this one is courtesy of @vacantgodling!!! thanks for the tag friend <3<3<3
still on that editing grind because of the cursed poll, but here's a specific description i had to fix up from Echoseers, Annie POV!
What the servant referred to as a “modest home” is about the size of the one I left in Aree, plus the two on either side, with a red shingled roof that’s nearly the same dark shade as the lipstick Gab likes to paint on when the occasion calls for it. The likeness to his makeup only strengthens when I catch the glittering of light through mottled glass in the upper floors, so similar to the sparkles that dusted his cheeks on the stage and the silks the ringleader would drape from his shoulders. It even perches at the furthest point of the branches from the gardens with his confidence, unconcerned with the wind and the treacherous nature of the narrow walkways that cling to its sides in order to reach the leaves in the distance beyond.
this one i'll leave as an open tag (and a tentative maybe-tennis @vacantgodling 👀 if ur up for it!!) so feel free to say i tagged you if you want to join in!!!
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
thank you to @oh-no-another-idea for this tag!! <3
im in the process of doing the editing courtesy of that poll, and this line particularly jumped out at me as i was going through (if anyone manages to guess the speaker i'll literally sign their copy of echoseers for free im not even joking)
“I understand why you hate me. Why you hate my family. But trust me when I say that my parents are not the worst of them, because at least they loved me. At least they cared about my future no matter what they were taught, even if it meant hurting you in the crossfire.”
I'll tag: @authoralexharvey, @ghostknightfool, @winterandwords, and @late-to-the-fandom!! As always, absolutely 0 pressure to play, and this doubles as an open tag if you want to join in!!
I was tagged by @indecentpause (and also someone else who i cant find or remember </3) Thanks so much, Pause!!!
Rules: What’s a line that you’re tremendously proud of writing, and what’s a line that’s just ridiculous out of context?
The lines that first come to mind when I think of ones I'm super proud of writing are from Tieling's interlude in Echoseers, and I have them memorized:
They told me I was Chosen on the day I turned thirteen.
On the day I turn twenty one, they take me to a field and stab me through the heart.
just TRY and tell me thats not the first thing he'd say in a trailer for an adaptation
As for lines that are ridiculous out of context, I'm also fond of this one from Echoseers:
He swallows. “This is... concerning.”
“No shit.”
"... You have given me much to think about, Ember Timber.”
“I’ve heard that one before.”
I'll tag @vacantgodling, @writeblrfantasy, @ettawritesnstudies, and @blind-the-winds!! As always, absolutely 0 pressure to play, and this doubles as an open tag if you'd like to join in!
I was tagged by @indecentpause and @sam-glade (whose posts are in the queue right now)!! Thank you <3<3
One of my favorite lines from Whispers:
“You can’t tell me any of that would have happened without us scaring their asses into action.” [Adaine] turns away again, goes to wash the bowl a second time, a similar tic to my own urge to clean. “Good’s only ever a response to bad. Heroes are a response to villains. And right now, there apparently aren’t enough of either to get shit done.”
“That’s...” Dakarsa frowns. “One way of looking at it.”
He snorts. “You can say “fucking insane” if you want. I’ve heard it all before.”
And the opening to Tieling's interlude in Echoseers, my beloved:
They tell me I am Chosen on the day I turn thirteen.
[...]
I am old enough to know that their reasoning is not sound. That there have been many Chosen in the past, after all, and that they have always been picked by merit long before birth is considered.
But I am thirteen. And when you are thirteen, and your elders tell you that you can save the world if only you try hard enough, you believe them.
You believe, because you do not know how young thirteen really is.
I'll tag: @vacantgodling, @blind-the-winds, @writeblrfantasy, @ettawritesnstudies, and @oh-no-another-idea. As always, absolutely 0 pressure to play, and this doubles as an open tag if you want to join in!!
Rules: share the first sentence of your last ten stories. If you haven’t written ten stories, share as many first sentences as you have.
I'm going to treat Marika + Lorelei's stories as separate, even though they're both a part of Whispers, just because they are So Dramatically Different, so <3
Since this is rather long, I'll tag people up here: @writeblrfantasy, @calicojackofficial, @authoralexharvey, @vacantgodling, and @faithfire!!
As always, absolutely 0 pressure to play, and feel free to treat this like an open tag if you'd like to join in!
Whispers (Marika POV):
The tattoo coils and curves like the rope of a noose crawling its way up his forearm, faded only a touch in the decade since he got it. And like rope burn, even looking at it stings my skin where the same one should have been drawn long ago.
Whispers (Lorelei POV):
I do not often meet Commissioner Arkady Starsent in his office.
Firebreathers (Ember POV):
I need to switch patron Goddesses.
Echoseers (Ember POV):
Muted sunlight glints off of shards of cerulean glass, the blood painting their edges stark as shadow-tar and steaming against the chill in the air, a calmer rendition of the panting breath clouding the shattered window. The breeze at my back shivers up my spine as Nimbus finally lets go of my waist and rips himself out of the harness, falling to the floor.
Goddess-Touched (Ember POV):
The charcoal that was once [Redacted] sits still and silent, but for the waves lapping at the cliff beneath the plateau of blackened bone and the calls of carrion birds circling overhead.
Experimental worldbuildy WIP that will be a serialized anthology eventually:
Ursa Riyón was five years old the first time they met someone from another world.
The Traveler (the 2022 horror short):
As the moon rises over the empty white horizon, the traveler knows they have made a mistake.
Deity Complex (from the police report prologues):
Witness reported seeing a school bus flip over the guard rail and roll down the mountainside.
The Lost:
In a coliseum drifting among the wastes of shattered stars, the last of the Varied chews on a crystal, choking the shards down with the knowledge that they will be fighting for their life once again in a few hours.
Mark of Legend (its a backburner wip but i do like the opening):
Tashmi Alir was leaning against the railing of the airship, back to the water below and gazing lazily at the clouds roiling overhead, when the captain first made the arrangements.
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 @calicojackofficial to post a line each from the midpoint of 10 projects!!
i unfortunately dont have 10 projects to share but oh well Content warnings for death mentions in 4 and 5, and mention of injury in 6.
Firebreathers
“I do believe that is the first truly entertaining thing I’ve heard in a century,” [Veratrum] says.
Echoseers
“If you want riches, third window in from the eastern corner on the short side of the building is a good place to start. That man needs humbling."
Goddess-Touched (mid-drafting; 31k words so far, this is taken from ~16k through)
“These chucklefucks took my ship to Delya. I wasn't going to stay behind.”
Whispers (mid-drafting; 6k words so far, this is taken from ~3k through)
Maybe that’s what he expects. Suicide over servitude.
The Lost (from exploratory writing)
She is going to die today. She wonders if she will be ready, when the time comes.
Deity Complex (mid-drafting; taken from ~5k through)
By the time I realize that I landed on a discarded, shattered bottle with my right shoulder, I’m too numb with shock to feel it all that much.
The Halloween 2022 short:
Perhaps they are too preoccupied with their mumbled prayer of thanks and the glittering stars above to notice.
..........and any others I've got are either a) Ancient Projects that Should Not be Unearthed, or b) things that I'm considering putting up as patreon early-access when I start a patreon at the start of the new year, so I'm not really comfortable sharing those right now.
I'll tag @writeblrfantasy, @writingamongther0ses, and @writersandpoetsunited!! You guys are the only people I can guarantee in my head to have 10 projects, so <3
But this doubles as an open tag, as always!! And there's absolutely no pressure to play for those I tagged <3
im in the mood for a little ~self indulgence~ tonight, so here are some of my favorite parallel moments in firebreathers, since im done with the Major Edits <3
there’s a lot of scenes ive drawn parallels to, though the first scene is probably the one ive done the most for - if you like seeing this kind of thing, let me know, and we may get a part two with some other parallel pieces!!
Chapter One:
I need to switch patron Goddesses.
It’s a routine thought, at this point—I’ve been meaning to shed the half-coverings of Vii in favor of one of the others for a few weeks, now—but this time, it’s more deliberate than musing.
Thinking of other things makes it easier to slip my hands into a stranger’s purse.
[...]
A sketchbook peeks out of the bag at the fool’s other hip. Smudges of pencil lead and ink that haven’t quite washed away from their soft hands are another sign of an inner life beyond this single moment brushing past them in the crowd. Signs of one with at least a shred of familiarity to me, of nights I’ve witnessed my brother awake and buried in a notebook, scribbling away—
Stop. Goddesses. Devotion.
A healthy handful of interlocked marks, gliding into my palm.
Don’t let yourself remember they’re a person.
Slipping away, breezing past shoulders at eye-height, where no one bothers to look down.
Not until you’re gone.
vs. Chapter Four:
I draw my bow, and dive headfirst into the challenge with the first loosed arrow. The string digs into the pad of my thumb and thrums it’s twanging song through the muscles that bulk my back. My breath stills, my shots breathing for me as they hiss through the sky, and my mind dances away through the ether.
Just like picking pockets, my shots fly faster when I’m thinking of other things.
“Have you thought of joining up again, kid?”
My third shot splinters it’s bullseye, yellow paint bursting around it.
Dusk’s voice, the other night, quiet over the pages turning in his hands. “A soldier came in to school, today. Talked about Deltierin, and the war.”
The sixth shot flies, and I don’t care to see where it hit before I’m nocking the next.
“They pulled me aside after, told me they knew Dad. Said I’d be a good soldier, someday, if I wanted to be.”
They treat it like a choice, like signing up to kill hundreds in the name of control is the honorable decision.
Sparks trail from the tenth arrow, licking at the air to the beat of the anger in my heart.
vs. Chapter Ten:
Bubbling flesh sizzles against the flames in my hand, though I feel none of the agony of the person screaming and writhing beneath me. Their sword clatters to the ground as they reach to start clawing at my hands, trying to rip them away as they fall to their knees. The noises that escape my grip are animalistic, choking, like the cries of prey in the dragon's nest.
The cries of people, alone at night in the path of the patrols, too distant and too faint to do anything but cover my ears as they choke on their own blood just like Star–
Stop.
Pretend.
They're not a person until [Redacted] is safe again.
I keep my hands in place long enough to get good footing of my own, before yanking them away and shoving the person to the floor.
vs. Chapter Twenty Three:
I level my bow, picking out the sturdier ropes that balance the mast even now, as the sea tosses us like mice atop a shaken-out quilt.
Deep breath. Think of something else, anything.
Draw, aim, wait.
The ship sways, and for a moment, I can pretend it’s silent. Can pretend it's nothing more than the pendulum target of a tourney.
Make Dad proud.
Loose.
My arrow flies wide, missing the ropes and soaring into the wind and ocean beyond. I refuse to dwell on it, refuse to give in to the despair, and draw again.
You're the best archer in Aree. Prove it.
The rope frays as the next arrow slices the edge before flying into the storm.
Thunder rolls. I draw again.
and a bonus from Echoseers Chapter One:
In the instant my ears perk in recognition, the dragon lets out a low, keening whistle.
I’ve drawn before I can really think about the ridiculous distance.
My cloak flutters in the wind, brushing into the dragon by my shoulder. Locs catch the edge of the hood, and I have to fight to keep my gaze on the lonely, minuscule streak of green in the distance. An ache in my shoulders quickly builds, as glass shifts and shoes scuffle and all coherence to the voices around me disappears.
I’ll never make it.
It’s not self-deprecation that fuels the thought, as I draw. For once, it’s rationality.
But I have to try.
I aim.
I have to, because she’s already destroyed so many lives.
My breath stills. My focus pinpoints. My mind dissolves.
And in that momentary space between the dedication to the shot and the loose of the arrow, a familiar voice rings into the stillness around me.
Happy MSM! We're time traveling again, all the way back to chapter four!
Word count: 310
POV: Ember
In which guilt drags at them as the group gathers in Tieling's office.
A smaller, similarly-fleeting shadow glides through the blue light, shimmering across Tieling’s pale arms as he reaches out yet again to shuffle his notes. It draws my attention upwards, to follow its movement about the room, as Beta slinks past and starts appraising the bookshelves flanking our party with nimble fingers and flitting eyes.
I catch the curving belly of a koi as it swims through the calm waters of the pond above. The only thing keeping us from being doused in the half-frozen liquid and exposed to the snow-dusted branches beyond is an ornate, cerulean dome of glass.
That accounts for the vague blanket of blue to the study.
More fish swarm towards the center as we finish settling in, and the shadows that brush Dusk’s form next to me drag and distend like syrup. On his other side, Dawn huddles into the pool of darkness he’s brought out, eyes glinting with curiosity as she looks around. Meanwhile, Nimbus eyes Beta’s investigation with a flicker of worry dancing between his Wiremaster and the King, who has yet to notice the appraisal.
The bags under his eyes have worsened. Red has begun to tint the edges. His pupils keep drifting, losing focus, but he never lets his eyes stay closed for long.
I can’t help but feel at fault for his sleeplessness. I can’t help it, because even if he didn’t seem at all unnerved by the onslaught of emotionally charged revelations I brought to him in the darkness, I still brought them. I brought them in a moment of desperation to exist in his space that I haven’t felt in years. I brought them, and he didn’t flinch at a single word of my venting.
I brought them, but he said he knew the world was ending the first time I woke from my Goddess-dreams in a sweat.
