#around the world in cephs
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Cold, Cold, Cold - VIII
1,744 words. Original work, The Jackal of An-Nadr
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Content Warnings | UNREALITY, fever whump, very vivid hallucinations, nightmares, fear of drowning, hypothermia, anchored to the bottom of a river, used as bait, crying into your captor's arms, gorgeous & incoherent begging
Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump @whump-queen @scoundrelwithboba
The thready, unraveling world had stopped making any sense to Nadeem so very long ago. He didn't know how long he'd been drifting. Only that night had now come, and the cold had, too.
Silt pressed between his toes as he strained toward shore, just barely brushing the tops of the muckweed with every kick. His hair drifted out in a raising and dipping halo around his shoulders, frost crusting the strands everywhere it touched the water.
He could count on one hand the number of times he had ever gone swimming at night, especially alone. No matter how much he had always trusted the river during the day, it was a game with death to be out here after the sun had set. The rivercats that lazed at the glinting heat of the shore would have returned to the river by now. The ones that couldn't even be bothered to roll an eye in a human's direction during the day would be out hunting for cattle that wandered too close to the blackness of the shore—and they were much more difficult targets than him. And even if the alligators didn't kill him, The Purratu's cold northbound waters were enough to.
The motion of the current had already wicked away any of the heat his body had to offer. Shivering against the steady onslaught of water was useless. He knew with a creeping sense of dread that worsened with every minute; I'm dying.
Still he tread water, trying to keep his chin above the surface. His wrists had been bound behind his back, the anchor tied from them to the depths far too heavy for him to lift. He had spent all of his strength and energy trying to drag it closer to shore, but now his violent shivering was beginning to slow. His body was failing. He didn't know when the stranger was coming back to him, only that he was running out of time.
A sharp, shuddering breath rattled his shoulders, sweat seeping into the pillows as he tried to curl deeper around himself, chasing the warmth that was quickly seeping out through the bottom of the canvas bed. No matter how much he shivered, the draft from below took away all heat faster than he could make it.
Was this his punishment? Were they not coming back?
I can't do this.
He gave a frustrated sob as he tried, one last time, to saw his hands free of the rope. The fibers cut deeper and deeper into his skin, succeeding in doing nothing more than spreading more blood into the water.
He twisted his hands weakly in the leather strips tying them to the head of the bed. His fingertips had long since turned a worrying shade of frigid grey, and it took all his focus to get them to gradually flex to try to keep life in them.
The ladder creaked as one of the creatures came down the steps. He caught the flash of eyes, metallic silver pools of light that glinted in the blackness like those of a hyena. The predator shifted through the small space, the sound of lanterns tinkling against its shoulders. Then a second set of glinting eyes joined it soon after.
"Come back!" he cried in a fog of breath into the empty night. His voice was hoarse from clattering teeth, weak with the only shallow gasps he could still reach from the surface of the water. The lights of windows flickered orange against the dark landscape, glittering like embers in the wind.
He knew this man could outwait him. He could remember nothing of the stranger's face, but a deep well of rot in his chest told him he was facing something worse than freezing to death and drowning. He was bait. Even as the shouts grew closer and he saw the distant silhouettes of his townspeople pass, he bit back his sobs and kept himself silent.
If they come for you, I’ll kill them before you have even a chance to scream.
But now he heard his sister's voices in the distance. He had been a constant for their whole lives. They knew him. They knew him well enough that he knew the river was one of the first places they would look. He could do nothing but cry as he ran out of time.
"Come back and take me," he wept breathlessly, "Pl—please." His leg spasmed with a cramp of pain, and with a gasp of shock his mouth dipped below the surface. It took him a few long, terrifying moments to kick again strongly enough to break the surface. The redoubled cold of the night air washed over his face. He sputtered and coughed from the shock of it, feet sweeping back and forth over and over to try to buy enough air.
He let out a breathless sob as claws brushed slowly, carefully back through his hair. He shuddered, shying away from the touch, and held his breath as he felt it pause. Then a warm hand slid down the curve of his jaw and cradled his face. Please, please. "...please."
Please, warmth. "I'll...do...." anything. I'll do anything. Don't let me spend another night like this.
I'll never make it to the oasis if I don't find warmth.
I have to make it. I don't want to die alone like this.
I don't want to die in this forsaken place.
The hand traced his face, soothing over the sweat-drenched mess of his forehead. His eyes lidded as their warmth slowly seeped into his skin, exhausted sobs slipping through clattering teeth.
"I'll do it," he sobbed into the hum of the locusts.
Please don't let them find me like this. Please, don't let my family be the ones to find me.
Baba, Maaman, his sisters—
"I'll do it!" He yelled, and immediately sank back under the surface. In the moments after he surfaced again he was left coughing so hard he almost couldn't catch his breath.
More lanterns had been lit, glimmering out beyond the high grass like guttering candles. They were still so far away. The wildlife that sang in the banks of the river gave way to the sound of distant cries for a moment before their orchestra breathed over them again.
The creature pulled the blankets away, unwinding him from the tangle of furs. He whined aloud as the cold night air washed over his skin, barely aware of the "Please...no....no," that streamed from his lips.
Talons pulled him out of the blankets, lifting him like he weighed no more than a doll. Then they moved warm over his sweat-drenched clothes, pulled him close against the creature's chest, and continued combing through his hair as arms wrapped around his back. He almost began weeping with relief when warm, bare skin pressed into the numbness of his cheek.
Something writhed beneath his toes in the muck. He jerked his foot away and instinctively kicked at it to keep it at bay, but it wasn’t something he could sustain if he still wanted to breathe. Moments after he was forced to return to his treading, slimy sandpaper scales brushed along the arch of his foot as it persistently returned.
He braced himself for the needle-pain of teeth, drawn to the smell of the wound in his foot. He let out a near-hysterical whine as he felt those mucousy scales twist up between his toes and wrap around his ankle. Then its body once again pressed cold against the bottom of his foot, slicking over the burn, and kept him from dislodging it even as he returned to his desperate treading.
Lengths of bandage turned slowly round and round his foot, gentle hands working around the wound.
His fingers curled against its chest, heat radiating against his cheek as he sunk further into the crook of its arms. The air he breathed was tinged with the incense-burn of smoke, huge hands warming the back of his neck. A wordless murmur echoed by his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin.
Maybe the creature wouldn't... Maybe...
Wait...
No, he couldn't...it couldn't....
Something rustled in the reeds. Something brushed over his hair.
Which was reality?
"Make it stop," he pleaded breathlessly.
"Nadi!" his sister's voices cried from downriver. "Where are you?"
He coughed on more water, breath blooming in silver clouds around his head. Droplets flicked out around him as he turned his head and desperately searched the dark for any sign of the dark figure from before.
A warm cloth wiped across his forehead, washing over feverish skin. A rumbling voice soothed him as he twisted his face away from the contact.
A man's silhouette shifted, so faintly visible against the reeds that he couldn't even be sure he was there. He kicked desperately to try to raise his head from the water enough to call out, but suddenly found, for the first time, that he couldn't reach the surface.
"Õ̵͜d̸̰̆r̷͈̒ä̸̦i̸̻͋!̷̩̌ ̴̯̌G̷̨̊e̴̙͗t̵͚͂ ̴̼̃m̷̖̆e̶̬͊ ̶̑ͅs̷̠̾ȁ̸̝n̵̪͠d̷̠̽b̷͓̆a̷̳̒g̷̩̽s̸̢̊,̵̤͒ ̶̗̽n̴͓̒o̴̗̚w̴̥̉!”
He cast pleading eyes toward the figure, gasping on a breath that was as much water as air. Please. Please.
That...that was no language he knew. And some resigned sort of dread told him that his mind couldn't have come up with it on his own, not even in the fever of dreams like these.
"Nadi! Where are you?"
He struggled to crack open his eyes, but he could see nothing more than incoherent colors swimming beyond his lashes. They lidded as an ember-warm hand brushed back the small hairs at the edges of his face, relief coursing down his spine with a shudder.
He was either drowning or falling asleep. He could no longer distinguish one from the other any more than he could make sense of either of the realities from dreams.
The man on the shore was going to get what he wanted after all.
The creature at the bottom of the river curled its body slowly up his calf, fins fluttering against his skin. Its body tightened around him. Then it pulled him slowly deeper, and Nadi's vision wavered as the water closed over his head one final time. The muffled roar of the insects went silent. He turned his eyes once again up toward the night sky, empty breath clawing at his lungs.
He had no more strength to fight. His trembling, exhausted muscles finally went lax with one last, burning exhale that blossomed to the surface. Then he was no more.
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#The Jackal of An-Nadr#(this chapter has an easter egg 👀)#whump#whumpblr#writeblr#whump series#historical whump#historical fiction#fantasy whump#drugged whumpee#defiant whumpee#whump fic#monsterfucker#monsterfucking#sick fic#fever whump#slow-burn monsterfucker series
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Of Vampires and Men Map!
So back when I started OVAM I drew a very basic map to help me figure out where things were. I'm talking blobs and stars on important places. It was functional, but not pretty. Well, my sister agreed to turn my chicken scratch into an actual masterpiece! Behold, the world of Pyrne!
I literally almost cried when she showed me the finished map. It's so cool to see the world I've been playing around in for years finally take shape. This is of course only one part of the entire planet. The story thus far has taken place mostly in Torin and Lucia, but I have plans. Big plans. Book 2 is going to take place partly in Enrone, which is going to be super fun. There will also be vampire pirates.
And now for some shameless self promotion:
Cry of Fangs is coming out next Tuesday, March 26! If you purchase the paperback or ebook and fill out the form below, I'll send you a postcard of this beautiful map as a thank you gift. https://forms.gle/x7GNB9Lh1LY9r5Bg8
Preorder Cry of Fangs here!
Grab a signed paperback!
Thank you so much for showing my angsty vampire boys so much love. Even if you can't purchase a copy of the book, know that I appreciate every single like, reblog, and comment. I hope to have some more free chapters up on tumblr soon.
Tagging the OVAM squad: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @melancholy-in-the-morning @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpsday @ceph-the-ghost-writer @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @quietly-by-myself @darlingwhump @whumpshaped @dragonqueenslayer6
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"defiant whumpee mumbling “fuck you” during torture" imaginingJim early on not thinking about Vampire hearing and whispering things under his breath and Kane hearing it
inspo
cw: beating, dehumanization
Jim hated being fed from. Hated, hated, hated it. It hurt, and it was humiliating, and it made him feel like he was a thing instead of a person. Kane's thing, that the vampire could do whatever he wanted with. And there was nothing Jim could do about it.
He'd been doing it for months, and he still hadn't gotten used to it. Maybe he never would. Most days, he just went along with it, knowing how powerless he was. But it was hard not to flinch away when he knew it was going to hurt.
"Stop pulling away." Kane snapped, and Jim's cheek exploded with pain as the vampire slapped him. It was worse than any slap from a human, and though he could tell that Kane was holding back and could make it much worse, it still hurt horribly.
Jim cried out, but stopped resisting, his eyes watery with barely-held-back tears. Kane yanked his head to the side and bit in while Jim cried, each little hiccup causing the pain in his neck to increase sharply for a second.
Kane finished his meal, licking the wounds on his neck closed and walking back to the door.
"Fuck you." Jim whispered tearily under his breath.
To Jim's surprise, Kane spun right back around. "What did you just say to me?"
Jim realized instantly that he was in acute, terrible danger. Still kneeling and unwilling to stand, he got on his hands and knees and crawled backward, bumping against his bed. "H-how did you hear that?"
"I'm a vampire, you fucking moron. You think you can disrespect me like that!?" Kane advanced toward him.
Jim dropped flat on his stomach, shimmying fearfully under the bed. "I'm sorry!" He wasn't sorry, but he was scared, and that amounted to the same thing, in his new life. "Just give me a break, I'm a person! I got frustrated, okay? I'm sorry!"
"You are not a person." Kane scoffed. "You're food. My food."
The bed lifted up, leaving him exposed. Kane held it in the air near-effortlessly, like it wasn't 200+ pounds of metal and mattress. He set it down roughly to the side with a bang, causing Jim to flinch again as he scrambled into the corner.
It was useless. He had no protection, no way to defend himself against this monster. Jim let out a terrified squeak as Kane grabbed him by the hair, dragging him close.
He yelped as Kane pulled him up painfully. The air left him as Kane punched him hard in the gut, unable to curl up defensively with the iron grip in his hair.
“Don’t--”
Kane dealt him another blow, and Jim sobbed, the pain increasing exponentially as it layered on top of the first blow. “Here’s a hint: don’t try to tell me what to do when you’re already in deep shit.”
He threw him to the floor with a thud, and Jim took the opportunity to curl in on his abused stomach covering his head with his arms with a whimper.
Kane kicked him a few times, and Jim couldn’t help but try to scramble away, but it just got him kicked harder, so he stopped. By the time Kane was ready to stop as well, his body was covered in bruises and his face was covered in tears.
“Fucking behave next time.” Kane left with a slam of the door.
Jim didn’t have it in him to move his bed back like this, where Kane had haphazardly placed it in the middle of the room. He crawled back under it, just to feel a little more protected, even though he had all the proof in the world that nothing in this room could protect him from Kane.
-
@melodicnommer thank you so much for breaking my writer's block!
taglist:
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Find the word tag
Thanks @ceph-the-ghost-writer for the tag!
My words: borrow, beg, steal, manage
Your words: tool, personal, appear, sour
Tagging @gracehosborn @thepeculiarbird @gothamxwattpad @blind-the-winds @jezifster @little-peril-stories @stesierra @sleepywriter00 @loopyhoopywrites @captain-kraken @herrmannhalsteadproduction @theharpywrites @buffythevampirelover @little-mouse-gardens @hippiewrites or anyone else who wants to play!
Keep reading for:
Halloween party snippet but Carla and George just learned what Halloween was last week
A traumatic event from Jedi's childhood (CW: child and spousal abuse; done through fantasy violence: attacking via electromagnetic fields)
Jack and the Beanstalk parody
Robbie & Akash dynamic
Borrow - from The Secret Portal Part One
“You’re dressed as Dr. David Pinchên.”
Carla looked down at her sweater vest and khakis.
“Wait, isn’t that the telepathic theory guy?” Ash asked. Carla nodded. “Hey, can I borrow some of his books?”
“Sure,” said Carla.
“Thanks,” said Ash.
George turned to his sister. “Well, that’s everyone. Let’s go down to the break room.”
Ash, Rose, George, and Carla went through the kitchen toward the elevators. Carla and George got off at the breakroom, while Ash and Rose stayed to change in the dorms.
“Whoa,” George said, gazing around. There were black and orange streamers and fake cobwebs everywhere and what appeared to be spiderpig webs on every other surface. The lights were dim and the sources of flickering light came from inside pumpkins with faces carved out of them. A couple tables were pushed against the wall with candy and punch. Spooky music played in the background, and George and Carla weren’t sure they liked how it made them feel, but it certainly fit the mood.
Tyler walked up to them, his black hair slicked back and wearing fake pointy teeth. Red paint dripped down his chin. “Velcome to the party.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Carla asked.
“Because… Dracula’s Romanian?”
“Romania?”
“It’s a country on Ceteri.” Tyler looked back over his shoulder for a second. “Hey, Carla, you want to get some punch? It’s directly from Ceteri.”
“Um, sure,” said Carla, glancing back at George, who gave her an encouraging smile.
“I like your outfit, by the way,” said Tyler. “Sweater vest, khakis. You even have fake stubble. You look like my seventh grade science teacher.”
Carla blinked. “Is that a good thing?”
“If that’s the look you were going for,” said Tyler. “But I don’t think you’re my seventh grade science teacher.”
Beg - from The Secret Portal Part One (Jedi POV)
“You bitch,” Dadaidh snarled. “Using your telepathy against me?”
“You used your powers against me; you gave me no choice.” I could tell Eomma was crying. “I’m sorry, Tayler.”
Dadaidh’s eyes grew darker. “You will be.” His eyes were on me, and a hot pain was in my head like nothing I’d ever felt. I placed my hands against my temple, gritting my teeth together and trying not to scream.
“Tayler, no!” Eomma screamed, but Dadaidh held her back, causing her to curl to the floor.
The world around me spotted as I dropped to my knees, bending over. My teeth soon couldn’t push against each other any more, and my voice ran out of my body in a cry that I didn’t know it was capable of making.
“Tayler, I beg of you, stop!”
I fell to the ground, relieved from the pain as my cheek fell against the cold tile. I choked as I sobbed.
Eomma had sat herself up, staring my dadaidh in the eyes. “Jedi,” Eomma said weakly. “Go to your room. Stay there. Your father and I need to talk.”
I slowly pushed myself to a seated position before rising to my feet. As soon as I was standing, I ran up the lift, climbing up to the second floor as soon as I could reach it and scrambled to my room as if my life depended on it. I slammed my hand against the frame to close the door before sliding my back down it so I could sit against it on the floor. I didn’t know what Eomma wanted to talk to Dadaidh for. I wasn't sure that I wanted to.
I glanced up at the metal frame on my wall, a holoimage of myself, Eomma, Dadaidh, and Kirstie. All of us were smiling. I couldn’t remember what day it was; I had only been about five at the time. But we were happy; and that was all that mattered.
The metal frame began to shake. I pressed my ear against the door, expecting to hear my eomma scream, but I heard nothing. I knew something was wrong, but I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to go back out there again.
Steal - from School of the Legends Year One
Beau knelt down beside a crate with holes poked in the top. He peered through one of the slits in the crate. “Merde, there’s a chicken in here.”
“A what?” Jack and Jill chorused. All three of them whipped their heads toward the giants. Neither appeared to hear anything--maybe their smell was the only sense that was enhanced. They turned back to the crate, joining Beau in peering through the crate. Sure enough, there was a chicken.
“That’s weird,” Jack stated the obvious as he stood straight again. His eyes rested on a harp leaning against the clock. He carefully set it upright, studying the instrument close. There was something about it that was inherently mesmerizing. “I think we need to take these things.”
“Steal?” Jill asked.
“It’s not like these belong to them,” Jack said.
“But they don’t belong to us, either.”
“We have chickens on our farm,” said Jack. “We could bring this one! What are they going to do with it?”
Jill looked at the bag of coins in her hand. “Hm.”
“It’s not theirs,” Jack repeated.
Jack could sense how badly Jill wanted to say it wasn't theirs, either. “If we take this, we’re donating most of it.” She paused. “A good chunk of it.” She shook her head. “No, most.”
“If it’s real,” Beau said. They turned to him. “Come on, those coins are way too shiny to be real. And not nearly heavy enough.”
Jill exhaled. “Well, that makes me feel loads better.”
“I’ve always wanted to play the harp,” said Jack, admiring it.
“Since when?”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
Manage - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)
“Well, Jason slammed me into a locker and Ms. Bradley let me off with a warning.” I slowed my pace to sync with Ariel.
“Well, Ms. Bradley likes you, and she probably saw Jason pressing you against the locker.”
“Actually, she didn’t. Jason was already off me.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“Um,” I allowed my hesitation to carry through my opening of the exterior door and holding it open for Akash. “Something?”
“Something?” Akash repeated, revolving Ariel to face me with a skeptical look.
I stayed leaning against the door. “I dunno. This is gonna sound really, really weird, but when Jason slammed me against the locker, I felt… alive.”
Akash smirked. “Kinky.”
“Dude!”
“Joking!” Akash protested, holding his hands in a surrender pose.
I stepped away from the door, allowing it to close. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “There was a red light. Just kinda… glowing.”
Akash raised an eyebrow. “Glowing…? From where?”
I shrugged. “I dunno, man. But then the lights flickered. And Jason freaked out, loosened his grip, and I pushed him off.”
“And then Ms. Bradley came out?”
“And then Jason went flying across the hall.”
Akash opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.
“Dude, I’m telling the truth.”
“And I believe you.”
“Wait, what?”
Akash scoffed. “Why would you make it up? That’s weird, I agree with you.”
#writing blog#writers on tumblr#writing community#the secret portal#tsp#teaspoon#tsp excerpt#school of the legends#sotl#sotl excerpt#my wips#wip excerpt#carla baxter#george baxter#david pinchen#ash hathaway#tyler nakashima#jedi moon#sori moon#beau bellerose#jack mcdonald#jill mcdonald#robbie stafford#akash singh#writers of tumblr#writing on tumblr#writeblr community#writeblr#find the word#writing tag game
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Songs and Ships Tag
Rules: write about two to five songs from them that represent your a ship between your ocs (it can be platonic or romantic or a secret third thing). then add a quote from said wip (if possible!) underneath it.
Thank you for the tag, @theprissythumbelina.
Passing the (optional) tag to @blind-the-winds, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @void-botanist, @theimperiumchronicles, @ieppiq, and an open tag to anyone else who wants to join in.
So, now here's Sullivan and Road from Empty Names being "a secret third thing". Think of these all as being sung from Sullivan's perspective to Road, and in roughly chronological order:
Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf
Dear fellow traveler under the moon
I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue
You put your hand out, opened the door
You said, "Come with me, boy, I want to show you something more"
You spoke my language and touched my limbs
It wasn't difficult to pull me from myself again
And in our travels, we found our roads
You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose
Eternity by Mizz Fish
Friends like you are hard to find
So I’ll stick with you til the end of the line
We aren’t perfect but that’s alright
All your dreams, your passions, ambitions
You’ve told them to me like a man on a mission
And I’ve done the same to you many times
Somehow we made our way here just by lookin around
Somehow we knew what was lost had somehow been found
Because of you I knew I could be who I wanted to be without feelin a fool
In front of those who don’t understand
Because of you I knew that sometimes you may be hurtin
But that cannot stop you from feelin deserving
And following your dreams
You come runnin when I fall even if I don’t make a call for help
No one needs their eyes to see
We’ll be friends for eternity
Trying times and metal struggles
I know for a fact you’ll be there on the double
Because you won’t want me to feel alone
And anytime you need someone beside you
A shoulder to cry on, a friend to stay true
You know I would never let you down
The Funnyman's Smile by Michael McCormic Jr.
Well, I had a dream I was trapped in a cave with nothing but a magic lamp
I polished its side, and out you came with gold shackles around your hands
You said, "Son, I think there's something people like you and me should know"
Life is more than empty jokes and putting on a show
'Cause you can make the world smile, and get nothing in return
And in the end you find that what you give is what they think you're worth
Then you offered me three wishes, but I saw only one worth while"
I said, "I want the chance to make the Funnyman smile
Oh, give me a chance, a chance to show you"
Funnyman, you're not alone
No, even when you're crying
I'll be there to hold you close
And tell you everything will be alright
Because doctors still need checkups
Bartenders need a drink or two
The funnyman, still needs to smile
And these days, I do, too
'Cause all the times you made me laugh
Now they feel a little colder
To know that when life knocked you down
You cried on your own shoulder
'Cause you can make the world forget its problems for a while
But who was there to make you smile?
Tell me, who was there to make the Funnyman smile?
Oh, to make the Funnyman smile
Ship in a Bottle by fin
You can fit everything you know
In a bottle for you to show
Pick your brain apart and put it in
And build it again with needles and pins
Everything you have earned is a ship
With blue waves crashing into it
But nothing can touch your happy thoughts anymore
With your glass ceiling, walls, and floor
Between My Teeth by Orla Gartland
And I-I-I bite my tongue
'Cause I don't know how to tell you
I'm getting this urge to run
And I-I-I bite my tongue
'Cause I don't know how to tell you
Oh, you deserve someone else
Who can treat you like I want to
Oh, ah, ah, please don't lean on me
'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth
I, I think I better leave
'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth
I can't take the pressure of it, I can barely breathe
Ah, ah, please don't lean on me
'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth, no
Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copely
See, I could choose for the both of us
And you'd just go along because
You've trusted me for no good reason
Love no matter what the season
Force the last page of our story
You're my favourite allegory
Hope to god that you'll forgive me
My mistakes will long outlive me
Mine, mine is the unkind, kindest cut of all
And I'll watch you fall
And I don't know if this makes it any easier
Perhaps you'll find comfort when I say
You and I are nothing more than meteors
Never meant to live long past today
Yes, I'll choose for the both of us
You'll just go along because
You've trusted me against your judgement
You deserve someone who doesn't
Force the last page of your story
No more boring allegories
Hope to god you'll rise above me
Though you'll always be part of me
Mine, mine is the unkind, kindest cut of all
I'll watch you fall
Now watch me fall
And now a snippet:
“I see. I’ll leave you to it then. Just try not to rough anyone up too badly while you’re there.”
“Of course not.” Unlike with this job, Sullivan had given his friend his word about certain aspects of his conduct ahead of time. It had been long indeed since the last time his friend had simply explained a situation and left with no implication other than that they wouldn’t ask questions about what Sullivan chose to do with the information. It was certainly one way to keep their conscience clean. “Sleep tight,” he adds.
“I’ll try. See you later.”
The line goes silent but there’s no click of a hangup.
Sullivan moves to the kitchen, checks the freezer, and finds it surprisingly boring. No stashed electronics, frozen potions, or preserved body parts. He grabs a carton of ice cream, kicks another body out of the way so that its partially-crushed head won’t hold the door open anymore, and closes the freezer.
Returning to the balcony, he leans over the railing, balances the carton on it and begins scooping out ice cream with a knife. Much like the city vista below, it’s night black and speckled with glazed bits that reflect the glowing veins of light that run through it. At least the penthouse’s late owner had good taste in something.
He glances back over his shoulder and blinks through his filters. No significant signatures other than the already-ransacked saferoom. He returns his gaze to the view, eats his looted ice cream and waits with his phone still up to his ear.
“Su?” his friend’s expected voice finally whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Am I a bad leader?”
“Of course not, everyone loves you. They’d follow you anywhere.”
“But should they?”
“Hey, what brought this on?”
“This is twice now that Eris and Ashan have come back in bad shape, and every quest so far we all wind up separated.”
“That’s just a new team going through the growing pains of getting used to working together. The point is they came back and it’s not been anything they couldn’t recover from, and you’ve been able to help everyone you’ve tried to help. That sounds like a resounding success to me, especially for the early stages.”
Silence.
Consideration.
Waiting.
“Has this happened before?”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
“No. I don’t think I do. It’s just…”
Sullivan’s grip on his phone tightens.
“Just what?”
“I’ve been thinking about the gaps more than I should lately.”
“And?” They should barely be able to think about them at all.
“The list of reasons I’d want to leave them empty is pretty short, isn’t it?”
The ice cream carton tumbles down to the streets far enough below to be another world.
“You trust me?”
“For happily ever after.”
How bitter the old joke between them is.
“This isn’t going to be another gap. I would have tried harder to talk you out of it if I thought there was a chance of that.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Now get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I’ll try not to dream.”
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wip questions tag
jumping on the excuse to do this from @ceph-the-ghost-writer (post here). it’s been a minute, but I really want to do this for claws honestly, as a little treat~
What was the first part of your WIP that you created?
The characters - Vivien and Rainier are based on the modern AU versions of Vizaeth and Pharaun from my Obsession fic series, so they were the entry point for the story. I guess also wet was kind of a first foray into the story; it’s Viz/Pharaun modern AU fic, but it sort of has the Vibes that later became claws.
If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?
I’d want it to be a dark cover of a love song, like the Happy Together cover by Filter I have on my wip-playlist. Something that originally is very sweet and loving, turned sinister.
Who are your favourite character(s) and why?
Vivien my beloved <3 <3 <3
He’s the main character, and I just love everything about him. He’s got the most specific worldview I’ve written (aside from Vizaeth) and he’s got very particular ways of seeing and interpreting the world that are so fascinating to me. His dichotomy of victim/villain is so juicy, and his high emotions make his reactions to everything 10x more interesting.
Plus he’s a transmasc nightmare murderboy, which is my favourite, AND he’s a scrubby little punk/goth kid. All around delicious.
What other pieces of media could share a fanbase with your WIP?
NBC Hannibal would have a fun amount of fan crossover, I think. Maybe Interview with the Vampire. claws has a lot of messy queers in it, i think those fandoms would have fun with them.
What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?
Getting it drafted without worry too much about realism - resisting the urge to go research instead of write. It’s drafted now, and I have a lot of problems to solve with it now, so that’s the new struggled - fixing all the issues discovery drafting for the first time in over a decade has cause me :p
Are there any animals in your story?
Spiders! Lots and lots of spiders! Which is going to be so much fun to research for accuracy, because I don’t actually enjoy spiders very much in real life. I’m better with them than I used to be, but yeah. This is a very arachnophilic book and I…am not that.
How do your characters get around?
claws is in a modern setting, so they use contemporary transport - cars mostly feature. Rainier has a too-expensive BMW with a vanity plate because he’s That Kind of Asshole.
What parts of your WIP are you working on right now?
Currently it’s marinating, so next steps are: reading/devouring lots of Relevant Media to help with vibes, doing research for areas of the book I just kind hand-waved (some science things, aforementioned spiders, various medical bits and pieces…there’s a lot), and later re-outlining it for a neater first draft out of the messy zero draft I have right now.
What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?
the fact that it’s messy queer horror about toxic love. judging by the comments on my wip intro, that’s the thing people seem to like! i do also hope that the characters will captivate readers as much as they’ve captivated me. i’d love for people to be as obsessed with Vivien and Rainier’s fucked-up deal as I am.
claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit @coven-archives @noblebs @mjjune @revenantlore @sarandipitywrites @k--havok @asterhaze @verba-writing @indecentpause @bootstrapparadoxed (ask to be +/-) (and stealing from ceph, feel free to count this as a tag as well if you want to talk about your wip!)
no-pressure tagging @winterandwords @mjjune and @viscerawrites
Blank questions beneath the cut
CUT
What was the first part of your WIP that you created?
If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?
Who are your favourite character(s) and why?
What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?
What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?
Are there any animals in your story?
How do your characters get around?
What part of your WIP are you working on right now?
What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?
#writeblr#writing community#wip questions#wip: claws#still rotating this fucked up lil book in my brain
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Pointless Headcanons/confirmations for Kingdom of the Stars:
warning: there are spoilers below!
-This AU exists in the same world as Atlantis/Treasure Planet (chapter 27-29 is for Atlantis/references. Ceph hints at seeing ships that don't sail through the water. Ceph also knows who Jim Hawkins is)
-stars have domains/kingdoms in other galaxies.
-Astronomers/members of celestial courts wear clothes that change following the color of the sky. (It's a special fabric). So if you wear a dress from the court during the morning on a nice day- in the day it'll be sky blue and at night it will turn jet black. ((Their clothes are super expensive- so pls handle them with great care))
-Alpha Stars have different titles per courts.
-Stars are not herbivores. (make of this what you will)
-humans if invited can attend the balls of celestial courts. Several astronomers have done so and have documented the events with great detail!
-stars inherit their powers from their parents.
-star genetics are wild. Trust me.
-after astronomers pledge their allegience to star courts they lose their ability to dream (physically I mean)
-fairy godmothers DO exist in this world (but Asha will not become one of them).
-stars are always in their humanoid shapes around humans. If not- they tend to hide their true form from view.
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WIP Questionnaire
Thanks @wintherlywords for the tag, this looks like fun! I've left a copy of the clean slate of questions below
Rules: Answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can.
1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?
The first part of the TGATWST I wrote was one of the endings of the three stories in the book lol, jumping right to the end. It's a scene where there is rain falling on a man's face and he, being in love with a god, feels it as an embrace from his lover - very sentimental and a bit mushy but what can I say, I'm a sucker for romance.
2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?
I think it would be like the music from The Hobbit or LoTR! Very instrumental and powerful, something that could move you.
3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?
Oop that would be like picking a favourite child and I'm not going into too much detail on this WWIP as of yet (still in the very early stages and wondering if it will survive) but I definitely have characters whose voices I have figured out better than others.
4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?
The Hobbit, LoTR seeing as they're huge inspirations for me in everything I do lol. Maybe the inheritance Cycle and books like it? Honestly difficult to imagine anything I write having a fan base but if I had to give it a vibe I'd go with those!
5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?
Motivation, every time. I have a demanding job and exams and I'm currently in the legal process of getting a house so lots of exciting things going on that usually mean I have no energy left for writing!
6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!
Horses, cows and beasts lol, the WIP is set in medieval times (fantasy of course) so animals are a big part of the world, but not a huge part of the actual story.
7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)
Horses, walking, some carriages for those with a little extra coin who fancy living the high life
8. What part of your WIP are you working on rn?
The end of the beginning, and the beginning of the middle, which is a strange sentence to write.
9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?
Gods and mortals and the relationships between them, found family vibes, self-loathing characters finding redemption, soldiers finding and losing faith, and lots of queer representation
10. What are your hopes for your WIP?
That I can actually finish it and have it be something I am proud of.
I'll go ahead and tag (with no pressure) @verba-writing @elizaellwrites @writingmoth and @ceph-the-ghost-writer and anyone else who wants to have a go!
1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?
2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?
3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?
4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?
5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?
6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!
7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)
8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?
9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?
10. What are your hopes for your wip?
#wip questionnaire#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writing community#writers of tumblr#writerscommunity#writing games#tag games
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OC in 15 or fewer
Tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer ✨
Rules : Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well!
The first time we had Valiandra, last time we had Hélianthe, now it's time to go with someone completely unrelated bc that seems to be the theme here. So ! A little guy from a roleplay with @lee-thee-bee because honestly he is just. So special to me.
Maran of Neseah
"Behold my power and witness that you are nothing !"
"I can handle high level magic just fine. Thank you."
"...I am being a terrible host, though, making you stand up in the map room like that."
"I'm some asshole who locks himself up in a basement to make constructs and be angry at people ?"
"I think my brain turned off."
"I do believe I recall you complaining about my chatter in the past. Unless you’ve changed your mind in nine years ?"
"No one sane buries himself hundreds of meters underground, love."
"I am sure there's a couple of insanely old garments in there but I've never been much for grave robbing."
"There. I'm done putting my hands all over you."
"Well. We haven't been around each other in a while. Maybe I do want to spend time with you, yes."
"Isn't it a bit funny that people like to poison themselves for fun ?"
"I mean, technically, my entire existence has been a secret for a thousand years, dear."
"If there's any fine specimen to look at, it's you, dear."
"Sal, I'm starting to think I might be a bit of an idiot."
"But I do think I heard talking about a "flirt" ? Tell me, dear, is he any good to look at like you are ?"
Tagging : @jezifster, @ombrekaleidoscope, @isabellebissonrouthier, @pizza-hats-of-the-world-1882; no pressure if y'all don't feel like it ! + open tag :)
#tag games#maran of neseah#the fall of neseah#my writing#he is a dramatic little shit i love him#most of these r lifted straight from the rp#some others are from the backstory i'm working on#the AMOUNT OF TIMES he calls Abron dear.#is wild#i never realized just how much he used this word#the last one i picked makes me laugh because that's his first reaction to hearing about one of Abron's brothers.#like 'oh ? is your brother hot too ?' BUDDY
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For the Behind the Scenes Asks:
📖"what has surprised you about your WIPs?"
--@ceph-the-ghost-writer
I already answered this here but I can expand on this!
I think something else that has surprised me to a degree is both how familiar and yet different a lot of my characters are... if that makes any sense!
I tend to gravitate toward certain concepts a lot as they are comforting for me and interest me. I've always been a fan of villains and antiheroes, for instance, and so the majority of my main characters fit that criteria. Those that fill a more traditional "heroic" trope usually get burdened with a lot of doubt and still have the capacity to turn out more morally grey or evil. My character Rane comes to mind with this. She is a D&D OC however and its easier to play the game when your character is easy to get along with, but even while writing her within prose, her struggles with inner darkness vs what she yearns for vs what she knows is right is interesting to me.
I used to think that all my WIPs are so different from one another and that I would be a difficult future author or writer to follow. And maybe to a degree that is true... after all, I bounce around a lot when it comes to genres and what I want to write about. That being said, there are certain themes that flow through all my works, and discovering that has really helped me understand myself better and who I am.
A major theme that is in every work of mine, whether said work is a lighter romance (The Cadence of You and Me) or a serious grimdark high fantasy (The Tales of Ozoarth) is the concept of different forms of abuse and how it shapes us.
I've only recently come to terms with how I've been abused myself, and how the different experiences of different forms of abuse have shaped my life. From teachers, to friends, to ex-partners and family (and in a way, how I've hurt myself as well), it's all really impacted how I see the world and how I interact with others. But that does not change who I am and it does not make me a broken person.
This theme runs through all my characters. Some more extreme than others, of course. (For example, Braxous from TToO is an ex-child soldier who grew up in a cult VS Rylie from WID, who grew up in an evangelical household and was stifled all their life by their family). But the theme is still there.
#writeblr community#writeblr#ask box#ask box game#abuse tw#kinda?#about me#my wips#do not ask me abt my own abuse tho pls i am not comfortable sharing it online thanks
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Fire on the Mountain - V
2,611 words. Original Work: The Jackal of An-Nadr.
For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, worlds that are as vivid and alive as the characters, and the agonizing loss being dragged away from home into a life you never asked for.
<< | previous | next | >>
Chapter Warning | defiant whumpee, cauterization of an already agonizing wound, manhandling, non-con drugging (aphrodisiac, repurposed as a sedative), ancient medical practices, vivid hallucinations, staring up into your captor's eyes and begging with everything you have for them to stop, UNREALITY, xenophobia
Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump @whump-queen
The big ifrit had gone up to summon the others. Nadeem was left to try to pull himself back together. His head was a mess of that golden, swirling pleasure, and he couldn’t push it to the background no matter how he tried.
He wanted so badly to get up, to run. But his dizziness left him clinging to the bed, barely able to move.
Something was happening to the room around him. As he lay there trying to breathe through the waves of sensation, the shadows began to move.
Some very far-away part of his mind felt like it was being lit on fire. He watched it from the window above his sisters' beds, barely making out shapes in the night as the blue sky over the hills burned. He wanted to wipe the fog from his eyes, but when he tried all it did was blur the light.
Red light poured into the dark as far-distant embers glittered and shifted, swimming with such incredible radiance that he couldn't tear his eyes away. Everything was still. Everything was so still, and so quiet, and so soft.
"Fahime, Hasti," he gasped. "wait—”
He was slipping. Everything was slipping.
The sound of footsteps returning down the ladder. Dark hands. A careful touch. Someone lifted him from the bed, weightlessness making his head swim. He glanced down, Fahime gathering herself in his kurta as the light played off his face. He pulled her closer, running a soothing hand over her hair.
“Nadi, are we safe?”
He didn't...this wasn't right…
What was happening to him?
"Of course we are," he reassured her, lifting her up so she could see, too. "Look. The wind is taking it away from the valley. See how it goes brighter near the top?”
"But won't it destroy the trees?”
His mouth twitched, blinking slowly toward the distance.
"Yes it will," he murmured, resting his cheek on her head. "But it will be alright, ukhti. Sometimes things have to be destroyed before they can grow again.”
---
He didn't know where they were taking him. Only that there were more hands on him than he could count, and that he was going whether he wanted to or not.
Tendrils of darkness and dreams were still tugging at his mind like water weeds at his feet, pulling him downward as if there were something waiting for him in the cold, black muck below. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
The bright light of day flickered and disappeared as he was taken below deck to a different part of the ship, feet barely touching the steps as he stumbled down the ladder.
Down into the mud, down into the shallows where the sunlight gleamed between wave crests. Blooming gold and green, casting columns of daylight through the silt.
The room they entered was like nothing he expected to see aboard a ship. One of the entire walls was lined with tall mosaic windows, arched at the tops into elegant points. They splintered and reformed in shapes Nadeem could swear were moving, casting white and lavender light throughout the room. The opposite wall towered with shelves, glittering with vials and dried bouquets of herbs. Rows of empty cots stretched onward toward the daylight pouring through the open space at the far side of the gallery. The air was soaked in smoke and the sweet, earthy perfume of decaying plants.
And then there was the table. A great, solid slab that looked as heavy and unmovable as the pillar it was pressed against. Metal instruments, the likes of which he had never before imagined or seen, were swaying gently where they lined in racks along that pillar. Though the discoloration around the hinges betrayed their age, there were so many sharp points gleaming in the light that it made him nearly crumble to his knees in panic.
Blood smeared across the wood as his injured foot caught on uneven deck planks, though the jarring pain was not nearly enough to stop him from skidding along as he was dragged toward the massive table at the center of the room.
One of the ifrit from before, the one with the white turban, was busy directing the others about the space. His voice was sharp and clear, hands gesturing and digging about in narrow wooden cupboards as he spoke.
"G̶͇̔e̵̮͑ẗ̵͍́ ̶̹̎ẖ̶̎i̴̢͋m̴̼͌ ̷͉̽ő̵̧ñ̵͓ ̴̧͝t̶̟̋h̵̼̀e̵̼͒ ̷̖̾t̶̲̃a̶͇͘b̴̲͝l̴̘͝e̷̖̓.̶̳̓ ̸͔̔N̶̪͘e̷̲͠s̴̠͝a̵͛͜r̶̜͠ē̶̢,̶̪͘ ̵̦̃h̴͈͘a̷̻̒ņ̷̃ď̵̖ ̴̗͛m̷̗̈́e̴̺͌ ̵̘̈́t̷͌͜h̸̺͐ë̶̘́ ̶̮̇s̶͉̾i̶̼̓l̶̻͆k̸͖̃ ̵̝̅m̵̛̺ḯ̷͚n̶͔͆t̶̯̕,̸͇̇ ̵͔̋i̸̟͆n̴͉̓ ̵̛̭ẗ̵̝h̸̥͋ȇ̵̮ ̴̈́ͅl̶̗̽ë̴͙́f̶͎̀t̵̟̚ ̵̰̓c̵̥͛u̸͈͐p̶͊ͅb̶̨̈ō̶̮ä̵̺́r̴͇̒d̵̢͂—"
"Let go of me!" Nadeem snarled. He seethed and clawed into the arms of his captors, but could do nothing to stop them as they lifted him onto the table.
The world was still dark and morphing and swaying around him, and there were so many hands with so many unbreakable grips holding him down and moving him. He could barely tell up from down.
Part of him was drifting, untethered, even as his own heartbeat grew deafening in his ears.
The woman from that night around the fire was leaning against one wall with her arms crossed, watching them. Their eyes made brief, but searing eye contact, before his attention was torn away.
"Ṕ̵̱a̴͖͌s̴̤͐s̸̝̀ ̷̼͘m̷̜̕e̸͠ͅ ̷͚̈t̷̛ͅḣ̵͚a̸̹̔t̵͕͑ ̶̺̕s̶̳͌t̸̠̀r̸̭̐a̷̢̚p̸̢͝.̸̼͒ ̴̞͆W̸̬͊a̶͔͋t̵͎̓ċ̷̺h̸͝ͅ ̴̟̇h̵͚͊í̴̝s̶͚͋ ̷̱̑t̵̂ͅę̴̕ë̸͚́ţ̷́ĥ̷̳!̵̠̈".
Leather straps were cinched tight around his wrists and chest, the wide buckles tightening until he could hardly move. What was this? He wrenched and fought, gasping when someone grabbed his injured foot and strapped it down even harder than the rest of him.
Oh no. No no no no—
Someone shouted from the other side of the room where it stood open to the daylight on the opposite side of the instrument wall. Nadeem tried to turn and look, but two long hands pressed into either side of his head and turned his back up. The big ifrit that had captured him was bowed over his head, keeping his face steady and forcing him to look away from what was happening. Making him meet its eyes.
It spoke quietly to him, low words tumbling from its lips as it watched his face.
"L̷̲̏o̸͕͝o̶͕͠ķ̴̿ ̵̢̈́a̶̰̍t̸̅͜ ̸̬̑m̵̦͊e̶͖̾.̸̲̎"
The world was spinning, this was all so wrong—
"Coenta help me, I'll curse your bloodline to oblivion!" He twisted in his restraints, what very little he could. "Get off!"
In the very corner of his vision he saw another ifrit, a burly older woman with hair like a halo, hand something long and straight to the one with the white turban. He tried to focus on it, to see what he was holding...
And his stomach dropped through his spine.
His entire body arced off the table in absolute panic, thrashing so hard the leather straps and their hardware creaked with strain.
"NO! No, nonono, DON'T!" he yelled, almost dislocating his shoulders in his effort to get away, thrashing so hard that several of the ifrit crowded closer to push him back down. "Keep it, no, keep it away from me—"
A long metal iron sent ripples out into the air around it, the tip glowing orange with heat.
The ifrit circled around toward his foot, nodding once to his captor.
"Ľ̷̺o̵͙͑o̵͇̒k̶̪̈́ ̵͕̂ą̶͠t̴̯͑ ̷̇͜m̷̰̐e̶̝͆,̵͍̈́ ̷͔̇s̸̡̒w̴͍̓ĕ̶̬e̴̲̚t̷̲͝h̸̠͠e̵̟̿ä̴͇́r̴͈̀t̸̮̏," the ifrit above him tilted his face back up, obscuring his view of the iron. "T̵͕̀h̶̃ͅe̶̩͊r̸͈̓è̷̘.̵̨͆ ̸͖̃J̸̞̊u̶̘̒s̷̘͝t̶̰̃ ̷̢̓l̸͉͛o̸̩̍o̸͖͂k̷̦̈ ̶̝̋a̴̘̎t̶̛̳ ̵̻̽m̵̞͐e̴̦̓.̶͔̏"
"NO, no, not this! Oh gods please, I can't—" Nadeem felt the heat getting closer to him, and every attempt at hiding his terror crumbled. He stared up into its eyes as open fear poured across his face, stark and open beneath the ifrit's gaze. "No no no NO NO—"
His vision went white, heat spearing up his entire leg with agony like nothing he had never felt before. Everything was pain, so bright his mind couldn't truly process it. And Nadeem lost every ounce of control over his voice, and screamed.
And immediately the sound of metal clattered violently against wood. Every set of hands jerked away from his body at once.
He was sobbing through the darkness as the world swam back into existence, heat radiating up his foot like he was still being burnt. He was babbling at them to make it stop. The shocked eyes of every ifrit in the room fixed on him. The iron lay discarded on the wood behind his torturer, as though it had been flung violently out of his hand. Smoke was beginning to pour from the wood beneath it, smoldering and threatening to light.
The people around him were burning too. Smoke poured from their shoulders, their chests lit from within like embers surging to life with a change in the breeze. And every single one of them was staring at him.
The ifrit with the white turban was the first to break himself out of his shock. His fanged mouth snapped shut where he'd been gaping at Nadeem. He turned and scooped up the iron just before it could ignite.
"Y̵̖͐e̶̯̊ḙ̴͝z̶̯͂ǘ̴̦m̷̢̏ȏ̷̹n̵͇̅," he called. There was not a sound in all the room but his voice and Nadeem's crying. Then again when he didn't look up, "Y̷͈͒e̷͇̅e̷̯̅z̴̫͛ú̶ͅm̸̼̒ö̷͓n̶̗̂!̷̲́ ̵̫̃H̷̻͐o̵̭̎l̵͎̉d̷̾ͅ ̶̞̑h̷͍̒i̵̫̅m̶̠͝. T̵̲̓͝h̶̻͙̊́ë̴̟̪ ̷̜͇͋͑ȑ̵̗̼͋ȇ̶̲̦̚s̵͉̀t̵̫̫̑̋ ̷͉̘̾ọ̵̿̚f̵̙͒͑ ̶͎̺̈́y̶̰̲̆̀o̷̥͌u̷̒ͅ,̶͚́ ̶͕̯͗g̶̜̞͋̀ȇ̸̳͕́t̴̰͝ ̶̨̑̉ò̵͎̩ũ̶͈͒ṯ̵̤͝!̵̢̤̓̕"
His captor blinked, shook his head as if to clear it, then his hands returned to either side of Nadeem's head. Nadeem was still sobbing, every inch of him trembling with the violent aftershocks of the burn.
“D̸͖̑i̸̡̛d̶̗͝ ̷̻̒y̸̨̚o̵̼͂ú̵͓ ̶̡͝g̵͉͐ȅ̷̯t̴̢̑ ̸̢͂î̸͈ť̴̗?̵͎͗"
"N̷̰̈́ó̵͜,̷̛͜ ̴̙̂I̴̟̋.̴͎̓.̵̙͗.̶̢͐I̶͖͝'̸̧͛m̴̨̈ ̸̢̍g̶͓͐ö̷̩́ǐ̷̙ñ̶͖ǵ̷̜ ̸͙͐t̴̮͘o̴̠͌ ̴̜͛h̶͙͂a̶̙̋v̵͎̾e̸̬͆ ̷̥͊t̸̺̊ŏ̵͕ ̶̳͌d̸͉̑o̴̝̍ ̶͙̀i̶̭͘t̴̲̃ ̸̘̋á̶̫g̸̈́͜a̵͔͝i̷̳̎n̴̤̄,̸̡̈́ ̴̧͒Ĩ̵͇ ̷̜́d̴͚̃i̶̥͛d̵̪͝ṅ̸̡'̶̪̂t̶̩͑ ̸̤͑ĝ̷ͅe̷̖̕ţ̶̇ ̴̭̈́ę̵͐n̵̡͠o̵̜͒ǔ̴̙g̵̪̎h̸̖͠ ̴̳͆o̸̭̿f̶͖͑ ̶̖̃t̴̟͊h̷̞̽ȇ̴̤ ̶͈̐ẘ̸̤o̵͔̾u̸̬͋n̶̳͘d̶̜̒.̸͎͝ ̸̗̄P̸̦͊u̴̖̽t̸͈͗ ̴͈͛t̴̲́h̶͎͝i̸͉͝s̴̮̑ ̶͈̽i̵̝̍n̸̳̋ ̷̧̒h̸͍̏i̴͉͛ṡ̶͓ ̵͑ͅm̸̮̓o̶̭̐u̸̠͘t̶͖̄h̵͓̐.”
He didn't even have words to express his horror when the ifrit pried his mouth open and forced a leather bit between his teeth. A clawed hand clasped firmly over his mouth, muffling the horrified sobs and pleading cries that poured out of him behind it.
The ifrit raised the iron again, and there was nothing Nadeem could do but stare up into his captor's eyes as it was pressed into his wound all over again.
Everything after that was a blur of darkness and rippling, uncontrollable agony. He came to as he was being carried across the deck, clinging to the big ifrit's smoke-drenched chest and weeping as they descended back into the cabin.
Furious shouts were being exchanged by what sounded like a dozen ifrit, their argument being cut off only when the deck hatch closed above them.
His keeper sat on the edge of the cot, cradling him in its arms.
"I̴̯̍ṯ̷̄'̸͓͛s̶͔͋ ̵͕͠o̴̝͘ṽ̴̤e̶̙͐r̵̺̐ ̵̦͒n̶̖̎ŏ̵̰w̸̛ͅ,̵̧̈́ ̸͓͐l̸̳̉í̶̭t̵͍͗t̵͇̏l̵͎̋e̷̅͜ ̵̢̎o̴̖͂n̶̛̝e̴͉̅.̶͈͐ ̷̪͌Ȉ̴̞t̶̳̉'̴͇̈́s̵̝̓ o̸̳̿ṿ̸͘ę̴̈r̸̹͋."
Nadeem's fingers were locked so tightly in the ifrit's sash that he couldn't figure out how to let go. He just buried his face against the fabric, trying to muffle the sound of his sobs now that he knew he couldn't stop.
Its chest rumbled with its words as it spoke to him, those strange sounds that could almost been hushing.
A few minutes later the deck hatch opened again, and the white-turbaned ifrit descended into the small space. Nadeem sank further into his captor's arms, trying to get as far away as he could.
"Don't ccome any c-loser—" he choked out, his voice reedy and thin.
But there was none of the expected malice in the ifrit's features. Only indiscernible worry, and a glance toward his captor that Nadeem had no way of reading.
When he reached for Nadeem's injured foot he yanked it away so fast he nearly knocked the breath out of his own lungs, tucking it under himself to keep it away.
His captor wrapped another arm around him, hushing him before looking to the other ifrit. "Ĥ̸͓a̴̺͠b̷͓̀ỉ̶͇b̵̀ͅi̷̥̊,̷̤͌ ̵̦̚ ̸̭̓g̴͈̾ì̵̗v̶͚͑e̵͖̕ ̶̰͒h̷̠̊i̸̡͑m̷̟͑ ̵̣̂a̵͔̓ ̴̜͛m̶͚̽o̸̦͒m̸̻͛ĕ̴̬n̸͉̿ț̵̀."
Nadeem nearly crumbled with relief when the other ifrit hesitated, then backed away.
Hands continued running up and down his back as he tried to get his breathing under control, sobs still tearing out of him with every fresh wave of pain. Had part of the iron poker been left in his foot? It felt like it was still burning him, so much deeper inside his body than it could have possibly gone.
The weight of a blanket settled carefully over his shoulders, tucked close to him. Only then did he realize his jaw was clattering, entire body shivering violently from head to toe.
"Ḥ̵͋ȇ̶̳'̶̟̈́s̸̩͠ g̷̫͒o̵̺̎i̶̤͐n̸̻͌g̷͖̕ ̵̢͂u̵̫̅n̸̥̉d̴͈̑ḛ̷͝r̶̩̀,” the other ifrit murmured, scrubbing a hand down his face. "...ā̵̰ñ̴͔d̵͎̈́ ̶̮͂Ị̶̀ ̵̬͗ṫ̶̲h̵̲̋i̷̲̐n̴̛͎k̴͖̓ ̴͍̂Ȉ̶̲ ̶̗͠m̴̹̏i̶̥͋g̷̩̎h̷̲̍t̴̙̓ ̵̰̕b̴̻͋e̴̢͠,̷͎̆ ̷̳̄t̶̙̔ȯ̷̝ȍ̷͜.̴̱͆ ̷̭͌Ÿ̴̡́è̴̫e̸̻͗ẕ̸̿ŭ̷͎m̵̪̄o̶̳̅n̸̦͆,̸̟̌ ̴̱̚t̶̫͐h̶͕͗į̸̛š̴̡ ̶̩̀ḯ̸̙s̶̹̊n̷̼̏'̴̧̉t̴̳̓ ̴̯͗ș̷́a̸̚͜f̷̖̔e̶͚̓, w̴͖̐͛e̸͕͂̏ ̶̝͠h̸̲̀̐ä̴̮͘v̶̛͍̟̄e̸̯̦̒̆ ̸̖̋t̵͖́̅ó̸͚—"
"Ṅ̶͔o̶̡̾t̴̛̟ ̵̙̉n̴̰̈ó̸ͅw̶̯͘." Then, softer, "N̴̰̎o̵̰͌t̸̡͝ ̴̼̉n̸̗̍o̸͇̚w̶͖͑,̷̞̅ ̶͔͂h̸͕̿ä̴̹́b̷̬͗i̵̳͠b̷̭̀ỉ̶̭.̷͕̒ Ȉ̴̘ ̴͉̆ċ̷̗ã̷͚n̶͚̎'̷̠̀t̶̖̀…I̶͈̾ ̸̖͌c̸̛͈a̸̱͌ṉ̶̈'̴̞̉t̵̳́ ̴̲̌ľ̴̜e̷̮̾a̷̱̎v̷̜͋e̴̝̍ ̶͈͌i̶͔̍t̷̳̓ ̸̫̚ ̴͙̄l̷̈́͜i̸͇̇k̴̩̃e̶̻͊ ̷̖̍ṱ̷̃ẖ̶͝ȋ̸̢ş̸̊.̴͈͝."
It looked down where Nadeem had tucked his face against its chest, too sick with pain to care who or what he was clinging to.
"W̵̕ͅè̴̜'̷̮͝l̷̮̓l̵̦̈́ ̴̘̔f̵͙̋ḁ̷̉c̶̯̅e̴͍̋ ̴͝ͅĀ̵̻d̶͎̃r̸͎̎s̷̳̀i̶̛ͅa̵̡͂e̸͈͛ ̵͈̋ẉ̶̆h̷̩̒e̷̫͘n̶͚̾ ̷̫̉t̵̛̙h̸͇̀e̸̖̍ ̸͇̇t̵͚̚ì̷̜m̸̪̉ë̶͕́ ̸͇̀c̵̨͆ọ̴̉m̴͙̓ẻ̸̜s̷̹̕," he said, his body shifting against Nadeem's as he reached a hand out for the other ifrit's. "B̶̰̒u̵̙͗t̵̢͗ ̷̯͠n̶͖̕o̶̙̒t̷͍̃ ̸̘̔n̶͖̏ỏ̷̢ẁ̴͈."
The edges of reality had once more begun to blur. Dark, waking dreams spun through the shallows of his thoughts, pain spearing up through his foot as he waded out into the reeds.
Gods, he was losing it. But the water had to be safer than this.
He was still trembling a few minutes later when both ifrit coaxed his foot back out from underneath him. He had to bite back the whines of pain that pressed up his throat and against the back of his teeth, tears gathering uselessly in his eyes as he watched the ifrit turn his foot over and inspect it.
A moment before it began probing into the wound, a long hand clasped over his mouth. It was only just in time to suffocate the whine of pain that flooded out of him when the ifrit lifted a shallow bowl full of thick, white paste and began pressing the mixture into the wound. His nails dug into its skin, head going fuzzy and dark as black waves of agony rolled through his whole body. No matter how he struggled he couldn't pry his foot out of its grasp. He just sank down in its hands, while the big ifrit purred against his temple.
He'd never felt so hollow with exhaustion before in his life. He was still only one day past dying. Was this torture all that lay in store for him, now that he'd lost his chance to get away?
He wasn't going to survive. Not if this was what was waiting for him.
The ifrit was quick to bandage his foot, and then released him and let him once more hide his injury out of sight beneath his robes.
An uncaring part of his mind realized he'd sunk into the heat of its skin, eyes barely staying open as the adrenaline in his system crashed and whatever they had drugged him with took back over.
Ripples spread out around him at waist-height, opaque under the cold moonlight. The reeds stirred, wind caressing the nape of his neck.
He couldn't walk. There was no way he was getting away, even if he somehow got off the ship. He was helpless. He was stranded. The realization hit him like a sandstorm, dragging at his clothes and peppering his skin with pain.
They had burned him. He was alone. And he wasn't going to be able to get away.
The crickets sung in the reeds, nothing disturbing the water but him. All around him, for miles and miles, the dark spread silent and cold across the landscape.
He was alone.
He was alone.
He was never going to see his family again.
Nadeem fell to his knees, and plunged beneath the surface of the water.
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7 Snippets, 7 People Pt. 2
I was tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer here and @winterandwords here! Thanks to you both :)
I decided to share some snippets from a couple of my sidelined WIPs that I still have some love for, as well as ToL!
Rules: Share 7 snippets and tag 7 people!
1. Ascension (side WIP) Ch. 1
The knight surrendered to him willingly. He stood at the entrance of the fur-lined tent, the torchlight casting shadows on his angular face. His armor, it seemed, had been left behind, leaving him barefoot in a plain blue jacket and brown linen trousers that hung loosely from his hips.
“I’ve come for my men,” he stated clearly, staring directly into the prince’s eyes.
He tilted his head to the side and gave him a crooked smile–indulging the knight’s boldness, for now. “One man in exchange for three? I’m not so sure that’s a fair trade, human.”
The knight seemed to anticipate his reluctance and grinned with ease, two tiny dents becoming visible on each side of his face. “No? What about the location of the Umbra?” He took a step forward and lowered his voice. “What is that worth to the prince of demons?”
2. Ascension, Ch. 3
He watched the crocodile continue to sit there, unmoving, a single green eye staring at him with a thin, vertical pupil. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit–and he didn’t scare easily. “Does she have a name, Madame Kosara?”
“Graisse,” she replied with a bigger grin. “It means ‘fat’, for she is fat and happy.” The amusement slid off her face as she got to her feet, the wooden floor creaking beneath her. “Can you say the same for your people, young prince?
3. Ascension, Creation Myth
It is said that the sun was born first, and lived alone for thousands years in her palace of clouds. This was a time when the land had not yet formed, so as she gazed down at the world below, she saw only the endless blue sea. She took comfort in the monotony of the glittering mirror that reflected her melancholic existence. It was nice to have the world to herself, but it was lonely and unchanging. When she would sleep, sometimes she would open her eyes, hoping to see something new, but all she saw was light. Her light.
4. Ascension, Prologue
Before Lady Itis severed the soul of the woman she loved, she gave her one last kiss. The taste, once so sweet, turned bitter as they parted, and how could it not with all the blood between them? The war had ended, but man’s violence was unforgiving and ceaseless. Itis had grown used to seeing the shadows of grief in Queen Sadira’s eyes, but they had consumed her as of late, leaving a fractured shell in her place. When she came to her and asked to be sealed beneath the earth, Itis felt no surprise, only deep sorrow.
5. Tomb of Light, Ch. 4
“Well, well, well.” A voice said just above his head. He twisted his neck and looked directly into a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were a deep blue, so dark they were nearly black, with tiny starbursts of silver around slitted black pupils. Slitted pupils? They floated above a low-hanging tree branch. As he watched, the branch brightened into a pleasant shade of moss green, revealing an otherworldly creature so strange he nearly collapsed at the sight of it.
It was a cat, he guessed, or a cat with some sort of flesh-eating disease that had left it completely hairless. As it stretched out its tiny feet he noticed it had long, webbed toes that bent back at awkward angles. Upon closer examination he determined the cat was not only hairless, but covered in tiny scales like the snakes he used to find in his backyard, though these scales looked much softer. He watched as they changed color once more, this time to bright yellow.
6. ToL, Ch. 6
It was then he was forced to acknowledge what he had been avoiding–he was disgraced, just like her, and no amount of posturing would convince people to ignore the shadow that had settled over him once his uniform had been stripped away. He was a fool to think he could outrun it. The plain black trousers, gray tunic and black boots were all he had left–even his beloved sword, a gift from his father, had been taken from him. He had nothing left but a bitter taste in his mouth and the looming shadow of the girl he loved.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said finally, lowering his head.
“Then stand aside and wait for someone to tell you.”
There it was–control, just within reach, slipping through his fingers like smoke.
7. What We Long For (abandoned WIP)
“As time passed, I watched the small lines on her forehead become more pronounced and her black hair became peppered with gray before she reached the age of 30. I asked her about it once, when I was nothing more than a bratty high school freshman with poor social skills.
She gave me one of her biggest smiles. ‘Who even cares about wrinkles? One day you’ll realize that all of the marks on your skin, every scar, every freckle–they make up constellations that tell the story of how you lived to see another day.’”
Gently tagging: @writingmaidenwarrior @athenswrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @pandoras-comment-box @mysticstarlightduck @pheita @mthollowell-writes
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Kane & Jim #33.5: Curls
Masterlist
content: vampire whumper, captivity, referenced manhandling, angst / emotional whump
too short to be a full chapter, but have some jim angst!
-
Jim stared into his own bloodshot eyes in the bathroom mirror, scissors gripped tight in his white-knuckled hand.
He hadn’t been sleeping well, not for a while. Maybe it was because he wasn’t meant to be nocturnal, but probably not. Kane haunted his dreams just as much as his waking hours. There was no escape. At least when he was awake, he’d have the warning of the sound of the door unlocking before the torment began anew.
He didn’t want to cut his hair off. Jim liked his hair. But the curls were too easy for Kane to grab. He was tired of being yanked around. He was tired of Kane’s fist in his hair, holding his head rigid at the perfect position to feed whenever Jim’s head dropped from the early-evening bleariness. He was just tired.
He readied the scissors.
Snip.
A lock of hair fell down into the sink basin.
Jim felt a surge of frustration run through him. It wasn’t fair. Kane took everything from him. He couldn’t just have this one thing?
He could. It was a choice, Kane wasn’t forcing him. He could keep his curls and deal with the consequences, or he could cut them too short to pull on.
What would Kane do, once he cut his hair? Grab him by the shirt collar, as he sometimes did already?
By the neck?
Jim shuddered at the thought.
He couldn’t know. He should just get it over with and cut it. It was just hair. It would grow back. If things were worse with it gone, it would be back soon enough.
Snip.
He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. But his options were limited. This was about survival. It didn’t matter what he wanted. He had to do what he could to make himself safe. To make it hurt a little less.
Snip.
Jim remembered Mom, carding a hand through his hair when he was a kid, as the two of them watched the more athletically-inclined Liz and Dad running around the backyard playing tag. She’d only been about four years old that afternoon, but Liz had always been an energetic kid, needing to run around and get out all her excess energy. He was a calmer child, content to sit off to the side with Mom.
She smiled and ruffled his hair. “You have your dad’s curls.”
He missed touch that didn’t hurt.
Jim closed his eyes and ran a shaking hand through his own hair, imagining himself back there. Eight years old again, back when everything was okay. Back when Mom and Dad were alive. Back before he became a vampire’s living meal, before Kane became his entire world. Back when he was allowed to see the sun. Back when he was free.
If he tried hard enough, he could almost forget the pain in his neck, the bruises littering his body.
He brought the scissors back up to his hair, but couldn’t bring himself to continue.
“C’mon. Get on with it.” he encouraged his reflection. “It’s fine. It’s just hair.”
His reflection didn’t move to make another cut to his dad’s curls.
Jim sighed, put the scissors down, and wiped the tears from his eyes. He just wanted this one thing, he’d just keep this one thing, this one little bit of control over his life. He’d allow himself to keep his hair, even if it hurt.
-
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Proud of tag
Thanks @tabswrites for the tag!
Rules: post a writing snippet that you're proud of!
Well I wrote this back and forth between Noelle and Carmen for Part Two. I would have posted the full scene but it's already long
Tagging @winterandwords @somethingclevermahogony @badluck990 @memoriethereaderandwriter-blog @mk-writes-stuff
@dyrewrites @aalinaaaaaa @ceph-the-ghost-writer @talesofsorrowandofruin + anyone else who'd like to do this
This ended up still being a long excerpt despite it being a small section of the scene... The point is that this is the height of the conflict. Enjoy below the cut!
CW: political drama regarding rights for minority group; mention of bombings and bigots
From The Secret Portal Part Two (Noelle POV)
“Did Atsila only want to bring equality to the Inutilia because she was close with you?”
“Atsila wanted to bring equality to the Inutilia because it was wrong to say otherwise!” Dr. Asghar slammed her hand on the counter beside her.
“Then why did she keep a bunch of bigots around?” I asked, rising to my feet.
“To keep them from crawling away and agreeing to an extremist group opposite to the Refugae!”
“Opposite to the Refugae?” I asked, slowly walking toward her. “Extremist group? Like the Aequales?”
“We’re not an extremist group! The Aequales were meant supposed to bring equality!”
“Really? Then why isn’t there equality?” I now loomed over Dr. Asghar, who I’d back against the machine processing my blood. She stood her ground as she looked up at me, her composure starting to falter. “Has the Aequales done anything to promote equality for the Inutilia? Or was it just propaganda so Atsila could gain more followers?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Bishop! You didn’t know Atsila.”
I stepped back. “You’re right. But you did. Bit of a biased source.”
Dr. Asghar fumed. “This is what I get for trying to reach out. Some girl who doesn’t know her place!”
“Is my place beneath you? Or bowing to the Great Atsila McLain?”
Dr. Asghar pinched her nose beneath her glasses, hard. She sighed after several seconds. “Carissa, you don’t know how naïve you’re being. The Refugae have only brought the public’s view on Inutilia down in the past several decades. The Aequales was created to balance Inutilia in society. To prove that we’re Alii, too. To prove to non-Inutilias that we can unite together. As equals. Atsila was the leader because she was a good one. She was commanding and powerful. She had the former governments of Sectors 8 and 9 already behind her due to her parents. Do you know why you and most of your friends have Octanian descent? Because Atsila made this place,” she gestured around her, “a safehouse for those who lost their homes in the Sector 8 bombings. You know who did those bombings? The Refugae.”
I refused to break eye contact.
“You may have read a few articles online, but you have no idea the history of this world, the people who live in it, or run it. You don’t know Raissa Kamanzi, you don’t know Atsila McLain. One of them made life harder for people like her, and the other made life easier for people like and not like her. You don’t get to comment on their moral compasses because you haven’t been in a war. You don’t get to tell me that I’m biased just because of who I was to Atsila. You didn’t grow up Inutilia. You don’t know what we’ve been through. You don’t know what Raissa Kamanzi did to us.”
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites @nebula--nix
#the secret portal#tsp excerpt#tsp#teaspoon#my writing#wip excerpt#proud of tag game#noelle bishop#carmen asghar#writers on tumblr#writing community#writers of tumblr#writing on tumblr#writeblr#writeblr community
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Seven Snippets Seven People
(Part 1)
Thank you for the tag, @mysticstarlightduck.
I've actually had two of this tag game sitting in my Drafts for a while now, and given what I just wrote last night for Chapter 21 of Empty Names I thought it might be fun to combine them a bit. This most recently written bit was basically one long sequence of Eris tripping out and losing her sense of self due to exposure to a Lovecraftian eldritch entity and experiencing warped hallucinatory versions of old memories that have either happened or been referenced earlier in the story.
So I thought it would be fun to put all those scenes back-to-back with the earlier parts that they're referencing.
But before I get started, softly passing the tag to @talesofsorrowandofruin, @druidx, @emeraldmew, @oh-no-another-idea, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @theimperium, @acertainmoshke, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wants it.
(And here's the link to Part 2)
(Content Warning for some violence and mild body horror.)
Starting off with a conversation between Eris and Gretchen (her ex) a bit before this whole sequence starts:
“I’m sorry,” Gretchen says. “Like you said, I wasn’t really myself when I was going on like that.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“It’s just… You know what it’s like. The rush, the thrill, the anticipation. The drumbeat in the back of your head that seems too loud to be simply your own heart. The electric tingle down your spine that spreads through your whole body. The way smell and taste start blurring together and your other senses all start feeding each other so that the whole world seems more. The craving. The memory of blood’s viscosity and the way a drop’s trail down the back of your hand catches on all the little hairs and gathers in the pores and creases. The constant knowledge of how good the climax of the hunt feels. Has felt. Will feel next time.”
“I do. All the more reason for you not to go in there.”
“It’s like that all the time now. Even basking in that moment right after a kill it only ebbs away to a murmur. It’s enough to make you think it might not be so bad if you never felt anything else.”
“Only ever feeling one thing? Sounds like death to me, and I’d rather die as myself.”
Gretchen’s laugh is soft and bitter. “You always say that. Have you ever stopped to think that it might be becoming more yourself, not less?”
Now let us rewind a bit, back to the side story "There Are No Dogs In the Dog Park" with a scene from the POV of a werewolf being helped through her first transformation by Eris:
Howling. All around her. Inside her. From her. From her?
Lights growing so bright. Nearly hurts. Colors warping draining distorting. No more red. No more green. Wash of blues and yellows and grays.
So loud. Noises deafening. Too much all at once. Smells too. So many. So sharp. Sickening.
“She’s panicking!”
“First time’s always a trip. She’ll get through it.”
Skin crawling. Stretching. Bones cracking, extending, filling in. Doesn’t hurt but feels wrong. Alien. Itchy. Where’s the mass coming from? Can’t think about that. Itches too much. Outside and in. Try to scratch. Skin feels too soft. Scratch feels too sharp.
Look down. Flinch back up. Down again. Arms covered in fur. Hands end in claws. Muscle growing as she watches. She whimpers.
“Sarah. Sarah, look at me.”
Look up again. Piercing eyes. Solid face. Holding her in place without touching. An anchor.
“You’re going to be alright. Just breathe. Take it slow.”
Nod. Try to speak. To say “okay.” Hear a bark instead.
Clap hands to mouth. Hit her face too soon. Mouth and nose are too far out. Don’t think of the word for it. Don’t make it real.
Try to stand up. Stumble. Center of mass is all wrong. Joints don’t bend right. Body so heavy. Struggle back up. Look around. Surrounded by wolves and things that are almost wolves but wrong. Where is she? How did she get here?
“Sarah…”
People here too. Staring at her. Why are they looking at her? Please stop looking at her. Go away. Get away. Need to get away.
“She’s running!”
“It’s fine! She just needs time to work through it. Follow but give her space!”
Keep moving. Two legs? Four? Which works better? Find a rhythm. Pick up speed. Just need to get away. Can’t get away from herself. Something wrong inside her. Need to get it out. Get it out!
Fence ahead. Trapped. In a cage. Need to get it out. Need to get out. Need to escape.
“She’s going for the fence!”
“Should I tranq her?”
“Jeez, calm down guys. Don’t worry, I got this.”
Hand on the chainlinks, furry and clawed. Is that really her hand? Who else’s could it be? Feels wrong. What does right even look like? Stop looking. Just climb. Pull to climb. Pulling rips the metal away. Breaks the links. Snaps and pops hurt her ears. Too loud. Everything is too loud. So strong. Monstrously strong. She’s a monster. She’s a monster. She’s -
“Sarah…”
Is that her name? Is that her?
Turn around. Someone right behind her. Looks familiar. Looks too small.
“I know yer freaking out right now, but I’m going to need ya to get away from the fence. Can’t have you getting lost out there.”
Solid presence. An anchor. Remember to breathe. A hand extended. Reach out to take it.
“That’s right. Now let’s get you back to the others.”
Now then, let's us look at the nightmare version of that:
Eris is hunting.
A chill wind blows across a moonlit prairie. The rush, the thrill, the anticipation, are almost too much to bear as she chases down a pack of lupine shadows. One falls to a spear. Another is caught by its tail and dragged to the ground. A third turns and raises itself on two legs to face its hunter. Its claws meet with only open air. Her claws meet with its heart.
There is a disappointing lack of blood. They are naught but shadows afterall.
The pack’s lone survivor sprints for the treeline, wild with fear, only to find a chainlink fence between itself and safety. She is still half human, and her eyes are fully so when she looks back at her hunter.
There’s a name Eris should remember and call out at this part. She doesn’t, but what does it matter? It’s just a beast.
What was she hunting again? It doesn’t matter. It’s all just prey in the end.
The clock turns back to another conversation between Eris and Gretchen, reminiscing on old times:
Eris gasps in mock indignation. “Me? A menace?”
“You got an amusement park shut down.”
“Miraclezone Fun Park had already closed its doors for four whole days by the time we got there, thank you very much. You know, on account of all the mysterious deaths that got our attention in the first place.”
“Maybe, but derailing a roller coaster so that it crashes into the middle of an amphitheater certainly didn’t help their odds of reopening once the weird ape spider things that were eating the night shift employees were dealt with.”
“Says the woman who decided to draw the beasts out by plugging her phone into the sound system, turning on all the stage lights, and doing a solo dance number without realizing how many there were infesting the park. You’re lucky my aim was good enough to take out half of them when I landed.”
“More like you’re lucky I was fast enough to dodge that mess. I’ll hand it to you though, you made one helluva first impression climbing out of the wreckage, ripping off one of the coaster’s safety bars one-handed and using it as a club to lay into the rest of the… what even were those things anyway?”
“Some alchemist’s escaped mad science experiments. It was in the Crossherd papers a few days later when the guy got bagged for a gross violation of the Masquerade after the cops showed up and found a bunch of dead eight-legged monkeys.” Eris shakes her head in exasperation. “I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught for that.”
“Fitzy’s always been good at covering for his bar’s patrons. It’s half the point of 121813.” Gretchen pauses, searching her memory. “That night was your first time there, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. You offered to buy me a drink and I was too busy trying to hide the fact that my arm was broken to turn you down.”
“Your arm was broken?”
“And a few ribs. Did something to my ankle too, but by that point I already had a good grasp on how fast I heal and I was trying to look cool for the chick who was killing rabid chimeras with a spear in time with the baseline on metal music blasting from stadium speakers.”
But this memory too can become twisted:
The chainlink fence rattles and shrieks when she tears it down and stalks between the support struts of the rollercoaster. The drumbeat in the back of her head seems too loud to simply be her own heart. Perhaps it is the music pounding from that amphitheater over there. Eight-legged shadows leap from support strut to support strut and skitter along the tracks above. What an annoyance, that noise is luring her prey away from her.
A freezing from the spear, a few good kicks, and a mighty heave are all it takes to knock out the nearest pylon and set the entire rollercoaster around her crashing down. The music of the collapsing metal all around her is enough to drown out the metal of the music from the amphitheater, but the drumbeat in her skull is louder still.
She steps on one of the wretched chimerical shadows trying to free itself from the wreckage as she stalks toward the alleyway behind the amphitheater.
Oh, yes, that’s right. She’s hunting Gretchen. The snake, the spider, her lioness.
A moment of comparative memory from Lacuna's POV, back in Chapter 10, in the wake of the team's first mission together as a group:
It is well and truly night by the time the two of them ascend the stairwell of their building. Neither of them break the heavy silence as they pass Lacuna’s floor on by up to Eris’s together. Lacuna strains to keep from grunting as Eris leans on her more heavily than she had been for the last ten minutes - ever since she started limping - while she fishes out her keys and opens the door to her apartment. It’s Lacuna who quietly flips the lightswitch as they step inside and then gently shuts and locks the door behind them.
It’s not the first time Lacuna’s helped her friend to bed. That had been about three months after meeting her, and had thoroughly killed the crush she’d had on her at the time but thankfully been too scared to confess. The fact that Eris took to calling her “sis” not long after had nailed said crush’s coffin shut tight. But in all honesty, she prefers their relationship this way.
It is however the first time Lacuna’s seen what got her friend into this state for herself. Sure, even that first time Eris had regaled her with the dramatic tale of the monster hunt that left her tired enough and badly cut enough to ask for help getting home (that one had been something called a “hodag”), but she’d always found her friend already some distance away from wherever the battle had taken place, even on the night when she took Eris to Doc’s instead of home. And even on that worst night, sitting in the waiting room of the clinic they met at, the reality of what her best and only friend does for fun never truly sunk in until now.
What was that first encounter that made Eris ask Lacuna to help her get home? It wasn't this. This is just a twisted shadow of that memory cut short...
The alleyway is awash with the scent of buzzard meat, skunk perfume, and pine scented car air freshener emanating from the dumpster at the far end. An electric tingle runs down her spine and spreads through her whole body as she walks past the garbage truck that has taken her to so many trailheads with signs of new quarry within the dream-born city. The shadow that erupts from the refuse is all horns, claws, spines, and teeth. It is long enough to wrap itself around her, heavy enough to pull her down to the ground when it does, and vicious enough to keep wrestling with her even after she snaps off its saber fangs.
She recalls a dim memory that this thing once hurt her badly enough that she called for help to return to her home lair afterward. The one who answered should never have had to see her like that. She will make this shadow pay for that.
By the time she realizes the shadow is dead and gone, the pavement is shattered, the dumpster is rent in twain, and the engine of the garbage truck she was once responsible for is totalled. There is no proper satiation to hunting shadows. All chase and fight, but no release. She retrieves her spear and vaults over the wall at the end of the alleyway. Perhaps when she finds her true prey at the end of this she will bring satisfaction.
No, that’s not right, she’s supposed to be searching for Gretchen, not hunting her.
(Continued in Part 2)
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#my writing#tag game#writing tag games#seven snippets seven people#7 snippets 7 people#empty names
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WIP Playlist Tag
Thank you for the tag @crowandmoonwriting!!
Rules: list at least 4 songs from your current WIP playlist, or just a writing playlist you’ve been using lately, and the lyrics that speak to you the most!
Music is a major source of inspiration for my writing. My actual story playlist for Life in Black and White is instrumental, so I'll just list ten inspiration songs + favorite lyrics that give me the BIG FEELS for my story. ETA: added them all to a playlist in case anyone wants to listen.
TV on the Radio - Careful You | Oui je t'aime, oui je t'aime, from the cradle to the grave / You've done a number on my heart, and things will never be the same
Purity Ring - Shuck | I'll shuck all the light from my skin and I'll hide it in you / I'll pluck the long grass that grows from me and I'll hide it in you
Depeche Mode - Wrong | There's something wrong with me chemically / Something wrong with me inherently / The wrong mix in the wrong genes / I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means / It was the wrong plan in the wrong hands / The wrong theory for the wrong man / The wrong eyes on the wrong prize / The wrong questions with the wrong replies
Sufjan Stevens - John My Beloved | I am a man with a heart that offends with its lonely and greedy demands / There's only a shadow of me / In a manner of speaking, I'm dead
O + S - The Fox | But then one day I ran out of bread / And wood to keep the fire / And when I woke, I found she had fled / To the house down the river / And I cried all night / Because I thought she was mine
Kaia Kater - Viper's Nest | Sing me sweet in the bitter bite of hell / Sing me sweet in the rushes and the swells / How sad it seems to love a thing / When all in life is a reckoning / How twisted trees and knotted pine / Will have me know that you're not mine
Mumford & Sons - Lover's Eyes | But do not ask the price I pay / I must live with my quiet rage / Tame the ghosts in my head / That run wild and wish me dead / Should you shake my ash to the wind / Lord, forget all of my sins / Oh, let me die where I lie / Beneath the curse of my lover's eyes
Gordon Lightfoot - Race Among the Ruins | You think you had the last laugh, now you know this can't be true / Even though the sun shines down upon you now, sometimes you must feel blue / You make the best of each new day, you try not to be sad / Even though the sky falls down upon you, call it midnight, feeling bad / When you wake up to the promise of your dream world coming true / With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? / Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins / If you have to face tomorrow, do it soon
Enya - Amid the Falling Snow | The silence of a winter's night / Brings memories I hold inside / Remembering the blue moonlight / Upon the fallen snow / Maybe I am falling down / Tell me, should I touch the ground? / Maybe I won't make a sound / In the darkness all around / I close my window to the night / I leave the sky her tears of white / And all is lit by candlelight / Amid the falling snow
Glass Animals - It's All So Incredibly Loud | Super silence in the quiet, eye inside the storm / Water from your broken iris fell toward the floor / Everything waiting, shaking as it drops / I tried for you and I, too hard, for too long / Gave it all and everything for more time, but I lost / Ooh, we're breaking down / Whispers would deafen me now / You don't make a sound / Heartbreak was never so loud
Tagging: @catchingbigfish, @sunset-a-story, @joeys-piano, @mrbexwrites, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @thatndginger, @sam-glade, @purplecowbell, @winterandwords, @nanashi23
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