Queen’s Horses:
light fantasy, 3rd person limited POV, slow-ish burn romance with a bi main character, no real magic.
- intro post
- wip page (+ story nav)
- story tag
- content masterlist (not all content is on here!)
Call of Shadows:
YA fantasy / adventure, first person POV with multiple narrators, no romance, lots of magic.
- intro post
- wip page (+ more nav)
- story tag
Other Projects:
wips that don’t have a title yet and are in various stages of development.
- runaway prince wip
- high fantasy wip
- political fantasy/romance wip
- supernatural roadtrip wip
- warforged wip
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I was tagged by the amazing @thegreatobsesso. My words are flame, fire, hot and sweat. Given these words, it's not really surprising that this ended up being mostly Carrion. (And hopefully I should get to play him again this week!!)
As always, click on the title to read the whole piece!!
flame (from "A Crisis of Faith")
He understood, then: This was what the Flame wanted. It wanted him to burn. He had taken in its light, and carried it, like a lamp lighting the way. But his wick had expired, his use had run out. And now there was nothing left to do but burn. Burn until there was nothing left.
Well, if it wanted him to burn, then he would burn.
He closed his eyes and reached for the flames.
fire + hot (from "The Road to Drakkenheim")
Carrion threw himself forwards, leaping over the embers of the fire as he barreled toward the monster. As he lept, his body began to grow. His bones lengthened and his flesh swelled. Strange bony ridges bulged under his skin, and short, thick spines erupted from his arms. Long, clawed nails extended from his fingers until each was at least the size of his pocket knife. His horns grew and split, fanning into a spiked crown-like growth. The world blurred and took on a dusky haze as his eyes were engulfed in purple.
By the time he landed beside Ricard, he towered over the man by several feet. Ricard spun to face him, tentacle raised in defense. Carrion batted it aside and tore a clawed hand into Ricard’s side. Hot, sticky blood coated his skin, caking under his nails, and he remembered Valeska’s warning. Don’t touch him. It might be contagious.
sweat (from "Ghost of a Fever Dream")
Rook drifted in and out of consciousness, alternating between freezing and sweltering. Often he found himself soaked in sweat, which only made the chills worse. Sometimes he heard voices or saw the faces of people he knew, but he could never tell whether they were dreams or hallucinations. Some were kind and encouraging, telling him to be strong, that this would be over soon. Others berated him, calling him a worthless fool, saying that this was what he deserved. Yet others told him he would be lucky to die. On the rare instances when his thoughts were clear enough to understand the words, he tended to agree with them.
I'm going to tag @dragon-swords-prophecies @akindofmagictoo @space-writes and make this an OPEN TAG. Your words are ice, cold, freeze, and chill.
Thanks for the tag, dearest bestie @winterandwords 🥰; FUN WORDS!
crack
“God, Mingo, what do you see in him? I mean, I get he’s your type, I have eyes, but Christ on a fucking cracker.”
break (x2)
“If you could change one thing about your place within our organization,” she begins without preamble, “what would it be?”
“Nothing. I’m perfectly content.”
“Hmm.”
Aster stares at him with casual innocence. Octavius stares back.
She breaks first, because of course she does, because she's not breaking, not really, it's just more strategy in an endless tournament of three-dimensional chess. “What’s it going to take to convince you I’m on your side? You’ll be the death of me, you will."
rip
“Excellent,” he says lightly, edging a bit further down the boy's body to cut a good angle. “Oh, and Milo? Feel free to scream.”
He raises the belt, and the glass wall shatters. Pain rips through his bicep and the force of what is quite obviously a bullet sends him to the floor.
The boy does scream.
tear
“Oh, wow, he breathes, staring slack-jawed at the splendor of the place. “Why... why is there a swimming pool in your living room?”
Octavius arcs an eyebrow. “Why not?”
Milo tears his gaze away from the backlit pool of water covered in - he supposes - retractable glass. “Can’t argue with that, I guess.”
Tagging @foxboyclit, @pertinax--loculos and @memento-morri-writes if they'd like to play... hmm... I'll make the new words flame, fire, hot and sweat, I bet this will yield me interesting snippets to read. ;D
A caster who is trying to hide their injury, but their familiar keeps trying to drag Medic over to look at them. ("That's a clever little critter you've got there." [*pained laugh*] "Traitor.")
An ill or injured spellcaster hiding out somewhere and sending their familiar to steal supplies from the local healer. The healer catches them and convinces the familiar to lead them or just follows them back to the hideout, only to find barely-conscious caster curled on the floor.
A familiar who takes things into their own hands, finding the nearest healer (a stranger) and trying to lead them back to their ill or injured master.
A familiar approaching someone who thinks the caster doesn't like or trust them. The caster waking up and seeing who's there and being annoyed and confused, only to have the mortifying realization that caretaker was the last person they thought of before falling unconscious, and thus the last thought/image the familiar received.
A caster and their familiar huddling together in the cold, the familiar trying to what little body heat they can (if any). The familiar fetching twigs and branches as the caster tries again and again to summon fire, their hands shaking too hard to make the motions.
A badly injured or hypothermic caster who's familiar is trying to keep them awake, keep them moving. Nipping at their skin or headbutting them in an effort to not let them rest. Trying to guide their master towards safety.
When they finally collapse, the familiar uncertain whether to stay and protect their master or go and try to find help.
The caster's familiar pecking/pawing at or otherwise trying to rouse their master, who is unresponsive.
The familiar trying to fend off anyone who gets close, until the party is able to convince them they don't mean their master harm.
The rest of the party is approached by their friend's familiar, with the caster nowhere in sight.
Frantic scratching/pecking/knocking at the door/window in the middle of the night. The party trying to cover their ears and go back to sleep until one of them finally gets up to scare off the critter only to see a familiar animal, eyes wide with terror. (Adds some fun guilt about what might have happened to the caster in the meantime.)
As a bonus, maybe they hear the caster's voice through the familiar's mouth. "Help..." Or maybe there's a hastily scribbled, heavily smudged bloodstained note tied to their leg.
The familiar being the only thing that is able to comfort the caster in their delirium, gently reaffirming that they're safe. (The familiar sending feelings of safe/home/sleep/rest/friends through their bond.)
Alternatively, the caster's distress causing the familiar to panic, or vice versa. (Feeling panic and fear through their bond, unable to understand why but just getting a feeling of DANGER/HURT/SCARED/WRONG.)
The familiar refusing to leave their master's side while they rest. Curling up on their chest or perching on the head of the bed. The caster half-waking to the comforting weight or familiar shadow and knowing everything will be fine before drifting back into sleep.
A joyful reunion when their master finally wakes up. The caster talking to their familiar and offering reassurances before they acknowledge the rest of the party. Otherwise, looking around frantically until they find the familiar.
Alternatively, what happens if their master dies? Is the familiar a magical creature that vanishes without the caster here to anchor them? Or is the party left to take care of an animal they can no longer communicate with.
A recently rescued caster stroking their familiar's fur/feathers/scales to stay grounded. This is real. You are not alone.
The familiar serving as an emotional support or even an aid. Bringing items (potions, medicine) for their master when they struggle to get up, guiding them via their telepathic connection. ("Turn left. Watch out for the stairs. The door is straight ahead but someone is blocking the way").
Familiars being able to sense the onset of seizures, worsening of magical diseases/curses, or other maladies before their master can.
tw for implied/referenced animal abuse and animal injury/death under the cut! (mostly implied threats. nothing is described in detail.)
An enemy who is aware the caster is using their familiar to spy, capturing the familiar and using them as bait. Speaking directly to the familiar's face, knowing the caster is watching and listening.
A caster who acts recklessly to save their precious familiar, the only constant in their life for so many years. Do they get captured as well? Or is the whole party now at risk?
The familiar and another party member are captured together. The caster can now watch, helpless, as their friend is hurt.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
^^fingers hit some buttons as I started typing and I rolled with it :) Thanks for the tag, @memento-morri-writes!! As usual, I interpreted the word line like a total idiot. Bon appetit!
A line about the sun:
Quintus closes his eyes. In the sunlight, everything behind his lids is buttery warm.
A line about tears/crying:
Perhaps because they are moving towards a clear goal, or because the breaking dawn casts a soothing light, Quintus speaks for the first time. “It’s not your fault.”
[Miriam's] gaze latches on to his, and her large, dark eyes fill with tears.
“Or Andromeda’s. Or Camille’s.” Quintus doesn’t know what to do with her tears, so he ignores them. “It’s not even Nikolaos’s fault.”
A line where someone learns a lesson:
“What do the others use?”
“Honey, sometimes oil,” Quintus listed off, on one hand. “Quills to cover the tips. Tongs of some sort to grasp the arrowhead. Knives to carve away the skin around it.”
Nikolaos turns away and retches. “Stop,” he says. “Stop. I’ll find you some quills then, shall I?”
A line that surprised you when you wrote it:
“Do you know most people have twelve ribs on each side?” [Quintus] blusters. “Yet, inexplicably, some don’t. I’ve come across bodies with less, and bodies with more.”
🪭Tags for anyone and everyone, and also @writingrosesonneptune @mrbexwrites @thegreatobsesso @writernopal @sleepyowlwrites @reneesbooks @writingamongther0ses and @writeouswriter -- your lines are: a line about winter, a line featuring a bite, a line with the color green, and a line of yelled dialogue <3
I was tagged by the amazing @oh-no-another-idea. I don't have any fresh actual writing to share, but I really really just want to share a line from the last session of Morana's campaign because I'm so obsessed with it.
Morana comes back to the present, eyes focusing as she shakes off the last fragments of the vision. Staring at the place she'd seen the glimmer of the arcane eye, she smiles. "Hello, Kaelen. It's good to finally put a face to a name."
I'm going to tag @thegreatobsesso @akindofmagictoo and OPEN TAG.
Thana was right. She didn’t know how to defend herself. She couldn’t fight. She wasn’t very strong, or fast, or have any type of training that would serve her in a battle. But she could help. She could do something. Something that wasn’t hiding and praying to gods who weren’t listening.
Tess ducked under Thana’s arm and shot out the door of the surgery.
Tess is not suited for the hand-to-hand combat happening but she's not going to let that stop her.
I tag @megarywrites, @squarebracket-trickster, @reneesbooks, and anyone else who wants to play! As always, no pressure!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Thanks for these, @willtheweaver and @writernopal! <3 Here are the last lines I wrote today...
"Take off your pants," Nikolaos says, just for fun.
"I ought to kill you," Quintus replies.
I'll tag @artdecosupernova-writing @winterandwords @indecentpause @pertinax--loculos @reneesbooks @memento-morri-writes @aromanticsky @thewriteflame and anyone else who sees this and would like to join in!
acquired a book of 20th century letters from the used bookstore and anyway now i'm having Thoughts about what everyone in herald farewells their letters as with various people
James, first off, signs his letters with his full name, James H. Blakely or occasionally James Henry Blakely. Except! his letters to his mother (James) and his letters to Leo (James Henry). Every letter/book inscription (will become relevant shortly) he's ever written to Leo is farewelled as "yours,". speaking of book inscriptions! on the inside cover of a book Leo eventually loans to Ronald is this:
León,
I saw this in the bookshop on 32nd street—you know the one—and it reminded me of what you said in October. I hope you like it.
Yours,
James H. Blakely, Christmas, 1942
At this point they have known each other for like 4 months. I love them ever so much.
Alex, by contrast, never signs anything except business letters with her full name.
ohhhhhh wait hold on. pausing this here I've realized I can make a chart
[ID 1: Tags from @/akindofmagictoo. #!!!!!!!!!! #'yours' im so normal #others' writing #I eagerly await the chart
ID 2: Tags from @/elizmanderson. #op i am awaiting this chart breathlessly #humanity #letters]
@akindofmagictoo @elizmanderson presenting! the chart!
notes: Ronald addresses every letter to Amelia (most from when she was a kid, but afterwards too) as "Dear Lia". Donovan & Ronald's signatures to each other are mostly hypotheticals, they were never apart for long enough to write letters. Donovan has a couple ones he wrote while Ronald was nearly dying and then burnt, and that's what they were signed with. After Donovan died Ronald starting writing letters to him just to burn them. n/a is just the ones that never had any cause or relationship to write to each other
Today I'm playing with PIANO -- thank you for the tag, @artdecosupernova-writing!!!
P. “Peachy,” Sutton fired back. “And you?”
I. “If you left now,” Jacob said, calculating, “You’d get home at close to four in the morning.”
A. “Aw,” Jacob said sadly, and pulled out a pair of chopsticks to help the poor thing on its journey to the afterlife. The afterlife, meaning the trashcan.
N. “Now I feel like a baby,” Sutton muttered. “Throwing a fit over this.”
O. “Oh, no,” Michael said. “I’ve just heard stories.”
I'll tag anyone and everyone who sees this, and also @revenantlore @eccaiia @zmwrites @memento-morri-writes @writingrosesonneptune @diphthongsfordays @space-writes and @pluttskutt! Your word is DREAM.
thank you @willtheweaver <3 choosing violence this morning and posting this with no context :)
the raedoran cycle
Arthur hears the clang of steel and a surprised gasp, and then Jack is snatching him off the ground and they’re running, out the door and into the night. Jack pulls him through alleys and parts of the sewers and Arthur can barely process any of it because he’s pretty sure that Jack killed somebody and he can’t figure out how to handle that yet. He keeps his injured hand clutched to his chest and stumbles along numbly, trying to keep his mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
At some point he lifts his gaze and realizes that they’re at the inn, at the back door, and Jack is slamming his fist against it. It opens and Meja is standing there, brown hair falling loose to her waist, and Jack’s hold on Arthur tightens.
“Mama,” he sobs, and Meja pulls them inside. Reijka is just inside the door and gasps at the sight of them, firing off questions in Hassa. It takes a moment for Arthur to realize that Jack is answering her and his skin ripples with cold—of course Jack could always understand her. Another lie, another layer.
Saw a post about the Titanic and now I'm thinking about WOKTNFC again. Someday I will rewrite it from scratch and make it better and more intentional and also more like a real scientific paper.
But like. It's so fucking fascinating and fun already. Genuinely probably the best thing I wrote up until I was like, 17 and started working on ATQH.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I respect an "I can fix him" villainfucker 50x more than a "he didn't do anything wrong, he's just misunderstood!" villainfucker. like yeah they both get the cute domestic happily ever after, but man the first guy has depth they have nuance and most importantly they are actually aware they're a villainfucker
but the guy i respect MOST is the unapologetic villainfucker. "yeah he did that shit and it was sexy" fuckers. "was the wanton murder fun babe it looked fun" fuckers. these guys know where it's at
fave dynamic is platonic but somethings weird with it (the weird part is an insanely deep level of devotion, trust and understanding, as well as narrative importance that is not typically allowed for platonic relationships in media, making the portrayal feel unique and queer in nature. typically best served as m+f)
