#wip excerpt tag

[indecentpause]

WIP Excerpt

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea to share an excerpt from a WIP!

from a fic I'm working on for The Succession of Us called The Big Chop:

Iffy didn’t realize the razor had turned off until a big hand gently petted the top of her now bare head. She flinched. “Is it bad?” she asked in a wobbly voice. Nate moved his hand from her head to her cheek, and with his other hand signed, “You’re beautiful.” She turned to D, who was standing proudly with his hands on his hips, and GerBear, who was grinning brightly. “I know this is gonna sound weird,” D said, “but you have a really nice skull.” Iffy snorted. “What?” “You do!” D flapped his hands around for a few seconds, as if trying to whack the words he was looking for out of the air. “I just mean. When I shaved my head, there were divots and stuff. But you don’t have that. Your skin is so smooth and pretty.” A smirk pulled at Iffy’s mouth, and D threw his hands in the air. “Fine, don’t take my awesome compliment! Your skull is stupid! Is that better?”

@venomdoves @delusionisaplace @amaiguri @athenswrites @klywrites I'm tagging you to share an excerpt with writeblr!

[bebemoon]

"the snake's incisor was like a pearl needle. it pierced too easily through the soft, florid flesh of the hanging rose petal. the puncture made a soft, sickening sound that twitched my ear. hateful man, i thought as we watched the petal blacken around the tooth, not unlike an infected wound. impaled once, it wilted and fell entirely from the rose- and he laughed a little, crushing the poisoned remnants underfoot. a godawful perfume... . this was the moment- standing there in my mother's little garden, with her thin kerchief pressed over my nose and mouth- that i knew what should be done. i would plant gardens anew, over his grave."

[azaisya]

"Monsters, no matter what form they took, could be distinguished from ordinary animals by a few features: the faint iridescence of their physicality, the way their bodies disintegrated when killed, and their immediate and ferocious instinct for violence. The unicorn had been no different."

featuring my oc finnelyn roselorre and the unicorn he miraculously convinced not to kill him

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Heads up seven up

Wow these certainly build up when you're not consistently drafting/making large edits, don't they!

Not to worry! Replying to everyone at once!! Because I'm unfortunately the kind of person who wants to reply to everyone who tags me no matter how late...despite most of y'all probably forgetting completely about this...

The thing is, I was setting this up when I didn't think my break for world building would be *checks calendar* yikes, a few months?! And I'm not even anywhere near done?? So after finding a stopping point, I went back to revising TSP. Thank God.

And it didn't seem fair to stop keeping track of these. So here it is: all tags I've gotten for this game since March! See below.

Thanks to *DEEP INHALE* @mk-writes-stuff here, here, and here, @morriguscrawls here, @sleepywriter00 here and here, @late-to-the-fandom here, @hallowedfury here,

@andyswritings here, @winterandwords here, and here, @talesofsorrowandofruin here, @buffythevampirelover here, @chauceryfairytales here and here,

@romances-not-tragedies here and here, @dyrewrites here and here, @aziz-reads here and here, @eccaiia here and here, @serotoninshift here,

@space-writes here, @i-can-even-burn-salad here, @willtheweaver here and here, @melpomene-grey here, @cwritesfiction here,

@awritingcaitlin here, here, and here, @gracehosborn here, @duckingwriting here and here, @theprissythumbelina here, @leahnardo-da-veggie here,

@drchenquill here, @somethingclevermahogony here and here, @elsie-writes here and here, @honeybewrites here and here, @bookish-karina here,

@evilgabe29 here, @emabatis here, @mundanemoongirl here, @mysticstarlightduck here and here, @thepeculiarbird here,

And finally... @sarandipitywrites here!

Love y'all

Rules 1: post the last seven lines you wrote/edited

Alright so I actually got two different versions of this. The original purpose of the game (cast majority), and a new one (only a few).

Rules 2: post seven facts about your world

Version One - last seven lines

Alium's Earth rotates the opposite direction, meaning the sun goes from west to east.

This is the last bit of the add-on to Robbie vs Jason:

From The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

To be fair, I don’t pay attention most of the time, and I was focused on punching Jason. “But he did this!” Jason protested, pointing at the Jason-sized dent. Ms. Loudermilk reached inside her classroom and then pulled out a bag of sports balls. “Thank you, Isana,” Ms. Bradley said. “That’s not all, miss!” Jason interjected. “He also glowed and threw me across the hall and made the lights flicker!”

Version Two - seven facts

Alium's calendar only has six days in a week.

Alium is divided into 10 Sectors.

Alii children get their powers when they are ten years old.

Alium and Ceteri were two separate universes that crashed into each other, forming trillions of portals throughout the universe.

There are 20 powers in the Alii database, though two more are found throughout the series.

It is common practice for Alii children take the surname of the parent with the higher-Level power, or how many subpowers an Alii has. If it's equal, the Alii with the greater Class, or rarity, typically passes down their surname. If both are the same, the parents will usually hyphenate.

KEEPING THE TAG OPEN

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[jiubilant]

I’m starting a new save file in Skyrim, and it got me curious about your Dragonborn. Did she go with Ralof or Hadvar at Helgen?

ayo went with hadvar!

it wasn't so much a weighted decision on her part as it was "it's raining fire and this man waving me to safety is standing slightly closer than the other one." she has no love for the legion and a lot of righteous fury for anyone who would sentence people to death for being in the wrong place at the wrong time

playing through skyrim's intro a hundred times and knowing exactly how it will pan out sort of diminishes how horrifying an experience it would be for someone actually living it. i've been trying to capture that horror in an early-game piece about ayo that i've been working on

now that thuum.org's down and there's no quick way for readers to translate i'll probably have to cool it a little with the dovahzul. rough translation of what she's saying (without knowing that she's saying it) would be "rest, loyal servant of the stone; forget life's pain"

[gaybroons]

Fic Excerpt :

Infiltrating Toronto’s castle wasn’t as difficult as navigating its rooms, the winding halls and complex corridors, the doors that lead to dead ends and the gardens that are ought to be described as a mazes. David hears the other bruins complain, the rookies who had never seen such architecture before must be overwhelmed; but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He knows what he wants. What he’s here for. His heart is clutching at one thing, claws digging into the memory of his lover. His dirty, bloodied boots are thumping against the perfect marbled ground but he can’t hear them over the pounding in his ears. He’s so close. So close. He can taste Willy’s lips against his own.

He runs like a man possessed, making his way blind, as if pulled by an invisible string. Somehow he’s sure that William is— that he—

When their eyes meet, it’s almost as if time itself had stopped.

The willypasta AU in which Willy is a spoiled prince, Pasta is a barbarian warrior, their countries are at war but that doesn’t stop them from being helplessly, hopelessly in love with each other :)

Another scrumptious piece of art from the most talented @adelphenium , aided by my co-commissioner and enabler @patrice-bergerons i love you two to pieces 💝💗💞💕💞💗💖💖💖💕💞💘💘💓💝💗 I’ve been screaming about this for HOURS 😩

[rhikasa]

Friday Kiss Tag

Thank you @the-golden-comet [x], and @sableglass [x] for the tag! ♥️

Rules: Share a kiss scene from your WIP. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, platonic smooches, forehead kisses, to full-blown makeouts. If you don't have a kiss scene to share, you can instead treat this like a writing share tag!

[Jon] spared the two a brief quizzical glance, but dared not to utter a single word before ducking out.

The tent canvas swayed in the wake of his departure, designating them as the final residents left within, and yet neither of them made a move. His lips parted, though not a sound came out, for his brain struggled to piece together the words needed to voice the thousands of questions that came rushing to mind. Theodore was no stranger to silences, but this one weighed heavy in the air as each took in the appearance of the other.

Kieren had changed somewhat since the last time they'd spoken. His hair was disheveled, and the months spent away marked the shadow of a beard along his jawline. The bags forming under his eyes spoke of little sleep during his journey as well. But despite it all, his blue eyes still held their shine.

Theodore's heartbeat hastened as Kieren made up his mind to close the gap between them. His conscious mind barely had time to catch up with the movement before they collided. The impact nearly sent him stumbling back, but Kieren's steadying hands keep him in place as their lips reacquainted themselves.

Leaving this as an open tag for anyone who’d like to join!

World of Skies Tag List: @inadequatecowboy @magic-is-something-we-create @talesofsorrowandofruin @writingrosesonneptune

If you’d like to be added to any of my tag lists, please fill out this google form here.

[topazadine]

🐎 Writing Share Tag 🐎

Thank you for the tag @the-golden-comet! Here's a snippet from my WIP Pride Before a Fall, the poem that Cerie recites at Feast of the Horse!

“Flying strip of midnight races impatient gale; fast flow the iron feet to outpace impending hail. A steaming black body stark against the snow; though geography obliterated, my horse knows where to go. We tremble as one body, cutting through the daze; hooves endlessly plunging in the knee-deep maze. Chasing dim city lanterns so far from this cold plain; I bury my frostnip fingers into thick dark mane. Faster still my horse gallops and the lights grow bright; I cling hard to the saddle long through the frosty night. At last, we stop in tinkling ice, this nature song so sweet; mare’s breath hard and hot, so warm within the sleet. Protector and companion, heart-melting brown eyes; savior, soldier, navigator, as beautiful as wise.”

If you don't know who miss Cerie Korviridi is, be sure to pick up your copy of 9 Years Yearning, which shows her as a wee lil baby 🥹

Tagging @drchenquill, @davycoquette, @mysticstarlightduck, @aalinaaaaaa, @gioiaalbanoart, and @theaistired

[dbarn]

The rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as you have words

thanks for the tag @possuminabathtub!

He tried his best to mask his concern as they finished their salads.

Thrilling, no? It screams of action and dynamic things. SALAD!

Tagging @shadowbunnydragon, @secrettastemakerland, @zootopiathingz, and anyone else who wants to play along.

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Share Tag!

Thank you for the tags! I remember when I had enough free time to answer each tag game separately. Working life is not for me. 😔 As you can see though, I do keep them all and I appreciate being included in the writeblr community! ❤️️ I'm also reading all of them of course, but recently my spoon situation has been disastrous. I want to pick up providing feedback again; maybe this will hold me accountable!

@aziz-reads (x) (x) @gioiaalbanoart (x) (x) @frostedlemonwriter (x)

@willtheweaver (x) (x) @wyked-ao3 (x) @lychhiker-writes (x) @fortunatetragedy (x)

This snippet is from Flu O'Clock, a story in the on your hands and your knees, do you feel in charge? series. Classic sick!fic with my end goal being platonic OT3. Want to see how that's going?

Telford could appreciate the directness, and he wasn't about to do harm to himself just because he didn't like the taste of something. That was more Rush's speed, though he wisely didn't verbalise that thought, accepting the canteen and knocking back the stuff as quickly as he could without risking hurling it up again. "Good boy," Rush said, still in an aggressively casual tone of voice. Everett coughed. Rush did that thing where outwardly he completely ignored the sound, but Telford could see that all of the man's senses were trained with extreme interest on Everett, keenly awaiting any trace of pull on the line. Of course he got exactly what he wanted, because Everett just wasn't able to help himself, in far too many areas of his life. "You said you had work to do?" he asked Rush, proving the one thing he didn't possess was any degree of subtlety. "I think I'll work in here today," Rush said, the way he'd stated it as a fact without even an attempt at the faux politeness of asking if that would be alright designed to press Everett's buttons, specifically his agreeable-unless-you-don't-acknowledge-my-authority one. "Do you really think that's necessary?" Everett responded, overly mild. "He needs his rest." Rush placed the back of his hand on Telford's forehead. Telford heard Everett stand up. That's right, he thought with no small amount of amusement, fight like dogs over me. He relaxed beneath Rush's cool skin, allowing his eyes to drift closed. "I won't be a bother," Rush offered, in a tone far too soft to be used in company, in Telford's opinion. "I just think--" Everett started, only to be immediately interrupted. "I don't care what you think." "Rush." "What?" "You're going to calm down," Everett ordered, doing a terrible job of remaining calm himself. "I'm not the one yelling," Rush retorted, blunt but with a level enough voice that Telford knew Everett would find infuriating. "Maybe you'd like to practice using your inside voice." "Listen!" Everett hissed, clearly restraining himself from moving any closer. "You can't--" "I can do whatever I damn well please." The bed shifted as Rush stood. "You're not going to fucking touch me." Invoking Telford's unspoken protection was an odd play, but one of the best things about Rush was that he never did what was expected of him, always keeping those around him on their toes. Everett let out a warning rumble and Telford cracked his eyes open to see the two men standing nose to nose, staring each other down with no attempt from either party to conceal their aggression. "You know," Telford remarked pointedly. "If you two want to fuck you can have the bed." The twin scandalised expressions he received in response were well worth the headache the argument had set raging inside his skull, a bull deciding his brain would make a nice china shop to run riot in.

Tagging: @moltenwrites @the-golden-comet @finickyfelix @lancedoncrimsonwings @bagheerita + OPEN

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday (MLC longfic again!)

Now that my amnesia fic is posted, it's time for more of my MLC longfic! At long last, LLH is awake again . . . and not doing that well.

(You can find earlier excerpts here.)

CW/TW: Panic attack, bicha flare, suicidal ideation

Something was different. The pain was there as always, waiting to devour him whole once he acknowledged it, but there was something else, something blanketing it, muting it somehow.

Li Lianhua stretched out his senses like a limb and tried to make sense of it.

Ah. Warmth. That was the strange sensation. Warmth–heat, even–all around him–his back, his chest, his legs, even his fingers, which had been more like blocks of ice than flesh and blood these last few months.

He leaned back, pushing into the banked heat behind him. The solid core of warmth tucked against his front from navel to neck twitched, then pressed against him more securely, as though it could make a home for itself inside his sternum, ribs, and spine and heat him from within.

He felt warm everywhere.

Well, almost everywhere.

He rolled forward slightly, wiggled further down on the bed, and tugged the core of warmth up higher. He curled his arms and shoulders around it and nestled the bit in his hand between his face and the pillow until it cradled his cheek. 

Much better.

He smiled into his new, warmer pillow and let himself start to relax back into sleep.

“Xiangyi?”

The warmth against his face gradually took shape as his skin and mind began to wake. That was a finger–no, several fingers. A hand. A large hand. And those calluses–how could he not know them when they had clashed steel with him, choked him, clinked brimming cups of wedding wine with him, even been inside him, taking him apart with a gentleness he hadn’t known they could profess.

He let his awareness spread throughout his body, setting aside the pain, and yes, that was a-Fei’s chest he had pressed himself against, like Huli Jing requesting head scritches, and those were a-Fei’s legs, tangled with his, and that was a-Fei’s breath rustling his hair–less now than it had been a moment ago–and that was indeed a-Fei’s arm he was clutching like a child would a favorite toy. 

But a-Fei had been holding him first.

Why was a-Fei holding him? It was one thing to wake up in each others’ arms in the newly wed room, after their  . . . exertions. Before a-Fei knew that any real dream of a future was doomed to fail.

But to hold him now? After he’d given away the wangchuan flower and left a-Fei behind, left their promise behind? To hold him like he still mattered. Like he wasn’t a curse who killed everyone he’d ever cared about. Like he was some sort of treasure . . .

Treasure . . . 

Cabinets stained in blood, Xiaobao’s blood–

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, flinging himself free and to his feet. Where was Xiaobao? He had to find him, had to heal him, before it was too late–

“Xiangyi! Sit down!” A-Fei caught him as his legs buckled and lowered him back onto the bed. 

Why wasn’t Xiaobao here? Had he killed him, too, just like he killed everyone he cared about? 

“Duobing,” a-Fei roared. “Get in here. Now!” Callused fingers cupped both sides of his face, turning it gently but firmly toward him. “Xiangyi, look at me. He’s alright. He’s on his way.” 

“How could he be alright?” Li Lianhua gasped, clutching at his shoulders, the already blurry world turning more hazy. “I saw the blood!”

“I healed him. He’s safe,” a-Fei said, cradling his head as though he could hold the shattering pieces of his mind together. “Now breathe.” 

Li Lianhua choked on an inhale, his lungs spasming, only managing to draw in a desperate wheeze.

A-Fei cursed and dropped to his knees by the bed, pressing one hand to Li Lianhua’s back and the other to his chest, filling both with a familiar warmth that began to break apart the iron bands strangling his throat and lungs. “Try again. Feel my hands. Press against them when you inhale.”

The next breath shook and spluttered like a dying candle but some air squeaked through nonetheless.

“Good.” A-Fei gave his back a short supportive pat. “Again.”

Lotus Tower shook as footsteps pounded toward the bed. “What’s wrong?” panted a beautifully familiar, impossible voice. “Xiaohua’er?”

“Bicha,” a-Fei growled, rising from the floor to kneel on the bed at his side, his hands still bracketing him on either side. “He thinks you’re dead. Show him the scab.”

“Shit,” the Xiaobao-shaped hallucination cursed. It seemed especially cruel of hallucinations to now match the blurriness of their surroundings. It made them seem far too real.

The hallucination knelt at his feet and took his hands. “It’s me, Xiaohua’er,” it said, tears in its eyes and voice. “I’m alright. A-Fei healed me. See?” It brought his hand up to a spot on the back of his skull and pressed his fingers to a crusted, raised line on its scalp. “I’m right here and I’m alright. Do you believe me?”

He could feel it. Why could he feel it? His fingers had always passed through hallucinations before. And even when he’d dreamt of Xiaobao, or of a-Fei, of holding them again, it hadn’t felt as real as this. His fingers traced the ridges of the scab–a perfectly neat seam–then the silk curtain of hair that covered it. 

This was Xiaobao’s hair. The texture, the thickness, what he could see of the color–no hallucination could do justice to this. 

This was his Xiaobao.

He was alive.

“Xiaobao,” he cried, turning his head this way and that to make sure it was the only injury. “You’re alright!”

Xiaobao’s bright smile shone through despite the haze his eyes imposed on everything. “Told you. No harm done. So focus on taking care of yourself, ok, lao huli?”

Li Lianhua huffed out a wet attempt at a scoff and bopped the side of his head. “No harm? What do you call this?”

Xiaobao captured his hands with his and brought them down from his head to rest between them. “Less serious than a Bicha attack. How are you feeling?”

Li Lianhua blinked. A Bicha attack? He turned his attention inward to his qi, and–

Ah. There was a-Fei’s Beifeng Baiyang, somehow wrapped around his Yangzhouman and pushing the last of the poison back into the recesses where it would lie in wait, coiled and ready for the next attack. The black tinge was almost gone from his veins.

He had been so worried about Xiaobao that he hadn’t even realized.

A-Fei had probably saved his life. Again. 

He shouldn’t have bothered.

[fayes-fics]

Nine lines, nine people

Thank you for tagging me @andthebubbles (sorry it was ages ago, I'm still catching up)

📝 Share nine lines from your WIP and tag nine people

Well, this is the start of my WIP that has the most content. I started writing this end of 2023 lol 😬

--

“I’m not sure about this, brother,” Anthony frowns, surveying the jumbled art studio at Benedict’s London townhouse. 

Sunlight is streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rear of the property, but Anthony is grateful for the translucent voiles that drape over them; at least there will be some privacy from the surrounding buildings for this embarrassment.

“Too bad,” Benedict shoots back, bemused, fiddling through a pile of paintbrushes.  “A bet is a bet, and you lost.”

“You do not need to revel in my misfortune quite this much, though,” Anthony pouts.

“What can I say? The mallet of death does not always ensure victory at Pall Mall,” Benedict chuckles, readjusting one of the two easels in the room. “And I can assure you, this student will be worth your efforts,” he adds enigmatically as his trusty valet appears in the doorway.

“Ms y/l/n is here, Mr Bridgerton,” Mr Smith announces. “Should I see her in?”

“Certainly,” Benedict nods brightly, observing in the periphery of his gaze how Anthony’s interest is suddenly piqued at that announcement.

“A Ms?” Anthony echoes quietly as Smith slips away. “I did not think you offered private art lessons to the unmarried lady,” his voice filled with concern, patently preoccupied with the Bridgerton family reputation should Benedict be inviting innocent young women to his bachelor lodgings unchaperoned.

“Do not concern yourself,” Benedict sighs, knowing exactly where the Viscount's thoughts have gone.

--

Tagging: I won't tag anyone, but fellow writers, please feel free to jump in 😁🧡🧡

[angelsdean]

Fingers-in-my-word-doc Friday

tagged by @shallowseeker thank you !!!

rules: In honor of Friday, gimme a line from your latest WIP or project that involves hands. (Search-find hand, hands, fingers, fingerpad, nails, wrist, palm, thumb, heel, lifelines etc)

so i have 3 current WIP projects so here's a little excerpt from each of them.

from what i'm calling "at bobby's" atm (set during a summer in the 90s):

A squirming eel of anxious dread wriggled in his gut. It squeezed his stomach like a fist. He let out a quick breath, then another, his hand clutching tightly to the handle of the canvas bag at his shoulder as he stopped by the front steps and squeezed his eyes shut. Dad’s fine, Dad’s fine, he’ll call soon.  

from the doc titled "23 fic" (short time-travel AU, cas visits 23 yr old dean, this is not the first time he's visited)

They slide into the Impala and Dean swiftly swings out of the parking lot. Once they’re on the open road, Dean drops his right hand from the wheel and tosses his arm along the back of the bench.  His fingers brush against the collar of Castiel’s coat, then skim across the exposed skin of his neck.  “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.” He gives Castiel a lopsided grin. 

from the long stanford era destiel time travel WIP (s15 destiel end up stuck in stanford era)

Dean made quick work of cleaning the wounds, a hand steady on his own cheek. His younger self suppressed a wince at the bite of the alcohol pad. When he looked down into his own eyes, the look in them was complicated. A shimmering of raw emotion, relief and gratitude. A vulnerable ache. He realized, as he gently turned his own jaw to the side, that it had been a long time since anyone had handled him with such care.

no pressure tagging: @aliveboydean @foolondahill17 @backroadboy @limbel

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Last Line

Thanks @chauceryfairytales here!

Rules: post the last sentence you wrote!

From The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

“I think so,” I said, feeling pretty darn relaxed after all that breathing.

Yes I wrote a scene about breathing hooray writing is fun!

Tagging @happypup-kitcat24 @sleepywriter00 @diabolical-blue @drchenquill @rickie-the-storyteller

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[jiubilant]

wip excerpt ft. a company knarr. wonder why that's here

thanks @wispstalk for the tag to share an excerpt :)

“—and on it went, like that,” she finishes, stoic. “The Archmage remains undecided.” “Of course he does,” says Faralda, reaching for the pitcher. “More blaand?” She’d come to Faralda’s gatehouse to compare admission records—and, she admits, to cool her temper in the courtyard’s frigid wind. She’s stayed for supper. Her Master of Destruction is the terror and delight of the village’s braver children, who rattle her gate and barter foodstuffs for feats of witchery: fountains of sparks, sky-whales shaped of smoke, magefires juggled from hand to hand. One small petitioner had traded a fat square of blubber, now cubed and salted in Faralda’s only bowl, for a field of ice on which she and her siblings could play stickball. Faralda refills their cups with the Vetrings’ creamy whey-wine, then takes another morsel from the bowl—with finger and thumb, as the villagers do. Her elbows brace the table like an old salt’s. “Company knarr, Tolfdir said?” “Yes.” Faralda had been a ship’s mage, once. Mirabelle studies her for a moment—her hair that musses in all weather, the rigging-lines of laughter in her face—then rubs her forehead, resolving to drink no more blaand. She has headaches enough. “This ship. Why would it—” Faralda, looking pained, says, “She.” “—why would she sail into Stormcloak waters?” A pause. “You seek counsel,” says Faralda, a slow smile sharpening her face, “from your future Master Wizard—” Mirabelle, against her will, makes an exasperated noise. “Faralda.” “East Empire Company,” says Faralda, as if that explains everything. She waves a hand. It shines with grease in the firelight. “The Imperial Fleet can fit in a puddle. Mede could float out his toy ships to be rammed to flinders by Ulfric’s drekar—or,” she says, longships burning in her eyes, “he could let Cousin Vici and her mercenaries defend their searoads.” “With one knarr?” Faralda shrugs. “A maiden to lure out the dragons, perhaps.”

[space-writes]

excerpt share tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! here’s a little bit from Valloroth drafting.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

“Besides, if we’re not killing him—” [Mayhem] glanced at Hope, who signed an emphatic negative, “—we should at least try and figure out what he’s up to.” Wit swallowed. Go sneaking around in Voah’kasis—a city vehemently opposed to sneaky foreigners—on the trail of a killer who could appear out of your shadow, slit your throat, and be gone before your body hit the ground. Hunting a greater demon with a spoon sounded more appealing.

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

tags & taglist under the cut!

no-pressure tagging @revenantlore @ceph-the-ghost-writer and @noblebs

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads (ask to be +/-)