phynewrites

[phynewrites]

divine

wip: paramour

character(s): amon & hyacinthus (who else tbh lol) (also ren's flowery narration rears its head lol)

warnings: um just poetically suggestive. i was just feeling a lot of things and i can't write without yearning lol

Moonlight washed the courtyard in pale blues and serene milk whites. Below this floating palace, the lights were harsh and gold. He could almost taste the stiffness of the air; choked with mirth and alcohol and the fervor of the night. The packed rooms of The Nimbus, the claustrophobic walls of winding back alleys, the grunts and groans of passion and pain; all of the world’s earthly pleasures, finite and pale delights compared to this quiet. 

Entranced wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t strong enough. Transfixed. Illuminated. Anchored. Their lips had yet to touch, yet the only thought in Amon’s mind was the pleasures of the divine; lips and tongue and tastes of the gods. Hyacinthus was before him, yet he wasn’t close enough. He wanted to be one in the same skin. To follow the thread of intimacy until he forgot who he was supposed to pretend to be. For a drop of mercy he would kill for it; beg for it. A soft indulgency that could never be his but how Hyacinthus’s gentle caress of his cheek made him yearn. 

“On your knees.” Hyacinthus breathed and it was a prayer, it was a blessing, it was a curse, it was sin. Amon had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t beg, but for what he hardly knew. 

Perhaps it was moon sickness. 

Amon was never one for praying.

He knelt. He took. He gave. 

[phynewrites]

I'm writing a new book about angels and demons and the humans who have to deal with them because I want to and nobody can stop me. Here's the first chapter, which is pretty short. I have written this just now on my phone so live with any typos. There's no WIP intro. I haven't added to my Writeblr intro. I do what I want.

Let me know if I should write the rest of the book.

The Giant's Gamble

Chapter 1

Kirjath slipped through the ajar side door, contorting like a reed in a hurricane to clear the splintered doorframe. The nightclub music throbbed ahead of him, so loud he felt the vibration in his breastbone. To angelic ears, it was about as melodic as a jackhammer accompanying an angry toddler. But that didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to enjoy himself. Did he ever enjoy himself, really?

In the gloomy light, lovely young humans sauntered out of his way, half of them making cow eyes at him. The other half, mostly young men, did their best to puff themselves up, like offended cats. But the tallest of them didn't reach his shoulder.

He brushed past them all with a weary smile and pushed deeper into the club. Not towards the bar, which lay under a web of pipes that crawled across the unfinished ceiling like tentacles of some cosmic horror. Not towards the dance floor, where people who had, from his perspective, been born yesterday gyrated and swayed. No, his destination was at the back, through a door marked employees only. Locked, of course. As if it mattered.

With a twist of the wrist, he broke the doorknob off. It took only a second to dismantle the whole lock apparatus and squish himself through the too-small space. Nobody noticed, not with the music thumping overtime.

A dank narrow hallway greeted him on the other side, lit only by a bare bulb hanging from a frayed wire. It stank of black mold and piss. But at least he didn't have to look at the humans anymore. Kirjath hated places where humans tried to substitute alcohol for actual courage. And the music hurt his ears.

Down at the end of the hall, he found a crumbling stairwell leading down. Old leaks had scarred the cement with rusty water stains, as ugly as tear-stained mascara. No one had inspected this part of the building for decades. No doubt Camriel had ensured it. Well, he wouldn't be able to, after tonight.

He found his brother in the depth of his lair, sitting on a couch that had half-collapsed under his giant frame. Camriel wasn't actually his brother, for neither of them had ever been born. But the relationship was an appropriate shorthand.

The other grigori was staring up at a ceiling he'd plastered with pinups of anorexic teen girls. He looked almost skeletal himself, with legs so long the hems of his pants fell mid-knee. He stank of wine and too much cologne, the kind that claimed to be full of irresistible pheromones. His eyes were closed, but Kirjath couldn't tell if he was visiting the Intangible or just drunk.

“Camriel,” he said and drew his sword from thin air, which is where he kept it. People looked at you funny if you wore as sword these days. Especially one long enough for a giant.

The other angel opened bloodshot eyes and stared up at him. “Kirjath? Have you come to kill me?”

He nodded. Obviously so.

Camriel sat up, and the couch collapsed the rest of the way with a whump. “Why this time?”

This was obvious, too, but Kirjath answered, because he knew Camriel loved to live in denial. “You've been siring children. Triplets, all so big they had to be cut from their mother's belly. All unnaturally beautiful and strong.”

Camriel scoffed and scrambled to his feet from the ruins of the couch. “C-sections are routine now. Doesn't even kill the mother. What does it matter?”

“Nephilim are never routine,” Kirjath said. “Even if the mother survives.”

“Oh, like the modern world can't use a few more men of renown? They can get basketball scholarships. Life will be a cinch. Really, they should thank me.”

“Who should? The children you abandoned?” His grip tightened on his sword.

Camriel tossed his long hair over his shoulder. If he'd ever tried to comb it, the comb was probably still lost somewhere in there. “Heaven should thank me, for improving the gene pool.”

Kirjath nodded and offered his brother his most disappointed look. And then he stepped forward and rammed his sword through his brother's stomach.

“Ow! Fuck!” Camriel said, curling around the steel that had split his intestines. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Kirjath kicked his feet out from under him and ripped the blade loose, spraying the mildewed carpet with gore. He stood over his dying brother and said, “We were exiled. Because you couldn't stop breeding. Because you couldn't leave the humans alone.”

“It wasn't just me,” Camriel said, his tone utterly offended.

“The grigori,” Kirjath snarled. “Because they wouldn't stop. Because none of you would. And now look what’s become of us. I'm not going to let you keep breaking the law. Not that one. The only one that matters.”

“What are you, heaven’s watchdog?” Camriel spat. “They threw you out too, Kirjath! They threw us all out! So what if I broke their laws? Who the fuck cares?”

“I care,” Kirjath said. He lifted his sword.

Blood ran down Camriel’s lips and pooled in the hollow of his throat. “You think you're better than me?” he gurgled. “Better than the rest of us? Because you never knocked up some girl? You're not. Because you--”

Kirjath swung. And his brother's head rolled away, lips silenced, as the irony stink of blood overwhelmed the little room where his brother had spent his sad little life.

He'd be back, but not right away. And by the time he made his way back to the Tangible, perhaps he would have learned his lesson.

He turned his back on the headless body, dismissing his sword back to nowhere from whence it had come. And came face to face with a young woman. She stood in the doorway with a delighted look on her face, and she wore the sigil of Lilith at her throat.

“You killed him,” she said. “How wonderful.”

Tag list for everything

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@macabremoons

@the-dragon-chronicler

@teacupsandstarlight

@vorskra

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@gracewritesbooks

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@cheerfulmelancholies

@delusionisaplace

Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

[phynewrites]

Tylvinian Tales: The Wolf's Den

Chapter Three

Ferusian Law, First Sequence, Article Three: Protection of Love

Ferusian citizens are entitled to freedom of love. No Ferusian citizen shall be denied expression of love for any other citizen above the Age of Maturity, nor is marriage between any two Sentients above the Age of Maturity to be subject to harassment, discrimination, or legal consequence.

Failure to adhere to this law is an act of treason.

She stood, crossing her arms over her chest, and smirking at David. “Strongest I've got, huh?” She questioned. David nodded, pleading with his eyes for her to give him what he asked. "Alright, kid. But only cause you're the birthday boy." She declared. She was hesitant, but I suppose she didn't want to deny him on today of all days. Setting to work, she set about preparing a drink I recognized immediately. Heavusian Headsplitter. Most just called them Splitters, but the original Heavusian recipe was an art form rarely matched, save by those who were taught by Heavusi themselves and I'd seen more than my fair share of arguments over whether a Splitter was as good as the real deal.

She finished, pouring a shot full for him and sliding it his way. David's nose wrinkled at the scent, and my own burned from the potent liquid. I watched the little caxy anxiously. I was a full seven feet and two inches of lean muscle, and I was pretty proud of my metabolism. But I'd had the misfortune of trying Merissa's version of Splitters before. Two shots and I had to be carried to the back by security to sleep it off, I was so out of it. I couldn't imagine how it would affect David, barely five feet and four inches, slim and slender.

He sniffed the drink, letting out a disgusted "Mrow..." before staring at it a moment, then suddenly downing it in one gulp. He slammed his fist to the counter, coughing and sputtering from what I could only assume felt like liquid flame pouring down his throat. He coughed, sputtering, choking down the drink as hard as he was able. I could see his eyes watering, how hard he was fighting to keep it down. His tail was curled tightly around his stomach, and his hands were balled into fists. His fists were shaking, his fingers digging into the pads of his palms. Judging by the lack of blood, I had to assume his claws were kept in.

After a few seconds of settling after the drink, he smiled a little. The buzz was starting to hit. I knew it wouldn't take long. With the fact he'd already had something to drink, the Splitter was bound to kick in fast. He looked over at me and it seemed like he wanted to say something, but decided not to. He turned his head, looking at Merissa and swaying a little. His tail was losing coordination, going from slow, lazy flicks and sways to random, loose movements.

"Something else, please?" He asked, polite and quiet. I wasn't sure how anyone could reaction like his and still want more. It was concerning, to say the least. He was visibly feeling the effect of the drinks he'd already had, and I couldn't help but worry for his sake, if he kept it up. Merissa nodded, then while David was looking around at the drinks behind her, she gave me a subtle look, one that told me she was worried too. I guess she didn't want to have to cut him off on his birthday.

All the same, she sighed, grabbing another mug from below the counter and setting to work mixing his drink. I reached for David, concern welling up. I didn’t want him making any mistakes, and downing a full mug of that poison definitely felt like a mistake. “Hey, man…You probably shouldn’t-” He cut me off with a glare, one that felt like it was piercing through me with frozen flames. I wasn’t used to seeing him like that. He was always so quiet, so reserved. I didn’t quite trust his judgement on his ability to handle alcohol anymore given his decision, but that glare paralyzed me.

Merissa sat his drink in front of him, and a couple of patrons on either side of us were watching with interest. Merissa stood and watched, waiting for him to drink to see if he was going to be able to handle it. David reached for the glass and, without ceremony, began to drink. He swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the foul concoction, and when he was done he slammed the mug onto the counter, letting out a groan of disgust as he sputtered and coughed through the burn. When he did catch his breath again, he seemed different. I knew he was more than capable with his beer, but Merissa's Splitters were in a league of their own.

He stood, leaning over the counter, and locking eyes with Merissa. “More.” He spoke plainly. Merissa smiled, shaking her head. “Give it five minutes. You’ll be wishing you’d drank a little slower.” She said, matter-of-factly. David shrank a little, and Merissa gave him a wink before walking away again. The patrons on either side of us returned to their business, apparently expecting more of a payoff, and losing interest. Maybe they expected him to drink until he croaked, or just thought he would have had a harder time with what he had.

David looked at me with a little worry on his face. “I uh… I messed up, didn’t I?” He asked me. I nodded, and the look in his eye faded, his usual submission returning. “I'm sorry...” He said, resting his head on the counter. I reached over, rubbing his back as I let out a sigh. He sat like that for a while, and I wondered if he was feeling the effect of the drink just yet. With a quick glance to his tail, I had my answer. It lay limp on the floor, unmoving. He was too out of it to even budge his tail.

I checked my phone. Half-past midnight. If he were going to feel it, it’d have kicked in by now. “How you feeling, Davey? You good?” I asked. He hadn’t moved for several minutes, and if his eyes hadn’t been open and blinking now and then I would have thought he was asleep or worse. His eyes drifted to me lazily, and he let out a sigh. He raised up weakly for a moment, looking at me and wavering in his seat a little before giving up and laying against the counter again. Yeah, he was definitely feeling that drink. “I juss… I don’t get it. I don’t get it. I don’t-…I don’t get it.” He stammered, his words slurred and lazy.

His eyes were struggling to stay on me, his pupils big, dilated. Sad. “There’s this…this guy, and he’s like…Dear Fina he’s perfect, you know? He’s like…everything.” He muttered. I could barely hear what he was saying, and he was difficult to understand, but I was mostly able to decipher his drunken ramblings. I did feel somewhat guilty, getting info from a very drunk David that he hadn't wanted to share sober, but I felt it better to at least listen to his problem. Maybe I could even help him sort through it.

I nodded, encouraging him to continue. “He’s soooooo good. He’s all sexy and stuff, and, and he’s really, really sweet. He has this pet name for me that I like, a lot, like, a lot, a lot.” He continued. “But he doesn’t even know I like him. He’s all…dumb and stuff…He just can’t figure it out.” He finished. I felt for him, I’d been in my fair share of those same unrequited-love type situations. Hearing he was stuck in one of his own broke my heart. He certainly deserved better than that, and I wanted to make sure he knew it. Reaching forward, I took his hand and he looked into my eyes. Sadness welled up in his own, his hand withdrawing from mine quickly. He didn’t want to be touched. That was never good.

“Davey, you’re smart, and funny, and creative, and you’re about as sweet as it gets. Sugar wishes it could, heh. This guy, the one you’re aching for right now? He’s not here. He’s off somewhere, doing something stupid. I don’t care what it is, because tonight’s your birthday and he’s an idiot for being anywhere else.” I said, fire rising in my chest along with a deep, snarling growl. He was hurting over this guy, someone who didn’t even bother to show up for this night of all nights. I hoped I never met the bastard, for their sake. David’s tears eased up, and he sniffled a bit, averting his eyes from me.

“Yeah…He’s an idiot, alright…” He muttered. I nodded in agreement, turning to my glass of water. I took a drink, downing half the mug to wet my throat. Getting riled up always left me growling, and it dried my throat a little. But that barely mattered right now. I turned back to David and my expression softened. He was crying again, a calm and gentle flow of tears as he stared off into space. Merissa, watching from down the line, was focused on him and, after addressing another customer, came our way. She stopped at David and leaned down, whispering something in his ear.

He looked up at her, nodding a little. He stood, or tried to, stumbling off the stool and almost falling, had I not reached out and caught him, pulling him close to keep him steady, and to give him something to lean against. David looked up at me from my arms, his tears welling up even more. If I ever meet this guy, he’s getting a little more than some strong words. Nobody makes David feel this way. Not on my watch. I was about to say as much when David spoke. “Let’s go…Let’s…Let’s just go home, Rye…”

His words were quiet, sad. Defeated. It hurt to hear him so low. He hadn’t been like this in a long time, and I sighed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, c’mon.” I replied, starting to walk with him leaning against me. The drink was taking its toll, and his legs quickly lost their usefulness. I wound up carrying him, Merissa escorting us to the door and holding it open for me. I thanked her and headed for my truck, parked beside the building. I helped David into his seat, and he lay back against it, a hollow look in his eyes as he stared through the windshield. I fastened his seatbelt for him before shutting his door.

When I climbed into the driver’s seat, I looked at David again. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t find any words that might make him feel better. With a sigh, I started the truck, resigning myself to a quiet drive home with David sitting in silent pain beside me. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I silently cursed the need to focus on the road. The last thing I saw before solemnly turning my focus to the road were the tears running down his cheeks.

Tag List:

Tagging these folks cause they seem to like my work! If you would like to be added (or removed), just let me know!

@sparrowcraft @moremysteriesthantragedies @thetruearchmagos @a-scaly-troublemaker @that-one-enby-onyx @snakelovingnerd @the-chaotic-writer @leisoree @amerylise @profoundlyhauntedclaws @thefinalgoat @leisurelywingedlemon

[phynewrites]

🧁 Writing Share Tag 🧁

Thank you so much for the tag @mauannacreates (here) @sableglass-deactivated20241031 (here) and @the-golden-comet (here and many others, thank you very much!)

This is kinda heavy, but here is a line from In Death, Forever

There’s something pooling in Mary’s heart. Something so deadly that it could stop her heart from beating anytime now. She feels it travel through her nerves and numb it, as if the skin in her fingers can no longer receive stimuli. She feels as if her eyes were the only muscles she could move, but even that feels fixated on the clock. She feels it strengthening the gravity of the couch, pulling her like a black hole to a nearby star. She feels it keeping her mind awake, aware of all the shit that went down and is going on in her life. Then, it blocks her arteries and veins with its inky substance, fusing with her blood and turning it cold. It is hopelessness.

Gently tagging @snowshowerwriting @kjscottwrites @helioselene

[phynewrites]

🍥 Writing Question Tag🍥

Thank you @janec23 (here) for tagging me! I always find these questions fun to play with and endearing.

What is your absolute all-time favourite ideas you’ve ever had?

Spontaneous ideas are the best. Actually, most of my wips came from spontaneous ideas that just randomly popped in my head. I often get them in flashes of inspiration while watching/reading something else, that's why it's really important I have a notebook with me so I can jot it down while its still there.

Is there a question you’ve been asked in the past that really stands out to you, and you still think about sometimes?

I'm afraid there isn't any HAHAHA I think there were but nothing that I still think about it right now.

What is your favourite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

My favorite part of being a writer is having the freedom to create anything you want. Fuck all the filters, I'm writing the story that I want to tell. It's also because I get joy from the act of creation itself; that one day I will look back and say "I made this? That's so cool!" I guess the opposite side of that is -- just on my side -- I have to find a perfect time that it completely uninterrupted because I don't like writing for short periods of time. I want to write continuously, so there has to be a perfect uninterrupted time for it.

What is your greatest motivation to write/create?

Discipline and seeing it to completion. it's really the process of creating something and seeing it through to completion, being immersed in the world, experience it in the eyes of my OCs, and seeing them suffer and triumph. There is a certain euphoria in typing in every word and realizing that their journey unfold with every clack of the keyboard.

What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever read or been given as a writer?

Non-verbatim, but it goes along like "Write your story, because there is no one else who could have done otherwise." Honestly, this is also what keeps me going in writing because it tells me my story is worth telling. I also cannot stress how I, as a consumer of media, have found stories from small creators and loved them, despite being unpopular. It's a testament how somewhere out there, our stories are made for someone; maybe in another time or place that we don't know, but there will be someone who will be appreciative of it.

What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

Don't be overly conscious of the first draft. I had this mindset that it should be okay so that I don't have to go over it, but no. At the end of the day, we will really have to go over it. Editing is part of writing, unfortunately.

What is your favourite story you’ve written to completion? Link it if you’d like and can!

Right now, I only have one complete story. It's a play script that is written in both Filipino and English called Karikultura. It's a play that incorporates symbolism and is a critic to the effects of colonialism. You can read more about it here and if you're interested, you can read the manuscript here (I update every week because I double edit each act before each act).

What is your favourite out-of-the-box quote?

I'm gonna define "out-of-box quote" as a "saying or quotation that pertains to taking action outside of the box." If it's a specific quotation, I don't really have one. Generally, I'm a person who is very open to anything, if that counts as "out of the box;" So, there is no specific quote that I relate too since it's kind

Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you personally feel about their ideals?

ACTUALLLYYYY I am at the part in my wip (In Death, Forever) where Mary and Connor are fighting about this, so I would say its Connor because he's too altruistic (That is literally his character flaw too) Especially too since he is part of the police and part of him believes his comrades are all good or rather ignores if that fact if they aren't , which is something I don't believe. In my country alone, there are some police officers who were ordered by the ex-president to kill drug addicts without due process of law, so there's that. But hey! I like incorporating various worldviews in my characters, I think it important to understand where they are coming from too, and this is one way I do it.

Gently tagging @the-golden-comet @bootstrapparadoxed @sageswriting @sm-writes-chaos @flurrysahin

If you, when you first started writing, met you now, what would younger you think?

I think young me will be really proud. She would not have known that we would have a completed play then, at least four more wips outlined and progressed, and a community of writers that she will have solace with. She would not have known that we made it this far. In the Filipino saying, "Malayo pa, pero malayo na" (Far from our destination, yet far enough from where we started).

Here is an empty template:

1. What is your absolute all-time favourite ideas you’ve ever had?

2. Is there a question you’ve been asked in the past that really stands out to you, and you still think about sometimes?

3. What is your favourite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

4. What is your greatest motivation to write/create?

5. What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever read or been given as a writer?

6. What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

7. What is your favourite story you’ve written to completion? Link it if you’d like and can!

8. What is your favourite out-of-the-box quote?

9. Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you personally feel about their ideals?

10. If you, when you first started writing, met you now, what would younger you think?

[phynewrites]

The last day of Filipino American History Month has granted me the most Filipino American Cooking shortcut abomination idea ever.

So. So. You've seen dulce de leche hacks where you boil or slow cook a can of sweetened condensed milk INSIDE the can for hours to get caramel?

Filipino Coconut Jam or Minatamis na Bao is a coconut based caramel LIKE dulce de leche traditionally made by stirring coconut cream and sugar over low heat for hours.....

But!!! If I can find a can of sweetened coconut cream! Theoretically I should be able to create an easy hands off no stirring coconut jam. I'm going shopping tomorrow to test my theory. If it works! I'll have easy coconut jam! If the curds separate I'll have latik ( crispy browned coconut curds used to top rice cakes)

Or I'll explode a can and cover my kitchen in boiling water and coconut!!

I can't wait!! It's been too long since my last kitchen disaster

Wish me luck!

[phynewrites]

pspsps listen writers the site is kind of ugly but wordhippo is genuinely the best thesaurus i have been able to find 10/10 fuck all the other ones

it has far more synonyms. it always has the context/definition I’m looking for. and you can even search for short common phrases and vulgar words. and a fuck ton more.

[phynewrites]

Boop PSA, for Mobile Users:

To Boop - either tap the boop button next to someone's name or go to their blog and tap the cat paw icon

To Super Boop - go to someone's blog and hold the cat paw icon until it spins once, then let go

To Evil Boop - go to someone's blog and hold the cat paw icon until it spins twice, then let go

Can't Boop - either you or the person you're trying to Boop hasn't opted in yet

To Opt In - go to your feed and you'll see the boop-o-meter and the option to opt in

I'll update this when I know how to get certain badges and such.

[phynewrites]

You can spam boop me!

reblog if you let people spam boop you

[phynewrites]

Now, I don't know how to rhyme.

I don't know how to use beautiful words.

I don't know how to calm myself down.

I don't know how to end this pleasurable burn.

I beg you,

Take a knife, stab it into my heart, make it unrecognizable.

Make me heartless, unable to feel.

Then say see ya!

I beg you,

Dig your nails into my eyes, bleed me dry.

Blind me, make you my last sight.

Then say see ya!

I beg you,

Tear my skin, devour my flesh.

Leave only a skeleton behind,

So you'll be the last artist use my body.

Then say see ya!

I beg you,

Break my fingers, crush my hands.

So they never reach out for anyone, never touch warmth again.

Then say see ya!

I beg you,

Pour acid on my face, burn away all that's left.

Make me the ugliest, unseen and untouched,

So no one sees me like you did, no one kisses me like you do.

Then say goodbye.

~Aatif Ameer

[phynewrites]

humble yourself in the face of love

let love make you weep,

and let love see the depth of your weakness and your depravity

so that it may light your darkest places and make you strong again

say not to love, "I am already strong, I have no need of you"

instead say to love, "I am but a mote of dust in your sunbeam, I am the low ground which you grace by walking upon,"

love is not only the sweetness of the honey, but also the decay of the body, and also the life which springs forth from its ensuing fertility

love is the work of the bringing low of the high, and the bringing high of the low

hold not to love's twinings, but say unto love, "without you I am nothing. Everything I am is truly yours"

[phynewrites]

Blood Night AU Beginning Part 2

Do I have too much fun with this? Yes Should I re-write Sea of Memories but write this? Yes Do I maybe write more? Bet on it.

Taggin @ashen-crest @tabswrites @contes-de-rheio @abalonetea @chris-the-dragonslayer @writingamongther0ses

The sun stung his eyes, even if the strange fog that had lingered for weeks took some of it away. Lyran inwardly cursed himself and why he hadn't gone to bed earlier, but in the end he had earned well and what was too little sleep. Wearing his traveling clothes and his lyre over his shoulder, he made his way to the marketplace, where the group of merchants he was going to travel with was to gather. Even from a distance, there was something strange. The noise level that usually accompanied the packing and gathering of such a group did not reach his ears. A glance up to check the position of the sun told Lyran that it was just after sunrise, as agreed. Arriving at the market, he found only the usual everyday bustle, but no merchant group. A deep sigh escaped him. "By the Five, not again…" "Thought you were from Wealzaryth," a familiar voice sounded behind him. Still searching his mind for where the voice belonged, Lyran turned to find Arritit before him, wrapped in several layers of thin cloaks. "What gave me away, dear Arritit?" "Your brightly colored clothing last night. Such colorfulness is usually found only in Wealzaryth. But what interests me more: What happened again?"

She tugged at her cloaks and pulled them further around her. Lyran reached out and pulled her closer to one of the stalls that offered hot food. Being near the fire should help a little against the cold, even if this early in the morning it was a wasted effort. "I usually travel with the merchants. The last group was supposed to take me all the way to Lagawood and left Dristwood without me, and the group I was supposed to set out for Lagawood with today isn't here." "Hey, bard, you mean the merchants from Stramsa'gonil?" the stall owner asked. Lyran looked over his shoulder at the young fellow. "I do. You know something?" "They took off as soon as it got bright, as if a horde of demons were after them. Never seen anything like it. Panicked and disorganized like kids playing trader." "Thank you, my friend. That helps a bit." Thoughtfully, Lyran had raised his hand and waggled his index finger. Beside him, Arritit chuckled. "If you want to go to Lagawood, we can team up. Provided you can wait another day." "One more day won't matter now. But isn't it too dangerous?" Again she laughed, then looked at him seriously. "I guess you forgot that I have magic. It doesn't get any safer than with me, dearest Lyran." "In that case, I'll gladly accept the offer. I'm too young and too talented to end up as monster food." A slight bow accompanied his statement, which made Arritit laugh again. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some people watching them, though it wasn't clear why. "I couldn't agree more." "The only question then is how I can show my appreciation for it." "I have an idea or two." The flash in her eyes was already a warning. It was a manner he knew too well from Wealmoore's court, when some nobleman thought he could gain an advantage. "Will you fill me in?" "Let's start with you helping me carry. I clearly need different footwear and cloaks in this dreary weather. Especially if I want to keep going north." She shook herself at the last part of the sentence, clearly reluctant to expose herself to snow. "I'm not a particularly big fan of snow, either." "Then we already have something in common." "Then let me be your pack mule for the day, we wouldn't want you to catch a cold or worse." "How very thoughtful of you," she replied, amused, and turned to leave.

With purpose, Arritit walked toward one of the booths. The way she moved through the crowd, knowing where the farmers stood with their puny chickens for slaughter, and exactly where to go so she would be at the merchant of her choice, was not only elegant, but also a testament to the fact that this was not her first time in the city. Eyes always at the sides, Lyran followed her with a little more effort and also to soak up the atmosphere of the market. Something was different from the last days, but he could not name it. It was little things, like the kind of sounds that sounded clearer and at the same time strangely dull, the inhabitants in themselves, going about their day's work on one side and at the same time there was something invisible on their shoulders that depressed their attitude and mood. It reminded him of the scary stories he loved as a child.

"Welcome, welcome! What can I do for you on this cold morning?" the merchant shouted enthusiastically. Like a little box devil, he jumped off his stool. "I need a warm coat. It was still summer when I left, and I need to get to Stramsa'gonil," Arritit explained without mincing words. Her gaze already at a particularly thick one. "You'll need more than just a thick coat there. Do you have gloves and hats? Scarves? Sturdy footwear that's lined? Trust me, losing limbs to the snow is no fun." To punctuate, the merchant raised a hand with the little finger missing. Arritit raised her hand defensively with a smirk that Lyran felt confident but also playful, making him excited to see what she would do now. He leaned a few steps aside from her against the thick beam that held the faded fabric roof of the booth and observed. "Do not worry, dear friend, it is not my first trip to the north, but if you would be willing for a few Renvalis less to add one of your beautiful furs to me as a collar, I would not be averse. I would like to arrive at my mother's house in good health." The merchant put his hand on his chest and nodded gravely. Lyran almost laughed and just managed to make it end in a grunt. "You're visiting your old mother and traveling across the continent to do it? Great mother, what a great heart you have," briefly the merchant looked around at the goods Arritit had his eye on and sighed, "Such a deed must be rewarded. Twelve Renvalis for my thickest coat and largest fur." Even though Arritit clasped her hands in front of her mouth in a gesture of apparent emotion, Lyran saw from his position how she grinned broadly behind it. The fur alone was probably worth that much, and she had just cheated the poor merchant out of good money with her sob story, but if he fell for it, nothing could be done. "How generous of you. May the Great Mother bless you for it." While the deal was being transacted, Lyran's eyes wandered over the nearby stalls. At the candy stand, he stopped. "I'll be right back." "I'll find you, my pretty pack mule."

Briefly, his steps faltered, but Lyran shook the comment away. Arritit wasn't the first to think him handsome, even if it was one of the few times someone had dropped it so casually. "Morning, what can I do for you?" the stall owner mumbled sleepily. Lyran quickly surveyed the display and nodded in satisfaction. "I'll take three irons each from that one, that one, and that one." With the speed of a sleepy man, the owner readied the scales and weighed the dried fruits and nuts Lyran had pointed to. He had just paid and stowed the small bag of goodies in his travel bag when Arritit also appeared behind him as if she had come out of a portal. "Provisions for tonight or for the road?" "Both. The amount should last a few days." Lyran glossed over the part about how it only worked if he didn't pounce on the candy like a ravenous pack of wolves. "Did you plan on me, too?" she just grinned cheekily. "What?" "Now that I know you have candy, you have to share. Old travel rule." Slowly, she walked past him, but kept her eyes on him. A shiver ran down Lyran's spine as the thought occurred to him that she didn't just want dried fruit.

In all the years he had never responded to advances made to him, and he didn't want to start now, but Lyran couldn't stand the loneliness anymore, nor could he stand being alone again after a while. Maybe it was time to give up his principles. His breath clouded his vision as he snorted at the thought that this was probably the core of why bards were said to be unfaithful, chasing the next score everywhere. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy basically, if people just treated them like better brothel whores, then eventually they acted like it. The thought alone disgusted Lyran to the point of chilling him. Arritit looked over her shoulder, wavy hair hiding half her face, but it was enough to see that she cared. "Are you all right?" "It's fine, just some dark thoughts that the morning hasn't dispelled yet." Her gaze continued to linger on him until at the end, Lyran looked away. "Have you had breakfast yet?" "Not much." The serious look that probably all healers and shamans learn in their training met Lyran's eyes. At the same moment, Arritit grabbed near his hand and pulled him to the nearest food stall. "Two milk teas with honey and two bread pockets with meat and vegetables." "You don't have to do that," Lyran tried to contradict, but again the punishing look hit him. "I know enough bards. You're always on the verge of keeling over on me from hunger because you don't eat enough, so you can keep traveling. Besides, I need you to keep your strength up if you're going to haul everything for me, right?" Arritit grinned cheekily at him, paid the vendor, and passed his portion to Lyran in a way that didn't even make him think of objecting further. "Thanks." "You've got good manners, too, not just a pretty face." "I do what I can," Lyran laughed into his cup.

[phynewrites]

Each type of death has a unique type of Reaper. The Reapers of Drowning collects the souls of the drowned. The Reapers of Old Age collects those that have come to their natural end. Write a story about a Reaper for an unusual death finally having a soul to collect.

[phynewrites]

blood is basically the most normal thing for a sword to hunger for. if a sword gained sentience and started asking me for blood i'd be like yeah i thought you might say that

[phynewrites]

[id: "#FFF217 Portal Fiction"]

#FFF217 - I'll Follow You

For @flashfictionfridayofficial - 707 words

As I stumbled from the sun-splintered atrium, I had to blink several times until my eyes adjusted. With a thought I closed the portal behind me and glanced back to find it was the door to a women's restroom. Oops, I don't belong in that one anymore. A velvet-wallpapered corridor stretched out before me, with distant music echoing down its passage to vibrate up my shoes. 

I followed the 'restroom' signs in reverse, the music pulsing louder with every step. The bass reached in my chest and squeezed my heart, pulling my heartrate to abandon my frantic flee from the terror I left behind and instead dance to the beat. Rounding the corner I found myself a single body in a gyrating crowd. Everyone seemed to be shouting, bits of words coming to me in snatches in the lulls of the music.  

Tension built up in the song, hyping up the crowd for an epic climax. That's when she looked up from across the room, an anonymous girl swathed in an lavender dress and grape-dyed hair. Our eyes locked; the beat dropped. The lights were cycling in flashing rainbow, but I found my world to be consumed in purple. 

It was all too easy to forget my troubles with her. I pretended I was just another guy at a club, here to pick up some company, and she pretended like her friends weren't giving me critical looks from the bar. I learned which songs the club played were her favorites; she learned that I "could really dance, dude!"  

It wasn't until that same velvet wallpaper from before was crushed under one hand and her hair tangled around the other that my life caught up with me again. Her hands were cupping my jaw, and they suddenly pushed back, breaking our kiss. "Sorry, sorry," I said pushing away from the wall and taking a step back to give her space.  

"No, I--" she reached out again, grabbing my shoulders and then sliding her hands down to my biceps. "I just, was wondering . . ."  She bit her lip and looked up at me with her big, doe-brown eyes. "Do you, have . . . like, a thing." 

It was the way she said it, like it was something to be worried about, that told me exactly what she was talking about. And it was the way I flinched that told her that I knew exactly what she was talking about. My heart tripped its way back up to a race, telling me to go, go go.  

"Wait--" she started, but she was too late to stop me. 

I leapt towards the bathroom—men's this time—twisted the handle, and was somewhere new in an instant. I yanked it shut behind me, heaving under this door's heavier weight, and shut off the portal as I did. 

This time I was at the top of a skyscraper, probably an office building, in some generic city skyline. I went to the edge and looked down, seeing only a few stray cars making their home from a night out in the early hours of the morning. I only had a couple moments to appreciate a cotton-candy sunrise between heaving breaths before a gasp behind me made me jump and turn. 

She stumbled out of thin air, mauve-colored Doc Martens catching her at the last second. I stared at her, my jaw going slack and mouth hanging open. 

"Hi," she said, smoothing down her skirt. 

"I closed the . .  what," I stammered. "You . . . you have a thing?" 

She nodded. "Power, ability, trick . . . I don't like any of the words for it. But yeah, I have a thing." 

"You could have led with that." I took a couple steps forward. 

She gave me a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I'm bad at that. At this. At talking. Especially to cute guys." She walked to meet me in the middle of the roof. 

"Cute guys?" 

She reached up to cup my jaw again. "Yeah, cute." She pecked me on the lips, but leaned back before I could go for more. "Come on, let's go back—I think you should meet my friends." 

Following her back through my portal to the club, I could tell that I was already happy to follow her anywhere. 

[phynewrites]

REMEMBER THAT POST WITH CINDERELLA WHERE HER DRESS CHANGES TO THE COLOR OF YOUR BLOG?

THIS ONE DOES IT TOO!!

I found a bunch more!!

x

[phynewrites]

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