#IS ANYONE THERE

[bcwritingjourney]

Chapter 8 of my novel, Sanguinatus, is up on patreon for my members! Below will be a portion of the chapter if you're interested, and the prologue and chapters 1-7 are free to read on my patreon.

This novel is a labor of love, and one of my dreams. I don't need to make money or get famous, just release the world's and stories I've created and get better over time.

Chapter 8 and upcoming chapters will be exclusive to members for a short time, then they will be available to the public. You can support me by joining my Bound by Blood tier, which is only $3! Even if you only decide to support me briefly, during that time you'll get access to chapters of this novel and my other works before the public, private communities, exclusive content and behind the scenes content, polls that will influence smaller things, and more!

Any and all support is appreciated, even just reading or liking this post.

Read on below!

She pulled on the Drossenac blood as she peeked out of the alley again to look at a point a few paces to the right of the group, and was quickly sucked into the other place. She cleared her head, focusing. When she approached the rift that would spit her out, and her form seemed to solidify again, she dug her feet in, squatted to strengthen her stance, and willed herself not to be pulled out of this alien place.

She threw her three daggers in quick succession, and at the same time focused on the distorted image it showed her through the rift. She settled her gaze on a point to the left of the rift, right past the furthest guard. As the daggers flew into the first rift, she was pulled into a newly opened rift, and since she didn’t fight it this time she was deposited to the left of the men.

Luckily that had worked better than intended. Her foes had turned to the first rift, likely at the command of the specialist. They had done so just as she fell from her rift and dropped into a crouch.

As she appeared and landed, the light of her warping or some slight sound caused the specialist to whip around in surprise,and almost simultaneously, the daggers, one after another, flew from their rift. Two hit the guard closest to the rift, both digging into his chest deeply, while the other narrowly missed the specialist, heading towards her.

She leapt, assisted by the Khurdae blood, power coursing through her muscles, and snaked an arm around the neck of the other nearby soldier. He flailed in surprise, but she easily spun them around, into the path of the dagger.

It pierced his side, planting itself into his stomach. He hardly had the chance to scream as Ryanil pulled out her long dagger to thrust into his lower back several times. She let him drop to the floor afterwards, calmly wiping his garish scarlet blood off her dagger before sheathing it.

The last man was silent and still, watching her cautiously. He may have been able to help his comrades, but it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t moved a single step from where he stood. He held his right brown furred hand up as his left pulled a water skin from his belt.

She tried to dive away as she realized what he was doing. Water exploded out of the skin, flowing to swirl around his right hand. In the blink of an eye he had snapped his hand forward as though he held a whip, and a tendril erupted from the water, arcing through the air.

She hit the ground and was about to go into a roll as she felt the tendril of water curl around her right leg with crushing force. She knew what was to come. It was even more ironic to her in her already tired state, as he used Sesinae blood to combat her, with her being a Sesinae who essentially couldn’t manipulate a drop of water worth a damn.

That was all the time she had to muse about the irony of it before she was pulled away from the cool bricks of the street, only to be slapped against the ground a moment later. She groaned and was pulled up again, before being whipped away and let go by the tendril. She sailed through the air gracelessly for a brief moment she flailed, then her back met the trunk of a tree, driving the breath from her.

She slumped to the ground for a moment, dazed. The man, fangs bared and eyes dark, stalked forward slowly, carefully. Ryanil had her eyes closed, one hand touching the tree she leaned against, the hand just out of view of the man. She just hoped he wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

Her eyes shot open, and she drew on the well of Osin power within her. Three thick roots burst from the street, sending bricks flying. The man was too fast however, the roots converging on empty space as he leapt away with frightening speed.

Ryanil pushed herself up with a groan, getting even more annoyed when she noticed the roots withering quickly. Drops of water bled from them oddly, streaming towards the Khurdae’s hands. Within moments he had significantly more water than he began with.

Alright, maybe we don’t use Osin powers against this bastard. She thought.

Ryanil didn’t dare take the time to try and drink more blood, so all she had was warping, thick scales and a dagger. Maybe it would be enough? She shook her head to clear it and dashed forward.

Only to immediately be met by multiple tendrils of water, which promptly swept her off her feet and into the air. She pulled on the Drossenac blood and focused on a spot just behind the man. It was a valuable thing, being able to slip out of attacks.

She leapt out of the vortex a heartbeat later and straight into a tackle. He managed to turn towards her, but nothing more as she hit him, the extra weight of her armored scales letting her knock the heavier and larger man off his feet. He quickly got a foot under her, flat against her stomach.

He pushed with surprising force, and she was thrown from him, landing flat on her back a ways away. She was getting awfully sick of getting thrown around by this over confident blood mage. She looked up and cursed, rolling to the side and leaping into a dash as a bolt of fire struck the ground where she had been.

He sent two more bolts of scorching flame towards her after the first, giving her no respite. One grazed her, singeing her cloak and blackening the scales of her right arm. The second, unfortunately, hit her dead on.

She was thrown sideways and to the ground again. This wasn’t working. She hissed as the pain set in, the scales of her entire chest blackened by the flame. While the thicker scales had protected her in a sense, she could still feel the flesh underneath blistering and cracking.

She struggled to get up, each movement sending waves of pain across her chest, and she watched as he raised his flame engulfed hands towards her. She slammed a palm down to the bricks, sending green energy into the earth.

Hundreds of tiny plants and blades of grass shot up through the cracks of the street, growing quickly. They twisted and knotted themselves around the man’s legs, though otherwise they were harmless. He looked down in annoyance before sending out sweeping waves of fire, the plants turning to ash against the onslaught.

[poughkeepsies]

genuinely is no one else concerned. there is an ALIEN IN THAT WINDOW IS NO ONE ELSE SEEING THIS

[xxxball-fondlerxxx]

vlad jr has a horrible design. why? because he looks like a sad sad little kitten left out in the rain and i HATE HIM. i want to run him over with my car sexual style

[artismonkeys]

hello?

[avpdyapping]

touch starved & touch adverse

[kitcheninaman]

need to get more homoerotic with it

[spikedru]

she dru on my silla til i spike

[the-tiniest-demigod]

can i admit im a big fan of annoying orange here

[jadebrightwind]

The feeling of finally being brave enough to attend the party you really wanted to go to…only to find everyone has gone. All that’s left is a dim and empty room with balloons sinking to the ground, half empty red solo cups, the muffled record skipping to a halt, streamers languishing off the walls, and the fan slowly rotating the stale air around a reddish room.

This is what it feels like to try to enter a fandom, to enjoy a passion fully that you couldn’t before when it was at its peak. Everyone has moved on… Well, most everyone. Perhaps, just maybe, the old guard has moved to the backyard, passing a joint between the three of them as they murmur in quiet voices about how crazy that party was and how hungover they will be in the morning. Hushed voices with curled smiles as they discuss the -good- shit - the stuff too intimate and real to share among the cacophony of a crowded room.

Is there room for one more? I brought some chips and some wild stories. I’ll just need a few puffs and some patience to prepare to bear my soul, rationality be damned.

I was there when it happened. I was! Young, timid, watching it catch fire and spin into the air. I didn’t have then what I have now. I was still turning into a person, and this thing - it shaped me into that person. To look back and see the charred lines from where I’ve been, all leading back to that one cigarette smoked and tossed into the bushes. The origin of yearning, what shaped my future fervors into the faces they hold now.

Is it too late? Too late to pay homage to my first loves? To declare the first loves as the eternal? To admit that, seething underneath my skin, deep in the folding of flesh and bone, it pulsed, bloody fuel for the beats of my heart?

I cannot go back, I can never go back. I cannot revive what is dead.

But what if it never died?

[anabellaa15]

don’t let this pic fool you, im quite literally ~stressed~

[bugintheruins]

ill post whatever i want

[agumonger]

[ascendanceseriesveteran]

Is anyone still alive in fandom 🥲 it has been a couple of days since anyone made something

[relamb]

i want to write again

[bmtfckinirvana]

drunkie again. i wanna text him so bad.