ashen-crest

[ashen-crest]

When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She looked surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form. He looked a bit like a moose crossed with a wolf.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

#i love this

[ashen-crest]

snippet of the day

--

✨ WIP intro

🔖 tag list: @winterandwords // @revenantlore // @space-writes // @indecentpause // comment to be added or removed!

📝 all posts from WIP: gay crime bdsm story

#lol 'sorry boss' #other wips

[ashen-crest]

The Isobel / Aylin epilogue in my heart

#!!! #other people's art

[ashen-crest]

Nat's gonna punch someone. as a treat

this whole Ambrose/Nat situation is gonna make me cry

[ashen-crest]

#things that both the spirit kids AND the potion kids would love

[ashen-crest]

this whole Ambrose/Nat situation is gonna make me cry

#a captured cauldron

[ashen-crest]

Friday Kiss tag

Thank you to @kittensartswriting and @indecentpause for the tags! I have gone searching through my wips with a magnifying glass for those few and far between kisses, but here is one from my marinating wip about Sal <3

“I miss the days when you were skinny enough that I could push you over,” Sal said, and the words were bittersweet. Of course, she missed the days colored by childhood glories. These days, with Anaar tall and strong and lovely…they weren't so bad either. Not that she’d ever speak those words aloud. He looked down at her and though only his dark eyes were visible above his red scarf, she knew he was grinning. “Sorry,” he said, spreading his hands, not looking very sorry at all. Sal sighed and turned to examine a spice vendor’s wares. The lovely vibrant powders had been poured to such heights that each rose from its barrel into a thin tapered point. How the vendor didn’t knock into one and send it spilling across the street, Sal would never know. “Don’t be grumpy,” Anaar cajoled. “It’s not that I’m not used to it, but why spoil the afternoon?” In his far hand, he produced a rabbit candy from thin air. Sal couldn’t help but swipe for it even though she was playing right into his hands. He grabbed her around the shoulder and tugged her close. She could feel the kiss pressed to her forehead through his soft scarf. Then she had the candy in her hand and unfurled the rice paper wrapper, safe from the crowds, sheltered by Anaar’s useful bulk.

I would like to see all the kisses! Please feel free to take this OPEN TAG and tag me so I can see your writing :) also pssp pssp any interest in playing, @catchingbigfish @awritingcaitlin @jasmineinthenight @eccaiia @reneesbooks

@winterandwords @chayscribbles @chauceryfairytales @talesofsorrowandofruin 💙

#cute!! #other wips

[ashen-crest]

[ashen-crest]

“This Belle Epoque opal and diamond choker was made at the turn of the century, in 1900. Four incredible rows of glimmering, pastel-hued opals alternate with three rows of sparkling diamond-set flowers, each centered with a lustrous natural seed pearl. These are bordered at top and bottom by a row of pearls. The flowers are set in platinum, the opals in 18 karat yellow gold.”

#opals!!

[ashen-crest]

Gaza's municipality is trying to raise money to fix and restore Gaza's water system. Please support them by boosting and/or donating

[ashen-crest]

oh my god Dad Ambrose(TM) is getting me right in the feels

(I'd post a snippet, but it's so so spoilery)

#a captured cauldron

[ashen-crest]

fun fact that I am adding to ACC: Eli wants Ambrose to grow a beard and when Ambrose is in his Mad Scientist stage, he forgets to shave.

Eli, looking at his unhinged boyfriend: 😍😍😍 please keep it, please please please-

Ambrose: absolutely not

#a captured cauldron

[ashen-crest]

15 question OC interview [Fynn edition] 🕑

Tagged by all the lovelies @ghost-town-story @fanged-solace and @willtheweaver -- thanks, guys! I love writing these they're so fun :) Today we're going to interview Fynn!! I'm very excited for this as his character recently got a bit of a behind-the-scenes makeover and has some new backstory. :)

Previously on, in case anyone wants to view, are Antonio's interview, and Paris's.

"We gather here today..." Antonio intones, holding his notepad and lantern as though he is the sole survivor of a doomed expedition in the jungle. "For a bold and momentous occasion."

"Speak for yourself," Paris says, leaning against the wall behind him. "Some of us gather for the entertainment." "Being me," Fynn says dolefully, trying not the clutch the armrests of his chair so tight that he ruins the fabric.

Are you named after anyone?

Not a terrible question to start off with, all things considered. "Yes," Fynn says. "My grandfather. He died when I was only a few years old."

When was the last time you cried? And a terrible second question. Fynn eyeballs Antonio, but he just looks normal. Which is to say, like an utter loon. Behind him, Paris and Velia knock their shoulders together. Only Lewis has some measure of sympathy on his face. Probably because he knows he'll be next before too long. "I don't remember," Fynn lies. He did remember. It had been the night before he'd decided to leave the city. Antonio raises an eyebrow but scribbles the answer down.

Do you have kids? "Booo," Velia says loudly. Antonio twists around in his seat to glare at her. "My older sister has children," Fynn says before either of them can start a fight. "I've only met the oldest two. They are some of my favorite people in the world."

Do you use sarcasm?

Fynn sighs. "Alas yes."

What's the first thing you notice about people? "I don't really," Fynn apologies. He tries not to wilt under the four confused gazes suddenly latched on him. "I'd make a terrible detective." "Not at all?" "Leave him alone, Antonio," Lewis says, and what do you know, Antonio moves on.

What's your eye color? "--I don't know," Fynn says, thrown. When has he ever noticed, or cared? Lewis scurries over and kneels before him. "Gray," he says. "Like steel beams. Or coal smoke." Fynn smiles down at him. Lewis winks.

Scary or happy endings? "I don't like endings," Fynn says honestly.

Any special talents? "No," Fynn says, frowning. "But I've skills. I'm a mechanic by trade, I know my way around an engine and the tools needed to maintain her, and a fair bit of carpentry as well." "And you're good with kids," Velia adds. "That's a skill alright."

Where were you born?

Fynn can't help but grin, thinking of home. "Norway."

What are your hobbies? Fynn frowns. "I'm a working man--" "Oh shut up," Antonio whines. "Live a little, Fynn. You're here with us, aren't you?" "Then you're my hobbies," Fynn says, just to see their faces. They don't disappoint.

Have you any pets? "I can hardly feed myself on a good day," Fynn says, realizing he's calmer now than he expected to be. "Can you imagine a dog trailing after me?" "How about a rat?" Paris suggests unhelpfully. "Since they're already your roommates?" "Or a pigeon?" Velia adds. Fynn rolls his eyes. The two of them, honestly.

What sports do you play/have played? "This is ridiculous," Fynn mutters. "Yes, ridiculous," Paris says, almost like he's been waiting for it. "Quite right, Fynn." Antonio shoots him a look. "I didn't invite you, you insisted on accompanying us. At least get out and leave us be." Paris leans down, grabs the notebook and reads off the next question.

How tall are you? "Fynn," Paris finishes, laughing a little. "Have you a measuring tape in your pocket?" "Yes, actually," Fynn says sheepishly pulling it out. He hands it to Antonio when he sees how large his grin is. Paris throws his hands up. "Might as well actually measure then." "Six foot one inch!" Antonio says triumphantly. "Good lord you're tall."

Favorite subject in school? "I stopped going to school when I came to America to work," Fynn tells them. "I can't say I miss it."

Dream job? "My job now," Fynn says. "With my family nearby and well and a steady paycheck." "And a flamingo," Antonio says promptly. Fynn stares. "Just to spice your plans up a little," Antonio elaborates. "Worry not, I will supply it." "You're going to make me steal from a zoo, aren't you," Velia says grimly. Antonio smiles.

Gentle tags for anyone who made it all the way through that, and also @zmwrites @revenantlore @reneesbooks @saltysupercomputer

@pertinax--loculos @sparrow-orion-writes and @penspiration-writing <3

#i loved 'you're my hobbies' #this was so fun! #other wips

[ashen-crest]

I'd like to apologize in advance because this chapter I'm drafting is more emotionally painful than I thought it would be

#OOPS

[ashen-crest]

🎉🎉🎉

This podcast has already been so much fun! Looking forward to recording more 😊

I'm part of a queer and indie author podcast, and my episode comes out next Friday! How did this sorcery happen?

Find out more here, we'd love to have you.

And don't forget to say hi to @tesscarletta @ashen-crest @nothwell @ninawolv3rina

They're on Tumblr and part of the podcast too.

[ashen-crest]

I AM DECEASED

@ashen-crest have you made this joke already

Anyway, I finished a book :)

[ashen-crest]