#wip: ashen embers

[heylittleriotact]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you for the tag @preciouslittlebhaalbae - I love ember and I’m excited to see how this oneshot plays out! ♥️

I’m on vacation this week and not getting a whole lot of writing done, but here’s the first part of Chapter 20 of i heard people are dying to get in here.

🌱💚🌱💚🌱💚🌱

Three Months Later

A world-weary sigh found its way past Rook's lips as she studied the cremation paperwork in her hand.

1 x Ashen Pewter

3 x Ashen Pewter Miniature

2 x Sterling Silver Teardrop Pendant

1 x Sterling Silver Dog Tag Pendant

"Fucking hate filling jewelry..." she muttered, tossing the cremation contract onto the counter and lifting the small blue Rubbermaid container over to the hand towel that was spread out.

She found the cardboard boxes containing the urns taped shut and bearing the name of the deceased scribbled in Sharpie on the side: one big one, three little ones, and three small jewelry boxes.

Using a box cutter, she opened the largest box and pulled out the styrofoam prism that was packed tightly inside, gently laying it on the counter and lifting away one half to reveal the urn within. Snagging the contract again, she looked at the personalization field of the printed document.

Name: First, Last; D.O.B. - D.O.D.; 'Forever In Our Hearts'; Font: Elegant Script.

Her eyes went back and forth between the information on the paper and the front of the matte finish, grey-blue metal urn: it would have been checked over when the crem received it, but Rook had learned not to rely on other people's eyes when several-hundred-dollars worth of merchandise was on the table.

Satisfied that the manufacturer hadn't mistakenly engraved 'Arnold' instead of 'Ronald', Rook slipped the urn from the styrofoam and set about filling it: the lid was popped off the Rubbermaid to reveal the clear plastic bag of cremated remains within, sealed with a twist-tie, the scorched metal cremation tag resting against the backdrop of powdery grey and white skeletal remains.

It was Tuesday, and this urn was due to be received by the family the next day, along with three others that Becks hadn't seen fit to fill during the weekend when she covered the chapel for Rook's days off.

If there was one thing she'd learned in the months she'd been at Pemberly, it was that no one actually seemed to understand how fucking busy it actually was. For some reason because it wasn't as big as Hilldwell or Arbor Heights, it was automatically assumed that it didn't boast nearly the same volume of calls on a monthly basis - a fact that Rook took it upon herself to disprove one day when it wasn't insanely busy and sat down to calculate and average out the monthly calls that Pemberly got versus the amount that Hilldwell and Arbor Heights got. While Pemberly tailed both chapels by an average of thirty or so calls, it still averaged out to eighty-odd calls per month, which worked out to between two and three new calls per day, and nearly twenty per week.

That was a lot of dead people. A lot of grieving people coming through the doors. A lot of identifications and arrangements and obituaries and clothing drop-offs and urn pick ups.

And she was the only admin there.

There were no funeral attendants or directors unless there was a service or visitation scheduled, and half the attendants that ended up there were happy to sit in the lunchroom snacking on greasy hamburgers and fries during services instead of actually doing anything useful.

She had a housekeeper when she first moved, but Eloise had been on stress leave for over a month by then, and management seemed to think that along with every other aspect of the chapel, Rook surely had more than enough time to vacuum, mop, dust, shovel snow, and prepare coffee and cookies for arrangement meetings.

She glanced over her shoulder at the cremation container on a bier behind her and prayed that by the time her other two identifications were finished and she could move this one into a free visitation room, the person inside wouldn't be a mess of purge, which would be just her luck.

Emmrich was scheduled to come to the chapel for three o'clock arrangements, and she found herself hoping his graveside service at one would wrap up early enough so that he could come early - she felt a bit pathetic relying on him for help, but on a day like today, an extra set of hands would be extremely welcomed...

She pulled a fresh plastic bag from the drawer under the counter and arranged it inside the empty Ashen Pewter after sticking a label with the decedent's name, date of death, and cremation number to the bag itself and the bottom of the urn: if the urn ever went missing, or the bag of cremated remains was removed from the urn for whatever reason, this way the remains could be identified and returned to McDermott & Rafferty so someone could contact the family.

Having done this many times by now, Rook made short work of filling the main urn, the keepsakes, and was carefully spooning finely ground but gritty ash into the last of the pendants when she heard the side door in the garage slam, announcing the entrance of another employee.

"You made it!" She called to the adjacent space, rolling the threading of the small screw in the small puddle of blue thread-locker she'd squeezed onto a paper towel and using the small Allen wrench provided to negotiate the small metal piece into place on the back of the pendant. She gave it a couple of quick twists and squinted at the pendant, wiping away a bit of excess thread-locker and then setting it down with the others to dry. "I was wondering when you'd get here–" she negotiated around the cremation container in the middle of the room and entered the garage. "– how was the graveside?"

The welcome sight of Emmrich did not greet her in the garage, however, but rather the daft pink face of Derek, flanked by none other than... Elgar'nan?

Rook stiffened, immediately on the defensive the moment that vile cologne assaulted her nose.

What the fuck are these clowns doing here? They better not be fixing to fire me...

"Hello, Rook," Derek said, in his hollow yet amiable tone. "I'm giving Elgar'nan a tour of our facilities. Pemberly is our last stop - I’ll take Emmrich’s three o’clock arrangements since I’m already here.”

You mean you’ll sit in the arrangement office with the family for two hours and accomplish absolutely nothing and leave the rest for me to follow up with tomorrow?

Tagging: @xxnashiraxx @aldisobey @emmg @ollypopwrites @razildor

[pheita]

Not what it seems

So this is for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt "What happened here?" and yeah, the newest plot bunny/WIP obsession/possed by characters thing. Also a bit of "fan service" for @dreaming-goblin who latched onto my antagonist for dear life.

So this is basically some magic academy with a university for all the folks who got magic because one of their ancestors either made a deal or fucked a fae/witch/warlock or any other magical being.

Tagging @cljordan-imperium @watermeezer @ashen-creast @writingamongther0ses

Head buzzing from the herbology classes, Taris made her way to the library with Meir on her heels when some noise up ahead of them stopped them. She already could see a small crowd in the crossing to the library.

“What’s going on there?”, she murmured.

“I have no idea, I can’t see anything”, Meir answered, a hand on her shoulder.

Fiona ran past her, only to stop a few steps in front of them and turned around with a huge grin on her face.

“You want to see that. Someone got Sebastios in a binding circle.”

Taris and Meir looked at each other confused.

“Deacan wouldn’t…”, she stated.

“No, he survived already a year with this little prick. It must be someone else who hit the limit with his antics.”

They walked closer, with more and more students filling the hallway. In all the blur of heads the multicolored hair of Lilly popped up right in the middle.

“Oh no…”

Realizing it was her friend who lost her cool, Taris pressed through the crowd towards Lilly, who had a malicious and content smile on her face. At that very moment, she had more in common with those succubi from the myths than with the bubbly woman everyone knew.

“Who is a useless rodent now?”, Lilly almost spat at Sebastios.

He, on the other side, sat in the middle of a small binding circle, hands bound to the ground, whatever he wanted to say was muffled by some magical gag, and slowly the magic dragged him down on his knees.

For a moment Taris had to admit, this might have been some fellow student's wet dream given Sebastios good looks and the whispered sentiments of “I can save him” but on the other side she knew he will pay it back to Lilly ten times for the shame she put him through.

“Lil, it’s enough, I think you made your point clear.”

“I don’t think so. Also, he started it when he laced my coffee with a potion.”

“A potion?”

“Yeah, I have my cups secured with anti-pampering spells because there is always some wannabe trickster.”

Regretting everything she would do now, Taris took a deep breath, done with the day, and took Lilly’s hands in hers.

“But this is a bit overreacting. He doesn’t deserve this humiliation.”

“Are you sure? We are talking about Sebastios.”

A collective snicker went through the crowd and from the corner of her eyes, Taris noticed how he tried to see who laughed at that remark.

“Lil? Lilly? Please?”

Scrunching her nose, Lilly sighed and with a wave of her hand the binding was broken. Yet, she pushed Taris behind her and glared down on Sebastios.

“Let this be a lesson. I am a Willow for a reason, and you are an Ember. Don’t forget that.”

Sounds of annoyance came from the crowd and as soon as it gathered it vanished, leaving only Sebastios, Lilly, Taris and Meir at the small crossing.

With an icy look he glared daggers at the young succubus blooded woman but kept unusual silent.

“Meir, would you?”

“Protection service, right away.”

Before Lilly got what was happening, Meir turned her around and shoved her down the hallway.

“Thank you”, Sebastios said delayed, and slightly pressed.

Taris turned to him, seeing him still rubbing his wrists, and put a hand on her hip.

“I would have done that for everyone. Did you really put a potion in her coffee?”

“Does it matter?”

“Depends on the potion.”

He straightened to his full height, like he tried to intimidate her.

“It was to nullify Teagan’s potion she put in minutes before. Medusas and succubi don’t do well in the same place.”

With this he turned around, all arrogant peacock again, acting all high and mighty.

“I swear, one day you give me the mother of all headaches”, she called after him.

“Call me if it happens, I might have a potion for it.”

“Arrogant asshole.”

“Delusional fae.”

[magic-is-something-we-create]

The Millennium Saga Book Four: Fate Weavers - a formal WIP intro

This is book four of The Millennium Saga! Intros for the first three can be found here: Firebreathers [X], Echoseers [X], and Goddess-Touched [X]

“It’s only happening to one piece of him at a time,” she says. “You take the left. I’ll take the right.” A bleary blink, as her words sink in. A flicker of hope—one I have to nurture, because I can’t handle the idea of losing it—and I join her in reaching for him, even as his extremities spasm and dematerialize in random, quick bursts. And together, we lift him up. Her sea-slick, shivering hand clasps my shoulder as I clasp hers, each with one of my brother’s arms thrown over our necks. Her grip is tight, even as her breaths are shallow, and mine still pants little clouds into the night air as we limp towards the shore. As we drag him—no. As we drag ourselves, because even accounting for the periodically-disappearing limbs, he’s easily twenty pounds lighter than he should be, his cheeks hollow and stomach concave and wrists sharp when they’re material. As we drag ourselves along, step by painful step, the rest of the world starts gradually coming back into focus.

Genre: High fantasy/Steampunk Target Audience: New Adult/Adult POV: First person present, Multi-POV Themes: Anti-Imperialism, trauma and recovery, hope and hopelessness, the stigma surrounding mental illness, the differences between vengeance, atonement, and justice, the separation between faith, religion, and deities, death and life and which one defines humanity more, and the struggle to rebuild after disaster.

Draft one in extremely early stages as of October 27th, 2024.

A Flex is a life altering thing, on the off chance of survival.

A second Flex is almost unheard of.

An interrupted song; a plea from Death Herself; a single voice calling for understanding and forgiveness, lost amid the tide. And the savior, bedridden, while everyone who has just become survivor races to pick up the pieces of what he’s done.

And in the potential end that all diplomacy fails, that the land-walking people of the world must retreat inland and up-tree, there still need to be options.

To Andy, those options center airships. To Nimbus, they center hovertech. To Annie, it’s peace with The Shadow. To Isa, the wounded. To Ember, their family, safe, alive—a goal that feels further from reach every moment.

And to Lakia, those options center vengeance.

The ocean has yet to quiet. The Fourth Eternal has yet to show her face.

And time is running out for the world.

The taglist for The Millennium Saga will now be maintained below the cut on this post! If you'd like to join it, let me know in which ever way is most comfortable for you!

In addition to that, you'll also find another version of the banner below, because while this one was my favorite of the versions I tried, I am quite proud of the glass and ironwork on the other one.

Taglist:

@ladywithalamp ; @lavenderrosewrites ; @47crayons ; @writeblrfantasy ; @ashen-crest 

@dragon-swords-prophecies ; @faithfire ; @lexiklecksi ; @writingrosesonneptune ; @trixierosewrites

Alternate banner:

[oh-no-another-idea]

WIP Extract tag

The wonderful @eccaiia tagged me way back when, and fresh off the presses, here is a little breakfast party from Invisible Girl, written today! I have a quiet day, and it is so cozy -- I'm lying on the carpet writing, ah...

For any inquiring minds, this scene actually happens before any mentions of sandwiches. Antonio's warmup act, we'll call it ;)

She was saved by the arrival of their breakfast which indeed looked appetizing, vibrant fresh fruit sliced into chunks, fried eggs with their yolk a golden disc and peppered lightly with green herbs, bread toasted warmly and served with several dips and spreads. The soup was in two tureens, and Velia lifted the lid of one to find cloudy broth with cubed vegetables and some sort of sausage. “Heavens,” Antonio said, speaking her thoughts for her. “What a spread. Thank you, my good man.” The waiter bowed his head. “I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be stopping in Boulder in three quarters of an hour, sir.” “Thank you,” Paris echoed. Antonio passed them each a small bowl and plate. “Dig in. Except for that piece of bacon there, that one I will duel you for.” “Since you’re the one packing a pistol,” Paris said, with a small smile, “I won’t challenge you this time.” “You’re too kind,” Antonio said, picking up his claimed piece of bacon. He tapped Paris’s coffee cup with it. “Cheers.” Paris rolled his eyes. Antonio held out his bacon in Velia’s direction. Thrown off guard, Velia picked up a piece of toast and tapped with him. Then she had to peruse the different spreads. There appeared to be marmalade, two other berry jams, butter molded in the shape of a carrot, and the soup for dipping. She would simply have to dip in a bit of everything to try it out.

Gentle tags for @vsnotresponding @space-writes @sleepyowlwrites @writernopal @talesofsorrowandofruin and anyone else who'd like to share!

Putting my taglist below the cut :)

@a-sunflower-at-night @blind-the-winds @drippingmoon @elgringo300 @thats-my-type-writer

@sleepy-night-child @writing-is-a-martial-art @viskafrer @croctears @talesfromaurea

@necros-writings @ashen-crest @conundruminprogress @teaflint @princeofthecactus

@imaginationxlost @fiercely-raging-writer @memento-morri-writes @josephinegerardywriter @jellybeanswriting

@stuffaboutwriting @outpost51 @reneesbooks @charlesjosephwrites @yejidoesthings

@sparrow-orion-writes @somealienquill @ember-writer @theunboundwriter @lady-grace-pens

@thescatteredscribbles (ask to be added or removed!)

[paperbackribs]

fhdaslkghkdsjfa

Thank you for the tag dear!

For the WIP ask:

steve burns

oh I love the gif!

okay, the conceit of this one is that Henry/Vecna found Steve before the party did in Season 1. lonely Steve with absent parents and friends that don’t truly see him. and Vecna finds the core of Steve's sadness and anger and lures him to be by his side, to becoming his Kas.

and so the Stranger Things seasons proceed, but with Eddie and Robin joining despite Steve being out of the picture. and they’re the two that are killing him with silver and fire in the last section below.

the twist is supposed to be that Steve feels betrayed by Vecna as he dies and somehow ends up travelling back in time, and with all his knowledge and rage he destroys Vecna first. in the meantime, he finds redemption and the meaning of love and friendship with Robin, Eddie, and the rest of the kids.

SNIPPET:

Steve burns.

He burns with regret, with anger, with a deep, undeniable rage that wants to unfold into wrath. He lies pinned against his wings, low under the red skies and lightning, with a doe-eyed man standing over him, impaling him with a silver sword through his torso to stud the ashen ground.

His lover, his Henry, his beautiful and godlike master advances menacingly towards the high-schoolers in his periphery, and Steve cries out for his help. For his divine hand to reach out to Steve and save him like he did all those years ago.

The deep brown of the eyes above him flicker, almost shading over with sadness and Steve hisses at the mortal for daring to pity a supplicant of the heavenly like Steve.

Steve aches inside, more than the distraction of his wounds, but aches for Henry to look at him, to see his outstretched hand, but his master only has eyes for the small girl with the shaved head.

Steve burns.

He burns with flames thrown at him from glass and fire from the young woman next to the doe-eyed man, her blue eyes full of fear and disdain.

Shrieking, all Steve wants is for Henry to look back, to see his cold eyes once more, but he doesn’t and Steve’s body is engulfed, reducing him to red embers and black ash.

[rubylarkspur22]

Tagged by @ladynightlark

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs.

... Do I even have enough people to tag? Oh, well! Let's just get this party started! I'm only gonna list the stories I have actually done real work on in the last year or so, otherwise this list would be much more lengthy.

KNY/Demon Slayer

Sunlit Blossoms/Kamado Siblings Role Swap

Sunflowers and Thundering Fireworks/Ship Swap AU

Ashen Moonlight, Sun Goddess/Tsugikuni-Kamado Swap 2.0

Miyuri AU Stuffs(formerly WI Miyuri Found Tanjirou and Nezuko)

KNY OC Story

Mirrored Sunset/Full Reverse AU

Moonlit Butterfly/Kochou-Kamado Swap

Scattered Embers and Broken Hearts/Age(+Fate) Swap AU

Burning Ribbons/Shabana-Kamado Swap

KNY Time Travel/Reincarnation AU

2 Untitled Documents

Moon Princess, Chosen Sunlight/Tsugikuni-Kamado Swap

Legend of Spyro

Untitled Document

TLoS Spyro and Cynder Swap AU

Random LoS Stories

Original Stories

Story Lore

Sapphic Word Vomit

Original Story 2: Concepts and Planning

For sake of my sanity, anyone who wants to share can join. I don't even think I follow or interact with enough people to complete the entire list.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Find the Words WIP Tag Game

No pressure tag/s: @holy3cake to find "Window", "Consider", "Tempt" and "Whisper" in your WIPs. Can't find that word? Pick one similar instead!

Thank you for the tag, @aintgonnatakethis, my words are cast, shadow, question, and month. WIPs all taken from my Lancewain (Lancelot x Gawain from Cursed) fic Horizons to Battlegrounds WIPs.

Cast:

GAWAIN's POV;

Gawain awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. His eyes darted around rapidly, and the first thing he realised is that he had absolutely no fucking clue where he was. The pale glow of a half moon cast a dim, silvery light across the clearing he found himself in.

It was nighttime now, and cold. He was nestled between a fallen log and the faint, ashen embers of a fire that had long since died out, wrapped around him was a ratty, threadbare blanket. There was a small sleeping figure next to the fire just to the left of him, a boy who he recognised immediately- Squirrel! Gawain couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least from here, in the dim light of the embers and the half moon in the cloudless sky above, he looked intact. Exactly why the boy wouldn't be intact was evading him, but the relief at the sight of him safe was enough, for now.

Gawain gingerly shrugged off his blanket. His head pounded with the lingering beat of heart shaped drums as his senses returned to him.

Where in the nine hells were they?

Shadow:

LANCELOT's POV;

But somehow abandoning his duties hadn't even seemed like an option before. In fact running away had never even crossed his adult mind. When had it last been an option until now?

Not until the Knight had shown him the way, until the boy had reminded him of a braver, stronger version of what he once had been... Aye, that was it. The last time he had entertained that idea had been as a young boy like Squirrel, before they had broken him into the shadow of a man he was now. By God, they had trained him well, he had been nothing more than an obedient dog, so traumatised by the chains of his master's hand as they no longer needed to leash him for him to trail, cowering after them, obeying every twisted order with the enthusiasm of a pup, craning its head back as if to say 'Were you watching? Was I good enough?'

Question:

LANCELOT's POV;

"Yes. I want you to stay." Still Gawain spoke in that gentle voice. Lancelot felt rather than saw him stand up behind him from where he had been crouched, releasing his hand. Lancelot took another shuddering breath and turned to face him.

"Are you sure?" He croaked, voice barely making a sound. Gawain smiled, eyes flicking to his lips... Lancelot thought his heart may have actually just stopped in his chest.

Gawain did not reply to his question, choosing instead to demonstrate by action rather than words. He snaked a hand up Lancelots torso and chest, trailing up, leaving burning fingertips even through the linen shirt, Gods, to feel it without... Lancelot was glad that though his knees threatened to buckle, they held at the touch. The hand trailed up his neck, and Lancelot tilted his jaw, baring it. Gawain's smile turned almost sadistic, something dark and wanting flickering in his eyes... Lancelot waited for what he would do.

With Gawain's thumb firmly pressed into the corner of his jaw, Lancelot gave no resistance when Gawain stepped forwards, meeting his lips with his own.

Month:

GAWAIN's POV;

As Lancelot nodded, he began to apply the thick green paste to the healing wounds across Lancelot's back. For the first second, nothing, then;

"Son of a b- aahh!" Lancelot cursed, sucking in a breath and hissing against the stinging pain.

"Son of a sheep?" Gawain wasn't entirely sure what it was that prompted him to respond quite how he did... The glare Gawain recieved in response to his quip was very much a look of "if I wasn't in so much pain right now I would definitely be stabbing you" but hey, if looks could plunge daggers into one's skin, Gawain would have died of multiple stab wounds approximately three months ago.

"The stinging wears off eventually."

"Mmhhmmn." Lancelot's groan of reply through gritted teeth said he wasn't entirely convinced.

"If that eyebrow was any higher you'd knock out a bird, Lancelot."

That was fun! Anyone who sees this who isn't tagged but wants to join is free to- consider yourself tagged by me! Comment/DM if you wanna be added to my general WIP tag list :)

[matchstick-if]

WIP - Harper Origins

Got an ask about the first things I considered about Harper. It's been so long since I started thinking of them that I had to go back in my WIPs to figure it out. This is their first appearance. It's the very first draft of Untitled Fantasy Game. I'll probably use some version of this in the final draft. A lot's changed since this version, so it'll need some tweaking.

This was supposed to be a quiet night; A routine check-in.

The building was burning when you arrived.

With a stifled curse you duck down behind an overturned table, narrowly avoiding the fireball lobbed at your head. Heat sears across the fine hairs of your arm, and you breath out assessing your position.

Your opponent is easy to track. Judging by inane, uncontrollable cackling, and the fireball you just dodged, you'd place the creature by the far wall to your left, blocking the exit. Damn.

The once-elegant ballroom is in shambles. Fires have erupted across the carpeted interior, and furniture lies in haphazard piles. Black smoke chokes out the light from the chandeliers, and the ominous orange glow of the fires lights up the chaos of the room. A few unfortunate guests lay dead in the debris. You arrived too late for them.

To your right, you notice Landrian cowering behind a food cart. Their gray eyes are open wide, dark skin ashen in the glowing embers. They're chanting quietly, a sickly purple light pulsating between their long, trembling fingers.

Beside them Harper raises his pistol and fires two rounds into the creature, hitting center mass. He’s broad where Landrian is slim, and a head taller than them, short, blonde hair loose and framing his face.

You look around for Avery, but can’t see her. You could have sworn—

You start when Harper ducks behind your makeshift cover. He's flushed red from the heat, but smiling, wide grin dimpling his cheeks.

"Never a dull moment, huh?" He chuckles, and reloads his pistol.

"Not with you around." You return his smile, winking.

Harper's always been something of a magnet for trouble. Ever since you were kids.

He chambers another round, and you duck behind him, stepping out of cover to aim at the creature.

You fight fire with fire, and launch a spell.

It hits dead center, the creature's pale, sickly skin bubbling and blackening as your spell burns across its body.

It shrieks in agony, clawing at itself with enough fervor to tear its own flesh. The sound reverberates through the room and you have to steady yourself as a wave of magical force slams into you. A chair chatters to the floor beside you. To your left a scorched corpse lurches upright, and you take a startled step back, hand pressed to your chest. It takes you a moment to remember the source.

You pause, twisting to glare at Landrian. They mouth “sorry”, but continue their chant and move the abomination forward. It shambles toward the still shrieking creature, dead fingers clasped around a discarded steak knife. With unnatural speed, the corpse stabs the creature, dragging the knife up its torso as black blood oozes out over the carpeted floor. The creature babbles out a deranged laugh then slices through the corpse with razor sharp claws. The corpse drops and the creature turns, tossing another fireball at your position.

How the fuck is this thing still standing?

With an irritated sigh you aim another spell at the creature, but your concentration falters when an enormous panther leaps from the shadows.

Ah. There's Avery.

[late-to-the-fandom]

Seven Snippets Tag

Thank you @lonsdalewrite for the tag from a couple of days ago. I still can't gain any real traction in my current WIP, so I've been self-indulgently re-reading my fics from this time last year. I miss when writing was easy. 😔

Tagging: @sam-glade @druidx @mysticstarlightduck @pancakewithamace @macabremoons @words-after-midnight @undertheestes

From Taking the Tremaculum

The Maw Walker was tired. People forgot she could be anything so mortal as tired as they piled task after task upon her, knowing she would never say no, certain she would succeed at whatever was asked. Renathal himself included. He winced at the thought. He lowered himself to the ashen ground beside her, close enough for his armored shoulder to brush hers. The Maw Walker's eyes flicked open, found his, and she smiled - of course, she always did - though this was not her customary, supercilious smile. It was a warm, living thing that grew as she drank in the sight of him. The idea that the Maw Walker could draw as much strength from his presence as he did from hers was a point of pride in Renathal from which he could never repent. "Well," he said casually, surveying the unending dark landscape in front of them, "in spite of the danger, I believe this has been a good bit of fun."

2. From An Ember Court to Remember

The Maw Walker gave him a chaste kiss on his sharp cheek by way of goodbye, but Renathal snaked an arm around her waist to stop her. With the promise of more to come, he could feel his good mood and dark humour returning. "Consider this part of your regular duties, then," he said with an arch smile, adopting her business-like tone of address. "After all, we are both very important, very put-upon leaders." He punctuated his words with a final kiss of his own, not quite so chaste, drawing out the time before he had to release her lips. "I believe our mutual satisfaction will prove quite important to the war effort."

3. From Keys for All Occasions: The Maw

"Is this real?" Renathal asked conversationally, watching their argument with distant interest. His head was still swimming, struggling to accept their existence. The creature blinked those glowing white-blue eyes once, then - “Here,” it said, and pressed two fingers to his forehead. It was like a light had been turned on inside Renathal's brain. Instantly, the world around him took on sharper focus. There were more varied shades to the greys and blacks of the Maw, and the being, too, looked more distinct, less a hazy purple glow and more a person. Renathal stood up straighter, inspecting it - her, he confirmed - more closely. Her skin was a light lavender, hair dark blue, almost black. But she had no wings, so she was not Kyrian. She was not any denizen of the Shadowlands he knew. Which could only mean - "You must be the Maw Walker," he said slowly. She gave him a small smile. "That’s what they're calling me."

4. From Lost Souls Renathal had no experience with pleasure that comforted, that soothed aches of the mind as well as the body. The Maw Walker could do it, of course. She always knew how to touch him in a way that drew out stress and despair like a harvester of his darkest emotions. But he was not as soft as she was. He was Venthyr, made of sharp points, hard angles, ragged edges. So Renathal had no idea what he was doing as he pressed kiss after fervent kiss against the inside of her wrist, the crook of her arm, the space just above her collarbone; anywhere he could feel a fluttering heartbeat beneath her dewy skin. But if the Maw Walker's response was any indication, he managed well enough.

5. From Keys for All Occasions: Rebellion "It was a doomed venture from the start." Renathal winced. The room in which he had chosen to tend his wounds was deep within the belly of Sinall, away from what was rapidly becoming the main thoroughfare above. It afforded a necessary privacy, but the echoes of Draven's voice reverberating off the dank stone did nothing for Renathal's massive headache. And the General's words did nothing for his still smarting ego. "That perspective," answered Renathal drily, attempting to fasten his shirt over his bandages without moving his left side, “would have been more useful yesterday."

6. From A Spilled Tea

The Duke whipped around at the ominous sound and lunged to save the contents from meeting a rocky demise. In the same moment, Renathal plucked the Maw Walker's cup from her hand, drained its contents in two long gulps, and replaced it smoothly. He met her stunned gaze with the smallest of winks, as Theotar straightened and rejoined them, patting his hair decorously. The dregs of annoyance left in his face cleared as he noticed the Maw Walker's empty cup. "Ah ha, I knew it!" He punctuated his exclamation with a little clap. "An exquisitely soothing flavour, I was sure you would enjoy. It is the clear choice, is it not?" "Oh, this is certainly my favourite so far." The glow from the Maw Walker's smile was almost blinding, but it was not the Duke at whom she aimed it. "Wouldn't you agree, Renathal?" "Absolutely," Renathal said, and he meant every syllable. The Ember Court would be infinitely more enjoyable for the way the taste of the tea reminded him of the Maw Walker's lips lingering over his name.

7. From Eternity

"Would you do me one other favour, Renathal?" Warmth pooled in Renathal's stomach at the way she said his name. As though there was a pleasure in pronouncing each syllable. "Anything," he said, and meant it. "Make the Kirin Tor leave for me." Renathal's smile grew fangs. "With pleasure."

[winterandwords]

Word find tag (yellow, butter, soft, milk, cream)

@oh-no-another-idea tagged me to search my story for yellow, butter, soft, milk, and cream. Thank you!

These don't show up often in anything I've written, but I found most of them, sort of, in November Breaks (completed story, you can read and download it at @novemberbreaksbywintersimpson if you want to)...

YELLOW

His eyes, jaundice-yellow, narrow at the weapon. He looks at us again, at our faces, brow furrowed as if he’s doing maths in his head. “I didn’t do it. Any of it. They never proved anything,” he hisses. “You can’t prove anything.”

BUTTER SPREAD

Each breath is blades in my chest, and my feet are soaked through from the first step. Deep puddles merge into pools that spread and melt together like a rising tide washing over the pavement, rushing into storm drains like rivers collapsing. I don’t see the car coming. I don’t hear it. I don’t feel the ground rushing up to meet me.

SOFT

“So you got home OK?” “I guess so. I don’t remember much about it.” I look into the streetlight above him and it has a halo. A soft, artificial ember-glow halo.

MILK

He sets the tray with the french press, milk and sugar on the desk between Max and me. I can’t tell if he’s uncomfortable with me in particular smiling at him or if attention from anyone unsettles him. I think it might be attention in general, but I still give him a look that makes him almost trip over his feet as he leaves because I refuse to be outdone by a more everyday kind of neurosis.

[S]CREAM

“Listen. I do what I do, the way I do it. I don’t want to work for you and I don’t want anyone working for me. It would not go as well as you think. I have as little patience as you do for people who get their kicks making someone scream through their last breath, except I don’t find them useful in the slightest and I don’t keep company with them.”

Tagging @aohendo, @ashen-crest, @asher-orion-writes and @asterhaze if you'd like to do it, with an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in. The words to search your story (WIP or completed!) for are all, fall, call, and small 💜

[sleepyowlwrites]

Celadon! I'm so happy that we went from two writeblrs in the same neighborhood to dear friends who are compelled to be nosy about each other's amount of wips. You're a joy to interact with, even if it's just a hello.

I have so many cheerleaders so I'm gonna have to rapid fire:

@oh-no-another-idea dearest Idea tags me in every post containing my favorite sandwich boy, and she's such a little bright spot on my dash. I have a strong desire to raid her computer for the first draft of The Invisible Girl.

@akindofmagictoo dearest Maybe Sorcery has been wonderful from the start, over four years ago, and her wips have been inspiring me even when I don't tell her about it.

@zmwrites dearest Ghosty feels like a best friend I've known forever, just somewhere far away, and is holding my babies Radkir hostage. I'll find some way to get them back.

@revenantlore dearest Klaus calls me sleepy potato, and I couldn't love them more for it. Also! Liminal space hugs!

@avrablake dearest Rainstormdaughterdearest is one of my oficially adopted children, and she's a terrible enabler and starry-bright beacon to keep me excited and writing.

@ashen-crest dearest Ember once put a salamander in a story for me, and I'll never get over it. If I can sneak a detail into someone else's book, it still won't to that. Also she's in possession of my beloved stupid Emry and beloved Aspen.

@my-cursed-prince dearest hexling is a fantastic child with the second longest wips I've ever heard of, and I like hearing about them.

@klywrites dearest Klove, who I love so much I drew really bad comics about her. Who sends me friendly threatening memes and tons of affection.

I can't remember who all has read and commented on dirt in the doing, but I love them all for doing so.

Little Starry Night, Breezy, Clarity, Truly, Sounding, Tales, Parchment, Lucent, Tealeaf, Bender, and so many others from the nickname list have been treasures, all.

Now that we know a little bit more about who YOU are, let’s get to know the people you love. Take this as a chance to recommend some of the writeblrs you love to hear from! Tell people about your friends. Become their biggest cheerleaders!

[marewriteblr]

My identity appeared intangible, faded as it was after years. Sooner or later Wren would learn that the person she’d befriended was a phantom at best.

[magic-is-something-we-create]

The Millennium Saga Book Two: Echoseers - a formal WIP Intro

This is book two of The Millennium Saga! The intro for book one, titled Firebreathers, can be found here: [x]

The first patches of white on Dusk’s skin looked almost like decay, when they appeared where his scars faded.

“You did nothing.”

He looks away. Out to the expanse of thick snow and bloody leaves and trees big as mountains and dark as cast iron. Over the entire world below, where people are hardly more than dust and city blocks are just a web to be traced with lazy eyes.

I leave him there. The high-nosed gazes of those few others around still cling to me, still follow my footsteps, still weigh on each stitch of my patchy cloak and shoes worn ragged.

They watch me go, with knives for eyelashes and poison for breath, and a trail of magma yarn watches, too.

Genre: High Fantasy, Steampunk

Target Audience: New Adult/Adult

POV: First Person Present, Multi-POV

Themes: Anti-Imperialism, trauma and recovery, identity post-recovery, the stigma surrounding mental illness, the differences between vengeance, atonement, and justice, the separation between faith, religion, and gods/goddesses, death and life and which one defines humanity more, and the effects of leaving the only home you’ve known behind.

First round of edits is complete at 146k words; drafting of book 3 is underway.

Ember Timber has lead rebellions, bested Eternals, and seen horrors and blessings alike beyond the scope most will ever dream in a lifetime. They have spoken to the Elder, and seen hints of a world ancient and vengeful, festering beneath the waves. They have done this and more, with the weight of the dead on their shoulders heavier than ever.

They have done this, and their dreams might be what finally breaks them.

The heir has a thousand untold secrets waiting to spill forth. The actor has never felt so terribly alone. The tailor has uncovered conspiracy wrought with blood and darkness.

The Rillmother grieves. The Scholar hides. The Chosen is afraid.

For there once was a notion the world would end when the Godtrees died.

The stump in the ruins of Fahrial may yet be a testament to this.

If you want to see spoilers past Firebreathers, join the Millennium Saga Taglist, which will be maintained below the cut!

Millennium Saga Taglist (ask to be +/-):

 @ladywithalamp​​​ ; @lavenderrosewrites​​​ ; @47crayons​​​ ; @writeblrfantasy​​​ ; @ashen-crest​​​ ; @dragon-swords-prophecies​​​ ; @faithfire​​​ ; @writingrosesonneptune​​ ; @lexiklecksi​ ; @ren-c-leyn​

[oh-no-another-idea]

WIP extract

Tagged a looong time ago by @druidx here--check theirs out! Here's some early Invisible Girl I worked on/rewrote today. Whew, the draft 2 business is trickier than I guessed!

“Say,” Antonio said, setting his glass down. “Can you eat oysters? They’d be alive—they wouldn’t disappear! Just think of it, you’re eating, and everyone can see an oyster slipping and sliding down your invisible throat and into your stomach.” He looked up to find Paris staring at him in horror. Velia’s expression was much the same, but of course, he couldn’t see it. “I thought it was interesting,” he said weakly. “When does a live oyster perish in the esophagus?” “No one normal would find that interesting,” Paris said, looking towards Velia for confirmation. Velia studied Antonio down on the rug. “No,” she agreed, even though she had no meter by which to measure.

And on that delightful note, I'll send out a gentle tag to @indecentpause @eccaiia @revenantlore @pandoras-comment-box @cee-grice @autumnalwalker @writernopal and also to anyone who'd like to join from the Invisible Girl taglist, which I will tuck below.

@a-sunflower-at-night @blind-the-winds @drippingmoon @elgringo300 @thats-my-type-writer @sleepy-night-child @writing-is-a-martial-art @viskafrer @croctears @talesfromaurea @necros-writings @ashen-crest @conundruminprogress @teaflint @princeofthecactus @imaginationxlost @fiercely-raging-writer @memento-morri-writes @josephinegerardywriter @outpost51 @jellybeanswriting @stuffaboutwriting @reneesbooks @charlesjosephwrites @yejidoesthings @sparrow-orion-writes @somealienquill @ember-writer @theunboundwriter​ @lady-grace-pens​ (ask to be added or removed!)

[aalinaaaaaa]

Happy Tunes Tuesday!

Tagged courtesy of @avrablake

Rules: Listen to these songs and describe your WIP/OC daydream as you listened to them. You can pick one song or do both and you can be as brief or descriptive as you like.

My response is below the readmore, here's the songs on offer for my taglist (of which is also below the readmore):

Kalyna - Go_A

Once Upon a December - Christy Altomare

Set Fire to the Rain - Adele

Of the two songs on offer, I picked Hope and Darkness, because not only do I really like this song now, its lyrics are so befitting that I threw it onto my playlist for Flamebearer.

For this, I imagined an amv of sorts, featuring clips from the various scenes of my wip, most notably the Blue Embers scene at the start and an image of Estyia standing in a stone hall with loads of people sitting above as all the lanterns (including the central torch) go from red fire to blue.

Tagging:

@emelkae @afoolandathief @oh-no-another-idea @talesfromaurea @ettawritesnstudies @estelaiswriting @drippingmoon @pluttskutt @asomeoneperson @bloodlessheirbyjacques @writerfae @ghost-town-story @druidx @wildswrites @enchanted-lightning-aes @jezifsterswriting @ashen-crest @writing-is-a-martial-art @thesorcerersapprentice @echoing-sailor @anjaspace @splashinkling @copper-dragon-in-disguise @athenswrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @athenswrites @notthatpanda

[sleepyowlwrites]

Sleepy is bored at work show Vol.1

some people have changed their url and they’re not people I know, so I don’t know how to find them to change it. interact with THIS post if you have a wip title that you’d like me to draw.

The Stray Spirit - @/ashen-crest 

Muse's Band of Misfits - @/vylequinne 

Salt & Silver - @/vitrichor

Checkmate - @/scriptura-delirus 

The Death of Josie Wolff - @/novanovelwriting 

Operation Get It Right - @/crystallized-ink 

Night's Daughter - @/vellichor-virgo 

Golden Hands & Golden Fingers - @/surroundedbypearls

Totentanz - @/talesofsorrowandofruin 

The Darkblade - @/kitastrophic-writing 

Lotus on the River - @/mel-writes-with-her-dragons 

Always the Bridesmaid - @/pens-swords-stuff 

Bake a Loaf of Bread - @/andiwriteunderthemoon

Collecting Keepers - @/lunarmoment

Where Camellias Blossom - @/mary-is-writing

These Cursed Paths - @/hiddenhistoria

Shrouded - @/viskafrer

The Huntress and the Wolf - @/rhikasa

Indigo Wars - @/zmlorenz 

And Onward into the Bright Bright Future - @/woodhousejay 

Hurricane - @/akindofmagictoo 

Muddy Roads and Foxgloves - @/chayscribbles

About Nightmares - @/sourrcandy

The Shroud of the Ascott - @/caillevch

The Stormkeeper - @/writingonesdreams

Thriving - @/spacetimewraithwrites

Inscribed - @/artbyeloquent

Heartbeat - @/writingamongther0ses

The Quest For the Book of Balance - @/authortango

Kingdom - @/scriptura-delirus

Cursed Pennyroyal and the Wizard Asturia - @/writing-with-melon 

What Remains of Troop 734 - @/aetherwrites 

Puppet Kingdom - @/josephinegerardywriter 

Between Gods and Men - @/iparisaltanwing 

Days of Halcyon - @/elysianhymns 

Sapphire Dreaming - @/livvywrites

Earthly Bodies - @/asableheart

Always the Bridesmaid - @/blindthewind 

A Headless God - @/serpentarii

The Further We Fall - @/incipientdream

Between the Trees - @/thethistlegirlwrites

All the Red Butterflies - @/magnoliaash 

To Pursue Utopia - @/iveldi

Gemini - @/writingbyjillian

Edifice - @/rainydaydarling

Embers and Infernos - @/ninazeniks

Backwater - @/thenataliawrites

Anchor Point - @/haldimilks

The Iridessia Chronicles - @/ambsthom 

Andromeda Rogue - @/chayscribbles 

Making a Killing - @/vylequinne

Whisperwind - @/viskafrer

A Gust of Rising Wind - @/fuyugomori

Operation Eclogues - @/ladywithalamp

The Wicked Within - @/47crayons

Romantics - @/kishons

Unearthly Delights - @/crowsandlace

And No-one to Remember Me - @/euphoniouspandemonium

Terraclaw - @/writtendevastation

Ashenskin - @/mel-writes-with-her-dragons

My Name Your Teeth - @/seas-dubh

Ship in a Bottle - @/fayoftheforest

Kriya Petri - @/andiwriteunderthemoon

Crane Anatomy - @/avakrahn

Forgotten Names - @/forgottennamesgame

The Power and the Glory - @/talesofsorrowandofruin

Embrace of the Dawn - @/ambsthom

The Mourning Rose - @/weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables

The Heir's Odium - @/the-finch-address

Paper Heart - @/thelittlestspider

Namesake - @/peresephones

This is the Way the World Ends - @/writting-in-blood

To Be Determined - @/waldeinsamkeiten

The Fall - @/harps-for-days

Four Houses - @/jmax523

Asra Green and the Bluster Gambit - @/avi-why

Unholy Holy Things - @/lend-your-lungs-to-me

Foggy Mornings - @/codename-mango

Paragon - @/pretend-im-normal-blog

Touch - @/struckbyelectriclove

Peacocks and Pearls - @/ashleyddddd

Lies in a Holy Tongue - @/incandescent-creativity

Souls Rend Your Vows - @/inkflight

The Stars Never Decided My Fate - @/novastories

Brigand Master - @/faithfire

A Cycle of Seals - @/homesteadchronicles

Out of Time - @/painless-and-colorful

Forgotten Memories - @/the-problem-child-vents

Star-eater - @/wulfrann

Empty Space - @/spacebricks

High Water Homeward - @/the-titular-bird

Era Beyond - @/maudlin--queer

By Your Side - @/kowore

Queen of Wishes - @/alwolfe 

Cut Circuit - @/romanwrites

Cynical Chaos - @/writing-with-chaos

Queen Anne's Lace - @/moononherwings 

Haven's Ember - @/druidx

Tropical Storm - @/gwens-fiction

Humanless - @/poore-choice-of-words