#writecamp

[agirlandherquill]

writecamp

welcome one and all to this sunny, summery affair! this post is to hereby invite writers to a not-so-little game commencing June 1st - rules to follow - till the end of Summer, August 31st - i know, this challenge is going to be a LOT and a long one, but i for one absolutely cannot wait!

now you may be asking, what is this game and what are the rules? well, dear writer, the purpose of the game is simple - for writecamp, all you have to do is pick a prompt from a given list and compose something with it, prompts could be a word, a trope, a place, a feeling, anything at all, it all depends on the day (if you took part in writemas, you'll be fairly familiar with how it all works :) ) and as for the rules, well, this author sincerely hopes they are as equally simple to follow: if you accept the challenge, be sure to share your responses, share the game with friends, family, anybody you'd like, and that's it, utilise the prompt from the challenge, share your work, and tag me in your responses!

and now for the important part: how is the game going to work?

each day of summer, starting June 1st, i will post the writecamp daily challenge - containing all sorts or prompts to stir the imagination pot

the game is open to all, and if you join late, no problem! just embrace the writery spirit of summer and play along! (you don't have to complete every day's challenge, but whatever you do, always be proud of yourself!)

bonus part (completely optional, but lovely if you choose to do it) - alongside your challenge entries, make sure to find a blog on writeblr, a writer you admire or one you've only just found, and pay them a compliment! (something so small but so, so important <3)

and since this post is an invitation to everyone out there on writeblr, in order to participate and be notified of the challenge posts when they go live, all you have to do is interact with this post and you're on the tag list!

any questions, let me know, and happy writing!

~ A Girl and Her Quill

~ ~ ~

tag list time! open tag as always too!

@the-ellia-west @willtheweaver @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @365runesofthesystem

@coffin-hopping @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @a-mimsy-borogove @frostedlemonwriter @i-do-anything-but-write

@r-u-living @thatuselesshuman @lead-to-code @sunflowerrosy @theaistired

@phoenixradiant @autism-purgatory @corinneglass @tiredpapergirl @patheticexcuseforawriter

@missmisanthrope @littlestchildofthemoon @morganxduinn @thebrownleathernotebook @rmhashauthor

@lamuradex @fantasy-things-and-such @glasshouses-and-stones @hattonthehatman @humbly-a-doppelganger

@ramwritblr @s-pendragon7 @thelastneuron @heartreactor @ihauntmyhouse

@shiningstars-world @scaewolf @just-emis-blog @joeys-piano @ramitola

@yrndrgn @riveriafalll @lawrencespen1777 @theverumproject @zackprincebooks

@justjariel @orion-lacroix @jupiter---daydreams @vinniehorrible @stars-forever

@thewritingautisticat @whatwewrotepodcast @anaisbebe @appleandsnow @urnumber1star

@chaotictravelerrants @andagii-projects @dragmewithyoutonirvana @a-bi-cat-with-books @fearofahumanplanet

@just-a-domesticated-cryptid @attemptingwriter @kitkins13 @ray-writes-n-shit

@theonewholivesinthemovies @rheas-chaos-motivation @bookwormclover @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

@aalinaaaaaa

[write-with-will]

Write Camp - Day One !!

Writing event run by @agirlandherquill !!!

Prompts - "Dawn is on its way. The least we can do is live long enough to meet it." (dialogue); A walk at twilight (setting); The weariness of time (feeling).

For the first day i wrote a (canon compliant but not technically in canon) scene between Rowan and Phoenix from my wip What it Takes To Take A Life!!!!

tw - talk of death and loss

Word count - 698!

Waves crashed against the cliff side, the full moon casting a silvery-blue glow over the surface of ocean waves occasionally broken by a winged silhouette flying past. Rowan stood on the small balcony of the library he called home, hands gripping the railing. The stone underneath his fingertips was rough, cold from the wind.

The quiet of the night was nearly torturous, the absence of sound leaving room for the more negative thoughts to drift in.

Rowan loved what he did, truly. he loved the freedom that came with immortality, he loved being able to travel and study magic to his heart’s content.

He just wished it wasn’t at the expense of watching everything else crumble.

His youngest brother’s granddaughter had died the day before. No children, never married. He hadn’t even gotten to meet her, overhearing it mentioned in the market of the nearest town.

His other siblings, cousins, and family had slowly met their ends before this. He was officially the last of his bloodline, the last member of the De Rullo family left breathing.

He missed his mother.

Gods above, he just wanted his mom.

“Rowan.”

The mage nearly jumped out of his skin—since when was he so jumpy?—and spun on his heel to face the voice.

He knew who she was before he looked, of course. He really should be used to the goddess’ surprise visits by now.

He had to crane his neck to meet the woman’s eyes, because for some reason she insisted on presenting as eight feet tall. A single strand of her short, flame colored hair fell against tanned skin. She wore a brown tunic typical of a commoner.

“Hello.” He said, suddenly feeling leagues smaller then he was. Even if he’d been around for a hundred years, being in Phoenix’s presence always seemed to make him feel like a boy.

“Hey.” The goddess of life watched him quizzically for a few moments. Even though she had a tendency to present more human then other gods, her gaze still held this sense of other-worldliness that would have been unsettling if he didn’t know her. He couldn’t quite place the emotion in her gaze. Judgment? Pity?

“Walk with me?” She was turning as soon as the words left her lips, not waiting for a reply.

Rowan had to jog down the spiral staircase to catch up with her.

They fell in stride with each other, walking down the narrow stone bath that led from the building down to the sea.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the water, watching the moon’s reflection shimmer.

Phoenix broke the silence first, with such a simple, yet complicated question.

“Do you wish, sometimes, that I hadn’t made you immortal?”

Rowan swallowed, suddenly very focused on the way the waves crashed against the rocks. “No.”

She gave him a knowing smirk. “You can’t lie to a god.”

He exhaled. Damn it. “Yeah, I guess. Sometimes.”

“Thought so. Tell me about it, little mage.”

Despite himself, his lips twitched up at the familiar nickname.

“I’m tired.” He said, finally. “Weary, I guess. Time is beginning too get to me.”

The goddess exhaled, her breath visible in the air. “Time is often our greatest gift, as well as our most painful curse.”

“Do you ever wish you were human?” The words rushed out before he could think.

At this, Phoenix looked genuinely startled, as if that was the last question she’d been expecting. A younger him would have cheered at being able to catch her off guard.

She swallowed hard, expression turning thoughtful. “No, I don’t think so.” She answered after a moment. “If I were human, I wouldn’t have my wife.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I wouldn’t have you.”

Oh.

“I’m glad we’re friends.” He said. Calling a god his friend had stopped being weird after the first few years or so. “I’m glad I’m here.”

“As am I.”

The goddess of life turned her head to the sky. The pale blue of the fading moonlight cast across her face. “Dawn is approaching,” she said, flashing the boy a smile, “the least we can do is live long enough to meet it.”

~~~~~

That's it for today!! I'm always open to constructive criticism on my writing, or questions on the story or characters! Please tell me your thoughts, this was a lot of fun!!

(also pls tell me if this doesnt make sense i wrote in like an hour lmao)

@vesanal @xunfix-writes @thebookishkiwi @inspirationallybored @corinneglass @seastarblue @seafloor509 @the-ellia-west @ark-inkweaving @leahnardo-da-veggie @adhdalex15 @ifmasonbasonwasawriter @carb0n-m0n0xide @theink-stainedfolk

Masterpost | Next

[seastarblue]

WriteCamp Day One

yahooo! it’s another challenge from @agirlandherquill , similar to Writemas from last year :3

here’s the entry post!

the prompt I chose was “the weariness of time”, and I decided to make another journal entry! take a guess at who’s writing… if you dare… (don’t look at the tags and cheat k)

Time is a heavy thing. It weighs on my shoulders, dragging me down with memories of what once was.

It tugs on my face, drawing my mouth downward into a perpetual frown. Maybe I always was one to grumble at every turn, but I blame Time for making it harder to smile. Maybe that’s stupid. I don’t care.

Truth be told, I am weary, and it is only Time I can blame for it.

…Perhaps I am the problem. Time only has so much power, after all—my time is for me and me alone to use. I spend it mulling over what has already happened instead of pushing forward and shrugging that burden off of me.

… I think that’s enough journalling for today.

me when I get too real during my journaling:

writing taglist!

@bunnymermaidwrites @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @theink-stainedfolk

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@viridis-icithus @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon @agirlandherquill @annothersummerofsleep

@nczaversnick @zerotothex @oliolioxenfreewrites @bardic-tales @rumeysawrites

@pizzamanstan @seafloor509 @an-indecisive-nerd @cacophonyofwords @corinneglass

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 1 👩🏻‍💻✍🏻🏕️

Thank you @agirlandherquill for creating and hosting this writing challenge/tag game!

Day One Kickoff is here and rules and enrollment is here. All are welcome to join!

For the Day 1 prompt I chose "The weariness of time." I used this prompt to write a new passage for my main WIP, The Blood Cleaners, a YA Dystopia.

His eyes met with a grandfather clock on the other side of the room. Nearly an hour had passed since he took the bus. Late afternoon was slipping away to evening. He took comfort knowing it wasn’t bedtime yet. He would have trouble sleeping knowing that each day that went by, Joselyn would be on her on her own. The burden was all on her. He missed her. He knew she missed him. He missed Elena and Miriam. Each day, each hour, each minute had to be torture. It was his fault. He cursed himself. He was stupid. Of course he’d have to be in Arthur longer than a week to have any hope of success. He knew Joselyn well enough to believe she would keep waiting even after a week passed. Yet she could only keep the secret for so long before someone ratted them all out. He almost regretted listening to John. He was no longer blissfully unaware of just how much this revolution risked. If they failed, Corpa…would be gone. And it would be his fault.

Tagging (and OPEN):

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@sunflowerrosy @furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill

@revenantlore @whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @constellationandcompendium @olivescales3

@ryns-ramblings @primroseprime2019 @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks @kitty-is-writing

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@apolline-lucy @elizaellwrites @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @ddgraywrites @autism-purgatory @mxxnwishes

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark @sleepywriter00 @americanfemcel @fairy-tales-of-yesterday

@inkednotebook @the-letterbox-archives @laureleavess @simonnebethel @forthesanityofsome

@melpomene-grey @creatrackers @stephtuckerauthor @theink-stainedfolk

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @late-to-the-fandom

@author-a-holmes @alinacapellabooks @stesierra @stephtuckerauthor @unrepentantcheeseaddict

@csdarkfantasy @watermeezer @distortedsense @sarahlizziewrites @ceph-the-ghost-writer

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat @authordmalder

[aalinaaaaaa]

An Ode to the Sacrifice

For Day One of Writecamp by the lovely @agirlandherquill !

For today's piece, I used this prompt:

A mossy castle

Below is a conversation between Namon and his father when he was 12, when they were hiking in the woods one day.

Word count: 547

—

A choir not for this solemn hymn. Hummed alone by a father on this trail.

Namon trudged an uphill climb on a path gnarled by gravel and roots. His father climbed ahead of him, his wiry figure obscured by the fog.

"Not too far more." His father had a grace to his footsteps, one with the path's uneven nature. Stones slipped beneath Namon's feet, a near acquaintance with the ground.

To his left, he veered under a stone arch blotted by ivy. Saplings sprouted from the ground, reaching towards a sky betraying hints of blue between the clouds. The four walls suffered degrees of crumbling, the remnants held by green, fluffy moss.

"Son," his father's voice echoed behind him. "Ah, you're there. Don't venture astray now."

"I won't." He went under one of the arches, taking a foothold on the narrow steps beside him. He latched onto the wall and pulled upwards, his steps careful and calculated.

The top of the stairs brought him to a withered wall. He breathed, gripping onto a larger stone.

On the other side, the brush of woodland descended into a veranda of fields and more forests far away. In the far distance, a few mountains provided the backdrop, the name of which he forgot. But his father's warnings, a stronger imprint, alleging the presence of an ancient Helindian court hated by Helinda itself. "Hey, Dad, come look at this for a view." He waved his father up, beckoning him.

The man smiled and shook his head. "I'm sure it is. It had to be, considering that ruin was once a watchtower. It's a blessing it's gone to waste."

Namon tilted his head in curiosity. "Why so?"

The man had a tendency towards philosophy, his musings a frequent subject matter.

He descended the steps, sitting on them, following his father's beckoning as he rejoined him at the foot of the old tower.

"Back in my youth, times were different. See that graveyard over there?" He pointed to the nearby plot of statues, stone visages of those long gone. "All those people and more devoted themselves to keeping Seldaika off our shores. For years there would be nary a day we would not have to watch our backs."

"Did they win?" Namon asked. People died there, at that exact spot. A tribute to a story he didn't know. The thought gave him chills, a cool silence hollowing his mind.

"They didn't lose." His father's face told a tale of its own, neutral in expression yet his brown eyes glassy and sombre, focused. "Violence bears no winners, everyone suffers from it. In part from their efforts, we don't have to speak Seldaikan."

"Do you think they'll come back? The Seldaikans, I mean."

An idle question, causing his father to flinch. The silence permeated through both of them, father and son, stood over an ode to the sacrifices made.

The look in his father's eyes made him wonder if he should've asked.

"If they ever do, consider it a dark day for us all — the entire continent." A breath, and a gesture, the latter which Namon repeated.

His father put a hand on his shoulder, firm but assuring, distilling determination in a squeeze. "Whatever you do, make sure the watchtowers never go back in use."

—

Tagging the General taglist for this (ask/comment/reblog etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart-deactivated20 @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @rae-butter @corinneglass @oros-ash3s @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @wyked-rebellion @unriding

(Also, I'll be trying to do these Writecamp prompts for as many days as I have the time, so if anyone wants to be tagged for those, let me know :D)

[kitty-is-writing]

writecamp day 1!

woo! writemas was a lot of fun, so i can't wait to see what happens over this month :) thanks to @agirlandherquill for running this again!

if you want to join in you can find the rules and today's prompts here

for the first day I picked two prompts:

A sunbathed meadow

The weariness of time

slight warning for grief/pet loss, i guess?

It’s so safe here. Peaceful. Quiet. The sun always shines, but gently, like a warm blanket that covers us all. Flowers of all colours sway in a soft breeze, ones that are fun to chase and safe to nibble.

It could almost be a home, except… we’re waiting for someone. Each of us waits for a different person, but the wait is the same.

Sometimes we play together while we wait. I’ve found so many new friends here.

I’ve been waiting for so long. 

One by one, my new friends leave with their person, and I’m still waiting.

Is that…

That’s her!

My person!

She’s finally here!

I get up, run as fast as I can, nearly faster than my paws can carry me, longing to jump into her arms again.

There’s someone else running beside me?

No!

My person, mine!

But… I shouldn’t be jealous.

She was so young when I had to go.

She had so much love in her heart.

Of course she would have shared it with others, too.

I can share her now, can’t I?

We run together, through the sunlight and the flowers, towards our person.

Once near, I see I am wrong.

She is not my person.

I stop, let the other run to her.

They have their happy reunion, and cross the rainbow together, as I have watched so many do before me.

I lie down again, sad and alone.

I’m so tired of waiting.

Maybe she isn’t coming.

Maybe she forgot me.

Maybe she replaced me after I went.

More people arrive, and I don’t even look.

None of them will be her.

I’ll be here forever.

It’s been so long.

Someone sits beside me.

There’s a soft, gentle hand in my fur.

I look, and I hiss, darting away.

It’s some old lady. Why is she bothering me?

Just leave me alone.

Forgotten.

I’m sorry I took so long, Millie. I’m here now.

I look again, sniff her outstretched hand carefully.

It is her!

My person, at last!

She’s so old now. She was so young when I left.

It’s been so long.

She still remembers me.

She still loves me.

I climb onto her shoulders as I always used to, purring in her ear.

She laughs, and scratches behind my ears.

I hope you don’t mind a couple of others joining us?

I look down.

There are some others, but it’s fine.

We’re together again, and that’s all that matters.

She stands slowly, walks with a shuffle and a stoop now, but we know how to wait. She can take all the time in the world, as long as we’re together.

Finally, we all cross the rainbow, as one big, loving family.

~~~

some pics of Millie below cut for anyone who wants to see

[the-ellia-west]

Riverside

Writecamp Day one

Hosted by the Lovely @agirlandherquill - Here!

Masterpost

Prompts- Setting: A Ring of fire Feeling: The Sting of Frozen Water

Tws: Mentions of murder Word Count: 536

—

A Ring of fire gleaming on the horizon, the marker of a dying sun marking its rest, lighting the whole sky a blazing shade of dying embers. Wind and small droplets of unfallen rain whistling through hair and feathers, burning clouds, water on fire. A Beautiful Paradox signing the appearance of the stars and the eye of the moon beginning to open in her silence. Wings tucked tight against his ribs and Hair brushing away from his eyes at the breath of dusk, Raavas' feathers rippled against the sky, the snap spiraling him into a gentle updraft, before he alighted on the shore of a river, blades of grass peeking their small heads over the melting snow. Gravel shifted between his claws, steps crunching like the first voice to speak in a silent room.

No birds sang, no creatures skittered, only the race of frigid water against rock, and his own shuddering breaths swirling into the icy air and freezing on his lips in tiny crystals that melted again on his next breath. Xeoulis' reassurance ran their course in his mind again and again as he knelt upon the rocks, river roaring for his attention over the voice in his head.

"Of course it's not your fault, Raavas. They're rebels and they're leading others astray. You're saving people, who minds a little blood?"

Raavas shook his head, eyes lingering on his bloodstained stone hand before he closed them and thrust it under the freezing water, an icy sting racing through his skin as it ran past, unbothered to the creature washing away its crimes on the bank. In the reflections, icy water running red, He stared at it. The wide eyes of a dying woman. He closed his eyes, but only saw the blood dripping from his hands. He opened them again, plunging his talons into the water, the cold shock racing through him, a sharp pain. The ache of winter like needles digging into him, paralyzing his muscles and encasing his bones in ice.

Echoes of laughter burn behind his eyes, the halo of rapidly sinking fire in the sky like the one to dissapear in the caves and the same embers alighting the sky as his mentor, his teacher, the man who had almost been his father left him to die. Raavas growled, splashing the stinging water over his head and shivering as it trickled down his neck to his back, soaking his shirt as he fell back to sit on a rock, relishing the pain keeping him in the moment, muttering as he picked bits of flesh out of his teeth, "Sour old man. Kill him… kill him… I'll kill BOTH of them…"

The Water ran over his legs, numbing them as he'd done to the hollow beat in his chest, Tearing away any warmth left in it and tossing it to the ocean a thousand fathoms down. A Little boy made creature in one Betrayal. Thoughtless. Dreamless. Loveless.

A Prisoner in his own frigid, numbed skin. He whirled back toward the mountains, repeating the words to himself. "Who minds a little blood?" Launching himself into the air, and flew into the ring of fire, leaving his mind behind him.

[willtheweaver]

Writecamp day 17

Yay! Thanks as always for the event @agirlandherquill and TY for the tag @theeccentricraven

Today's prompt: He broke, he gave up holding himself together and let his pieces slip through his trembling fingers, the hollowness of hurting, the greatness of goodbye

(This scene takes place in between A Feather in the Forest and Snow on the Pines):

Time slowed until it lost all meaning. At least that's what it felt like to Caine. It was only a second after he had said his last words to Fen, but it felt like a lifetime. After closing his eyes, the image of the room in the house was slow to fade. But fade it did, and when there was nothing but darkness, Caine felt the shock of cold. Colder even than plunging into a lake in the dead of winter.

So...this is what death feels like.

There was nothing. No space. No time. No sound. And then he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

Open your eyes.

Caine obeyed. It was still dark, but now it was only the gloom of the predawn hours instead of a star and moon deprived midnight. As he looked around, he noticed that he was standing. Tilting his head downwards, he saw that he had both his legs. Amazed, he turned his eyes to the twilight. He caught a glimpse of red from the corner of one eye. Turning around, he saw her.

"I thought you had moved on." Caine's voice was full of disbelief.

"I couldn't bear to go alone. And I knew you didn't want to either. So I waited." Sorrel told him.

Caine didn't say anything at first. But then he felt compelled to speak. All the words, all the emotions, it was an unbound river.

"I...I just don't deserve this. I wanted to see you again, but now that it is happening...I just feel so unworthy. After losing you...I let everything fall apart. I just...gave up. Took to the bottle, neglected myself...my duty...cast aside everyone in my life..."

He buried his head in his hands out of shame. Every word pained him like daggers. And after all that, he felt hollowed out, as if his words had taken all the emotions with them.

Sorrel walked over. She placed her hand on Caine's shoulder. Caine raised his head.

"You're forgetting something important. Fen was there." Sorrel reminded him.

"I guess you're right." Caine admitted. "He snapped me out of it. I remembered why I had to live. I did what I could to make up for those lost years, give him time to forget about the worries of the world. His secret may be out, but there are those that will stand by him. He still misses you; they all do. But he's found out a way to look past the pain and remember the good times. I have confidence that he will have a long and happy life."

The two of them exchanged hugs. They then became aware of a bright glow glowing off to one side. It was a doorway made of shimmering sunlight.

"Well, shall we see what lies beyond?" Caine asked.

Sorrel nodded. Together they departed for whatever lied beyond the veil.

Tagging @jay-avian @revenantlore @rumeysawrites @winterandwords @rivenantiqnerd @writingamongther0ses

@ace-malarky @charlesjosephwrites @the-inkwell-variable @sharkblizzardblogs @dyrewrites and anyone who wants to join in!

[inspirationallybored]

Writecamp Day-15

Heya! Finally participated (and posted) for this for the first time, on time (kind of). Thank you @agirlandherquill for your wonderful prompts!

Hopefully I could do these prompts justice!

Prompts chosen:

Narration prompts:

He rose from the dirt, his sword the only one still clean.

The world had gone quiet, for the first time in centuries.

Feeling prompts:

The terror of triumph

The world had gone quiet, for the first time in centuries. For miles, there was no more sound. No rustling of the wind, no fluttering of flags, no clanking of swords, or cries of the soldiers.

After centuries of conflicts, and generations after generations of wars, there was nothing.

Nothing but deafening silence. Nothing but bloodied swords.

Nothing remained, except for the landfill of lifeless bodies, and broken families.

He rose from the dirt, his sword the only one still clean. He was no killer after all. He merely followed his ancestors footsteps, a strategist, all he did was make the plans. Even if it has backfired in some places, they had finally, finally won hadn't they?

Had they?

He barely managed not to fall over while stumbling through the battlefield. Each step drew his breath heavier, the knot in his life chest tighter. He walked past what was once the enemy line, and before that part of his own flesh and blood. He crossed his own army, who fought not for themselves, but for him.

They fought for his family, at the cost of their own.

His sword was clean, but his hands were bloody. His soul was soiled.

Why? Why was he not joyous at the finality of the battle? Why was he haunted by the spirits of the fallen fighters? Why could he no longer bring himself to face his ancestors, or himself?

His body felt heavier as he collapsed, stricken by something far worse than just guilt.

He had won, but at what cost?

[jay-avian]

Writecamp - Day 10

Finally getting to these prompts! The ones I picked today: the bellow of thunder, the ease of strength (from this list) Thank you @agirlandherquill for hosting the event and @willtheweaver and @theeccentricraven for tagging me!

Based this newly written snippet from my story Morgensturm. Harelan is a dragonborn (humanoid dragon for those who don't know) and Caspian is a human.

Harelan closed his eyes as he tried to channel his power. Whatever this gift was had been made possible by his aggression. So what was he angry at? Caspian—for taking him hostage and driving him like a slave. The world—for treating him so cruelly. His clan—for keeping him blind. For not believing in him and holding him back. For being scared of what happened, and what could happen. The thoughts swirled and formed like storm clouds. They circled, and soon they started to spark in his belly, and went up to his throat. It warmed Harelan's body. Sparks shone through his scales. He lowered his body to the ground, claws digging into the sand.

Whip, went the lightning. Thunder bellowed from his throat, sending sand flying from under him. The cliffs around him shook, too. The bolt struck the precipice in the distance. It cracked apart on impact. Rock after rock fell, until in a moment, a chunk of the precipice fell entirely. It fell to the water creating wave-sized ripples. Harelan stayed still, doing nothing but breathe. How effortless it had been. And yet he stared at his work of destruction as if the god of storms himself had come down in rage.

Caspian had been holding steady from the force. Once the air settled, he eased, and then smiled. "See?" he asked. "I knew you had it in you."

Tagging @fleurtygurl @equallyreal @sugar-phoenix @rickie-the-storyteller @lyra-brie @morganmaietto @mysticstarlightduck @thedogfromthatmitskisong and whoever else wants to join!

[spora-blog]

Adesso voi immaginate la persona che deve fare un intervento dopo sta cosa qua. Quella persona sono stata io.

Après Azael, le déluge.

[agirlandherquill]

writecamp - day 1, june 1st - the kickoff!

welcome to the start of summer campers! this post marks the kickoff of a two month long writing game i absolutely cannot wait to take part in alongside you all!

now, you may be wondering, what are the rules? for those of you that took part in or were familiar with writemas, it's the same thing, but for those of you that are new or just joining the game that's brilliant! I can't wait to spend the summer writing alongside you! the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! and of course, tag me in your responses because i cannot wait to see them!

and for those of you that don't know or need a reminder how writecamp's going to work, i've got a list of some pointers below:

each day of summer, starting June 1st, i will post the writecamp daily challenge - containing all sorts or prompts to stir the imagination pot

the game is open to all, and if you join late, no problem! just embrace the writery spirit of summer and play along! (you don't have to complete every day's challenge, but whatever you do, always be proud of yourself! because i for one am so proud of all of you)

bonus part (completely optional, but lovely if you choose to do it) - alongside your challenge entries, make sure to find a blog on writeblr, a writer you admire or one you've only just found, and pay them a compliment! (something so small but so, so important <3)

now, that marks the end of all the organisational admin stuff - (ironically im not as organised as i intended to be, i thought i had an extra day to get everything sorted ((whoops!)) so this first post is coming out a few hours later than intended but i promise every other post will be coming out on time, which will be 9am GMT but of course there's no time limit for your entries, pick and choose and play along as you please!)

moving onto the part you (and i) have all been waiting for - the first day of writecamp! (see under the cut!)

The Prompt List

Dialogue Prompts:

"You shouldn't have run from me."

"Take it back. Take it all back."

"You're... Smiling, and I can't quite understand why."

"Let your fears go. they can't control you, only you can control yourself."

"Dawn is on its way. The least we can do is live long enough to meet it."

Setting Prompts:

A mossy castle

A sunbathed meadow

A ring of fire

A crumbling dungeon

A walk at twilight

Narration Prompts:

The wind was neither her friend nor her foe. The wind was a part of her, it lifted her limbs, rendered them wings, and in defiance of her fate she took flight from the precipice of the cliff.

He would not utter a sound to please the whims of his enemies, his silence was the only weapon he could render against the army waiting, watching, willing him to beg for mercy. He would not give. He would entrust his life to silence.

Was there something so wrong with love? What crime against life itself did the heart commit in falling so completely, so impossibly for somebody else? And what punishment must be made in its stead?

Her hope was her saving, as it always had been, but as the danger loomed at her back, as its cruel, unrelenting shadow passed over her shoulder, she abandoned all hope, replaced her clasped hands with the blade sitting in her lap, and turned to meet it.

He had never been a man to cower before someone deemed his better, but for someone he deemed worse, someone he deemed worthy, he dropped to one knee.

Feeling Prompts:

The creaks of a broken body

The warmth of a summer wind

The sting of frozen water

The weariness of time

The gentle sigh of truth

happy kickoff day campers and i can't wait to see what you all come up with!

~ A Girl and Her Quill

~ ~ ~ now for the tags! for writecamp, because i have a feeling there's going to be so many of you, i'm going to do tags a little bit differently and instead tag all you lovely campers in the comments! (to hopefully get around any tag limits/difficulties because we all know there's going to be problems, it's inevitable and i'm going to do my best to avoid any issues in that area)

but of course, if you would like to be tagged in future daily challenges for writecamp, all you've got to do is interact with this post - it'll be monitored throughout the entirety of the challenge to ensure nobody who wants to be tagged misses out!

[write-with-will]

WriteCamp masterpost!!!!

I am participating in the writecamp event run by @agirlandherquill !!!!! This is where you can find the links to all of my writings!

Day one!

Characters - Rowan & Phoenix Wip - What It Takes To take A Life Summary - "Old man Rowan and the goddess of life reflect on the value of time and their obligation to themselves to live life to it's fullest, even though it will never end for either of them" (what my friend texted me after reading it)

[seastarblue]

WriteCamp Day Two!

Day Two of @agirlandherquill ‘s challenge!

guys I went overboard 😭 oops? I guess? this excerpt is a lot longer than yesterday’s, but yesterday’s was also less than 200 words so I suppose it’s not a super high bar to reach… anyways.

perhaps this is actually canon who knows… with a bit of editing? maybe! but it’s a scene that I can see happening right at the beginning of the story (after like. a little bit of exposition but yeah), where Kaiden glimpses the terror roaming the streets at night.

so some TWs because yeah:

TW for: gore (not super detailed), exposed innards (mentioned, kind of described), eating a body, manhandling a corpse, some bug imagery (literal and figurative)

overall a spooky piece… let’s get into it >:3

the prompts I chose were:

(narration) “She had no business being where she was, her doubts had their own doubts, but she walked on.”

(feeling) the bitter rush of wind

(narration) “The trembling fingers sunk into the forbidden cavity and tore free a most wretched, a most worthy prize - a heart.”

(feeling) a dark abyss

all of which have some… modifications. but alas, I’m just holding you here—read away!

———

Kaiden had no business being where she was—her doubts had started growing their own doubts—but she marched along anyways. The detective wasn’t ever one to ignore her intuition, the abstract concept being more trustworthy than some tangible beings, but the situation called for it.

A rush of wind, bitter and cold, pinched at her face. It almost felt as if it were warning her to stop, to back away from what she had convinced herself to do.

It wasn’t much—just a bit of investigation into some strange noise her neighbors complained about. She hadn’t heard anything, but the Sirtasies were both elves, and so she trusted their incredible hearing.

Now, she was five streets under, and still she couldn’t figure out what the Sirtasies were going on about.

“Tides, why am I still doing this?” she grumbled, thumping her cane down in frustration. It was late, and she was tired, and she had work tomorrow, so why didn’t she just throw in the towel and call it a night? She’d say she found nothing, and that maybe Mx. Sirtasi was simply nervous about… whatever elves could be nervous about.

She was just about to quit and head back home when she heard it: a skittering sound, like some giant bug running along a hard floor. Something felt… off, however, and before she knew it she was ducking behind an old crate. Straining her ears, she tried to catch the sound again.

There it was! Louder this time, as whatever made it was getting closer. Kaiden braced herself for whatever was coming. That old intuition was screaming at her to leave and run and get as far away as possible, but stubborn (and admittedly very curious) as she was, she stayed put.

Her ears picked up on another sound, this one infinitely more worrisome. Something… being dragged along the ground?

The skittering and dragging eventually made their way right past Kaiden’s hiding spot. Her legs—both the bad and the good one—ached from her crouching. However, she didn’t move an inch until she was certain the… thing was far out of sight. Her unease overpowered her discomfort, it seemed; she counted to one hundred and only then did she slowly get up and make her way back home.

‘What in the world was that?’ she wondered. Still rattled from the experience, she was extra vigilant and cautious as she made her way home, straining all her senses to catch anything out of the ordinary.

As she ascended one of the many stair-bridges, another blasted sound came from underneath her. This one was the most unsettling of all: A disgustingly wet squelching sound, almost like some beast chewing on something in the most obnoxious way possible.

Kaiden didn’t want to look down. She didn’t know what told her to. Certainly not her instincts. Despite everything telling her not to, she peered down into the dim abyss below, and her dinner almost immediately came back up.

There was a person there. Wrapped in a spider web-like material, though it was torn right down the middle to reveal that the body was ripped into pieces, organs bare against the night wind and glittering with blood.

Before she could truly register what was happening, this… creature emerged from one side, unlike anything Kaiden had seen before. Limbs stretched to an unnatural length, a face more like an ant’s than a person’s, and the biggest appendages she had ever seen protruding from its back. Long and hard-looking, she realized they were the source of the sound.

She stood there in horror as one of those limbs tore into the body, and extracted from it a most gruesome prize: a heart.

Kaiden snapped back to reality quick. She stumbled back, her cane clacking against the bridge’s railing. Heaving, (for breath or as a reaction to the body?) she ran from the scene, as fast as she could, bad leg be damned.

———

sheesh girl you need to invest in some insect repellant fr

writing tag list!

@bunnymermaidwrites @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @theink-stainedfolk

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@viridis-icithus @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon @agirlandherquill @annothersummerofsleep

@nczaversnick @zerotothex @oliolioxenfreewrites @bardic-tales @rumeysawrites

@pizzamanstan @seafloor509 @an-indecisive-nerd @cacophonyofwords @corinneglass

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 6 ⛺

Credit goes to @agirlandherquill for setting up this writing prompt tag game ❤️

I'm late posting this since I had a pretty big day, but had to get it up. 🙂

Rules: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from this list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For the Day 6 prompt I chose the narration prompt: "The day. as brutal, as bloody, as soul-wrenching as it was, was finally done."

Once again, this is a passage from my main WIP, my YA Dystopia The Blood Cleaners. This passage happens right before the scene I posted on Day 4 😲This is the start of Chapter 47 of Draft 2, pretty late in the story (border of Act 2 and Act 3!)

*********************************************************************

The day. as brutal, as bloody, as soul-wrenching as it was, was finally done. Justin basked in comfort to know that lives were saved after a strenuous day of helping out the lil brigade. Never would he have thought he’d see lils in their fully fed form, plump with blood and large as a Great Dane. He wanted to steal a moment to speak with the mayor, but each minute only gave the choice to rescue another life or to steal away. Tomorrow would have to be another day. He hated each day that passed by. He was ready to return to his bed in Naomi’s house, though not before having dinner with her. 

He finally enjoyed her chili as he seated at the ornate carved table next to the central stove. 

Linda sat next to him. Her round dark eyes stared at him. 

Justin scowled. It was enough to live with the guilt of his betrayal. After a lifetime of being taught that fate was fiction, he knew the inevitable. He would have to tell Joselyn the truth. He’d have to promise to mend her broken heart. The last thing he needed was for yet another girl to taunt his attention.

He raised his eyebrows like an angry dog. “WHAT!”

Linda slid down the bench. She grasped her shirt, her lips quivering. 

Naomi got up from her weaving loom. She called out something to Linda in Navajo.

Justin sighed, ashamed. “I’m sorry, lady. I didn’t mean to be mean to your granddaughter.” On any ordinary day he would have laughed at his pun. It was not an ordinary day.

Naomi and Linda exchanged a few more words, ending with Linda sleuthing up to their bed.

Naomi stepped up to Justin. “Not your fault. She’s just lonely.”

Justin lay his head on the table, grunting. 

Naomi patted his shoulder. “I haven’t known you long, but I’m the wise woman of our people. If you need healing, I'm here for you.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” 

******************************************************

Tagging (optional only) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas

[aalinaaaaaa]

Mirror Image

For Day Two of Writecamp by the lovely @agirlandherquill !

Today's prompt used:

The softness of someone else's coat

This conversation happens the day after A Lesson in Observation, where it's the start of Charimone getting initiated into Claudia's household. (The image in this scene has been in my head for months, today's prompt was perfect for it!)

Word count: 654

—

“Oh, you’re still in that dress from yesterday.” Lady Emar pointed out, causing Charimone to blush.

“Yes, I guess so.” She looked down, grazing her hand over the pastel blue fabric of her dress. Minor stains splattered it, the skirt a bit unsettled. No different than the times spent with her sister in flower fields and splashing water in a stream, now a last token from home.

The lady glanced to something on Charimone’s right, her neutral expression lacking its usual sharp edge. “Hmm, I wonder… Give me a moment.”

Charimone jolted as the lady’s usual imposing visage vanished, replaced by a rook that shifted in front of a tall mirror to her right, beside a mannequin without a garment.

“What is it?” She fell into rank beside her, mesmerised as the lady untangled the clasp in her cloak. It consisted of a cascade of dark crow feathers, covering her from the shoulder down, the tail ends a slip above the floor. She wondered if it was a cloak or armour, with the way it swished, carrying the lady’s intent behind it.

“Here you go.” The lady swirled it overhead, dropping it onto Charimone’s shoulders.

“Whoa.” The cloak’s fabric swallowed the rest of her, a comforting weight upon her shoulders. She combed her hands through the inside, turning around, her foot nearly catching on the end. How she’d adore something like this in the winter, she’d never be cold again.

“This is so cool!” She jumped, looking up at her. “Can I keep it?”

Lady Emar chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder and goading her gaze towards the mirror.

“Not this one, I’m afraid. It’s my special one.” She nodded toward the mirror, gazing down at Charimone again. “Black suits you, little wisp.”

Charimone got a proper look in the mirror. Her crimson hair, ruffled by sleep, fell onto the cloak’s feathered collar, while the lady stood in a simple gown of black silk, her crimson hair down and without a single strand astray.

“Dad said I shouldn’t wear dark clothes because I would look like a crow lady.” She snapped her gaze to the lady beside her. “Hold on, you’re a crow lady.”

She laughed, the sound not dissimilar to a crow’s. “It’s your choice whether you listen to him. Tell my servants and Silkweaver what you want and they’ll have it done.”

“Really?” Charimone beamed, light sparkling in her polar blue eyes. “Absolutely anything?”

“Basically.” She frowned when the lady collected her cloak, twisting it back onto her shoulders without an ounce of effort.

In her pale gray eyes Charimone witnessed a reflection of herself. She wondered if the lady saw it too.

—

Tagging the various taglists (General, Writecamp and Charimone's plotline) (ask/comment/reblog, etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart-deactivated20 @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @rae-butter @corinneglass @oros-ash3s @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @darkluminosity @wyked-rebellion