blessings from the void.

For the past year or so, I posted weekly "share an excerpt" prompts that encouraged people to share writing (ex: "Share an excerpt where a character makes a bad decision!") I stopped when my queue ran out because my life went off the rails, but engagement had dipped anyway.

I'd like to start something again because this type of thing is fun (and it's also my not-so-secret way of creating a weekly list of writing to read.) I wrote some options below - let me know which you think you'd enjoy!

If you're not sure what the "share an excerpt" prompts looked like, you can find the tag here: Share an Excerpt Tag. (Also, these posts weren't time-specific! You're always welcome to reblog them!)

wip introduction — APOTHEOSIS

genre — fantasy horror space opera

status — drafting: 11,249 words

A holy war blazes on Vitorael of Noctael’s planet. The High Heretic, whose betrayal of Vitoria’s god led to her people’s excommunication, now sieges against divinity itself. Citadel after citadel is razed by his hand, but with each battle, Noctists remain entirely unharmed, and the faithful’s hatred toward them festers. Soon, violence ruptures, and Vitoria is killed for the false belief that her people ally with the heretic. Resurrected by her exiled God, Vitoria awakens with divine power. Her people name her prophet, a threat the gods will not tolerate. Imprisoned within a lunar cathedral where she cannot inspire uprisings, she is kept from martyrdom by the very faithful who wish her dead. As a dark plague emerges, corrupting people into monstrous beasts, the High Heretic frees Vitoria from her prison with an offer: she will lend her people’s strength to defeat the gods, and he will restore what Noctists once had. But as Vitoria develops feelings for the heretic she can never trust, she is forced to confront what both of them must sacrifice to end this holy war. And even as the gods fall one by one, a far greater threat infests her motherworld.

board / lyrical / instrumental

excerpt —

“What do you want of me?” I ask. The High Heretic is silent for a moment, and then they suture the narrow between us, fingertips guiding my chin upward. “I need you,” they say, “and I need your people if I’m going to win this war.” I still beneath their touch, pulping the inside of my cheek bloody between molars. “I will not send my people to die for your holy war,” I spit. “There is no winning against the gods.” He smiles, incisors glinting in the soft candlelight. “Your captors didn’t tell you?” he asks, a laugh humming beneath his words. “I killed Arusza three nights past. I would show you her head, but I sent it with an Irzirite priest as an offering to his master.” It’s a lie, it must be. Killing a god has never been done. It’s why the exilers imprisoned Vysthasza, because it can’t be done. But the High Heretic stands before me with pride between his teeth. If any could accomplish such a thing, it would be the undying apostate who allies with divineless witches and profane beasts. And why speak a lie I would learn the truth of the moment I step from this cathedral? If the gods can be killed, this holy war can end. My people could be free from the oppression of the exilers.

wip introduction — APOTHEOSIS

genre — fantasy horror space opera

status — drafting: 11,249 words

A holy war blazes on Vitorael of Noctael’s planet. The High Heretic, whose betrayal of Vitoria’s god led to her people’s excommunication, now sieges against divinity itself. Citadel after citadel is razed by his hand, but with each battle, Noctists remain entirely unharmed, and the faithful’s hatred toward them festers. Soon, violence ruptures, and Vitoria is killed for the false belief that her people ally with the heretic. Resurrected by her exiled God, Vitoria awakens with divine power. Her people name her prophet, a threat the gods will not tolerate. Imprisoned within a lunar cathedral where she cannot inspire uprisings, she is kept from martyrdom by the very faithful who wish her dead. As a dark plague emerges, corrupting people into monstrous beasts, the High Heretic frees Vitoria from her prison with an offer: she will lend her people’s strength to defeat the gods, and he will restore what Noctists once had. But as Vitoria develops feelings for the heretic she can never trust, she is forced to confront what both of them must sacrifice to end this holy war. And even as the gods fall one by one, a far greater threat infests her motherworld.

board / lyrical / instrumental

excerpt —

“What do you want of me?” I ask. The High Heretic is silent for a moment, and then they suture the narrow between us, fingertips guiding my chin upward. “I need you,” they say, “and I need your people if I’m going to win this war.” I still beneath their touch, pulping the inside of my cheek bloody between molars. “I will not send my people to die for your holy war,” I spit. “There is no winning against the gods.” He smiles, incisors glinting in the soft candlelight. “Your captors didn’t tell you?” he asks, a laugh humming beneath his words. “I killed Arusza three nights past. I would show you her head, but I sent it with an Irzirite priest as an offering to his master.” It’s a lie, it must be. Killing a god has never been done. It’s why the exilers imprisoned Vysthasza, because it can’t be done. But the High Heretic stands before me with pride between his teeth. If any could accomplish such a thing, it would be the undying apostate who allies with divineless witches and profane beasts. And why speak a lie I would learn the truth of the moment I step from this cathedral? If the gods can be killed, this holy war can end. My people could be free from the oppression of the exilers.

SIGN UP TO BETA READ HERE!

It's that time of year again. I need betas! This is my newest work, a high fantasy standalone exploring a culture without sexual or gender binary, complex family dynamics, grief, respect & abuse of nature, and cultural duty.

The reading period will be from June 1st to July 31st.

See here for full page intro, and see here for original post intro.

For a quick refresher:

When Sasha's family farm is attacked by mysterious poisonous creatures from the sea and her sibling is poisoned, she must trek into the most dangerous magical jungle in the world to find a cure. The only person willing to go with her is a nomadic stranger who seems to be lying about who she is and what she wants. Sasha must uncover the truth of both the poison and the stranger, or else it won’t only be her family who suffers, but the entire island.

genre // high fantasy, (loose) donkey-skin retelling demographics // adult, common sense rating pg-13 status // draft 2 length // 85k pov // first person past tense, dual pov feedback due date // july 31st

I will choose betas on May 25th (or sooner). You will receive a DM or email to let you know you were chosen. I'm planning on having 2-4 readers at this time. I will likely do multiple rounds, so if you are not chosen for this round, you may be invited for a later round.

Signal boosting would be hugely appreciated!!

Click here to sign up if interested <3

taglist under the cut

thank you to @anoelleart for the tag!

rules: share a snippet of your writing!

i'll be tagging: @maddstermind, @k-v-briarwood, and @stesierra!

here's a little line from WDWC's prologue! i'm embarking into the depths of this 7-POV behemoth once more, so naturally, i'm sharing a line from a one-off 8th-POV...send help...

thank you to @maddstermind for tagging me! i'm tagging: @halleyuhm, @serotoninshift, and @k-v-briarwood!

i don't have a finished draft, so i'm going to do the first and last line from a chapter! this one's from Wounded Divinity, Withered Cosmos, my monstrous 7-POV fantasy space opera! (help)

First Line

Isadothael looks upon the corpse of a saint.

Last Line

thank you to @moondust-bard for the tag!! i'm tagging: @anoelleart, @mysticstarlightduck, and @sentfromwolves!

Rules: Pick an OC. Post a song related to them, an image that represents them, and an excerpt with them in it. Feel free to expand on what you share!

Image

this is a graphic i created for Vitoria! it's not completely accurate, but it's close and it was fun to make!

Song — Saint by DeathbyRomy

(spoiler: this is not about Maroth it's about the gods)

Tell me, was it easy Sitting, watching me bleed Waiting 'til I get back up? Call yourself a trophy But what was I winning Other than your tainted love?

Excerpt

thank you to @k-v-briarwood for tagging me!

Rules: Post the last sentence you wrote in your WIP and tag as many of your followers as there are words in the sentence.

From Wounded Divinity, Withered Cosmos:

Morgorz fills the skull chained to Nyphyr’s belt, bone alighting with the cosmic iridescence of a Spiritus. They levitate to meet her eyes, the shocks of light in their sockets vibrant. “We’ll be by your side,” they promise, “until the fucking end.”

i know i'm only supposed to share a sentence, but i'm very attached to this introduction of my talking skull character who loves to swear! instead of tagging...42 people...i'm going to tag: @chiefwritesbook, @italiangothicwriteblr, and @heymacareyna!

thank you to @anoelleart for the tag! this is probably my favorite tag game, so i'm excited to get to it!

i'm tagging: @maddstermind, @athenswrites, and @loopyhoopywrites. your words are: paranoid, midnight, sunshine, and world.

my words are: fear, growth, course, and small.

Fear — Severed Dawn, Sundered Night

Silence, where there should be a divine rebuke, and tension cords her shoulders. An instinct unknown to her urges that she flee, but there’s nowhere to hide in this abyss, nowhere that isn’t infected by rot and grasped by gods. She doesn’t fear their holy wrath, but she does fear the discovery of her failures, of her weakness.

Growth — Severed Dawn, Sundered Night

Now, she stands before a tower formed of dark tree roots, a tapestry weave of wood cloaked in the thin mist of the Kostir-drac’s belly. It creaks with the slow contractions of the creature’s lungs, and with every shift of movement under her boots, her unease grows.

Course — Wounded Divinity, Withered Cosmos

Her mothers sought a peaceful life of harvest, as all of her motherworld did. Their sacrificed lives would not change the course of an empire, so they complied with taxes even when hunger gnawed their stomachs and pretended to worship the imperial gods even when reverence bruised their knees. They did so in love of one another, not to appease the spreading septicity of the Lucency.

Small Few — Severed Dawn, Sundered Night

She shoves the plague beast’s twin halves to the earthen ground. They land with a thud and a nimbus of dust, dragging parchment with them. Nonsense marks what few papers remain unstained, scribbled depictions of Morzlyeth and coded language.

Severed Dawn, Sundered Night Tag List:

(i haven't used this tag list in quite a bit, so please feel free to reply or message me if you'd like to be removed!)

Thank you for the tag @sentfromwolves!!! The hardest part about these is finding something fun and not long lmao, so here's some worldbuilding

     "That way," Addison pointed, following his compass, "some two thousand miles or so, is Tirla Cann. At least, that's what we call it in Adakoi. It translates to horse-land, called that because the main population are centaurs. There were some tribes here and in Sivon, once, but…" he shrugged. "Well, Sivon says they just left, but I don't believe that."      Bella, at his side, was listening aptly. "It only makes sense there's other continents besides Exosto. I feel a little silly for not realizing."      "Everyone learns something for the first time."      "Are there others? Besides Exosto and Tirla Cann?"      "Yes, ah," he followed his compass again and pointed. "That way. North of us, relatively, that is, is Frisnea. Most of it is ice and snow, but there's more habitable portions of it. People say that Elementals live in the snow up there, Ice Elementals. Some kind of divergent evolution, maybe. Or descendants of people fleeing the Great Collapse."      Bella swung her legs. "Did the Great Collapse affect the other continents? It happened here, didn't it?"      "It was something of an apocalypse. Exosto was hit the hardest, it was the epicenter, but Tirla Cann and Frisnea were certainly affected, too. Though, we haven't had great contact with either in a few hundred years or more. It's what we get for being so isolated and magic-fearing."      "Maybe you'll fix that," she smiled, just out of politeness or nervousness — it wasn't as big or bright as her genuine, happy smiles. "When you're king, I mean."