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[rhokisb]

[rhokisb]

I feel bad for not updating recently but yeah the SADS definitely took a hold briefly and I allowed myself a break.

It's okay if you feel bad because you haven't gotten any interactions with your original fiction. It's okay to take a breather.

Just try to be sure the breather doesn't become a permanent one. You're doing great ❤️

I forgot how lonely it is to write original fiction.

Where are the kudos? The subscriptions? The comments? The people cheerleading me chapter to chapter? Where are the kind words and compliments and reassurances that what I'm writing isn't complete crap? Where are the unhinged emojis? The asks on Tumblr? Where are my mutuals in my dms apologizing for not reading the latest chapter right away (side note, you know you don't have to apologize at all, right??). Where is the fanart? Where are the recs?

Where is my motivation to keep going?

It's something I've been thinking about a lot, actually, lately. How the experience of writing fanfic is so unique. How you already have an audience, willing and waiting and captive. And that's really it, isn't it? You have an audience. It's almost performative, writing fanfic. It's being on a stage, a one-person show (or two, if you do it with a friend); it's getting live reactions to your performance, it's feeding off the energy of the crowd and informing it back in a feedback loop; it's improvised, sometimes, in almost-real-time. It's building something that you couldn't have built by yourself. A thing that takes on a life of its own.

It's an experience you can't get writing original fiction, and, honestly, not having it is making it hard to write something original at all.

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Just so we’re all clear, it is okay to miss people you no longer want in your life.

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Stormholt Masterlist

This limited series will be my re-write of the hit movie sensation Saltburn. It will be a TRR AU, and include the iconic and infamous bathtub scene, vampire scene, and the cemetery scene. Because it’s me, there will pushing of boundaries. (Chapters will be appropriately tagged with content warnings)

If you are unfamiliar with Saltburn, on the surface it appears to be the story of an unlikely friendship between outsider Oliver/Ollie (Drake Walker) and rich, popular Felix (Liam). However, it quickly devolves into an intricate web of obsession, deceit, depravity, and murder.

Trailer: Saltburn | Official Trailer (youtube.com)

Not saying I will do the original story any justice, but hopefully I achieve my objective of crafting an enjoyable story that is both similar to and vastly different from its inspiration, while still able to toss a few twists and surprises in.

Chapters will be posting soon. (I know I say that alllll the time, but promise I am working on them now) Order of and titles of chapters may change.

Cast of Characters:

Drake Walker: the outsider who infiltrates everyone’s lives

Liam Rhys: rich, popular, living a frantic life at a frenetic pace

Regina Rys: Liam’s stepmother; pompous, prideful, a bit daft

Constantine Rys: Liam’s father, he knows more than he tells

Riley: Liam’s wife; blunt, erratic, and mentally ill … but not stupid

Madeleine: Regina’s cousin (once removed), who has outlived her usefulness in all ways

Maxwell: Childhood friend who has fallen on hard times and found a soft place to land

Leo Rys: Liam’s half-brother, a member of the duchy’s constabulary; Drake looks very familiar to him

Katie: Leo’s wife; her motto is “touch but don’t look”

Savannah Walker: Drake’s estranged sister

Jackson and Bianca Walker: Drake’s parents

Casey Valentine: Drake’s ex-situationship

Bastien & Gladys: Long-time servants at Stormholt; they came with the house

Chapters:

Prologue: A Fine Morning

Chapter One: Meet. Cute.

Chapter Two: Besties

Chapter Three: Menagerie

Chapter Four: Getting to Know You

Chapter Five: Deadly Sins

Chapter Six: My Best Friend’s Sister

Chapter Seven: Rub a Dub Dub

Chapter Eight: I Know What You Did Last Night

Chapter Nine: The Train Station

Chapter Ten: A Thief in the Night

Chapter Eleven: Little Lies

Chapter Twelve: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Chapter Thirteen: The Kingdom of Heaven

Epilogue: Alone at Last

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“No, going back means more travel time. We need to get to where the God told us to go. That is logical.” Shenzu spoke with a more pronounced roll to his words, the urgency of what they’d been told echoing in his mind. His kind, reptilian and ancient as the lands they walked on, were known to live for more than a hundred years on a frequent basis, maintaining their limberness throughout their lives. But the prospect of losing even a moment of that time had enraged the man, burning under his scales. The group argued back and forth for a few minutes, weighing the pros and cons of either passage, before Dante spoke. He had said very little since they had escaped the monument, and the rest of the group grew quiet with his words.

“I know a port town, it’s the closest to here. But we’d have to go through the desert. We could be there in three days; any other route could take upwards of ten. Al-Haffra is the closest to us. We should go there.” A gust of wind kicked up the sands around them as they took a minute to ponder the decision.

“It’s good to know someone knows where we are.” Armand hoisted his war hammer, “Which direction?”

~Day 61 of Weyard snips~

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“All this means is that we really do not have time to waste. There’s a chance this can be reversed. If we stop that bastard we can get the orb. Maybe we can get our years back.” Armand looked at the sorry group who sprawled about him. Only Shenzu and Dante remained standing with him, the rest had taken to the comfort of the warm sand that surrounded them.

“What if he died in the collapse?” Shenzu asked in his thick accent, his slitted eyes gazing at the space where the monument used to be.

“I don’t think he would have done what he did if there was a chance he wouldn’t survive it. He could have been the one to bring us out of there. We just don’t know. He spoke like he knew us all. I’d bet what’s rest of my life on him having of made it out just fine.” Armand raised a hand and stepped closer to the disturbed sand that had taken the monuments place. His palm began to glow and his eyes sparkled with a white light that danced across his pupils, “I sense no evil remaining here, but nothing good remains either. Only emptiness. Like the rest of this desert.”

“I don’t want to ruin this moment you’re all having, but I could really go for some stew right now.” Vestare had recovered from her retching and had sat next to Dank, a hand covering her eyes as she gazed up at the tall human before her. Armand rolled his eyes as she continued, “I’m serious, I’m a good cook. We catch a rabbit, I’m sure the weird herb-Orc has something we could use for seasoning, I could make us a mean stew.”

“First, no. Second, we don’t have any of those items, not even a pot; how you would even begin to imagine accomplishing that eludes me. And lastly, and this is the most important: no.” Armand’s tone was one of annoyance and fatigue, as if dealing with the group was a most unsatisfying chore. Vestare grumbled, “If I’m gonna die, I’d prefer doing so with a full stomach.”

~Day 60 of Weyard snips~

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Large chunks of rock began to fall from the ceiling, and they all tensed waiting for the end to come.

Then they stood in the desert, unstable on suddenly upright legs as the monument, Air’s Rock, was swallowed into the sands, never to be seen again. Their weapons, which had lain in a pile around where they’d fallen in the monument, were returned to their rightful places on their persons. A hot wind bore down on the group as they stood on the same dune they had crested when they entered the cube.

“What happened?” Vestare leaned forward and emptied her stomach onto the sand in front of her. Dank followed shortly after as the rest held their tongues, forcing their stomachs to settle. Orlogg still gripped Dantes hand in his and began to look about, covering his eyes with his free hand. A wave of vertigo hit the half-Orc and he plopped to the ground, almost bringing Dante with him.

“I didn’t do that.” He muttered to his friend. Dante patted his head, “I know Orli.”

Armand stood straight, flexing his hand, “I feel weaker. Like I’ve lost something. My arms burn and my shoulders ache.”

“Yes, that bastard took a lot from us; from the way he spoke, I imagine it was years off our lives.” Dank spit the last of the bile from his mouth but still stood in a hunched position, one hand resting on Vestare’s back as she continued to heave.

~Day 59 of Weyard snips~

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vetarmora

[rhokisb]

This is so fun!

Perhaps they ought not to have eaten the dragon. There had been people objecting to it at the time. Surely such meat was poisonous. Perhaps it was even an affront, an insult to some intangible order of nature they ought to honour.

But the city was starving, the siege had gone on too long, and the king's troops were still a week's march away. The scorched earth would be fertile again in time, but right now it was barren. Right now there were mouths to feed. So they changed their crossbows for butcher knives and got to work.

None of the royal commanders asked any questions that could not be answered. After all, their aid had come shamefully late. The dragon's horned skull made a noble gift, a fitting tribute from a triumphant city to its humbled king. Who would have thought to question them?

And none of the townsfolk spoke up, when the first golden-eyed babes were born. Children who grew up barefoot and fearless, clambering over the city's patched and rebuilt roofs like they had no notion of falling, with a strange glitter to their skin when the sunlight hit it just so. No one breathed a word about dragons.

Because soon enough there were deft, young hands taking loaves straight out of the oven, heedlessly lifting iron from the forge, plunging into boiling laundry water. And some of them more wondrous still, wild, warm-skinned youths, with inexplicable knowledge and peculiar remedies.

A blessing, their families said proudly. A blessing after so much hardship. Which it was, in its way. This city would never fear dragon fire again.

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When the man reached the door he turned and spread his arms theatrically, “Now this temple, this monument to divination, can’t remain. If Servance doesn’t want to face me himself, I will continue to destroy all his hiding spots until he can run from me no longer.” A series of dark tendrils began to swirl and climb up the back of the Elf, wrapping themselves around his wrist and combining with the energy growing in his palm. He began to mutter an incantation and Dank groaned.

“Oh shit.” The ground beneath the group began to shudder and rock. There were loud cracks as the ceiling above shattered, sand beginning to pour through the holes from above. The Elf laughed and retreated the way he had come.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again. I haven’t been lucky in years and I won’t begin to count on it now.” He called over his shoulder.

“Asshole.” Vestare coughed, blowing the growing pile of sand away from her face. Orlogg used the last of his strength to reach for his friend, Dante, grasping his hand as he searched his brain for the spell to get them out of the room.

~Day 58 of Weyard snips~

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CONGRATULATIONS!

Hera: To Touch the Heavens First Look - Chapter One

       The release of Hera: To Touch the Heavens is right around the corner, so as a little thank you for your support I'm releasing the first chapter below the cut!

© 2023, 2024 S. M. Campbell All Rights Reserved

A tear slid down the old woman’s cheek, illuminated like a drop of sunshine in the light of the lanterns. Her gaze passed from Rynn to Kilderan, and that was when she had begun to weep, otherwise silent in the wooden chair she had seated herself in.

         Rynn reached for Kilderan’s soft hand and felt reassured when his brother clutched his hand back.

         The four of them bowed low and silent as the high priestess’ gray eyes flooded with tears. Her breathing was faint, and she never removed her gaze from Kilderan.

         Rynn did not understand why she was staring so intently at Kilderan, but he felt even more confused watching them; so he instead studied her robe and the string of glinting beads around her wrist.

         She muttered something Rynn did not hear, but Kilderan dipped his head further behind the boy.

         Velle Deka then spread her arms and looked up at Aome.

         “Mother Deka,” Aome murmured, falling into the woman’s outstretched arms.

         Though she embraced the young woman, the high priestess’ gaze bore into Rynn. When Aome pulled away, Velle Deka spoke. “Daughter...Aome… We thought your mission went awry. When we didn’t hear word… Ah, well, no use dwelling on what didn’t happen. Have you come all this way with the celestial children?”

         The priestess began to nod but then halted. “Well, almost.”

         “Wait,” Yojackson said. “You know that Kip’s also a celestial child?”

         Velle Deka nodded solemnly, dabbing at her eyes with a cream-colored handkerchief she produced from the folds of her garb. “You have united the two celestial sons.”

         Aome’s lips parted. “Kilderan found his brother and brought him away from Arsteine.” She lowered her gaze. “I was the one who told them about you and encouraged them to return.”

         Velle nodded in understanding. “Show me the blood,” the old woman muttered, turning to Rynn. “Let me see the luster.”

         Rynn swallowed and glanced over his shoulder up at Kilderan, who pressed his lips into a firm line.

         “Is that really necessary?” Kilderan asked faintly.

         Velle Deka eyed him and then held out her hands towards Rynn.

         The boy turned to his brother. After a few heartbeats of morose hesitation, Kilderan bent, brandishing his dagger. He gingerly clasped Rynn’s wrist and pressed the cold blade into his flesh.

         “Ow,” Rynn whimpered. He looked up at Kilderan, whose eyes had flashed.

         Soon the pale skin was broken, but as little as possible, and a flood of deep crimson blood, faintly glittering, gushed forth from his arm.

         Rynn had forgotten that the blood of the stars flowed in excess, and once he remembered, he winced.

         Kilderan’s fingers lingered on Rynn’s arm and Rynn continued to look up into the wide, pale blue eyes that stared upon him before turning to Velle Deka.

         She sighed contentedly and took his arm in her ancient hands, studying the celestial blood. Her eyelashes were dotted with teardrops, minuscule diamonds twinkling in the light. She looked up at Kilderan again. “After this, never let those veins bleed again.”

         Kilderan frowned, which diminished his now-soft expression.

         Yojackson shoved past Kilderan and placed his hands on his hips, staring down at the seated priestess. “We need to know where the celestial spring is in order for that to happen.”

         “You have the pendant?” Velle Deka asked.

         Aome promptly lifted the silver chain from her neck and handed it to the elderly lady.

         Rynn studied the ivory pendant that was carved with an image of the galaxy’s three suns. He wondered how the high priestess would be able to use it to disclose the location of the spring that Kilderan so desperately needed to take him to.

         The high priestess turned the pendant in her hands, examining it sentimentally and almost lovingly.

         “Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, read the necklace or something?” He had meant no offense, and his eyes were round in innocence. “We need to know the spring’s location as soon as possible.”

         The woman used her handkerchief again before her eyes brightened and she began to chuckle at Yojackson, the cracked sound filling the small safe room.

         The criminal frowned and glanced at Aome.

         Velle Deka continued to laugh for a long moment and eventually she said, “The pendant has nothing to do with the location of the spring.”

         Yojackson’s mouth fell open. “You mean to tell me that we just risked our necks in that blasted palace to get a worthless piece of junk?”

         Aome glared at him and then said, “Mother, there has to be some explanation.”

         Velle Deka blinked. “I need that pendant as much as you need me to divulge the location of the celestial spring. That pendant is the only way I can be certain that I will be safe when I reach my next destination.”

         Aome’s brow creased. “You’re not staying in the hiding place? What about…about the temple?” She grew somber.

         Velle tilted her chin towards the priestess. “This is only a temporary safe place. I cannot stay here forever. But there is somewhere, someone, who will allow me to take refuge with them if I show them that pendant.” She tapped a frail finger to the necklace in her palm.

         “Will you tell us where the spring is? We can’t stay here either,” Kilderan said.

         Velle Deka brushed her long, silver waves over her shoulder and pulled back the sleeve of her robe, revealing her fair skin.

         Rynn squinted. Tattooed on the high priestess’ arm was a curious cluster of stars and planets. Altogether it was a brilliant, intricate masterpiece that was stitched into the old woman’s skin, but he did not comprehend its significance.

         The elder ran her finger along the tattoo until she reached a constellation sitting amongst legions of ink specks, fainter than the rest of the design. “This is the constellation, Ormena, over the celestial pool. This is what you’re looking for. Reach Ormena’s lucida and you’ve reached the spring.”

         Rynn turned to look upon Kilderan, whose gaze had become distant, pondering.

         “The most highly guarded secret in the entire galaxy and it’s tattooed on your arm?” Yojackson asked rather curtly.

         Aome made a face at him. “In plain sight,” she mused, “where no one would ever consider. This whole time…”

         “How far is it?” Kilderan asked, stepping closer to the priestess, though he limped. “How far from where we’re standing right this instant?”

         Velle Deka shook her head. “No one knows where it is, no one has ever been able to locate it.”

         “Then how do you know it even exists?” asked Kilderan.

         “Because of you and your brother.” Velle Deka’s eyes shone.

         “Forgive my ignorance,” Yojackson began, milder after two glowers from Aome, “But what exactly is this spring anyway? I’ve heard the stories, but always sort of believed them to be just that. —Until I met Kip, of course,” he quickly added.

         The high priestess folded her hands. “The celestial spring is a mystery I believe not even the goddesses understood. It is the gateway between the world of light and stardust and the world of flesh and blood.” She glanced at Kilderan, and then at Rynn. “It is what allowed the goddesses to assume their mortal forms and rule over the planets in the first place. By delivering Rynn to the spring, you are enabling him to pass into the realm of the stars.”

         Yojackson scratched his chin and inhaled, preparing to speak, but Velle Deka silenced him, peering at the criminal as if she knew what he was about to say.

         The high priestess stood and began to rummage through the charred satchel sitting against the wall. Soon she turned back to them with a small pot of ink and a slender brush. She beckoned to Kilderan, and he sidled up to her, dragging his injured leg behind him.

         Rynn watched as the old woman rolled up the sleeve of Kilderan’s shirt and swirled the brush in the ink. He glimpsed the faint bruises on Kilderan’s wrist, as well as the staining bandage. Velle Deka brushed one of his bruises gingerly with the pad of her finger, and she gazed empathetically into his eyes. “You’re safe now.”

         Rynn found himself pinned under the stare of his brother’s cold blue eyes, and so he stepped towards Kilderan and watched as Velle Deka painted the image of the constellation Ormena onto Kilderan’s skin with the dark ink.

         After she had finished, Kilderan’s forearm bore the lines and dots of the constellation’s peculiar arrangement. “The constellation, as I said, has never been found in the sky by the priestesses, by anyone. But when you see it, it will be unmistakable. But do not go at this moment. Rest here for the night and in the morning, leave as soon as possible,” the high priestess instructed them.

         Aome approached the high priestess and the celestial children. “Thank you, Mother Deka. We’ll never be able to repay you.”

         “Honoring the goddesses’ memory is enough, Daughter. What have I been telling you your entire life?” She smiled at the young woman.

         Aome lifted her head and a smile came to her lips before she dipped her head to the celestial priestess and joined Rynn, Kilderan, and Yojackson in settling into the small room.

         Rynn’s eyes shot open, though he was still half asleep. His ears were filled with a furious pounding overhead that was coming from the world outside the hiding place. He believed it to be torrents of rain, but a dizzying sensation seized his head and his veins pulsed, making it seem otherworldly. Rynn swallowed and gripped the thin blanket Velle Deka’s entourage had provided for him.

         The storm continued to assail the roof of the tunnel—which was really the ground—with heavy raindrops and pieces of debris that made an awful clamor when they collided with the hidden tunnel.

         Rynn sat up, fearful. His veins seemed to writhe beneath his flesh. He glanced over at where Kilderan was sleeping on the floor, with Yojackson and Aome lying in their respective bedrolls a little ways away—Rynn had been given the cot. He started when a loud clang sounded overhead.

         Rynn swung his legs over the edge of the cot before tearing the blanket off of them and slinking to the other side of the small room.

         Quietly and carefully, he spread the bedding next to Kilderan, whose face was drowning in his long, mussed-up hair.

         Rynn glanced up at the ceiling when the thunder shook the ground above them, but he felt safe sleeping closer to his companions and his brother.

         “Rynn,” Kilderan whispered, though his eyes were still closed.

         Rynn jumped before rolling onto his side to face Kilderan. “I can’t sleep. It’s too loud out there.” He did not want to tell Kilderan that a storm and the unfamiliar crumbling tunnel frightened him, if only slightly. Because despite the eerie phantasms that sleep twisted the shadows and the rain into, Rynn knew he was undoubtedly safe here.

         “All right,” Kilderan muttered. “But try to fall back asleep. We have to leave very soon.”

Hera: To Touch the Heavens releases THIS SPRING! Reblog to spread the word and stay tuned for more updates and pre-release content <3

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I love the Weyard OC villain, Cartiz.

I mean I PERSONALLY HATE HIM, but as a writer/creative, I love him.

I'm happy with his intro in the work as a whole.

*brought to you by: ANXIETY AND IMPOSTER SYNDROME

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The orb raised up, leaving the grasp of the Elf whose chanting grew louder. A swirling red mist engulfed the orb as it pulsed above the team. From each of their bodies a glow emanated, similar in colour to what Armand conjured when he healed Vestare and Shenzu. The entire group writhed in agony as the shining light was ripped from their bodies. The golden mist swirled around the orb, lashing out for escape before being sucked in. The skin around the Elf’s eyes grew taut, and his hair grew brighter and blonder. His shoulders straightened, and his eyes brightened. The orb lowered into the Elf’s hands and he held it, walking around the group and to the statue. He searched the base for a moment before finding what he had been looking for. With a soft click, a small drawer opened on the leg of the statue and the Elf retrieved the contents. A small vial, filled with a sickeningly red liquid. He uncorked the vial and emptied the contents onto the orb, which pulsed musically in his hands as it absorbed the liquid entirely. When the last of the liquid was gone, he shuddered before putting the orb back into his cloak.

“That’s better. I don’t think you’ll be going far any time soon. I’d say that was close to two hundred years you all just lost. Sorry. I’ll put them to good use, don’t worry.” He tutted and walked past the group who lay exhausted on the ground, headed for the entrance to the room. Armand reached for his hammer but could do little more than wrap his fingers around the hilt.

~Day 57 of Weyard snips~

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“It truly doesn’t matter now. That’s the fun of it all. You all not being aware of what’s to come makes the game much more interesting.” The man reached for something in his cloak and Orlogg snapped his fingers, the sound distracting the others in the group.

“This guy was in my vision he’s the one with the-,” The man pulled an orb from beneath his robe and was already chanting as he raised it skyward. The group moved in unison, save for Dante, ready to hit the Elf with their full strength. Orlogg had already reached for his bow, and Shenzu was mid-air with Vestare and Armand behind him, as an unseen force grounded them all.

~Day 56 of Weyard snips~

[rhokisb]

As a sneak peak into the greater world of Weyard.

Here is a clip of the cast of Weyard meeting the strange Elf in the last snip for the first time. Obviously, some things needed to be edited out.

Featuring: Orlogg, Armand, Shenzu, and Dante!

Can you guess who is who? If you've been keeping up, consider this a voice check.