#not putting it on my writeblr because it has nothing to do with any of my wips and i'm not gonna turn this in a novel

[pluttskutt]

Plu's 2024 Writeblr Intro

Hi!

I'm Aurora but I go by many nicknames. Plu is a popular one. I'm a writer in my 30s who's been writing since I could put pen to paper. I've been on writeblr for a long time so I make new intros now and then.

What do I write? Fantasy! My goal isn't to be published but simply to write because it brings me joy. I've been working on my series since I was ~12, but I've also got stand-alones in the making.

My cast is primarily ace and aro, so if you want romance I am not your gal. Unless you want (gay) soulmates doomed to tragedy because I do got that wip.

Besides tragic soulmates I've got mermaid pirates searching for a sanctuary away from humans that have been hunting them for ages, a futuristic wip where the humans are gone so the dragons are returning or supposed to but only one does, and a dad who gets kidnapped by aliens.

My series is about alternate worlds/earths and the barriers between these worlds cracking, with monsters slipping through the cracks. Infected worlds are eaten by a colossal fog named Nothing. Three factions have risen to fight this.

We have Siruna, the mighty army faction. U.N.I.T are agents hiding in the shadows. The Rebels rose to protect the innocent with no one to protect them in this war.

And, now, we have space elves. They are not from any alternate worlds or on the side of any human.

��� WIP Intros დ

Fantasy Series:

Toy Soldier

»[...] First novel in my fantasy series centred around the consequences of the veils between worlds breaking. Not only are monsters seeping through the cracks but a massive fog rolls in on worlds overtaken by monsters and devours them.«

Förtrollade Omständigheter/Witches be Witchin’

»[...] Second novel in my series. In this adventure, inspired by the joy of playing D&D for the first time, we meet new characters and follow their journey.«

What Binds Us

»[...] Third instalment of my fantasy series. In this one, we follow an agent from what has been assumed as the “good guys”, and find out that maybe they’re not so good after all.«

Stand Alones:

Mermaid Pirates

»[...]The Lost Lenore is another character’s deceased love interest. This kind of tragedy is one of The Oldest Ones in the Book and named for the famous deceased in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”«

Dragons Are Back

»[...] Determined to find out why they are the only to return, they set out to wander this earth for answer. A bird named Pip joins them on this adventure across the globe.«

(Gay) Tragic Soulmates

»[...] A story where soulmates are born again and again, searching for each other, only to be pulled apart by greater forces pulling the strings.«

You can find my fanfic on Ao3. My current obsession is Steddie. Other than that I'm also on Bluesky, myWriteClub, Instagram, and Wordpress where you can read snippets and lore from my fantasy series.

I created the writeblr trick-or-treat event that runs in October.

Thanks for reading!

[davycoquette]

Questionnaire~

Thank you for the tag, @drchenquill!

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

I always call it a hobby, but almost always prefixed with some form of, "greatest," "most important," or "favorite." I think way of life fits a helluva lot better. I've been writing since I can remember.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

The journal one. I have like 900 I'm actively writing in at this very moment.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

Cormac McCarthy. The love I have for my shitty characters. The agonizing unignorable need to put words on paper or screen.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

The singing one. I am not ashamed of my writing, but I have been taught to be ashamed of my singing lmfao. Which is weird and dumb because singing isn't something I go around telling people I can do decently - I don't tell people, "Oh, I sing," or, "I'm a singer." So, I have nothing to prove on that front, yet... I don't think I could make a peep of noise if someone said, "Sing me a song." Meanwhile, even when my writing's not at it's best, I'm like, "Yeah, I'm a writer. Here's some shit I wrote that isn't good. Sometimes I write good stuff, though."

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

I mean... in the literal sense, sure. A story looks different from the eyes of a character. By the same token, it helps me "understand" when people make choices I've not personally made. I think, for this reason, it's important to write about characters with different belief systems than we have - to write about them as sympathetic people with complex emotions. Not just to villainize or cathartically punish them, but to explore why people do the things they do and what life events might drive them in that direction. But cathartic character murder has its time and place, and who am I suggest what others write? Y'all do y'all.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

I have not used LiveJournal since I was a teen - is it still a thing people use??? That sounds nostalgic and fun. Not sure what FFN is; something to do with fanfiction? I only write original fiction, so that rules it out if so. AO3 is very cool, but the interface isn't my favorite. Also fanfic-heavy, so I never know if I've got a place there. Tumblr always freaked me right the fuck out, but the Writeblr community has proven to be my favorite writing community I've discovered online. And in a very short timespan, I might add!

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

I do not use AO3 but wordcounts can never be high enough 😎

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

Probably too many to count. Little House on the Prairie A Separate Peace The Road Fight Club (recently rewatching this was humbling because it showed me how much of my writerly personality seems to be inspired by the way it rearranged my brain chemicals) Bullet Train (I fucken love this movie) Lawn Dogs Box of Moonlight Harold and Maude (book & movie) Pride and Prejudice (book & movie)

9. What’s the highest compliment you’ve ever been given, and have you been given it?

I've received some absolute banger compliments, and I don't want to dismiss any in favor of others. My favorite compliments are often ...questions? Just things that let me know people really did read, absorb, and are interested in things I wrote. Also, my love language is when people think about me of their own volition. So, any time people come to me apropos of nothing or say "this reminds me of you/your characters/your writing, I giggle and kick my feet and do a lil' happy dance.

10. What defines your writing style?

Gritty, casual. If it was art, it'd be the kind with the sketchlines still visible. Deep, silly. Visceral, I hope.

Taglist and blank template under the cut!

@albatris

@capnmachete

@harmonic-melodii

@illarian-rambling

@michellekarnold

@nathaniel-zellos

@sableglass

@saturnine-saturneight

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

9. What’s the highest compliment you’ve ever been given, and have you been given it?

10. What defines your writing style?

[orion-lacroix]

Thank you @cb-writes-stuff for the tag sorry it took me so long to do the tag game this is going to be colorful because I wanted to tell the question apart from the answer

Writeblr questionaire:

How long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

I don't know, I created it this year, but before that I had a random Tumblr account but I'm not really a social media kind of person so I generally forget to interact (sorry!!!!!)

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

If I don't interact much or talk much it's not on purpose, I just kinda forget I need to answer or get to anxious to talk and start a discussion.

What’s your favorite thing about the writeblr community?

How it's kinda expanding my social circle. Not sure if it make sense but like mutuals of mutuals will become mutuals woth me and I'll start interacting with more people and I like that!

Which wips or writing projects have you been noodling about lately?

Honestly there are many. First there is Avalon's Child, set in the same universe as The Dead sea and a third project still unamed and not planned more that the general idea, then there is the hare and the fox shall dance, and finally there are the ones that I've put on hold a little until I get more inspiration and idead and motivation. (The protectors, Can I save you? And Forgive me)

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

Well for some it's spite (I want to write queer stories that do not end with the death of the queer character, writing queer character in spite of what some will say) for other the story just kind of popped up in my head and has me in a choke hold until I write it ahah.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

More short stories or projects! I like learning more about what other people write about!

Name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your rear; whomever you’d like

I would say, in the original abomination category it would be Rain, a faune (made up species) which come from the project the protectors, they are just basically Gen z on drugs, from a species that has no gender, all the faune are agender. They are well... lets say very stubborn in protecting nature, even if they have to fight a giant dragon with nothing but their teeth (they did, and lived).

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

All day, every day. I'm at work sometime and I will use an old receipt to scribble notes that I thought about so I don't forget.

Who's the most unhinged?

I would say either Rain from the protectors or Atlas from Avalon's child. One fought a dragon woth nothing the other fought two gods and killed them.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I would say either Ry (Atlas friend) or Gideon. Both are young, just turned adult or nearly adult but I can relate to the way they think, unlike Atlas who's in their twenties which is harder for me to write.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Not really.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever ��write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree?

I lost control the moment I started to think too much about their personality. They write themselves entirely even if I'm not writing.

Are some less cooperative than others?

Well I would say Atlas is somehow the worst one because I spent so lonng thinking about their personality that they just sort of do their thing and i just gotta chamge the story accordingly.

When someone asks the dreaded, “what do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Depends on who? If I like the person I might explain a lot, if not I'll just say like fantasy, sci-fi, paranormal, whatever genre it is and say the general idea like 《young adult thrown in a world of magic and they fight to belong》

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

Yesss please do!

and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

Anything, if you have a question go ahead! Ask are fine, tags are fine and comments and reblogs are fine as well. It might sometime take me time to answer but I will try to answer!

What makes you want to follow another writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

Vibes ahaha, if I see something interesting I'll follow! I don't often check out blogs before following if the post I saw was cool

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Yes and no, depends on the day, my dash and many things but I try to interact with as many people as I can!

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Yes a lot!

I'll tag @halfbakedspuds @thylocalbard @stew-magnetos-version @agirlandherquill but no pressure

[goodluckclove]

On Being Seen

I'll warn you in advance, friends and colleagues - I might not have quite an optimistic take on this one. In advance I'll say that I'm totally all right, there's no need to comfort or fawn or worry. It's just been a pretty crazy couple of days and it's sort of left me in a kind of perturbed state of mind.

I feel as if I've developed a reputation on Writeblr as someone strongly supportive of other writers through their struggles and successes, and I figure it might be useful to see that I speak as someone who has their fair share of doubts. Consider it a show of neurosis that supports me as your steadfast advocate in creative growth and potential.

I'll put it under a read more. It's nothing triggering I don't think, I'm just a little embarrassed to have it fully visible under what I still consider to be a relatively professional space. Or at least a space for me as a professional whose brand involves not being very professional.

Nevertheless.

I debated for a long time self-publishing Blind Trust. I went back and forth every so often for weeks, and my poor wife had to deal with the brunt of my strange excuses not to do it. It really came down to one big question, which was...why?

Why am I publishing this? And for money, no less? That's weird. Why would anybody support that? It wouldn't deter me from writing if I never published any of the Songbird Elegies. I'd still write them. I've been writing stories for almost 20 years that no one has ever read and no one will probably ever read.

Sure, I have the fantasies of relative cult notoriety. People making fanart of my characters and sharing weird memes about my plot points. Finding comfort in the words and stories I've created to comfort myself. When I was still considered schizoaffective my dad gave me a copy of Flow My Tears the Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick and said that he was "like us". If that happened to someone else with one of my books it would mean the world to me.

Then again, would it? Because in my actual, real, physical life I am terrible at taking praise. It's like trying to catch a ball from the other side of a brick wall. If you ever pass me on the street I'm guaranteed to be wearing soundproof headphones and blasting music to keep anyone from talking to me. You might catch my eye and I'll smile and nod, maybe toss a compliment your way, but if you try to have a conversation and I do not know you I will absolutely just keep walking. I can't do it.

I love people and I'm terrified of people. It's always been this way.

It's easier online. I mean it when I say that I'm open to anyone here just starting a conversation with me about anything. There's already the unspoken assumption that we're all already weird, so I don't have to think too hard about your motivations. But still, large amounts of praise and positive reinforcement make me deeply uncomfortable. I've been trying to work on that for years, but I find most advice on building self-worth deeply unhelpful.

It's not like I'd prefer hate. I think I'm just not used to being noticed either way.

This is the first time I've made an honest effort to put my work, and by proxy myself (all writers are brands now, says the publishing industry as a whole) on display online. And for the most part it's been great! I enjoy the connections I've made here. The promise of making more. There are so many skilled storytellers here that it gives me a lot of hope and excitement for the future of literature.

But it's weird. It's really weird.

Most of the time I see it as another social media client. I stand by the posts I make and do them for fun, but I also do them to maintain a presence and draw in more attention. I studied to do things like this for work before. I picked like three social media management tactics that I thought I could remember when I was 18 and just stuck by them. And then occasionally I go oh wait. This isn't some nonprofit. This isn't a start-up for tech assholes. This is me.

And that's weird.

It's not a massive following I have, but it's more than I've ever had before under my own personal and creative writing. I published short stories and articles, but I never heard anything from them. There are short stories I have on online journals that I genuinely do not know if anyone has read. Here, I see people like things and I'm like huh. I feel like a mummy or a ghoul. I do not understand what people are doing.

One part of my brain takes this information and says that it's probably proof that when I publish Blind Trust, some people will buy it. People have expressed interest already. Which means they're probably interested, I think. I post excerpts of my writing and people seem to enjoy it enough to click a button or leave a comment. That's cool. I don't get why it happens, but it's very cool and it makes me happy.

At the same time there's this undercurrent of paranoia. I don't get it. And I don't think I ever will. That's essentially been my only coping mechanism for publishing at this point - I don't know if it'll work, but I might as well try and if I do something will probably happen.

I know I'm a writer. At this point it would be ridiculous to say I wasn't. I'm a professional, working writer, and experienced enough to know that saying all that doesn't say much in terms of quality.

Am I a good writer? I don't really know what that means. I like Blind Trust. I'm reading it for the fourth time as I edit it again and I genuinely enjoy it. So someone who thinks like me and has similar tastes to myself might feel the same way. I don't really know who that person might be. Statistically I imagine they have to exist somewhere. And that there's at least a handful of them.

Imposter Syndrome is real and I don't think it ever goes away. I'd like to think that it's one of those things where you think about it less and less, and this is just the first night in maybe five months that I'm really thinking about it.

I'm not expecting to make a ton of money off my first book. In fact, I probably will be sick from anxiety with any purchase I get for the first year, because it means that someone spent human money on writing I am happy to just give them for free.

But this is going to be my job. I want this to be my job so I can spend more time doing it. Because I've dedicated so much time to doing all of this, it means I get to spend a lot of my day getting other writers to write even a little bit of their own stories. And that's so important to me.

I don't know. I don't really have a neat end to this. I'm forcing myself to actually follow through with posting it, and then to continue keeping it up even though it feels incredibly vulnerable to be, in my opinion, this self-indulgent and whiny. It's insecure. I'm still insecure. I'm in therapy and on medication and there's more shit I got to do in life.

Still, I'm telling myself that my version of being a Professional Writer is to showcase emotional pitfalls like this. Newer writers might know that you can sometimes have a night where you might not be in despair, per say, but certainly deep confusion, and then come back the next day and keep on working. I stand by what I mean when I say that the craft should not be entirely miserable. It is still maybe 25% inconvenient to me, and I am currently in that less-desirable quarter.

So what am I doing? Wife got us Jersey Mike's, so I had a yummy sandwich. Kafka is sitting on my calves, just behind my laptop monitor. I'm listening to my soul/funk playlist while Wife plays Hell Divers for the first time. Later we're going to play a board game.

But for now, I'm going to keep editing my goddamned novel.

Blind Trust out in June. Get ready people, because I'm not.

[writernopal]

🏴‍☠️ This is your Captain speaking 🏴‍☠️

So I thought I'd make a little post to encompass some important updates and some changes that you'll probably notice around the old blog in the next few months! However, I will do you all the courtesy of putting this under a cut because holy mama it turned out longer than I expected 😅

Updates

I'm doing my first NaNo this year!!! I'm excited but also really nervous because 50K is an aggressive goal and I'm not sure I can do it BUT I decided that I'm just going to try my best. I won't be starting a new project for this, instead, I want to use this as a time to beef up AASOAF 3 as I'm a little behind where I'd like to be in terms of progress.

AASOAF 3 has a release date! Err, more like release season lol. The announcement is here in case you missed it, and includes some beautiful Mariel and Fay art for you to feast your eyes on! Spring 2024 is the time to watch so keep a close eye on the new release tag, witness moonrise on oepus, for any content/posts related to release activities! Obligatory plug for AASOAF 3's masterpost and taglist so you don't miss a thing!

M.O.W will go on a brief hiatus at the end of November. But don't despair, it will return in January 2024! I decided that this series will take a month-ish hiatus at the end of each part so Part I will be nice and wrapped up before it goes on a break. Obligatory plug for M.O.W's masterpost and taglist so you don't miss a thing!

Work on AASOAF 3's super secret companion material has begun! For reasons I hope are clear, I can say nothing about this other than to look for it in Spring 2024 when AASOAF 3 releases. Just know that I'm super stoked to be teaming up with @illjustpretend again for this project and it's going to be an even bigger undertaking than Mariel & Axtapor's Scrapbook was for AASOAF 2.

Changes

Now you might be reading all of those things and be thinking, "Wow Nopal, that's super cool but isn't it a lot?" To that, I say, "Indeed, dear reader it is." But know that I do this to myself because writing is genuinely what I love to do and, let me toot my own horn here for a second, my stories deserve no less!

However, these things combined with work and a few other things going on in my personal life (all other good and exciting I assure you!) mean that I need more of that constructed but dreadfully measurable commodity: time. So you will likely see less of me around here but that doesn't mean I'm disappearing!

Believe it or not, this little corner of tumblr has become a huge part of my life. I love reading about y'all's stories, updates, and getting to cheer you on as you go do The Thing so I'll definitely be around 😊 Tag games and asks will most likely fall by the wayside though advanced apology for that 😅

Anyway, I think that's all for now! (I write as if this wasn't already long enough LOL) Wishing you all fair winds in your sails and many words on your pages 💙

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend @elshells @writeblr-of-my-own

M.O.W Taglist: @moonluringfrost @writeblr-of-my-own @illjustpretend @sparatus @outpost51

[multi-lefaiye]

ok setting to do not rb because i do not want this post to blow up

but in recent months i've taken a bit of a step back from writeblr. i still write and i still love to read and share others' writing, but the community as a whole has felt a bit off to me for a bit now.

and i don't say this to be all AUGH WRITEBLR BAD AND TOXIC!! bc no, i don't think it is. nor am i calling out specific people here or saying that anyone who enjoys writeblr, even the aspects i'm not as into, is bad. none of that is true. HOWEVER-

i guess i'm just a bit put off by the general push for Constant Productivity that i see. people beating themselves up and almost like... self-flagellating because they didn't meet a word count, or because they're burnt out or having a creative block. and that sort of thing happens in any creative community in my experience and most all creatives do that at some point.

but the amount i see that normalized bothers me! idk! like for me it feels like so much of writeblr as i've seen it is centered around beating yourself up for having creative blocks (which are a normal part of the process) or otherwise not writing at breakneck speed constantly. or just jokes about Not Writing and Feeling Guilty About It.

which. on an individual level, there's nothing wrong with feeling bad about that. i'd say it's not good to beat yourself up about it, but it's still understandable to be bummed and even a bit upset. hell, i used to make a lot of jokes about that! and i get very bummed and upset about creative blocks!! but i feel like as a whole in my experience, much of writeblr feels like it's dedicated more to beating yourself up for not writing than actually building a community around writing.

and certainly not every corner of writeblr is like that, i'm very aware, but this is a (to me) pretty major attitude that's bothered me for a while tbh. and it's not the only reason i've taken a bit of a step back, truthfully i've more stepped back because of mental health and life stress. but since stepping back i've noticed this more and more and... yeah idk fjdjfjej i am still writing and i still enjoy working on my wips, i guess this part of the community just rubs me the wrong way.

this isn't a callout post or a grand call fpr Change in the community, more just an observation and me thinking out loud. if you like the community as is and this fulfills you, that's great!! more power to you!! this aspect just isn't for me, i suppose.

[caspia-writes]

Writeblrs Appreciation Post

Well, I'm a couple bottles deeper than wholly advisable and should not really be posting anything to any sort of social media.

But is that gonna stop me?

Nope!

Y'know, when I first came to Tumblr, I thought this place was a cesspool of politics and sex. (And hey, nothing wrong with the latter, but as a sex-repulsed aro-ace... wasn't real big on that bit.)

But frankly?

This place is damned cool.

Like, for example, @sleepy-night-child. No one has ever been this enthused about my writing before. You are one hell of a cheerleader. Even when I'm not putting out writing worth a damn, you're willing to encourage me and still believe that perhaps, one day, I will ever finish writing anything at all. You're great. And your story, Black Feather? Well, I'm going to shamelessly plug for it here. I'm usually absolutely against romance stories. But your story... even my aro-ace, romance- and sex-repulsed self thinks it's a bloody good story. It doesn't get enough attention. Good stuff, that!

And @whither-wander-whump. Pardon my French once more, but damn, you're tough. Nothing seems to be able to hold you down. Seriously, how the hell do you do it? I would've gone nuts by now. Frankly, you're a bloody inspiration. And your writing? Look, not to dump on your cooking or your dancing, but your writing boggles my mind. Where does it all comes from? You have a gift, I swear.

Also, @ashen-crest. Publishing a book (or has it been two... or even more)? Either way, that's impressive! Even if I never plan to publish myself... full props to you. You have more guts than I've ever dreamt of having. And while I might be too broke to buy a copy (sadly), I've been following your updates on your potion story for a while, and from the excerpts I've seen... you are good at writing!

Because why not, I'm also going to call out @joyfulpolicehologram here. Continuing to write fan-fics despite widespread disapproval from those close to you? YES. And I can juggle 70+ characters, each with a backstory and the whole nine yards, but the very notion of writing fan-fic makes me want to run away crying. And the only reason I followed you in the first place is because I saw an excerpt of some of your writing, and it was damned good. Keep it up. You've got a talent.

There's also @faelanvance. Sure, we don't interact much. But you really promote other writers! You're willing to share the spotlight on your blog and you've got a discerning eye. If I'm not mistaken, at least some of the writers I've followed I've only learned through your reblogs. You have good taste. And it seems your writing is also downright excellent. Not only an excellent food critic, but an excellent chef as well (to make some culinary comparisons).

One more. @sleepyowlwrites. Where does the endless fount of positivity come from? I don't get it. It's like nothing gets you down. If I were working some of the shifts it seems you are, I'd lose my mind, and I certainly wouldn't have the energy to run an active writeblr blog. I don't have the energy to do that half the time anyway. You might be sleepy, but I admire the heck outta you.

Now, if you're one of my followers and I didn't mention you, please don't take it personally. Like I said before, I'm rather drunk at the moment. These are just the first six people I thought of before my fingers started getting tired. Six seemed like a good number at the time.

I will probably get embarrassed and delete this tomorrow, when I finally wake up.

But in the meantime... thanks, Writeblr. I didn't know what I was missing. You all are great. 😊

[olivescales3]

Writeblr: The Forgotten Legends of Chima full sneak peek

I thought I knew him well, after spending my entire childhood alongside him, but now, he stabbed me through the back. No… It can't be—

This can't be him… He would never do something like this. Or so I thought – he has shoved me aside and stolen the Golden Chi from my grasp.

The furious crocodile stands tall, exuding resentment through every fiber of his body, from the tense muscles to the frowning eyebrows. The shadows projected onto him by hundreds of green leaves seem to discolor his vibrant scales. They form delicate petals that flutter at the wind's command; a force so fierce enough to sway his intimidatingly torn cape.

As I lean onto a nearby tree and regain my posture, I can't help but ruminate on emotion-driven doubts lingering in mind… How could someone hurt their childhood friend? This doesn't make sense! We haven't seen each other in years, but there is no way he would do something like this out of the blue. I'm certain that he is innocent – not because we were childhood friends, but because he was one of the kindest animals I have ever met. 

I don't know who hurt him, the criminal who slaughtered his child-like innocence, and worse… I can't stop worrying about what he did to my friend's eye. It was once brimming with emotion and life, but now the only remains I see is a lifeless pearl that can't shine anymore. It was slashed with so much hatred that wrath was buried underneath its scar, which ran from his left eyebrow down to the jaw.

"Cragger… look, it's been quite some time since we last met, right? We can talk it out, solve this problem and… Maybe make things clear?", I mumble whilst my arm trembles as I try to reach out to him, "I need to know what happened. Why did you do this?"

The struggle Chima had with the Wolf Tribe put everyone under stress, and that made the demand for Chi more intense than ever. Each tribe became more wary of one another…

"I know that the conspiracies surrounding you are false. You didn't know that Wilhurt was there. We fell into an ambush… nothing that happened during this was your fault!"

They made him expect forgiveness for something out of his control. They thought that my friend caused the incident, that he was responsible for everything that happened to me.

I am not like that, and I will do anything to prove this.

One slow step at a time, I expose myself, opening my arms, at risk of any attack.

We're at the Forever Rock. Cragger and I would play here almost everyday, and yet this is where I first see him in five years… five years since he was attacked, right here.

I glance at the old, discolored blood stains that mark the dry dirt beneath our toes. Although we are surrounded by bountiful grass and near a stunning crystal-clear lake, it is impossible to distract ourselves, with the miracle of nature, from the unnecessary trauma and misunderstandings.

The crocodile backs away, his claws clutching onto the shiny, gold crystal Chi, and on the other hand, his double sided sword. A long shadow, projected by his body blocking off the sunlight, occludes the Forever Rock, gatekeeping our lovely days behind grudges.

His single eye twitches, trying to pay attention both to the crystal in his grasp and me. His nostrils flare, he clenches his big, impressive crocodilian teeth.

"Laval… Don't- don't come closer, don't even think about reaching me. This might be the end of us." He warns me, slowly pointing his sword at my direction, "We shouldn't have met each other…"

His body begins to give up on him, weighing him down on his legs, but he resists his weakness and maintains balance.

His pupils constrict, "No. I shouldn't have met you, disgraceful lion! Ever since we became friends, your tribe has changed my life for the worst.", he kicks the ground in frustration.

To my dismay, Cragger stabs the soil multiple times. Not just once, but twice, thrice— I can't count how many times he shoved his weapon deep into the ground, but he repeats this brute movement with exceeding passion.

The sword is thrown downwards, and, finally, gets stuck in between dirt's crevice. Cragger grabs the handle that's sticking out like a sore thumb. He wiggles the object in despair. 

I can't stand up, but I slowly approach my friend, wobbling short hops with my right foot.

"I… understand it now. It's all politics— my childhood was just a tool. Like my status as prince."

I couldn't even reach him…! No… no, no! Where did I go wrong— what didn't I do right? If my words were unable to reach him, then what am I supposed to do now?

He collapses onto the floor, sobbing from between his fangs, pleading for help. Tears flood from his right eye and rain on top of the dead, soulless ground, although it's not those crocodile tears that they have been mocking ever since the incident. These are the purest of waters, able to revive even the driest of land. Even if it means to add salt to injury.

I try my best to convince him to let go of the Chi. He's still too young to use it. No one his age should ever need to become stronger; a chemical this powerful will only bring harm.

He gazes at the orb surrounded by his fingers. One misstep and it will ruin our lives. Without his sword, the only way to hurt us would be—

"You foul lions never stop telling me what to do!… My childhood's blood spilt on this very soil and you scums call it a 'sense of justice'!"

I rush to Cragger as fast as I can, with all of the strength I can muster from my legs. My lack of coordination makes me trip. He, before my eyes, propels himself, and, without giving me time to even react, bashes his head onto me.

A blunt pain spreads throughout my entire chest, almost constricting my lungs, or so what it feels like, unabeling me to breathe properly. The grass flies towards me and barely softens my fall, but the aching on my back and gut now become one and the same as a sickening and paralyzing numbness.

Within my desperate and shallow panting, I'm able to hear Cragger's voice, but I can't understand what he's talking about.

My eyes keep closing while I try to stay awake. I can't breathe nor see properly… the only thing I feel is someone grabbing me and-

Is that water entering my lungs? 

I failed.

This is our story; of Laval, the prince of the Lions, and my friends, overcoming obstacles of misery and tragedy. A story of friendship, but also war, destruction, selfishness, and, amidst it all, a sprinkle of hope and kindness that made everything here possible. A prince who overcame violence without picking up a sword. And, before that, it started right at our childhood.

These are… the Legends of Chima.

As the moon rises, it reflects its light onto the nearby lake that surrounds us, forming a perfectly circular shape, only to be distorted afterwards by the water. My tiny lion cub body appears in the picture of the reflection as I try to get closer to the reservoir. The water here is so clear, to the point that its entire ecosystem, from plants to small animals, are visible. Ironically enough, the images mirrored on the liquid block the view of what's on the bottom. I lift one of my legs and I shake it left and right to mess with the image.

Suddenly, the water starts to tremble, deforming my mirrored self and the moon near it. A dark green monster rises to the surface… is it a swamp monster?

Water sprinkles over my fur and drenches my blue tunic… which is terrible! My body flinches in agony by the feeling of a night breeze hitting my wet coat.

"Caught you! I win, I win! Scaredy cat!", Cragger growls, "Don't mess with the Master of Stealth!"

He grabs my hand and climbs over to the surface. An euphoric grin surges on his face, his slitted eyes widen. Our friend group gave him a nickname due to his amazing ability to hide around here, in addition to his long win streak on these types of games. Cragger's dark green head is able to camouflage between the plants, and his olive green torso becomes invisible amongst the algae. Not only that, he's able to climb trees and hide himself there.

Unfortunately, not everyone is content with his achievement. Our youngest friend, Worriz, is fuming with rage, hopping around, making the funniest faces during his temper tantrum.

I rest myself on the surface of the Forever Rock after this long session of hide and seek with my friends. I leave space for Cragger to cut another line on the stone, marking his new victory.

"I am serious!", he swears from the top of his lungs, "Why should I play this if Cragger can just hide himself in water?! That jerk knows we can't swim properly!"

Worriz comes from the Wolf Tribe. He inherited his great sense of smell from his father, one of the wolf elders. Water, however, hides Cragger's smell.

Cragger marches towards the pup. Mighty stomps tremble the dirt. He stands his ground, and pushes the fluffy little guy with his chest. They exchange glares and they clench their wrists.

The crocodile flares his nostrils and raises his eyebrow. He touches his moist, torn red loincloth, then, he proceeds to giggle.

Worriz shoves his paw onto Cragger's torso. "Unfair! I expected better from a… modest prince!"

The wolf snarls and begins to swab his tongue on his snout, over and over again. It seems that standing on his toes is not enough to make him look bigger.

"I bet you're just jealous that you can't 'swim properly'. Fight someone your size, you pa- pathetic puppy!"

"Learn to speak properly before starting arguments!"

Worriz' pelt sprinkled with dirt emits a nasty, sickening stench, mixed with the muggy scent of adrenalize coming from the sweat dripping between Cragger's scales, like rain on a hot summer day.

I observe Cragger's face being showered by tears as they inevitably join the sweat on his tense body. I feel his indignation – no, even worse, his pain, his wrath. Worriz always had a sharp tongue, but this childish quarrel has escalated into a disaster of targeting someone's dignity and adding salt to their injury. Cragger fought to be able to speak, he overcame his difficulties so that he could express himself–

Before I'm able to notice, my friends are staring at me.

"You, Worriz, don't know how much he bore. You do not have the right to judge someone for the way they were born.", words escape from my lips.

"Hey, hey!", I intervene, "It's… it's not like my friend is innocent anyways! He also can't judge Worriz' height!"

I snatch my best friend's cold, thin arm. I cling onto him, but he pushes me away… and, in a matter of seconds, between our mutually fleeting gaze, he faces the forest behind us and propels his olive green scaly body in the direction of the bushes. The leaves rustle with his rapid steps until he disappears between the plants. My muzzle opens wide; how could he run away like that if all I did was attempt to help him?... 

No… Did I hurt his feelings?

Worriz barks at me, puffs up his chest and repeats the words, "Ooh, my bestie ran away! What am I supposed to do?", with a mocking melodramatic tone of voice.

I chase after my friend, going through the same bushes as he did, almost tripping over on the fallen sticks scattered around the ground. Beyond this direction are roads that cut throughout the tropical forest, leading to the entirety of the lands west.

I glance at him. Worriz, I know you're trying to insult me. And this is your last straw.

He's already fled with his Speedor. Mine and Worriz' stone unicycles are parked near a big tree trunk.

I hop onto my vehicle and, at maximum velocity, I track down the marks left behind. The nature around me becomes blurry as I continue down the path facing left, on a precipice trail curved inwards. My surroundings change drastically from grass to dry soil. The rapid transition is nauseating—  

Whoa!

My body flings forward.

The speed of my unicycle had decreased in the blink of an eye. I had forgotten that Speedorz don't work properly on lifeless terrain.

This is the Great Divide, an arid, mountainous land. It's called home by the Eagle Tribe, and this is where their domain, the Eagle Spire, is located; it's the summit of this thin, gray block mountain. The area here is covered with sharp peaks that scatter even throughout the horizon. A few greens appear here and there, but there is not much life here because rainfalls are scarce in the Great Divide.

The road is slowly getting thinner, and it's becoming easier to notice the elevation between the ground and I. I glimpse at the road track left previously by Cragger.

He made a sharp turn towards The Fangs!

Wait… it seems that—

I follow the curve with a heavy drift. Parts of the cliff tumble down behind me– I swear I could've fallen too. 

Everything is now black and white. The moon coats the land with light, and it bounces varying tones of gray into my eyes. Sharp, fang-like pinnacles are dispersed everywhere and form an disorganized barrier around the region. Not so far away, a slim and animalistic silhouette is leaning down near a crocodile head shaped Speedor. A silhouette so bright it could bear the appearance of a spirit.

My Speedor bumps into piles of debris. The stone unicycle rattling is unbearable. My wheel is chipping with the slightest collision. I should be more careful with my driving skills.

The sky is closing by the minute and I'm barely able to see where I'm going. How could someone be this reckless to run into the Fangs? He's risking his own life because of insults!

I decelerate my Speedor and brake all of the remaining momentum by piercing my hind claws into the solid dirt, then I proceed to hop off my vehicle. I have finally found Cragger, but there is no time for relief now. My next move might put us at any risk. Of course, I still wish I could run after him. I can't leave him alone like this.

"Cragger… None of us were expecting Worriz to act the way he did. I promise this won't happen again; I'll sort things out with him, and maybe he'll get grounded for what he said.", I murmur, "Please relax, okay?"

Step after step, I get closer to Cragger. He notices me, still upset from the moment before, and at this point we are at a comfortable distance away from each other.

The crocodile hesitantly opens his mouth, and tightens his shaking hand.

He musters the courage to reply. He groans, "I'm trying to, Laval… I'm trying!

"D- do you think it's easy to let go of things like that? Or that words simply dissolve into the air like they're nothing? Tell me!" He covers his head with his hands. 

His cry launched itself from left to right, jumping off one pinnacle towards another. If someone was here, they would've certainly picked up on our presence.

"How're you able to simply 'sort out things' with him? Did– did you even understand what he said? Or what he meant? He insulted the effort of my parents– if it weren't for them, I would've been mute, or even dead!", he shouts again.

Words leaked through Cragger's lips; waves after waves of uncontrollable anger rose high until they hit the ground. I never expected anything like that to happen.

His grunts start to fade away, as my mind boils with intrusive thoughts; dead… what could this mean? Why was there a possibility of Cragger being dead, why would that even happen? What would I be without him, how would I live without his audacity distracting me from rigorous royal rules… How would his parents react to their sweet child dissolving into the air—

"Silly lion, when will you stop freezing like a cub and come back to reality? Toughen up a little bit!" he cackles in a sudden change of mood. Perhaps I lost the notion of time's passing.

A petrifying chill rushes through my nerves; both of my shoulders stun by the pinch of a scaly pair of hands. In the blink of an eye, my entire body is shaken viciously. The constant brute movement mixed with the intense emotions make me dizzy. I'm unable to react properly; everything seems fuzzy, my head feels light, my body starts numbing. 

My eyes widen and my muzzle droops into an awkward expression, though I can't stop myself from laughing too, "Haha… I don't know– do I really paralyze that often? Well, it's surprising how much you tolerate me", incomplete syllables mumble from my mouth due to my dizziness.

I sigh, "... I'm glad you aren't strict with me. My dad is already too much."

"Just breathe, aight… You'll be fine, because I'm your friend! Friends are supposed to help each other.", says Cragger.

I stretch my arm onto one of the sharp pinnacles, then I firmly close my eyes.

I've got my friend's back. Now, maybe we could travel on foot towards the Eagle Spire, get help there and go back home. Staying up late alone is not safe. Cragger stares at the moon. It's full, and nearby where we are rests the Wolf Tribe's outpost, which changes location ever so frequently. He points out that it looks quite purplish tonight; I can't see colors at night, but the moon's appearance is darker than normal. Strange.

I stick up my neck and look at the sky. Right now, it feels like a pitch-dark void is covering us. From sight alone it emits a silky, soft feeling on my paw pads. The round, allegedly purple moon stands out like a sore thumb. 

Oh—

My ears turn sideways. Screeching noises, like claws scraping on rocks, buzz inside my eardrums. The high pitch of these sounds itch throughout their way into my ear canal. 

This disjointed sound pulls the trigger of my anxiety and the adrenaline rush pumps throughout my veins.

I'm fed with these obnoxious panics of mine, but it unleashed a gut feeling I can't pinpoint properly. My body drowns with nausea; fired up aches spread inside me a bit, I sense some kind of dampness that flows from the stomach to my mouth. It's weird and uncomfortable, but I hope it won't last for long…

Argh! Hoarse cacophony vibrates all around the vast land. I… I can't keep up for long!

I move towards the sound, folding my ears to avoid hurting my eardrums. Everything's blurry again, and I'm unable to hear my surroundings. Far away, I glimpse at a shadow near a rock. Is it the same rock from the noises?

As I get closer, a strange ringing becomes stronger. The shadow's long, thin body twitches in my direction. Huh?

It dashes. Straight to me. Out of nowhere.

I let go of my ears for just a second, long enough to hear:

"Get away from my friend! Now!"

Cragger pushes me aside and I fall head first on the ground; there, I squint my eye for a last second, as I fainted, and the shadow wasn't gone.

My eyelids slowly open, my vision starts to regain strength. After a little bit of effort, I see two lions staring at me, their eyebrows raised and lips drooping down.

The lion on the right… is my dad! His shiny gray mane, meticulously separated in half into sleek bangs, is covered with expensive insect wax. I could define his expression as priceless. Though I'm barely recovering my consciousness. In fact, maybe I'm in deep trouble, as his sharp and well cared for teeth are exposed.

Besides him is my uncle; he has a blond, voluminous, messy mane, unique for a lion his age, with a mullet. His dark brown fur, tan caramel muzzle and paws make him eye-catching compared to the rest of my family. His tall and slightly muscular build stands there awkwardly as Dad's small eyes widen, placing his paws gently on my face. Dad folds his muzzle into a big snarl. Even if I'm feeling kind of disconnected from reality, I know for sure he's ready to spill an hour long lecture. He's the King of the Lions, after all.

This is too much to process…

"Oh, thanks Mount Cavora, you're finally awake! I'm unable to believe you would get into such a mess, my son.", Dad sighs in relief, "Your arm was deeply clawed; all of that would've been avoided if you had called us. I taught you how to roar, why are you afraid of communicating with us?"

My uncle shrugs his shoulders, visibly confused. I imagine this is too much for him, just like it is for me. An attack… seriously? I don't remember much, but I can feel my arm numbing. I try to get up, leaning forward. I place my left arm onto the comfy bed, but pain soon emerges and I'm forced to fall back. My dad's right, he's always right… 

Dad continues, "Lavertus. An atrocious attack was targeted towards my son– the prince of the Lion Tribe, my heir, my future! Please, go forth and investigate the area. Search for eyewitnesses and identify this abhorrent criminal."

Lavertus leaves the room, and now it's just Dad and I. He sits besides me, on my right side, grabs my hand and holds it fiercely. He doesn't know what happened before this accident, that I rushed after Cragger without hesitation. He's unaware that I almost fell off a cliff. I wished only time would tell, but shouldn't a prince always be honest?...

"Laval", Dad pets my forehead, "tell me what happened. I can't help you if I don't know what you went through.", he whispers.

He itches his lion chin,

"Cragger and I were suddenly attacked at The Fangs. A shadow scratched a rock with his nails and jumped on me…"

"I see. However, something doesn't feel right. How did you get to such a dangerous place, and were you near anyone besides him?"

I stutter in hesitation; how should I explain what happened? Dad's slim body is relaxed, but his eyes still leak concern. My answer was too vague, but I hope he understood what I meant. He needs context to help me.

"My friends were playing together… I was with them. It's just that Worriz insulted Cragger… and he fled to The Fangs. Oh– I almost forgot to tell you that the moon was purple that night.", I added, as my awkward voice trembles.

Dad gets off the chair, then tilts his head to the side, laying his index finger on his mouth. The balcony of my room is bright because of the sun. The sun, that's where my Dad's looking at.

He marches to the door.

His tone of voice settles down, and as he takes his leave, he takes a moment to speak, "I think I've got it. I'll talk with the Eagles, as this incident is quite peculiar and I need an outside perspective about this. They live near The Fangs, so perhaps they can help us. I'll see you at night."

[inkovert]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

Tagged by @pertinax--loculos. Before I begin I just wanna say...Pockets...this BFF-ship is not one-sided. You're super cool and I always love seeing you on my dash and I miss reading about your stories (haven't heard about ATN in a minute D: I know it's in the 'second draft/editing' graveyard so I get it). My only disappointment is that we evidently live in different time zones so we're never active at the same time :'(. But yeah just had to clear that up. So EHEM, onto the tag!

What motivates you to write?

Oof. I've been trying to remind myself of the answer to this because your girl seems to keep forgetting. I think @pertinax--loculos put it beautifully: 'I write for the same reason I breathe. Because if I didn't, I would die'. I don't think I'm necessarily motivated to do it at this point, it's just that I'm incapable of NOT doing it. Which inevitably makes it difficult when I find myself in a slump and desperate to give up because I can't produce anything I deem "good enough". I know despite my frustrations I will keep trying to produce something because giving up is evidently not an option. In the past though, I think I was motivated by the prospects of other people eventually reading my work and wanting to give those imaginary future people the same feelings/experiences my favorite authors have given me when I read my favorite book. But as it's gotten harder and harder to get eyes on my work, that's stopped being a motivator for me (which is probably for the best).

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud of/happy with. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

Can you believe it took me SO long to find an answer for this LOL. I think I'm mostly proud of how scenes I've written turned out, not necessarily specific lines. But I'll go with this one, because it stuck with me the most after I wrote it:

The last thing I truly tried to create was the destruction of myself.

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

Hands down, it's Vince. Like, I love that boy. I can think about him in relation to almost everyone in my cast of characters and I smile even harder. But I think the relationship that I love the most in my story is the one he has with Cami. It's just so...wholesome and pure and playful and loving. Like the two of them truly come to care for each other so much, in a way that almost transcends any kind of relationship (their relationship is fully platonic btw). But Vince is just a lovable idiot. He is the resident himbo. He doesn't take life or himself too seriously which makes him easy to get along with. But he also has such an incredibly big heart and is actually quite sensitive once you get to know him. But the care, respect and admiration he grows to have for Cami over the course of the story is just so beautiful to watch and is one of the parts of my story I look forward to writing/developing the most. I could ramble on and say more but I will reign myself in.

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I know this is an uncommon answer but...editing. Blank pages intimidate me. I hate coming up with words on the spot with nothing to build off of. But I love coming back to a chapter I've written, opening up a blank doc beside it and rewriting the chapter with stronger language/words/prose/dialogue etc. I'm often able to flex my writing chops when re-writing or editing a chapter rather than just writing it from scratch. The right words just come to me a lot easier and I can phrase things more eloquently than before. I know this is not what true true editing is...come back and ask me again in 6 months when I have to edit the completed second draft of my story and I'm writhing in agony.

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Dialogue. Dialogue. Dialogue. I struggle with writing an engaging narrative voice/exposition. Can't worldbuild for my life. Descriptions scare me. But ask me to write a compelling, emotional, humorous, realistic conversation between two characters and I will hit the ground running.

What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

I think Pockets also had a good answer for this that I agree with - people never forget you. You can be gone for 4 weeks, 4 months, or 4 years, but the minute you log back on and make a post, people will welcome you back into the community with open arms like you never left. And you realize just how much of a place you actually had in the community whereas often when you're in it on the day to day it can feel like you're shouting into the void and no one's listening. But people are listening and lurking and liking your posts, they just may be too shy to approach you or prefer to be in the shadows. But I can think of like at least 5 writeblrs who I've thought about in the last month and wondered where they went off to because I haven't seen them on my dash for months. Despite my qualms with writeblr at times, there is a semblance of a community here that I don't think many other platforms have or can replicate.

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener. Literally Scrivener. I would not be able to do anything if I didn't have Scrivener. Scrivener is my life. It literally has everything a writer could need and more. When I tell you that everyday I'm discovering a new feature on this shit as if I'm using it for the first time rather than the mf 10 years I've had it. It legit has everything. “But what about —?” Yes. The answer is yes, it can do that, too. And I'm so grateful for it. And it's a ONE TIME purchase which is such a steal. It provides you so much and asks so little in return.

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

HA

(what an anticlimactic question to end on but I legit do not worlbuild. I truly admire anyone who can but it's not me.)

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

@starry-sky-stuff @lady-grace-pens @rose-red-ink @freedominique @vacantgodling @kaiusvnoir

And anyone who sees this and wants to jump in! Feel free to say I tagged you, happy to read your responses.

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

'Allo! 7, 8, and 15 for the ask game? :D

hi!!!

7. what are three songs you put on your WIP-playlist this year?

So I don't really have a wip playlist, but I have a general playlist I use for writing (mostly essays for school, but anything that's being a pain in the ass or I need to get done I use it for) plus a couple ones form when I'm working on specific wips, and those got a bunch of new editions! (the entire playlist, actually, the playlists for writing a specific wip didn't exist until this year).

Me and Bobby McGee by Janis Joplin (fun fact: I couldnt remember the name of this song when I was talking to my friend once so I called it the harmonica lesbians song) (frost & fire/enna's prequel writing playlist)

Once and For All from the Newsies musical sound track (herald at dawn writing playlist)

Big Dreams in a Small Town by Restless Heart (herald at dawn AND frost & fire/ennas prequel writing playlsit)

8. what are three things you're looking forward to next year?

I'm really looking forward to doing the worldbuilding for herald at dawn. its going to be so much fun, i can't wait. and also working on fleshing out the proper plot of ennas prequel and frost & fire. and the third thing is probably just getting back into writeblr in general because damn did i not have any spoons or motivation for like a year and a half. but i has both of those now!!!

15. time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read! (if you have nothing posted/published this year, any other year is fine too ^^)

I love this bit so much. so fucking much. its the prologue to enna's prequel and i love it.

631 words. tw/cw: referenced murder, blood, graphic description of torture (no actual depiction of it, its a threat made by one character to another), someone trying to kill their relatives

In the tunnel there was a girl standing alone. Her name was Enna. She was crying, tears streaking tracks down her cheeks, and her shirt was wet with blood that did not belong to her. She stood in a stone tunnel with an arched ceiling. The floor was hard packed dirt, with the occasional flagstone poking out from underneath.

Her black-and-blue hair was in a simple braid down her back. It ended just above her waist. She was staring at someone in the distance, no more than 15 feet past. Her eyes were wide and wet; despite that, they were fierce, a hint of fire burning in the depths inside them. She reminded the elf at the end of the passageway of her mother. Stubborn and full of a fierce anger; one that was strong enough to burn down cities.

She didn’t make any move towards the elf. She knew she couldn’t win whatever fight would happen if she tried to stop him. Enna did not yet wish to join her brother in death. Instead, Enna asked one question. Just one, and nothing else. “Why?” she said, voice shaky. “Why did you kill my brother?”

The elf half turned, his face cast in shadow. “You wish to know why?” the man laughed, a deep, bone chilling, hollow laugh that Enna would never forget. “There are more powerful forces in this world than you know, girl, and it would do you wise to listen where your brother did not. Stay out of matters you do not, cannot, understand. Die now and redeem yourself from the crimes of your mother.”

“You knew my mother?” asked Enna, her voice soft and hollow.

“Yes. Why would I not, Enna Marie?” The elf leaned forward until his face hit the edge of the pool of low lamplight. Icy blue skin, a face framed by black hair, and a pair of eyes she saw in her own face everyday. Green eyes, eyes the color of emeralds and of even finer stones Enna could not hope to see. “I am your uncle, girl,” he spat. “I know of every ‘accident’; of the blasphemy that resulted in the birth of you and your heathen twin.”

His voice echoed as he drew back from the light. “I will make you pay for that. I will make you bleed and I will make you until you scream until that little dammed father of yours comes running. And I will make him watch as I bleed his two little girls dry, just as I did to his son.”

“My father is dead,” said Enna, softly. It was the only thing she could think of to say. “I don’t even know his name.” But no one was around to hear her. Echoing in the silence was a bone chilling laugh that would haunt her nightmares for decades to come.

Her uncle was long gone by the time anyone came down the passage to accuse her of fratricide, of the murder of her brother.

It was not Enna who had killed her brother, not Enna who had committed that most grievous of transgressions, the killing of one’s own blood, not yet. It was her uncle who had killed Zephyr, who had murdered the son of his once beloved sister.

But her pleas of innocence were not to be believed, and Enna would carry that blame for a decade and a half. Some people would never forgive her. Some people forgave her even before she did it, and some people believed her—that she did not need to be forgiven, because she had not done anything.

Enna would not die an innocent, not today. She would run, and run, and run. She would keep running until she could run no longer, and then she took the name Marie.

[winterandwords]

Word find tag (cloud, branch, tree, animal, stars + hand, yell, deal, wait, lose)

I'm combining two word find tags into one big lemgthy boi featuring lines from Bridge From Ashes because I'm deep into editing and absolutely loving it.

@catchingbigfish gave me cloud, branch, tree, animal, and stars, and @pertinax--loculos gave me hand, yell, deal, wait and lose. Thanks, friends!

CLOUD

My awareness falls through the people around us, shadows of ghosts, blurred faces and hollow gaps in reality, lit from behind by flashes of ultraviolet and xenon blue and pink, painting silhouettes like midnight cloud cover.

BRANCH LIMB

Maybe a well-trained attack dog is all I'm ever going to be. Anyway. I’d put money on at least half the people in these lifts not having all the limbs they were born with, but none of them have faces like mine.

TREE

The room is all gold and deep reds and dark glass with windows reaching up to a double-height ceiling. The balcony outside is filled with kinds of trees and plants I’ve never seen before. We’re so high up, the only buildings visible are a handful of other towers that pierce the clouds.

ANIMAL

You still get sent out on assignments like this sometimes or, if you’re unlucky enough to get promoted again, you end up leading them. But they’re not your bread and butter. Once you’re a pet instead of cattle, they’re just an occasional meal.

STARS

The room’s dark apart from slashes of blue-green light from outside shining through the blinds. The sounds of the boundaries around us and miles upon miles of city beyond melt into our heartbeats and the sky collapses and covers us in stars. And I need this. I need him. I need whatever part of me is still breathing when it’s over. “Please.”

HAND

 “The scars go the whole way, but you don’t.” I reach for his hand with its cuts and swollen knuckles and lift the bottom of my shirt just enough for him to touch the skin above my waistband, carved and burned into layers of intersecting lines, mottled with a spectrum of black, purple and yellow bruises. “This is as far as you go.”

YELL

Down the hall, between me and where I’m going, a door swings open and someone rolls and crashes out, followed by a shriek and what looks like a low-grade scatter bullet based on the chips it breaks out of the opposite wall. I stop long enough to make sure nothing hits me, then I step around the angry pile of rags yelling empty threats at the source of the bullet.

DEAL

“You sent him to research and marked him as expandable?” She taps a finger on the back of my hand where the line from the graft has long since vanished. “And you would’ve left him dead in a pool of blood on the floor in temp holding if I hadn’t stopped you, which would’ve been a whole mess of paperwork that we’d both have had to deal with. There’s no moral high ground here.”

WAIT

He lifts his coat from the chair and takes out a knife and a heavy-duty cauteriser. It’s way more hardcore than what I carry or what he’s used with me before and it isn’t recreational. It could save lives in the right hands, but it’s death waiting to happen in his.

LOSE

I don’t look at him when I leave. I don’t stop at the observation deck to talk. I’ve done my part. I follow corridors and lifts and meaningless artificial daylight back to the darkness of my office. Ezra will come and find me. He’ll complain about me leaving Examination without coming back to the deck first. I’ll tell him to fuck off and he’ll try not to lose his temper but he’ll lose it anyway and it won’t affect me any more than it ever does.

Tagging @thegreatobsesso, @manathen, @nanashi23, @ezestreet and @i-can-even-burn-salad. If you'd like to do it, the words to search your WIP (or completed works, because fuck the system) for are space, lost, dark, and pain.

Also, this is an open tag, which means anyone seeing this is welcome to jump in and do it. If you're new to Tumblr, writeblr or tag games, you're especially encouraged to get involved. It doesn't matter if we don't know each other and you're seeing this on someone else's blog. Remember to @ me so I can read and reblog your post 💜

[my-blessed-prince]

Writeblr Introduction

Hi! You most likely know me from my main blog @my-cursed-prince

I decided to make a second writeblr account for a different set of projects that are mostly less tragic. These projects are within a fairytale universe. They are naturally all satires, because, well it's still me <333

It's just these are silly funny satires, and not cry yourself to sleep at night satires. The actual definition of satire lmao.

I suppose if I have a wip that's not fairy tale and isn't We Lost Our Sunshine, I'll put it on here too. So far, I haven't fully developed or even halfway developed any of those wips.

If you have any questions about my canon OCs, continue to ask my main blog! If I answer an ask for this blog, it will be for one of my side projects. These side projects can include AUs that I put my main OCs in. Although, the focus of this blog rn is more fairytale oriented.

Here are the projects I've been slowly, but surely working on!

Prince Snow White

A fairy tale retelling of the Grimms Brothers Little Snow White! I decided to keep the story pretty much the same, except I switch everyone's gender! The land is ruled by women, because for them that's the only way it would be. I give men stereotypical feminine roles, that I mostly take inspiration from the 1950s in America.

Prince Snow White is trying to escape his evil stepfather, and he runs into seven dwarves (all women) who take him in at the price that he keeps house like the good little boy he is :)))

He befriends the local princess, Princess Carlota, who is a rambunctious girl that is always getting into different types of trouble. The two children have fun in the fairy tale of Snow White.

Cinderella Retelling: Rising Embers

Ngl, this is the least developed wip. This is very loosely based off of Cinderella, and honestly, it would probably be better if I made it more original instead of a retelling slkfjdklsljkfd. Essentially, the plot is that Elanor (Cinderella) is asexual. Okay, there's more plot than that, but that is the original idea. I have yet to write much for this one so things could change, but basically the idea is that Cinderella decides enough is enough. Hearing there is a ball, she gets involved in a gang of older ladies that help her prepare for the ball. She wants to buy her estate back from her evil stepmother, so the goal is to seduce a lord at the ball. Stealing his money, she would purchase her estate back and kick out her step mother.

Which is so much fun, when you're asexual and realize you know absolutely nothing about being seductive. Lucky for her, Prince Charming would fall for anyone with nice feet.

Things get more complicated, as Elanor accidentally 'seduces' Prince Charming, and in the same breath befriends his younger brother, Alexander.

Through the power of friendship and the sheer audacity, Elanor fights to get her estate back.

The satire here is asexuals feeling forced into relationships they don't want because allo-society said so.

Fairy Tale AU

This is where I put my canon OCs in a fairytale. I have not decided, but I may put these three wips in the same universe, with Prince Snow White's country as a neighboring one to Cinderella's.

This fairy tale is primarily about Verity, who lives in the same country as Ella and is actually friends with her. However, instead of her story centering around a prince, it's with a commoner--Lao.

Verity lives with her mother, who maltreats her and expects her to take care of Ray for her. (yes this is the wip that is a little more sad. BITE ME). Verity, who is getting older, wants to leave this arrangement and is seeking a way to move out with her little brother.

Unsure what to do and how to pursue work when she has a whole estate to keep, she seeks out Lao to court <3

(is Lao going to provide for her) (no ofc not. it's Lao. he'd rather sell his soul than let Verity think she's reliant on him)

Ray is a fourteen year old boy, who is growing increasingly concerned for his sister. He also has two friends, Min and Juni, that also concern him with their homelessness. Bestie is worried 24/7. The boy is on a mission to make sure his dumb friends and sister find a stable to place to live. Because he is Ray, he naturally takes all the worst routes with a smile on his face and a heart full of pride of how helpful he is.

Lastly! We have Min. Very similar story to Poisonous Medicine. He is fourteen and an alcoholic. He shares a corner with Juni, and they keep each other safe. Min has some secrets buried deep in his chest that he doesn't want anyone to know. Secrets that are slightly different than Poisonous Medicine.

Min and Juni are offered a place to stay from Lao. Lao frames it as the boys are doing him a favor. If they stay with them, Lee will stop pestering Lao about getting married and doing 'gross' things. They're 'chaperoning' (in lee's eyes) and they can help cover for Lao if needed. We have the boys being slowly welcomed into a family :)))

Ray's plot and Min's plot are side plots though, and the main plot is Verity's romance with Lao <333

Oh, and the satire for this one is the Christianity aspect. I poke fun at Christians, and I talk about the aspects I like and the way I wish things were (I.e. what if we were inclusive with our religions as a whole. what about that)

[saint-starflicker]

Nobody tagged me, I just thought this would be fun.

1. what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

I found out that I start whinging really loudly at 18,000 words that I hate doing this and I'm never going to write anything ever again—but I can push through that moment to a word count of 30,000.

2. what did not go so well this year? how do you feel about it and what is a positive thing you learnt from it?

Physical health. Got a new adjusted painkiller prescription.

3. did you achieve everything you wanted to this year? if not, how will you go about it?

No, but hope springs eternal.

4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

I'm more of a story arc person than a sentence person. Stephen King in On Writing said a complete sentence has a noun and a verb, and all my other more direct writing influences told me to choose as strong a verb as I can think up at the time of writing, so that became my autopilot mode and I don't really think about making showy, stylish, deft, clever yet unobtrusive sentences anymore (which is probably why I don't accomplish stylish, deft, clever yet unobtrusive sentences.) If a reader gets curious enough about the second sentence that they read it and then the next sentence, then I am grateful for my good fortune.

5. what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

For all its problems, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. I think a lot of classics get a "summarized badly" stereotype around it until we think we don't have to read it because we got information against our will about what the story content is. "Moby Dick is about Captain Ahab going on an ordinary whale hunt for too many pages that describe the color white." "Everything Jane Austen wrote was about dresses and balls, rich people visiting other rich people's houses, and sassing a beau until he becomes a husband." I think for Jane Eyre it's "Mr. Rochester locked his wife up in an attic and then tried to marry Jane. She still married him because that's true love. These are disaster heteros, do not be these people." It really makes Jane sound like some wilting violet downtrodden by her employer's boot, but Jane has an almost decades-long extended family melodrama going on that Rochester doesn't have anything to do with—that I think is a more significant part of her characterization and those family dynamics are my favorite part of the book.

6. did you make any new writeblr friends? give a shout-out! if not, it's time to praise one of your old besties <3

I don't want to accidentally shade anybody by recommending that we maybe should actually be writing.

7. what are three songs you put on your WIP-playlist this year?

Fish in a Birdcage

Til I Hear It From You

I count the following two songs as one entry because they were on a playlist for the same story:

Nothing Without You

Between the Lines

8. what are three things you're looking forward to next year?

Writing original fiction.

9. create a meme or moodboard that captures your past writing-year!

naur

10. which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

I thought Claire Simmonds would be more evil in "Cross to Wear".

11. which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

"Cross to Wear", I was clocking in the scene in which Peter tells his dad off, because Papa Simmonds was just...an empty husk of a person in my mind, and not even in an interesting way, as in if that cad and reckless child-abandoner was only just slightly more active in my mind then that would've gone more easily. As it stands, Papa Simmonds was a plot device, and nobody talks about how difficult those characters are to write because there's nothing in them to make any momentum happen. It's like kicking an empty soup tin can down the street in hopes that it will play fetch with you. There's no life in a plot device character.

Mikey versus the 1990's was strange because I got to the 18,000-word mark and I whined as usual that this was taking too long and was too much effort and I am so going to quit this hobby, and I didn't mean to retell the whole entire goddamn novel from the point of view of a background character who was very in the background like way, way in the background...and then I blinked and just under 26,000 words were written out to the end in what felt like less than 2 weeks. It took something like 2 months to get to 25,000 words in "Cross to Wear".

12. if your character(s) had their own new years resolutions, what would those be?

Get written. Bother their author.

13. how did you change as a writer? did you learn anything new? started to plan instead of pants? share your wisdom!

I got bitten by a Muse of writing nonfiction essays, actually, which was odd because I did not previously know that was a thing.

14. time for writing wrapped! what would be your top three used sentences?

(I hope I don't have that! Let alone 3 of that.)

15. time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read! (if you have nothing posted/published this year, any other year is fine too ^^)

I did finally get a short story (original fiction) accepted for publication by a new local magazine, so I'm happy. But this is my fandom blog for fanfictions.

[elean0rarose]

Author Ask Tag Game

Thank you @daughter-of-inklings for the questions!

I'm putting this below a cut because wow, it ended up getting really long, but read on if you're interested in me rambling about my WIP, my writing process, what inspires me to write, and what I aim for in my writing.

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

In everything that I write, the takeaway is that ordinary people and underdogs can do remarkable things. You should never doubt the power of determination, grit, and the sort of resolve that comes from having nothing to lose.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

I draw inspiration from all sorts of places, but usually it comes from the knowledge I have of medieval Europe (which I want to learn more about—I have so many books on it I want to buy), Ancient Greek mythology and religious practice, other fantasy media, and fashion.

I like to create mood boards and have started a Pinterest again to hoard bits of visual culture that speak to me. This really helps me for things like character design.

I do also get inspired by music. One of my stories, and so the worldbuilding that arose from that idea, was inspired by NFWMB by Hozier.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

I'll speak about Blood and Water here, my novel-in-progress. Braddik, the MC, is on the surface simply looking for his long-lost father who he has never met. But underneath this is a yearning for meaning and to locate the self. Braddik as a character struggles to know who he is, and he misguidedly believes he can find that in another person who he has idealised in his own imaginings of him.

What I'm trying to achieve with Braddik is quite a bit, when I think about it. The aforementioned themes of ordinary people being able to do great things is on there, because he sets out on a continent-wide journey on his quest for family. But I'm also trying to show that these idealised fantasies we have aren't all they're cracked up to be when we get close to them.

Finally, I'm also trying to represent in fiction what it is like to have paranoia—like, not anxiety, but actual psychotic paranoia—because I think that's severely lacking. Whether he's right or wrong about things is inconsequential. It's more about how it affects him and his relationship with others and the world. It is neither a positive nor a negative, it just is, and there is no need to cure him as a plot point because that's not the story I'm trying to tell

How many chapters is your story going to have?

I have no idea. I kinda just write and see where it takes me—I'm absolutely a pantser. Then I'll figure out how things should be grouped up for chapters in the edits.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

All original content. My short stories are going out for submission in speculative fiction magazines, but I'm struggling to get my foot in the door at the moment because it's very competitive. When I finally finish the novel, I hope to have a few shorts published to help me get into trad publishing. It's a big dream, but we've all gotta have dreams, right?

When and why did you start writing?

I've written mainly non-fiction throughout my life, so imagine my surprise last year when I started writing fiction! It was the turning time between spring and summer, and my novel idea just... came to me. I had the first two lines rattling around my head for a few days while on holiday, so one morning when I got up earlier than everyone else, I wrote them down and then just didn't stop writing. It didn't take long to fall in love with it after that.

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

I follow waaaay too many people to list them all but I'll tag some below to take part in this and you can go check 'em out! I'm not too sure what is meant by "words of engagement", but if you mean encouragement, then I'll say this:

Write. Write because your brain bleeds stories and your fingers ache for the touch of a keyboard. Write because it sustains you more than bread ever could. Write because it is your deepest desire unlocked and spilled onto a page. Write because this is what you dream of, because it is your most enduring love. Write.

I'm tagging, with the usual caveats, @sometimesraven @callahanscorner and @mundanemoongirl. Others feel free to take part even if you're not tagged!

Your questions are:

What was your first ever story idea? What happened to it?

What's your writing routine?

Are you a plotter, a pantser, or something in between?

Do you try to tell moral stories throughout your work, or any other life lessons? What are they?

What do you prefer, character development or worldbuilding? Why?

Do you have any tips for budding writers?

Who inspires you to write the most?

[clairelsonao3]

Hi there! Its Week 1 of the Sunday Writeblr Ask-A-Thon! I'm Athena, my question for you is: Think of the genres you write, what drew you you to them? What do you love about them?

Thanks for the ask, Athena!

These days, I primarily write romance, thrillers, and romantic thrillers. 😂 I don't know if whump counts as a "genre" in and of itself, but everything I write invariably has whumpy elements mixed in (and why I'm into whump is probably worthy of a psychology paper, so I won't touch that in this post). I still consider myself a historical fiction writer as well, although I don't have any of that going right now.

Ever since I was old enough to experience romantic feelings myself, I was ALWAYS interested in romance and romantic elements and incorporated them into virtually everything I wrote, even during my MFA period when I looked at "romance" as a genre with snobbish disdain. I really wish I'd gotten over that earlier because it's now my favorite genre and I'm totally without shame about it. I've even learned to embrace the fact that it's so often dismissed as an unserious "women's" genre because I think there's a certain feminist power to be taken back in telling stories that are by us and for us, that is often missing in a literary industry still mostly in the shadow of the male-dominated notion of the "Great American Novel" (even though the majority of writers AND readers these days are in fact, women).

I discovered mysteries and thrillers much later and actually started reading them more often when my father (a writer himself) started writing and eventually publishing a series of thrillers and he asked me to beta/edit his work. I enjoy both old-fashioned Agatha Christie-style whodunits and newfangled thrillers where you know whodunit right from the start 😂. Why? Well, I've always loved puzzles, and there's nothing like trying to solve a puzzle alongside a fictional detective. And although I do sometimes read stories heavy on blood and gore and serial killer-type stuff, that's not really what appeals to me. It's more about the puzzle and letting an author twist your mind around like a pretzel (and then the fun of attempting to do it to my own readers).

So then I started putting all of those together, and here I am today the extremely confused, genre-blurring writer you see before you. But I'm also writing what I want to write and surprisingly, once I stopped feeling limited by genres, I found an audience of people very receptive to the kind of thing I was writing. It's funny how that works.

[rbbess110]

Hi, happy blorbo blursday to you!! (As usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own)

How do your blorboes react when they get sick? Who gets sick more often? Who takes care of them? Who pushes trough the pain, and who gets in bed when they have the slightest cold? Who is super mad when they get ill and who does not mind? Go wild with this one!

hi, thanks for the ask and happy blorbo blursday to you too!! even though i'm. very late with answering this ask, thaha, sorry for the delay!!

this is going to be a fun one, because i'm a huge sucker for hurt/comfort tropes, which includes characters getting sick, thaha

masha is a spoiled brat raised in luxury, but at the same time, she was taught not to show any weakness, ever. so when she gets sick, she tries very hard to deal with it on her own at first, and not let anyone know she's feeling unwell. after someone realizes though and she's forced into bed, that's when the whiny spoiled brat comes out. she's very upset about being sick and she's making it everyone's problem now.

nida has a huge tendency to overwork herself, so she gets sick every once in a while, just as a "give me a freaking break" warning from her body. does she listen to it, though? nope! will push through the pain as long as someone doesn't notice and force her to bed, or she'll go on as long as she doesn't collapse. only after she ends up in bed one way or another, she admits that her behavior might've not been the smartest and feels kind of bad about worrying others. however, once she doesn't have a choice but to stay in bed, she does... kind of welcome the opportunity to rest and give herself a break.

samuel is, similarly to masha, a spoiled brat raised in luxury. he, however, doesn't push himself to his limits when he's sick, but he doesn't go to bed at with the slightest cold either. if he decides this is enough of an annoyance that he won't be able to focus on anything, he simply won't get out of bed, and good luck dragging him out of it. he doesn't mind it that much and doesn't get as upset over it as masha or nida; but he's definitely more irritable when he's sick, that's for sure. i'd also say that out of the whole gang, he might be the one to get sick most often, so he's just used to it in a way.

esther's the kind of person that doesn't get sick often. and when she does, she doesn't try to deny it or play it off as nothing - if she's really feeling sick, she's going to be reasonable and get rest - but she's going to be really pissed about it. she probably wouldn't complain that much unless she was in pain, but she'd be very grumpy about putting everything on hold while she takes time to recover.

david is the kind of person to claim that he's dying with the slightest cold. well, alright, he won't actually claim that he's dying, but he will go to bed and curl up in a ball, waiting to get better as soon as he feels the tiniest bit sick. to be fair though, he doesn't get sick very often, so he can allow himself to be a bit whiny and miserable every once in a while.