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bodhrancomedy · 11 months

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Tocktick Chapter 1 An Intriguing Proposition

The Sturm Islands, 1880

The gas lamp flickered disconcertingly.

Emmett Askren, captain of The Iris, groaned and rubbed a large, brown hand across his face. The blinking light ignited shards of pain in his retinas, the ebb and pull of the chatter in the tavern threatening to wash him out to the sea of a meltdown.

Carefully, Emmett placed his hands on the table and closed his eyes, pulling all his concentration down through his arms in the half-forgotten method from his childhood. While the Sturm Islands were hardly the seat of Suliland decorum, certain traits were unacceptable anywhere.

Even as the thought passed through his head, guilt flooded him. Tapping unconsciously on the table, swaying just slightly in his seat, he offered up a silent apology to Kizzy. The idea of his daughter being ashamed of something they had no control over froze him to his core. But rules were rules and society was unforgiving – a tocktick child had time. An aeronaut with debts did not.

An aeronaut with debts and no ship had even less. Emmett scowled to himself and opened his eyes again, brushing a strand of greying hair behind his ears and then scratching his stubble. He should shave, he thought helplessly, to make himself seem more trustworthy to potential clients, but the idea of running a razor over his chin made his stomach turn more than the beer behind the counter.

Five pounds… it was an impossible ask and the deadline was approaching at the speed of one of those new-fashioned locomotives which had driven him to this place. And that wasn’t even counting the coin he’d need to spend on the broken ship once he had it back. Emmett swallowed convulsively and glanced up at the clock on the wall, peering past the premature and garishly coloured banners proclaiming loyalties for the upcoming Throgmorton Aeronautical Contest.

Quarter past four.

Li was late, as usual. Later than usual, actually. His heart thudded faster, frissons of anxiety shooting up his spine as he tried to relax back into the chair – feeling every splinter of it – and wait.

Somehow, he doubted she was going to solve all his problems.

But it wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

His hands were still twitching as the tavern’s occupants suddenly increased in volume – one of the local cardsharps was trying, unsuccessfully, to start a game – so he shoved them into his pockets and tried to pretend he wasn’t about to become tonight’s entertainment if one more person bashed their mug into the table –

Paper crinkled against his fingers and he frowned in confusion. Looking around in vain for Li and her infamous cane, Emmett withdrew a folded sheet and realised he was holding Sixsmith’s last letter.

Something heavy settled in his gut and he swallowed. He didn’t remember putting it in his coat, but it’d been a long time of trying to break that habit. The letter stayed with him no matter how many times he told himself it should be stored with the others so it wouldn’t be lost, or stained, or torn. It was the logical thing to do, he thought, but somehow, every time, it was folded up and slipped back into his inner pockets.

Emmett wasn’t sentimental. At all.

With the gentleness of a historian examining a precious relic, Emmett opened the letter and scanned the first few lines.

Dear Emmett,

There might not be any correspondence for a bit. Things have happened here and I’m just not going to be able to write until it’s all over. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, and it’ll be a funny story when I’m done, but, for now, don’t expect to hear from me for a month or so…

It was dated 1876.

Someone smacked Emmett across the shin. He yelped and shot out of his chair, turning to face his attacker, pain-filled tears blurring his vision.

Captain Li Xiuying looked up at him, arms folded across her chest and her ornate, dolphin-tipped cane dangling from the crook of her cotton-clad elbow.

“Captain Askren,” she said sternly, “Your manners are appalling.”

“Sorry, Captain Li.”

“I said your name three times, Askren.”

Emmett grimaced and then gestured to his right ear. Even after twenty-five years, he couldn’t look his old employer in the eye. “The blast. It…”

“Pity. It could have knocked some sense into you. Now sit down and close your mouth. You look like a cooked carp.”

“Captain Li did you –“

“Manners, Askren? You cannot blame that one on your ear.”

Emmett shut his mouth, feeling his cheeks burning, and offered his hand to Li. She took it, her mottled grip vice-like on his fingers, and let him guide her into the other chair.

Perched on the edge like a queen, Li patted the table and said, “I have to say, I am relieved to see you looking so healthy, Askren. Skinny, but not, well. Still got everything. When I heard the news, I expected…”

Grimacing, Emmett righted his chair and sat down, spreading his fingers wide. “We were lucky. Well, lucky enough. Superficial –“ he saw Li raise her eyebrows and he amended – “light burns only. No one killed. Just destroyed The Iris.”

“But your ear?”

“The shockwave. It’s… it’s going to get better, I’m sure. It’ll be fine. Li, tell me –”

Li arched an eyebrow at that, but asked, “Miss Keziah Nunn?”

She always insisted on that epithet. Emmett privately suspected it was to scare the kid into some semblance of obedience: no one could put more ice into a full name than a former tutor. It sent shivers up his spine and he wasn’t even the one in trouble.

“She’s alright. Wasn’t home. Only time I’ve ever been glad of her…”

“Criminal tendencies?”

“Explorations.”

Sighing, Li flapped her hand dismissively and said, “Not that I want to question yours – or even Sixsmith’s, I suppose – parenting…”

“Speaking of Six,” Emmett interrupted, heart thumping, “Did you go to Erdenbay? Did you find anything? See anything?”

Li sat with her arms folded and puffed out her cheeks in lieu of an answer.

“What does that mean? You did go, didn’t you?”

“Of course I went, Askren. I asked around – even dug out an old lumograph –“

“You’ve got lumographs of him?”

“I’ve known him longer than you have, Askren. And, strangely enough, they were invented back in the days of yore.” Li exhaled heavily. “Are you sure there was a message? That you’re not…?”

Her look laid a knife against the pit of his stomach. Even Emmett could interpret that one.

“I’m not mad.”

Li’s mouth twisted.

“I’m not. Look!”

The paper rattled in his hands as he slid it across the table. Obligingly, Li took her tiny eyeglasses – the lenses alone costing more than the entirety of Emmett’s current capital – and bent over the paper. She didn’t move.

“E-R-D-E-N-B-A-Y. Four. Eleven. The fourth of November. He was trying to send me a code!”

Li buried her face in her hands.

The knife in his stomach punctured his gut. Rocking back and forth, abruptly, painfully aware of the growing clamour of the tavern, Emmett jabbed a finger at the letter. “Don’t you see? Something was happening. He was –“ the words stuck in his throat because he’d never known them to be true – “he was scared, Li. Scared enough that he wanted me to meet him and he couldn’t say it straight. I flew out – diverted a big shipment and –”

“And he never showed.”

“No, but –“

“Why are you still here, Askren? Why didn’t you leave with every other intelligent aeronaut last year? The changeover, the riots, the permits that cost more than you make in a run, why did you not leave?”

Emmett’s jaw worked, but he couldn’t think of a response that didn’t make him sound stupid. The gaslight was flickering faster now, each flash as bright as lightning. Someone was tuning up an instrument. “I…”

“You knew it was happening, Askren,” Li said. The lines at the edges of her eyes were sharp. “I remember you voicing concerns at the time.”

Emmett nodded.

“Why didn’t you leave then? You knew there was going to be a disaster at some point, and these islands are not a good place for a child.” Her voice dropped to being barely audible. “Especially a child like yours.”

Emmett bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with my daughter. What are you trying to get at, Captain? I’m sorry, call me stupid, but you’re not making any sense.”

“How much are you short by?”

“Five pounds, Shades, Li, please just answer me.”

“I have a suggestion, Askren. You will not like it, but listen to me before you get angry.”

“Not until you tell me,” Emmett spat the words around his teeth, panic rising in his throat to thicken his accent, “what the fuck –“

“Sixsmith is dead.”

Her words hit him like a hammer. His lungs splinted under the assault, leaving a black void in his chest. Emmett opened his mouth several times, unable to draw a breath; not quite able to articulate the swirling tempest of terror, rage, and sorrow slamming into his stomach.

So, it was a small, stupid sound that escaped him. “No.”

Li leant forwards and, in an unusual display of sympathy, rested her hand on his. Emmett flinched, her touch burning his skin. “I called on an old friend in Ester –“ that meant nothing because Li counted every person she’d ever met a friend – “who has a ghastly habit of collecting obits.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for his blood to get colder, but Emmett felt ice slip into his veins as Li withdrew a folded sheet from a voluminous pocket of her dress.

“Obituaries of unclaimed bodies.” Li sighed and began to read, “Recovered thirty-first of August. 1876. Taiyeku male. Pale and of between sixty and seventy years of age. Shorter than average, medium build, short grey hair… beaten to death –“

“No!”

“And why not? Grey eyes? Sixty to seventy years of age? Pale? Grey hair –”

“Short hair. He never wore it short.”

“He could have cut it.”

“He wouldn’t. That was part of his – his particular sept. Remember? Even when he got soaked in that mud-oil-stuff in Wulder?” The laugh was an octave higher than he thought was possible, fingers drumming uncontrollably on the table. “Look, there must be – dozens of Taiyeks in Ester. It’s near a port for fuck’s sake!

“Look at the last line, Askren. Three scars on his left hip and brown birthmark below the collarbone. That’s him.”

Nausea rose in Emmett’s throat and he had to swallow, shaking his head. The musician in the corner drew her bow across the strings like some sick celestial underscore to his horror. Eyes burning, he shot to his feet, covering his mouth with his hand. The thud of the chair hitting the ground was gunshot loud, smashing through what little self-control he had left. Steadily, a drumbeat against the rising – rising everything – he began to slam a hand into the back of his neck.

“Askren?”

Too much. Everything. Too much.

Barely aware of the stares and the exclamations, Emmett fled.

The alleyway wasn’t much better. It was dark and dank, reeking of piss and refuse, but that was moderately better than the swirling barrage of humans outside it. At least the setting sun would help with his aching eyes and it wasn’t snowing.

Struggling to slow his breathing, Emmett leant up against the slick stone walls and pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth. Marketplace chatter was still spiking against his temples and – feeling like a small child – he clamped his hands over his ears. The noise dampened, falling to a manageable ache in his good ear, completely gone in his left.

Dead.

The word looped over and over in his brain as he tried to calm himself.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

“No,” he muttered. Sixsmith wasn’t dead. There had been a mistake or maybe something worse. Maybe it was some kind of trick. Maybe Sixsmith had – had faked his death. Yes, that sounded right. That sounded like something he would do. Or sounded like something Emmett could imagine him doing. Li hadn’t seen the body, right? So it wasn’t official.

Yes. Of course, the man wasn’t dead. The banging in his chest was abating as he seized this new certainty with both hands. He was just – just taking his sweet time getting here. Probably having issues with getting a permit. He’d heard they’d shut down production after the poor little Harvester kid had tried to shank Phineas Gorge on his quarterly annual inspections of his sky factories. Being a Taiyek would only double the difficulty, as unfair as that was.

Abruptly, Emmett’s stomach dropped as another memory forced its way through the throng. The oh-so-small – ha – matter of the arrears.

Dazedly, head still ringing and squinting against the low light, Emmett made his way out of the alleyway and towards Clinker’s Hill. As he began the climb, nervously ignoring the persistent calls of the Long Market which lined the rubble-strewn path, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing up at the silver specks, glittering and grumbling against the ruby-red storm clouds, several miles out into the ocean, suspended on the coasts of the blighted Harvest Isle.

He’d seen the Sky-Harvesters almost every day for five years and he still shivered at the sight. There were six of them, all tethered deep into the ocean, and sometimes he had nightmares if he watched them for too long. Each airship was a behemoth of a machine: the smallest half a mile wide, all engineless, all crammed with more than a hundred workers right in the heart of a never-ending arcane storm. The original workers – certainly all of them dead despite the Islands’ capture being less than thirty years prior – had been the families of the soldiers who had kept attacking the Suliland troops after the surrender, caged on a barren lump of rock. The life expectancy of a Harvester back then had been four years. Now it was barely nine.

So the Empire had needed new workers to reap its volatile lifeblood from the tempests. You never applied for the job. Gorge’s East Empyrean Enterprises had a steady supply of those who escaped the noose. It was the employer of thieves, turncoats…

… and debtors.

Emmett stopped at the crown of the hill, panting hard. He leant against a low brick wall, emblazoned with fresh graffiti foretelling a Miss Devitt as Throgmorton champion of 1880, and tried to get his breath back. Putting The Iris down as collateral had been stupid, he thought, but the alternative – himself or Kizzy – was unthinkable. He’d rather lose his home than his freedom.

Well, he’d rather not lose either, but it was an impossible situation. Today’s earnings (four shillings and ninepence) would barely cover food, let alone a ship, and Kizzy’s wage – while welcome – was a pittance compared to it.

#tocktick #the arcane skies #writing #writeblr #deaf #queer #writer #i'm writing a book #steampunk

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greatdragonorion · 1 month

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I'm writing a book!

I'm not sure if I posted this before, but as a part of school and my own doing, I'm writing a book! Specifically a book on dragons! The whole book will serve as field guide on the main varieties of dragons and their subspecies featuring drawings from a good friend of mine. It doesn't have a name yet, it's still in the early writing phase. Though the main selling point is that the varieties of dragons described (Westerns, Wyrms, etc.) are all based off of actual thoeries. Westerns have a symbiotic relationship with scale trees, because a there is a theory that claims that the idea of dragons comes from scale tree fossils. I can't wait to share more about it.

#writing #story #fantasy #dragon #i'm writing a book #booklr #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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zestialtheancient · 1 month

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I have to run an errand and make dinner right now but I want you to know that my friend gave me a very detailed rundown of why zestial is solid wife material and honestly they're so right tho

#ooc #mod note #I'm writing a book #kinda #It's a textbook-style manual of the worldbuilding I'm doing #it's got all the stuff. Biology. Magic. Politics. History. Geography. Economy. It might be the world's stupidest google doc.#I wouldn't count it as a book because it's just a worldbuilding sheet. I mean yeah it's textbook sized and formatted but like.#without the actual series it's not worth anything yk #I could maybe post bits of it if you guys want. It's demon based.#Zestial askblog

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attemptingwriter · 17 days

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goblin-gardens · 1 month

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Me, writing a bisexual man: he is going to love his wife SO MUCH

(and then I am going to give them an absolute troublemaker of a boyfriend.)

#personal #i'm writing a book #it's going good #i've invented three curses and two ways to call someone an idiot #and most importantly #a wife guy #wish i could invent his fucking name though #i've got entirely too many names with extraneous Ys and the others are all necessary to the plot

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justwriteyoudummy · 1 year

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[Cover Reveal]

And without further ado: Fragments of Magic - Shards of Allunatia, Book 1.

This amazing cover art was drawn by the ever talented

@reebardin

AND SHE DID SUCH AN AMAZING JOB! Go follow her and fawn over everything she posts because she deserves it +u+

So here it is!! The cover I've been hoarding to myself as a reminder that I AM getting this thing done and I AM getting this published! my driving force (and now my computer lock screen lol) I am so happy to share this and finally start using it to build the HYPE FOR FRAGMENTS OF MAGIC!!! It's been so many years in the making and I'm finally approaching the finish line of actually REALLY telling this story and I'm so excited~♥

Amber's dull life tucked away in the woods is upended when her mentor, Sage, is captured by the King's men for crimes against the crown. Armed with an elemental magic she can only half wield, Amber must set off to journey across the realm to seek help in rescuing Sage from the palace dungeons. Quickly realizing she's in over her head, she turns to a thief named Brentan to help her. With elemental magic of his own, he's more than happy to help in exchange for a mysterious favor. Seeing no other options, Amber must place her trust in the untrustworthy stranger and hope he's not like the roguish thieves from her fairy tale books.

PRE-ORDERS GO UP FRIDAY FEBRUARY 24th

RELEASE DATE: THURSDAY MAY 25th

Tropes to be found within:

+Multi POV (6 total but I promise it's not too much to handle!)

+Evil King

+Bound By Fate

+Fantasy Pantheon

+Expanded Elemental Magic

+Forced Proximity

+Magical Academy

+Rivals to Friends

+Questing

+Found Family

+Adventure

+Opposites Attract

+Reluctant Allies

Let me know what you think AND BE SURE TO GO LOVE ON

@reebardin

FOR THEIR AMAZING WORK THEY DID IN MAKING THIS COVER A REALITY! Full post on my Instagram

#Fragments of Magic #Cover Reveal #Guys I'm doing it #I'm writing a book #ASK ME ABOUT MY BOOK #ASK ME ABOUT FRAGMENTS OF MAGIC

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thevoidstaredback · 2 months

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I'm finally to the part of the story that inspired the whole thing!!!!!!

(Unfortunately, it's in the last part of a 5 part series, so it'll be a while before anyone but me sees it...)

I'm kicking my legs like a little kid, I'm so excited to finally write this part!

#i'm writing a book #writer #writerscommunity #writing #writers on tumblr #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction

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allergictocolor · 3 months

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This is why I write thorough notes on every story before I start writing the first sentence. As I'm writing my notes for my novel, little flaws and inconsistencies keep popping up, or I find a better way to write a background or a plot point, and I fix it. I cannot stress this enough:

Make notes first, then write.

I know, you fucking hated it when your English teachers told you to do it in school. But your stories aren't school projects; they're your babies. They're your precious brain babies. You want to make sure they grow up right.

So make your chapter outline (however vague at first). Name your characters and write their motivations. Square up your lore and make sure it has internal logical consistency. Do some research and decide what you want to refer to and what you want to change. Don't get too attached to ideas that aren't working.

I promise you, if you do this work before you write your first chapter, the actual writing will be so much easier. You'll be so much more likely to finish your story. It will all come together.

You wouldn't bake a cake without making sure you have all the ingredients first. Treat your stories with the same level of care.

#writer stuff #fic writer #writing advice #i'm writing a book

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aqua-loves-writing · 8 months

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Rebellious flame chapter 2 part 4

Yeah, sorry it took so long to upload this, but the inciting incident is here! CW for violence and blood

Just as the sun began to rise, they were able to reach the village, but they didn't know what to make of what they saw.

The houses were either crashed or burned to the ground. The farm animals kept running all over the place across the now blood-filled streets. No living soul in sight.

Alice panicked. She sat on the ground covering her ears.

This can't be happening. This can't be real. I tried to help them, but I couldn't do anything. Did mom and everyone else survive? Or did they get them too? They can't be dead, please don't tell me they're dead, please, please, please.

"Alice, please, listen to me."

"Professor?"

"Smell these," he picked up some flowers, "It will help you calm down for now."

Doing as she's told, she took his flowers and smelled them a bit.

"Better?"

"I…I don't know."

Unsure what to do, he reached out his hand, "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"A child like you shouldn't see these horrid things. Hold my hand and I'll help you walk through the village, does that sound good?"

"Yeah."

Holding onto his hand tightly, the two of them traversed the village. They carefully hid behind crates and fallen carriages, but fortunately enough no hooded mage was in sight.

"Be careful, you could trip here."

"Got it. I just hope we find mom and the others soon"

"Yes…child."

"Yes."

"When we're safe and sound, I promise, we'll tell you the entire truth."

The truth?

"It was painful, that's why we had to hide it away for long from you. We planned to tell you when you were older, and look where that got us."

What is he talking about?

"I hope you'll find in your heart to forgive, but…we'll accept if you choose to hate us as well"

Alice couldn't figure out what he was talking about, "What are you-"

"Alice!?"

All that she wanted to say suddenly escaped hearing that all-so-familiar voice.

"Mom?"

Opening her eyes, Alice saw her mother all torn up and wounded, the chief right behind her.

"Mom! Chief!"

Running into Talisha's embrace, she couldn't stop herself from crying into her chest.

"I'm here, I'm here."

Adam left the two of them alone as he explained everything to the chief.

"I see, that's what happened. We suddenly found several mages inside our village attacking anything in sight, that impostor must have let them in."

"I apologize…for not being able to-"

"Adam please, it wasn't your fault this happened. Besides, they wanted you to escape and live on, so please, carry on their last wishes.

"I know," he teared up once more, "I know."

The chief smiled with hints of grief across his face, "Talisha, are you two ready to go?"

"Alice?"

"Can I still keep my eyes closed? I'm..still scared."

Talisha sighed, "Of course."

They slowly go their way through the forest, and after a while, they finally reached the training area

"Stand back you all."

Reaching one of the trees surrounding the area, he pulled down one of the branches, causing a flight of stairs to appear down on the ground.

"Sweetie, want to open your eyes now?"

"Oh," she paused, "Let me keep them closed for one more moment please."

"Right," Talisha seemed worried.

She must be so disappointed in me right now? We're being attacked and I refuse to even look at her. I need to open my eyes now, but I can't. Why can't you do it you stupid-

"You think she'll be ready?"

Huh?

Without them knowing, Alice overhears Adam and Talisha whispering to one another.

"Look at her, she can't even look at anything right now, if we tell her she might-"

"And what," Adam spoke out, "You know what she's like, she'll want to know the truth sooner or later, and look what keeping quiet about that had led to!"

Talisha was quiet.

"Listen, I understand but-"

"I know you're right, but could you and the chief…be with me when we tell her? Just this once?"

"...Of course."

Mom, professor, what were you hiding away from me?

"I see the entrance!"

"Finally!"

"Isn't that great Alice! We'll finally be able to escape!"

Alice held her mother's arm tightly and couldn't move.

Alice?"

"That smell, isn't it blood?"

"...What?"

The adults looked at one another.

"Talisha, you stay with Alice. Adam, you come with me."

"Oh, going already?"

A chill went through their spines when they heard a chilling voice.

"It can't be-"

"Rue!"

Alice opened her eyes finally, "Rue?"

She saw a woman wearing black armor, a white cape waving through the air, entering the tunnels, many hooded mages following behind her, "The reunion just began, you know it's rude to leave so early."

"You," enraged, Talisha sparked large flames, "How did you find us?"

"Is that how you greet an old friend? Of course, I didn't expect the likes of you to know proper manners-"

The chief attacked her with his flames but they dodged it, "Talisha! Get her away from here!"

"Got it," she carried Alice and was able to fly through the tunnels avoiding the mages in her way, but she stopped in her tracks once she saw what happened outside.

"What," she saw all of the villagers trapped by the mages with knives against their necks, "Everyone!"

"Heh, don't tell me you were about to abandon everyone just to save that child, that doesn't surprise me, after all, it wouldn't be your first time doing so."

First time? What is she talking about?"

"Rue," the chief sparked large flames that surrounded her, "Let everyone go this instant! You'll gain nothing with this, and you know that better than anyone else-"

Before he was able to finish speaking, two mages appeared behind him, knocking him out in an instant.

"Chief!"

"Oh, quit your yelling, the man was past his prime anyway. Now, Talisha, how about you and your daughter come over for some nice tea? If you come along, we might let your villagers go their merry way, and if you don't, I might have to take Alice myself"

"You piece of-"

"Mom, behind you!"

At a moment's notice, Talisha was able to dodge a mage's attack and kicked him in the face.

"Oh you think you're so slick, don't you Adam."

Right as he was about to blast her away with flames, she summoned her own and blocked them away.

Tch," he moved away, "Annoying as always."

"And you aren't?"

Talisha and Adam did their best to fight them off and protect the entrapped villagers. Alice meanwhile, stood in the middle of it, her body shaking and her eyes devoid of light

What should I do? Should I run? No, I can't leave mom and the professor behind. Should I fight, but I might get in the way. Is there nothing I can do? Do something, you idiot, something, anything, just, move!"

"Alice!"

Right as she was about to get stabbed by a mage, she was pushed and the sword cut through Adam.

Adam was able to spark his last flames, pushing away the mage and destroying his sword at the same time

He looked back at Alice, with a smile on his face before he fell to the ground.

"Uncle!"

"Adam!"

Talisha kicked the mages surrounding her to get to him and created a large ring of flames surrounding Alice and Adam.

"Uncle, stand up, please," she shook his body several times, "We still have time, we'll just have to get rid of these guys and we'll be safe alright! So please, stay with us!"

Unable to stop herself from crying, Adam gently put his hand on her shoulder, "Sorry kid, this is the end for me…"

"Don't!"

"Now I can meet up with your dad and hunters as well, heh, I wonder if they have good drinks in the world beyond…"

"Stop! Just, stop!"

"Goodbye…and thank you."

His body slowly dissolved into ashes, only his coat remaining. Alice grabbed into his coat crying her heart out.

"Oh, poor Adam," Rue appeared behind her, "That's the best way he could have ended up, for some people must die, may he repent for his wicked way wherever he is."

"Shut it you monster!" Alice tried to punch her, but Rue blocked it.

"Is that all you got? How disappointing. Can't believe he'd sacrificed himself for the likes of you."

"Let go of my daughter-" before Talisha was able to do anything, a mage knocked her out and she fell to the ground.

"Mom!"

"Pathetic," Rue chuckled, "Now where were we?"

She grabbed Alice in a choke-hold with her left hand and sparked gray flames on her other hand, "Don't worry little girl, your time to shine is yet to come, until then, goodnight."

She shoved the flames into hers and Alice was knocked out.

#rebellious flame #chapter 2 #my writing #writeblr #writing community #am writing #creative writing #fiction #original fiction #writers on tumblr #writers corner #I'm writing a book

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spectrumlife99 · 1 year

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I’m writing a book

Yep, that’s right, I’m writing a book about my experiences as an autistic person. I actually started writing it last year and while I’ve still got a while to go before it’s done, I am definitely planning on publishing it. I’m writing it to at least try and help people learn at least a little bit more about autism and what it can be like to live with it. I believe the best way to learn about autism is from autistic people themselves, which is why I want to share my story with the world. I can’t lie though, I’m really anxious about it, but I’m doing the best I can to write each chapter and focus on the goal of helping people learn more about autism. I just wanted to share the fact that I’m writing a book, that’s really all I wanna say here.

If anyone has any questions, please feel free to go to my ask page and ask them

#actually autistic #autistic experiences #i'm writing a book #i wanna share my story #i feel this is important #please ask questions if you have any #SL99 talks

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bodhrancomedy · 1 year

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Some Writing: My Favourite Scene So Far (Sixsmith my beloved)

The night had closed in as he stepped into what was ostensibly the lavatory.

It was an alleyway with some crates tastefully arranged into some modicum of privacy, a small lantern lit over the door. It reeked. Obviously, many of its visitors were beyond aiming once they stumbled onto the scene.

Holding his breath, Sixsmith picked his way to the drain – helpfully labelled in glowing white paint – selected a conveniently eye-level brick to become suddenly fascinated with and proceeded about his business.

Just as he had committed every red crack to memory, something round and very cold pressed against the back of his neck.

He froze.

“Hello, doc. Thought we said not to wander off anymore.”

Fuck.

Somehow, his voice didn’t shake even as his heart landed somewhere around his ankles. “Carter.”

He could picture Carter’s smirk and heard someone else snigger. Two of them then. As much as he had enjoyed it, antagonising the man last night had probably not been one of his better ideas.

Neither was kicking him in the crotch, but he felt that was a crime of which the universe would absolve him.

Carter, however, would not.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“What, right now?”

An awkward almost-silence followed.

“… No, you can finish what you’re doing.”

“Very kind of you.”

The gun at his neck didn’t move an inch. His thoughts raced; plans flicked up like cards in a game and were abandoned just as quickly. If he ran now, they’d catch him. Worse than that, they’d make sure he couldn’t do that again. Fighting wasn’t an option. He’d rather go toe-to-toe with a locomotive.

He took as much time as he dared, wondering if anyone would hear him if he shouted, wondering how exactly they were planning to get him back to the tavern. If, of course, that was where they were going. They could have shot him in the head and been five streets away by the time the echoes died. There had to be some kind of transport, right? A cart or carriage of some sort – unless they were planning on marching him several streets.

And he wondered why.

Finally, Sixsmith turned around. The gun was so close he had to go cross-eyed to keep it in his vision – a battered-looking thing with a fat bullet chamber and most of the paint scratched off on one side. Carter jabbed it at him while his companion – a stout, grinning man armed with a cutlass who he didn’t know – fished in his pockets for something.

Hesitantly, he raised his hands and tried a smile. “Miss me already?”

The door was less than ten steps away, six or seven at a dash.

But they were going to be faster. Not smarter. Carter was a bully. He thought with his fists.

“Not really,” Carter said coolly, “There’s plenty of sawbones hanging around. Just need to dip into the nearest alley.”

Sixsmith widened his eyes as innocently as he could. “Why don’t you bugger off and do that then?”

The crack of his head striking the wall was gunshot-loud, a white flash blinding him. His legs buckled and the only reason he didn’t fall was the hand around his throat, pinning him against the damp brick. The gun pressed against his cheek.

Sixsmith tried to swallow. Now was the time for panicking.

“Have you always had a smart mouth?” Carter asked mildly.

He managed to shrug.

“How are you still alive?”

“Luck,” he croaked. The words were getting stuck in his throat, only partly because of the clamp on it. “C’mon, Cart-Carter. Gotta… be – easier pickin’s.”

“Yeah,” Carter said, leaning in. His breath misted unpleasantly over Sixsmith’s ear, “Not many of ‘em owe us. And –“ his tone suddenly became upbeat – “have an opportunity to pay us back.”

His lungs were glass. Breathing would shatter him.

“What…?”

“A hundred pounds,” Carter murmured, “That’s your debt repaid thrice. With interest.”

Stout grabbed his hands, wrapping twine around his wrists. The rasp shocked him back to life. Sixsmith went to yank his hands back, only for the pressure to increase around his throat.

It’d been a bloody gamble and he’d lost.

Wait.

An idea struck him. Not a good idea, but it was better than another head injury. Carefully, Sixsmith let his body fold inwards and tried to look like he’d given up.

Carter was looking at him suspiciously, but he let go. Sixsmith inhaled deeply, wincing at the dizziness which came with air. Bound hands weren’t ideal, but he’d worked with worse odds before. Admittedly, that’d been ten years and several injuries ago, but the principle of the thing wasn’t hugely different.

At least, Sixsmith hoped it wasn’t.

As the two brawlers each gripped an arm and began to march him towards the street, he managed, “Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, wait!”

“What?” Carter growled.

“Listen, listen. You like bets, right? ‘Course you do.” Digging his heels into the ground and fumbling in his pocket – hard to do with one half-working hand and another one quickly going numb – Sixsmith mined a penny from his pocket.

Stout laughed. “A penny won’t cut it, doc.”

Sixsmith shook his head and – somehow – rolled the penny across his knuckles. “C’mon. Just a wager. Indulge me.”

“You’re stalling,” Carter sneered.

“Aye, well, obviously, but c’mon.” He proffered the coin and hurried on, “I flip this coin. Heads, I go with you – no fuss or nuthin’. Tails –“

“We let you go?” Stout smirked, “Not for a hundred pounds.”

“No, no, tails – same story, right?” He tried not to look over at the door, kept his gaze focused on the smaller man. “But if it lands on its edge… I get a ten-minute head start.”

It didn’t appear to be landing, but they’d stopped. Surely, Emmett or someone would be coming to investigate his disappearance…

“On its edge?” Stout broke first. He was scowling in concentration, glaring at Sixsmith’s hands.

He grinned. “On its edge. Ten minutes. C’mon, what d’ya lose?”

Carter appeared to be thinking deeply; Sixsmith could almost see the wheels turning. Maybe he should’ve bargained for more time – made it less obviously appealingly one-sided. Stout seemed invested enough, quick glances flickering between his compatriot and prisoner.

He held his breath.

Finally, Carter shrugged. “Five.”

Spreading his hands as far as they’d go – not far at all, Shades besides, the twine was tight – Sixsmith repeated, “Five. Five is fine.”

“And if you make a peep on the way, I’ll break your jaw.”

He accepted this with a quick shake of the shoulders and tried to keep his adrenaline tamped down. Far more smoothly than he thought possible, he worked the coin into position, inhaled, and then flipped it into the air.

It spun, a silver glint caught by the solitary lantern, glittering as it reached the pinnacle of its arc and…

Sixsmith smashed his foot into the side of Carter’s knee, shoved him off-balance into Stout, and bolted.

He hit the door, seized the handle in both hands and yanked it open. Light blinded him as he stumbled over the threshold. A hand brushed his shirt as he turned to grab the inner doorknob, fingers snagging in the front of his collar. Gasping, Sixsmith slammed the door closed – earning a shrill “Fuck-bitch!” – and then leapt back as it was ripped from his hands. He backpedalled desperately, dodged a swing from Carter, tripped over an uneven floorboard, and went down hard on his side, winded. Carter grasped his trouser leg, tearing the fabric, and Sixsmith twisted, lashing out. His foot struck bone – Carter’s cheek – and he was released.

Scrambling to his feet, still scrabbling towards the bar, he forced his lungs to fill, and yelled, “Emmett! Help!”

#writing #writeblr #Arcane Engines #i'm writing a book #queer #deaf

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