#writeblr stuff

[thetruearchmagos]

Didn't accomplish much writing today, but I think I've done something just as important for Swift Seas And Whirlwinds; namely, resolve some glaring plot holes in how the end-of-the-first-book climactic naval battle would actually unfold.

So, uhh, skip this if you hate spoilers, and @bureaumantic and @faerspell I hope you don't mind if I show off my giga-brain battle plotting to you /s

[maddstermind]

Hurrah hurrah!!! Hello @akiwitch! I'm your pinch-hitter for the @writeblrgarden Secret Santa event!

I've been wanting to make this since reading part of Summoning Trouble you shared a while back, so I'm glad to have finally gotten the excuse to do it!!

[notsocheezy]

Welcome to The Author's Archive

I'm Cassandra Erica, local girlish-shaped thing carrying she/they pronouns under each arm (despite how much more difficult it makes grocery shopping). For a full year - that's three-hundred and sixty-five days for all you number fans out there - I wrote at least one thing every day and posted to this blog. Those are Brain Curds, by the way - and their retirement is but only temporary.

"So," you're wondering, "what have you written so far? What are you working on? Are you going to keep up this weird reflexive second-person perspective?" To answer back-to-front: no, many things, and not quite as many things. Here are some lists!

~~~

RELEASED ON NOTSOCHEEZY.COM!

The Real Me (2022, Short Story)

There's something a bit off about businessman Mr. Shirley Jones. What's he hiding?

Three Takes on Death (2022, Short Story)

What might happen when we die?

Pink Bow (2022, Novella)

Who knew trying on one dress at the mall could change a person's entire life? Chris - or, uh, Kris - certainly didn't. Was it just a dress inside that box with the pink bow, or was it something more?

Passable. Episode One - The Virgin (2024, Writer's Block Short)

The pilot episode (of sorts) for a trans sitcom. Lily gets herself a date with a little something extra. Sarah racks her brain to keep her boyfriend sexually satisfied without breaking chastity. Alice and Brayden run a 'scientific' study with a virgin busboy.

Plus some other things, don't worry about it.

~~~

BRAIN CURDS

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose. Click here to see some of the greatest hits! Here are some of the more notable series:

The Frank Program

Frank hosts a podcast with high profile guests, and he's not afraid to tell you "what they don't want you to know," but he has plenty of his own secrets.

Quantum Fates

On a day that ought to be like any other, Trevor wakes up from a nightmare with a splitting headache, a voice in his head, and visions of the near future.

Passable.

Four trans college students share an apartment in Irvine and screw up each others' lives through sheer lack of scruples.

Government Man

Government Man is from the government.

Cole Nicole

Genderfluid femboy model, Cole Nicole, navigates life just outside the spotlight.

Veronica

Via gruesome means, Veronica gets her revenge - a dish best served at 98.6 degrees.

The Prom Consort

Kelly finds herself roped in to an arrangement (don't call it a love triangle) that might just be profitable. That is, if old wounds don't prove too painful.

~~~

WIP!

Anthill Theory (Short Film) Finished - Waiting for Soundtrack

An exploration of free will through a time loop that the protagonist doesn't know he's in.

A Covenant of Rust (Novella) This is the part where I ignore it for a year.

A newlywed couple moves into a 1950s prefab home in early 2020, but finds more hidden beneath the surface than the floor plan could reveal. Will forgotten secrets and isolation bring them together, or tear them apart?

Blue Rabbit (Short Story) Pre-Final

Sequel/companion to A Covenant of Rust. I keep telling myself I'm going to finally finish this one, but it'll have to wait for its sibling project.

One Late Night Easter Morning (Short Story) First Draft

A chance encounter at a bar leads to late-night musings about humanity.

The Order of the Degenerati (Novel) Outlining

A secret society was formed after the tragedy of the holocaust to make sure it never happened again. Unfortunately, nowadays the most they can do is make YouTube videos go viral.

It Goes Up (Never Never NEVER NEVER NEVER) Complete

You will never read it.

Memories Retained (Novella?) Mostly Cancelled (because Quantum Fates is better)

Ever had a dream where you were back in high school, before it all went to shit, and you decided to do something differently? Ever woke up and found out it really happened?

Seeing Other People (Novel?) I Hate It Now

A story of love, polyamory, Dissociative Identity Disorder, and heartbreak.

And MORE! THERE IS ALWAYS MORE!

~~~

MY BOOK!(?)

Publishers don't seem super interested in collections of short stories, and I'm afraid a collection of short stories and novellas may make a literary agent's head explode, so expect to see Tales from Starved Childhoods as a self-published debut! It includes a fully rewritten new version of Everyone Has Their Price (2017); newly revised versions of Next Day Delivery (2017), The Real Me (2022), Three Takes on Death (2022) and Pink Bow (2022); and all-new stories still in progress.

Tales from Starved Childhoods is set to be the physical manifestation of my early career as a writer, so stay tuned and look for it someplace books are sold!

~~~

If you'd like to be one of my readers or vice versa, don't hesitate to reach out! I'm shy but I won't bite without consent.

I'm always happy to have more eyes on what I'm making and I'm always happy to read something new. It helps with the burnout. I'm open to most any genre - I don't really think much about labels when coming up with ideas.

If you work for a publisher and you see something you like, send an email to publishing@notsocheezy.com with the subject line, "Business Factory."

[lividdreamz]

INSANE ASYLUMS, CANNIBAL PROPHETS, ELDRITCH CULTS, & SELF-PROCLAIMED GODS GALORE

A WIP INTRODUCTION — OF ILL REPUTE

GENRE; Dark Fantasy, Occult Horror, Romance (?)

TARGET AUDIENCE; Adult

STATUS; Outlining and Drafting

TARGET WORD COUNT; 40K — 60K

CONTENT WARNINGS; gore, violence, torture, cannibalism, abuse and exploitation of mental patients, sexual content

SUMMARY; When a new patient who calls himself Yoska Menik and boldly declares he is a god arrives at The Maker’s Sanctuary—an insane asylum with a reputation built on less than holy monks, shrieking lunatics, and inhumane practices—he is quickly dismissed as a madman. While everyone believes Yoska Menik’s another deluded lunatic, Valentin, a fellow inmate harbouring a dangerous secret of his own, finds himself inexplicably captivated by him…even as increasingly strange occurrences begin to unfold around the asylum. As his relationship with Yoska Menik deepens, blurring the line between madness and sanity, Valentin must learn to navigate the treacherous path between his forbidden desires and the dangers they present.

THEMES/TROPES; Faith, Belief, (Abuse Of) Power, Revenge, Rebellion, Religion, Identity, Tradition, I-Don’t-Like-You-Very-Much To I-Will-Serve-You-All-My-Days, Found Family (Kind Of…)

CHARACTERS;

Valentin — Alleged cannibal. Prophet. Performer of strange blood rituals at midnight. He’s also an opium addict, but we don’t talk about that.

Esa St. Edvin — A god (self-proclaimed) with dubious eldritch powers (unconfirmed). If you call him Yoska Menik, it’ll make his day.

Martja'ysa Bruheimer Isko-Sanni — A formerly wealthy divorcée who may or may not be able to commune with spirits. Moody, melancholic, prefers solitude.

Johannes St. Lendzell / Ly — Purported victim of demonic possession. Cried and clawed at walls often. Friend of Valentin. Dead.

Pia St. Ørjan — A woman who believes she’s made of glass. Approach with caution.

Jin ij Phanom Sieng — Valentin’s younger brother. Merchant. Rebel fugitive and woefully bitter about it.

Father Paavali — The Maker’s Sanctuary Monk #1. Cruel, contemptuous, and violent.

Father Mika — The Maker’s Sanctuary Monk #2. His kindness, compassion, and love for his wardens often mask his perverted urges.

STARRING A CAST OF;

Creepy monks

Creepier cults

Strange supernatural happenings disguised as miracles

Ritualistic cannibalism

Blood magic

Wacky religious prophecies

Cruel and unusual punishments

Opium addicts

Failed rebellions

Surreal sex dreams

A gothic insane asylum

One (1) ghost

TAGLIST; Ask To Be +/-

MAIN TAG; Forthcoming!

OF ILL REPUTE is a WIP I began working on in 2018 and promptly dropped (for many reasons). However, as you can clearly see, I’m picking it back up again! If you’d like to know more about it and it’s world, here are two posts where I go into more detail about its setting. More posts about its worldbuilding (and characters) to come!

[oddcryptidwrites]

Louise "Lou" Ledet [NYTF]

Right on cue, Lou came stalking out of the woods. She crouched by the body, scanning the forest floor. Her hood was pulled back revealing her stern face, shaved head, and eyes that could cut steel. (Knight of Dawn, Chapter 11)

Full Name: Louise Seraphina Ledet

Pronouns: she/they

Title: Queen Consort of State (Louisiana)

Gender: nonbinary (uses female titles)

Sexuality: demisexual

Birthday (Age at start): March 9th, 2163

Parents: Etienne "Marcel" Ledet (deceased), Aurelie Corinne Boudreaux Ledet (deceased)

Siblings: Lisanne Ledet (deceased)

Spouse: Achilles Eloi Gauthier (deceased), ค̡̮̲͚̺̖͖͔͍ͮ๔̡͉̙̝͔͇̌ͥ̃ͅг̷̻̠̆̔เ̶̲͕͎͌ค̠̪̰̱̭̩̐ͩͣ͞ภ̢̬͈ͣͦ ̵̜̦͈̠͇ͨͨ̒͛Շ̤͉̲̹̼̠̎͂̔͢ค̴̙͚͎̭̱̠͓͍̆̌ͫ̐к̰͙̦̘̣̔̎̍́є̇̑̍ͧ͏̗̭̠๏͍̝͉̹̼̮́͝ ̃̓͏̱̝͕๒̦͔̺̮͆̈́͒͋͠є̧͍͎͚̣̟͉̗ͥ͐̉ͅг̢̝̥̙̱͈̇ﻮ̧̖̗͕̽̂̌̚ͅє̨͙̙̣͓̘͕̻̑г͕̪̱̭ͪ̊ͭ͘���̧̙͈͇̻͔͍̬ͪภ̙̣ͨ͗̽͢

Notable physical features: shaved or half-shaved head (depending on the book), scars on her face, usually wearing tactical gear

Personality: unstable, bitter, paranoid, impulsive, odd, shrewd, quiet

Extended Introduction

(CW for Child Marriage)

Louise Seraphina Ledet (Gauthier) is the intriguing outsider who lives not too far from the Perimeter. They are a mother figure to Lennox at their best, and an absolute nightmare to deal with at their worst. Lou is highly unstable and prone to acting violently, even towards those she cares about.

Lou was the second of two daughters born in the New Orleans Parish Zone of Louisiana to influential entrepreneurs who controlled much of the food supply in the old Ninth Ward. Lisanne, her older sister, married the Prince of the New Orleans Parish at the time, Achilles Gauthier. Soon after, the previous King of State died, and Achilles assumed the role, making a pregnant Lisanne the Queen Consort of State. Lisanne died in childbirth, and King Gauthier, inflated with egotistical power, blamed the Ledet family and demanded to marry the then-15 year old Louise Ledet. Marcel and Aurelie allowed for this to happen.

Less than six months after their marriage, King Gauthier bled to death after having his genitals removed, and Louise Ledet fled the state. Nowadays, Lou can be found all over the states of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and most often, Georgia. They have a scattering of safe homes across the southeast and continue to rule the state of Louisiana from their odd isolation. Lou rarely returns home.

NYTF WIP PAGE

Tag List (reply or dm to be added or removed; I pulled from the old tag list + the call post):@author-a-holmes, @soul-write @flowerprose @ceph-the-ghost-writer @theglitchywriterboi @when-wax-wings-melt @thechaoticflowergarden @lyralit @penspiration-writing @samatedeansbroccoli @charlesjosephwrites @italiangothicwriteblr @thetruearchmagos @pineapple-lover-boy @unilightwrites @sanguine-arena @bardic-tales @joshuaorrizonte @blind-the-winds @circa-specturgia @hymnonlips @aloeverawrites @the-stray-storyteller @writeblrsupport @starlit-skys @kyuponstories @guessillcallitart @magic-is-something-we-create @talesofsorrowandofruin @writingonmymind @imslowlydisintegrating @worldsfromhoney

[cheerfulmelancholies]

Came across this a while ago and thought it looked fun:

As you can see by my progress, I have a ways to go 😅

[egpenrose]

Yes, brain, I absolutely need to clean and reorganize my desk on day 3 of nanowrimo. Oh, and you're right: I don't really like this lamp. Maybe I can search my entire home for one to switch it with. Hang up some art? Have to have that inspiration...

[mx-ryder]

For the record:

I will never object to someone messaging me out of the blue. I mean, as long as it's not some weird hateful shit or something lol

Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.

[hayatheauthor]

10 Non-Lethal Injuries to Add Pain to Your Writing

New Part: 10 Lethal Injury Ideas

If you need a simple way to make your characters feel pain, here are some ideas: 

1. Sprained Ankle

A common injury that can severely limit mobility. This is useful because your characters will have to experience a mild struggle and adapt their plans to their new lack of mobiliy. Perfect to add tension to a chase scene.

2. Rib Contusion

A painful bruise on the ribs can make breathing difficult, helping you sneak in those ragged wheezes during a fight scene. Could also be used for something sport-related! It's impactful enough to leave a lingering pain but not enough to hinder their overall movement.

3. Concussions

This common brain injury can lead to confusion, dizziness, and mood swings, affecting a character’s judgment heavily. It can also cause mild amnesia.

I enjoy using concussions when you need another character to subtly take over the fight/scene, it's an easy way to switch POVs. You could also use it if you need a 'cute' recovery moment with A and B.

4. Fractured Finger

A broken finger can complicate tasks that require fine motor skills. This would be perfect for characters like artists, writers, etc. Or, a fighter who brushes it off as nothing till they try to throw a punch and are hit with pain.

5. Road Rash

Road rash is an abrasion caused by friction. Aka scraping skin. The raw, painful sting resulting from a fall can be a quick but effective way to add pain to your writing. Tip: it's great if you need a mild injury for a child.

6. Shoulder Dislocation

This injury can be excruciating and often leads to an inability to use one arm, forcing characters to confront their limitations while adding urgency to their situation. Good for torture scenes.

7. Deep Laceration

A deep laceration is a cut that requires stitches. As someone who got stitches as a kid, they really aren't that bad! A 2-3 inch wound (in length) provides just enough pain and blood to add that dramatic flair to your writing while not severely deterring your character.

This is also a great wound to look back on since it often scars. Note: the deeper and wider the cut the worse your character's condition. Don't give them a 5 inch deep gash and call that mild.

8. Burns

Whether from fire, chemicals, or hot surfaces, burns can cause intense suffering and lingering trauma. Like the previous injury, the lasting physical and emotional trauma of a burn is a great wound for characters to look back on.

If you want to explore writing burns, read here.

9. Pulled Muscle

This can create ongoing pain and restrict movement, offering a window to force your character to lean on another. Note: I personally use muscle related injuries when I want to focus more on the pain and sprains to focus on a lack of mobility.

10. Tendonitis

Inflammation of a tendon can cause chronic pain and limit a character's ability to perform tasks they usually take for granted. When exploring tendonitis make sure you research well as this can easily turn into a more severe injury.

This is a quick, brief list of ideas to provide writers inspiration. Since it is a shorter blog, I have not covered the injuries in detail. This is inspiration, not a thorough guide. Happy writing! :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[thetruearchmagos]

The Commonwealth Calls

An Excerpt: Steel Clad Coffins

HOLYFUCKINGSHITIDIDITTTTTT!!!!!

It's been so long....

I'm pretty sure I've posted most of this stuff bit by bit at some point here, but at long last, over the course of the past several hours I seem to have finally cracked the code and wrapped up the meat and potatoes of 'SCC'. All that theoretically remains is the 'actual' ending, and the preamble briefing stuff. But I've done the rest!

Tagging @theprissythumbelina @oddcryptidwrites @bureaumantic @enne-uni

@hessdalen-globe @the-stray-storyteller @faerspell because I don't know if all of you like this sorta thing but I'm very excited right now and I want to share this widely.

“This is Barker-Lead to all units, beginning movement now along Route Red, clear on.”

The dozen or so vehicles arrayed around Goyan’s armtrack growled noisily to life, idling engines kicking into gear. Her and Schafer’s hung back as 1st Platoon drove past to take point, then filed in behind them just close enough to make their vehicles out in the dark. 2nd and 3rd Platoons trailed still further behind, and finally the Squadron’s support and supply elements pulled up the rear.

As the unit slipped westwards and south, out of the woodlands and into the hills, the moonless night sky opened out like a canvas above them. The distant rumblings of tracks on the move echoed through over the hills, those right in front of her and those far away. The squadron snaked across the unchanging landscape for a few quiet minutes, passing by one intermediate checkpoint after another in the dark. 

Lieutenant Eichler’s voice burst through the TactNet.

“Lead, this is One, we have arrived at Assembly Area Baker and have eyes on Maladh over here. There are lights and possibly fires in some buildings, but we can’t make out anything else from here, clear.”

“Don’t worry about that for now,” Goyan replied. “Hold your position, we’re coming up, clear on.”

Her vehicle turned the corner to find Eichler’s 1st Platoon fanned out in a wide arc on the reverse slope of a shallow hill, facing southwest. They came to a stop in the centre of the small patch, and the rest of the squadron followed in tow.

“A long bloody night,” Kopp suddenly interjected, breaking the noisy silence inside the turret. “Think we’ll get to paint another two marks on the barrel?”

“Sit your ass down nice and comfy, and you might shoot straight enough to make it three,” was Goyan’s response. “Now pipe down and get your beauty sleep.”

“Clear on, mother.”

Goyan took her own advice, closing her eyes and letting her headset block out the noise. 

It was some of the best ten minutes of her life before her headset came on live. 

“Net’ check, call in Gasper-Lead, clear.”

“Choker, this is Gasper-Lead,” came Captain Osman’s equally grainy reply. “Receiving you well, request signal check, clear.”

“Gasper-Lead, receiving you well, clear on. ”

Goyan waited, answering when her squadron was called before mentally tuning out the seemingly endless chain of monotone voices. She had wrapped up her own squadron’s communications check before leaving for the assembly area, but now that the whole battalion had put out, a final roll call was needed on the unit’s Tactical Network before the night could truly kick off.

A few callsigns were conspicuously absent, she noted. Those had left hours before, taking up observation posts ahead of the main body and maintaining a strict silence. 

After what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, the checks were complete. A final broadcast came, and this time it was Shah himself who came over.

“All callsigns, this is Choker-Lead. The word is ‘RABID’, I say again, the word is ‘RABID’, clear on!”

About time. Tuning out from the battalion’s frequency without a word, Goyan switched now to the squadron net.

“All units, this is Lead, stand to and prepare to move. Eyes sharp, Hussars — Reitet Voran!”

The bassy thumps of howitzers carried over to Goyan’s ears like drummers of old signalling a charge. Her mind raced, and the dark, the ceaseless mechanical noise, and the growing knot in her gut made it a struggle to keep her wits about herself. Still, she managed, keeping track of landmarks as they passed by in a mental map, and taking in the sporadic radio reports of her fellow officers to keep tabs of the unfolding battle. Goyan reached for a pair of handheld thermal binoculars from around her neck, and peered into the dark as her squadron filed out.

Soon, gouts of fire and smoke lit up the sky ahead of them, as shell after shell of the furious fusillade came home amidst the streets and buildings of Maladh. The squadron drove on, making a wide arc south and west of the town, drawing to a stop in their pre-planned firing position in the shadow of a shallow hill a kilometre and a half out from Maladh itself. Like they'd been drilled, each of Goyan’s three platoons strung out in a line across the field, slewing their turrets north.

Goyan swept her eyes back and forth across the pitch black field that opened out ahead, first making out a dozen boxy forms trundling in a column across the landscape, then the rising ridge far ahead of them. Naked eyes could only see brush, but the thermals didn't lie, and bright heat spots betrayed enemy vehicles dug in turret-deep, maybe half a dozen, and their infantry rushing frantically into foxholes and dugouts to repel the sudden onslaught.

"Contact right, weapons free! Prioritise missile carriers and launch crews,” Goyan barked on her own ‘net, ducking into the depths of the turret. Seconds later, her squadron’s heavy guns rippled jets of flame and shell out and over the open, followed by flashes of light and dust blooming across the ridge.

“Wheezer, this is Barker!” She said, switching to the battalion’s frequency. “We’ve reached our firing positions, and have eyes on enemy positions.”

“Understood, Barker,” came Captain Jeong’s reply. “Cover us, we’re moving out.”

Tuning in back to her own squadron, Goyan gave her own directions. Third Platoon wheeled down the hill, veering left towards a copse of trees, while its two siblings kept up a fierce barrage. Convenient rises in the terrain, or clusters of structures or trees dotting the landscape were noted as the squadron prepared to leap-frog position by position towards Maladh. In the meantime, Jeong’s dragoons thundered across on the other side of the enemy ridge, racing to reach its own next patch of cover unscathed.

She turned her headset to the vehicle’s internal comms, eyes peering into her own sights to scan the landscape.

“Identify target, soft!” Goyan spat, and with the press of a button the whole turret slewed to the left to where she’d been looking. 

“Eyes on!” came Kopp’s hoarse reply, then “Ready!” from Cochise beside Goyan in the turret as he swung a shaped charge shell down the breech.

“Shoot!” Kopp screamed, and the fifty tonne armtrack heaved from the kick of its own gun. The offending infantry carrier that had blundered into Goyan’s sights didn’t know what hit it, detonating in the open, the resulting ammunition cook-off sending its turret tumbling into the air.

Goyan’s hussars were getting their hits in while the sheer shock of their arrival let them, but it wasn’t long before that cover wore off.

A bright spark lit up from a second floor window, and another came from the ridge now behind them. “Contact, launchers!” came the cry over the net, and the squadron’s mad dash screeched to a mad halt. A heartbeat later the building housing the first launch crew disintegrated under a salvo of 1st Platoon’s guns, and with its guidance suddenly cut-off it cartwheeled into the dirt. The second carried on, closing the distance rapidly and slamming against the shields of one of Second Platoon’s tracks.

A loud bang and black-and-red blast erupted from the impact. The field failed with a thunderclap that cut through the din of the battle, and a great blue bolt arced out from its turret-mounted projectors. When the missile's warhead blew, it sent its jet of copper through thin air that scorched the steel (surface?) of the turret and gouged the metal, but didn't cut through it.

The vehicle’s comrades fired back in reply, and the second crew didn’t get another missile off either. A few more shells were slung into gaping black windows, just in case.

"Carry on," Goyan said tersely, "and keep an eye out in case we’ve got any more tricky bastards.”

Third Platoon was already advancing under the cover of First, and she ordered Klein to swing the armtrack around to follow. Jeong’s squadron was just beginning to emerge from the town, and along the main road through it rose pillars of black smoke to mark the path of destruction his dragoons had left in their wake.

“Choker, this is Wheezer-Lead,” Jeong called in. “We have neutralised Point Archer, and the bridge is open. Softskins, transports, and some equipment confirmed knocked out, but there might be some stragglers, Clear.”

“We read you, Wheezer,” came Shah’s reply. “Carry on with Barker towards Point Basket, we'll catch up. Gasper, begin clean up, Clear."

“Clear on,” came the squadron leads' replies. Looking over her shoulder, Goyan could just about make out Osman’s tracks cresting the ridge amidst her first target’s burning wrecks, disgorging troopers and taking prisoner anyone still alive.

Without waiting for another word, Goyan directed her squadron into the town, passing over cratered homes and tearing over the bridge. The water shimmered under the light of fires burning on either bank, but she couldn’t rest long on the sight before she was whisked to the other side. If there was an Ocrisian soldier waiting in the dark with a rocket launcher for them, they didn't take their shot.

Maladh was theirs, and on time too. Her squadron emerged out of the town and into the open, and found Jeong’s tracks thundering off in a column on the road west. They had a long night ahead of them yet, and Marihan, their next objective, was another six kilometres out.

Lieutenant Eichler lead with his four tracks onto the road ahead of them, and the squadron trailed behind in single file on the road. Their turrets slewed outwards to either side on their assigned sectors of fire, gunners and commanders peering into the dark through thermal sights for any hint of movement. Jeong’s Dragoons hadn’t stopped for anything, and the road was littered on either side with burning wrecks peppered with thirty millimetres holes. Wherever they were now, Goyan couldn’t see them, but she knew her route like the back of her hands, and trusted the rest of the battalion would be where it should be.

The crackle of autocannon fire echoed through the trees, and light flashed from the over the tops of them.

"Wheezer is engaged!" crackled Jeong's voice again, straining to keep level. "Enemy positions dug in on Point Four-One-Four looking over Route Gallery, with at least one armtrack—"

"Wheezer, Barker!" Goyan spat. "Sit tight and take cover, we're coming through!"

She switched away from the battalion 'net and tuned to her squadron's, but before she could say a word Eichler's armtrack, the tip of the spear, turned the corner and fired out of sight. His platoon followed their leader tightly, guns thundering into the night.

Goyan dragged herself waist high out of her cupola as her track tore out of the woods, scanning the scene of carnage that fanned out before her with her own eyes. Eichler's platoon had swung into a wedge and was halfway down the valley, loosing shells into the hillside from a rise in the ground. To the right, two tracks glowed amber halfway down the road, rear ramps dropped and with sad lumps lying around them, while autocannons and missiles were thrown from behind every fold in the terrain Jeong's dragoons could find.

She took in the sight in as long as a loader needed to sling a shell, then gave her orders.

"Barker-Two, stay on the rise and keep shooting!" Goyan started. "Three, stick with us, we're going up and over the fucken' place!" Then, she spoke into her track's internal net. "Klein, get our asses on that hill!"

The armtrack shot into the night, and Goyan didn't have to turn to know Max's was right behind her. She could hear Second Platoon's shells roar overhead and the growl of Third Platoon as they strained to catch up with the race, and soon Goyan ducked back into the bowels of her track and strained her eyes through her sights to hunt for targets.

"Identify, armtrack!"

"Shoot!" spat Kopp, the blast of the shot blinding them both for half a second before a sudden gout of orange on the hilltop told them he'd aimed true. Kopp's next shot was a high explosive shell flung blindly among the trees, joining a dozen more within minutes as the squadron did its damndest to pound the place into the ground.

Coming to the valley floor, Goyan pulled herself back out of her cupola out of sheer instinct, some compulsion to see and feel the raging battle around her. Without having to peer through optics she could make out the smouldering wrecks on the hill above, less than half a dozen, but whoever was still alive up there hadn't slackened a bit in their fire. Ahead, she watched two rockets slam against one of First Platoon's tracks. The first simply detonated against the field, but it tore enough of a hole in it for the next to thread through and slam into its hull. The armtrack veered off course, dipping into a ditch and coming to a stop.

And for all that, Goyan half thought in a corner of her mind, they'd gotten off rather well for a headlong charge. Even as the world rocked under her every time Kopp fired, though, she couldn't shake one thought from her mind.

This was supposed to be an open flank.

It didn't add up, and that unnerved her more than poking her head out into the open air in the middle of a shootout did. Then, her headset crackled to life on the battalion 'net.

"All units, air alert!"

They came as soon as the alarm did, a pair of black shapes against a black sky that swung high into the air, then dove like a carrion bird. They seemed to be coming straight for her.

Missiles flared off their launch rails and streamed like shooting stars towards the dirt, and Goyan could see the light of their boosters in the split second of their release clearly against the night. They hit before she knew it.

------

Bright light. Pitch black. Somewhere outside, a furious, throaty roar, and something was burning.

The thick smoke stung her awake, and Goyan opened her eyes, wet with more than just tears, and saw the pit of hell that her armtrack had become. Smoke filled the turret compartment, and down past her own feet she saw Kopp’s slumped form lying there, unmoving. Her mouth creaked opened without a sound, and trying to grab his shoulder she found she couldn’t even raise herself, her arm pinned against the turret wall by her own weight.

“Major…”

Goyan heard a voice, or thought she did, somewhere to her left and out of sight. A horse, crying voice, and suddenly a pair of hands on her left shoulder pulled her facing straight. She saw Cochise’s wide-eyed face stare into her, and gasped for air more to let him know she still breathed than to fill her lungs with the fumes. He stared for maybe another second, before his wits returned, and the corporal reached up to his hatch on the ‘ceiling’. With a final burst of effort he swung it out and open, and scrambled to find enough purchase to crawl out of the turret. 

Though her legs felt as dead as wood, Goyan strained, and with a hiss of pain turned her head up to her own cupola. Its hatch was as tightly shut as she’d left it, but steeling herself she reached out with one hand, then the other, crawling up in her seat and dragging her legs all the way. Her hands tried to grapple with the hatch, but suddenly it swung open, and the sounds of battle raging beyond leaked into her world once again. 

For a moment, she could see the stars, before a helmeted figure came into view. Not Cochise, but they reached with a hand down into the turret, shouting at her with words she couldn’t hear. She turned her head back down to Kopp, still face down at his gunner’s station, then took it.

[maddstermind]

Hello hello @theglitchywriterboi!!! It's me, your secret santa for @writeblrgarden!!!!

I had. A lot of ideas of what I wanted to do, but I was limited by time (holiday season - working a LOT at a job I'm still new at), but I hope you like these two!!!! I had a blast drawing em!!! :D

[lividdreamz]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday!!!!

I'm curious about The Szel, and that rebellion you mentioned that failed there. Feel free to go off about anything to do with that country, but if you want a prompt I'd love to know more about who was doing the rebelling, and what forces pushed them to it?

Hey, Arch! As you can see I am once again answering a WBW Wednesday ask like, two weeks late, but it is here nonetheless.

The Szel is no stranger when it comes to civil wars, uprisings, coups, revolutions, rebellions et cetera et cetera. This is partly why The Szel is so economically underdeveloped it’s considered a backwater by most of the continent. Cities and towns are razed to the ground every other week, it seems, and almost all of the The Szel’s funds go into rebuilding (Salazan cities and towns look very architecturally messy as a result, feeding into its reputation as a cultural and economic backwater).

So. The rebellion. This is actually called the Second Talvean Rebellion, and the characters of ‘OF ILL REPUTE’ are living through its aftermath. The rebelling was done by The Szel’s Talvean population. The Talveans are an ethnoreligious group of nomads who are said to have come from a province in the Meshigoan Empire, but because of their strange culture and religion full of societal taboos (ritual cannibalism ranking among the most repugnant to outsiders) they have been expelled almost everywhere else and many have made a home for themselves in high northern countries like Ruve and The Szel (though some Talveans do remain nomadic).

However, Talvean intolerance has become increasingly common in The Szel, so much so that in The Szel’s state capital, they’ve been confined to a neighborhood called the Meshigoan Quarter. Their rights as Salazan citizens were systematically stripped one by one, from limiting the acceptance of Talveans into Salazan universities to even prohibiting Talveans from selling alcohol. The last straw for Talveans was when they were forced off land they purchased for farming, seeing as many them make their livelihoods off agriculture (right next to trade in terms of how Talveans make their money).

So. Yes. The Talveans rebelled and it went horribly. A foreign army from Ruve were sent to put down the rebellion, the Meshigoan Quarter was ravaged, one of the rebellion’s foremost leaders, Chhem ij Phanom Thy, was tortured very horrifically and very publicly, and then executed. Many Talveans have relocated or fled The Szel altogether. Rebels are still being hacked to pieces on the street and vigilantes have even started targeting innocent Talveans.

So, really, it’s a great time to be alive and a Talvean living in The Szel. /s

[charbroiledchicken]

if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.

[theaftersundown]

fanfiction truly being the savior for everyones sanity

[luna-azzurra]

When a Character Is Grieving Someone They Never Got to Say Goodbye To

✧ They talk about the person in past tense… then correct themselves. Then stop talking entirely.

✧ They touch things that belonged to the person like they’re fragile, sacred, about to disappear.

✧ They hoard the last voicemail, last message, last anything. Play it. Don’t play it. Just knowing it exists hurts enough.

✧ They leave something untouched, an empty seat, a half-packed bag, a coffee order that isn’t theirs.

✧ They get irrationally angry when someone else seems to be “moving on.” As if forgetting is betrayal.

✧ They don’t let themselves cry all at once. It comes in pieces. Like they’re afraid too much grief will drown them.

✧ They over-apologize. For being quiet. For being distant. For not being okay.

✧ They become hyper-aware of time, dates, anniversaries, time zones, the exact moment everything ended.

✧ They get superstitious. Ritualistic. As if doing things "right" might reverse something.

✧ They smile when they talk about the person. But it’s brittle. And it never quite touches their eyes.

[valemrsn]

making aus for ocs are so funny cause like. theyre already in a situation… but what if they were in a DIFFERENT situation