#original work: aeonian

[an-unraveling-unknown]

You ever do something not thinking much of it, but after you do it you realize it was actually like a genius move?

This happened to me with my story: Started it off with a fairly standard conflict; someone wants what Tuon has. But afterward I was like "Oh shit, this is a prime opportunity to show his unyielding guardianship!" But not only that, I also realized that it did a great job at reflecting his flaws and sort of foreshadowing them to the reader

Oh man THATS SO GOOD!! It is so nifty when things work out like that, I hear you- long story relatively short, you betcha.

I had something like that with Aeonian, my Tav for Baldur's Gate 3. One of their quirks that I put down on paper early on was that the places were their muscles would be are rock hard - mainly because of the fact that they're cramming a monolithically sized form's worth of matter down into a humanoid body thats eight times smaller, hence putting a lot of strain on their body as a whole, but also à la a statue for a physical form.

"Statue for a physical form.... death and rebirth themes*......statue made of rock. wait."

Because I cannot escape my hyperfixations, geology was thrown back in my face in whence I was immediately reminded of the ROCK CYCLE:

-which can be pretty well-applied to the whole death and rebirth thing, not to mention a nifty little guideline as to how their character arc can go as well as Aeonian's place as a story in of themselves (long story, involves statues though) and their tendency to 'erode' themselves per se if it means getting where they need to be. Metamorphosis also links pretty cleanly here too, not only because of the metamorphic rock and its processes but because of parallels between Aeonian (embodiment of death [at sea]) and Thanatos, the greek personification of death, who is usually represented by way of butterflies.

I'm real bad at explaining things so I apologize if none of this made a lick of sense, I promise it's a lot clearer in my head and please feel free to ask for clarity on anything!! this is probably some of my favorite character work I've done so far

*dionysus+being the literal embodiment of death [at sea,] longer story

(Please talk more about Tuon he is SO cool and I talk too much, that's some really good character writing)

#oc lore #original character #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #bg3 #mind - Aeonian and their sister were originally created outside of Baldur's Gate for a separate project (hence the greek myth allusions) #and i kind of just plonked them in cos I didn't feel like creating a new character at the time #hence why this may seem wacko bonkers #oc #this stone theme I have going on also reflects how they act for a good while #Earlier on in the story #(at least in terms of their character in BG3) #they know they are here for one purpose; #get in #find missing sister (long story) #get out #As per detriment this also means that they're rather walled #and they only organized the adventuring party in the first place because the other three (Karlach Gale Astarion) have skills that they don' #thus actually finding their sister will go a whole lot smoother #all this to say they aren't here to make friends #but they do soften after a while (with much heat and pressure e.g combat and working together and bonding) #my oc stuff #they have so many issues man #their entire mantra basically amounts to 'if I'm not dead I'm fine' which is an idiot thing to follow when you're immortal #“I will keep moving forward as long as I breathe regardless of if there's enough of me left to move” -immortal fucking dipshit /lovingly

[aesa]

Writeblr Introduction - 2023 Edition

Hi all! Since it's the beginning of a new year, I thought it would be best to write up a new post introducing myself and my WIPs.

About Me

My pen name is Nysa, I'm 20 years old and born and raised in Australia! I am currently pursuing a degree in Space Science, in hopes of becoming an astronomer. However, unbeknownst to anyone who knows me IRL, it is also my dream to be a published author.

➳  To learn more about me, see my about page!

Writing Interests

I am a big fan of anything high fantasy and sci-fi that focuses on heavy worldbuilding and platonic/complex relationships. The more complex the worldbuilding, plot and characters are, the better, I say! And don't even get me started on found family - I live and breathe it. Some of my favourite books and series include: His Dark Materials, Dune and anything from Brandon Sanderson's Cosmere.

What You Can Expect From This Blog

WIP updates; original character and worldbuilding posts; reblogs of writing tips and resources, relatable writing experiences, and other writeblr WIPs. As well as sprinkles of random rambling posts from yours truly. I don't post/reblog anything NSFW. Sensitive topics will be tagged. I also don't really participate in WIP/character tag games at the moment because I am not actively working on any drafts. That being said, I might participate in them if it's relevant to worldbuilding, since that is my current focus.

My Writing

My WIPs are all contained within one fictional universe, which I call VESSEL. The best way to describe it is: it's a multi-series project encapsulated within a singular fictional universe, similar to Brandon Sanderson's Cosmere. Currently, there are three series and one standalone novel planned for VESSEL. More information on these can be found below. If you choose to stick around, you're in for the long haul. I will most likely spend years on each novel because that's just the way I work, unfortunately. I have a WIP home page which contains the latest information about my projects. Here, you can also find the links to my WIP introduction pages. ➳ VU

Snake Oil

➳ Grimdark, Fantasy ➳ Standalone ➳ Third Person Set before the Vessel series, Snake Oil will not only be my first WIP, but hopefully my first published novel, too! ➳ Synopsis Alongside three mysterious individuals who calls themselves the Watchmen, Rivaeyn craves for answers surrounding their peculiar nature as they lead her on a journey to a place they call home. However, when they deviate from their initial path and stumble across a commune hidden in deep forest, she senses a new plan brewing amongst her companions. Rivaeyn quickly learns that her abilities will not be enough to prove herself to her peers. Faced with deceit, betrayal and manipulation on all fronts, she must be just as cunning in order to uncover their true intentions. Though, some truths are better left buried.

Vessel

➳ High Fantasy, Science Fiction ➳ Series ➳ Third Person This could be referred to as the WIP. Sharing a title with the overall project, Vessel is the WIP that started it all. It is the origin and main focus of the entire VU project, as all of the supporting novels and series feed into it. This epic follows Astra Antares, a girl born on Earth, and her path to becoming a legend known throughout the galaxy as she discovers her true calling.

Rogue Frontier

➳ Space Western, Science Fiction ➳ Series ➳ Third Person A comedic space western that runs alongside the Vessel series. Following the adventures of a bounty crew who are begrudgingly forced to work together under an anonymous boss, over time they learn that the promise of riches isn't the only thing keeping the group from falling apart.

Aeonian

➳ High Fantasy, Science Fiction ➳ Series (?) ➳ Third Person A story set after the events of Vessel. Literally have only the faintest of ideas - will not undergo development until major progress has been made in the other series. Really, it's only here so I can remember the title I've assigned it.

Tag List

If any of these stories are of interest to you, then consider being added to a tag list! I will have a tag list for each of my WIPs, as well as an overall tag for the entire project (VU).

•●• Well, that is all from me for now. Catcha later!

#writing #writeblr #writeblr intro #WIP intro #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writer introduction #fantasy #sci-fi #VU #SnakeOilWIP #VesselWIP #RogueFrontierWIP #AeonianWIP #this introduction / masterpost is so much better than my last one #I'm even happier now that I have a one-sentence synopsis for RF and Vessel

[whumpwillow]

Decided to do some Character Disposition Sheets for my oc’s! 💚💙💜

Dev

Ezra

Haze

they only have one square in “self-deprecating” because they all hate themselves 😂

#not whump #oc dev #oc ezra #oc haze #original work: oneirogate #original work: aeonian #original work: hazeshift #character development #oc development

[admiringlove]

[2:21]

. . .

it feels nice, staying away from all the chaos for once as you sit in front of a bonfire in the middle of nowhere and stare at the fire, lost in thought. only, you aren't in the middle of nowhere.

windrise has never felt more disheartening than now. you take in a deep breath—it's shaky but it's still long, the cool air around you seeming almost icy as it's hard to even breathe tonight. the massive oak tree, a place that used to be your abditory, sits some five hundred meters away from you. your eyes have almost given up, staying bloodshot for so long makes them want to break through the dam and just flow down your cheeks, but with a gulp, you somehow manage to hold it in again. the stars shine not as brightly tonight, as you hold a skewer against the fire in front of you, twirling it slightly as you watch the mushrooms cook slowly.

you chuckle to yourself, thinking about how you got yourself into this predicament anyway—heartbroken traveler, cooking themself a mushroom skewer in the middle of the night as they stare into the stars. it was funny, how you'd originally wanted to travel across teyvat, but something kept you stuck in monstadt for the longest time.

not something, someone. kaeya alberich, to be precise. it's hilarious to you at this point. the small smirks, the reckless flirting, the drinking together every night until you fell in love with him, that stupid kiss—oh, you wish you could forget it. but you couldn't. you called yourself stupid for one reason and one reason only; as fast as your relationship with the cavalry captain began, it ended just as quick. you weren't special, even if you did feel that way, you were never special. it was ironic because people had warned you to not take anything he says seriously because he was like that with everyone. making jokes, winking every now and then, directing a romantic comment at you—you'd been warned before, but you still chose to step into an unknown room without turning the lights on. he drifted away from you just as quickly as he came close, stealing your heart in the process as he went away for probably forever.

you wished you could say at least a goodbye, you know, for old time's sake. kaeya was the one who showed you every nook and corner of monstadt—from starsnatch cliff to the city itself. he took you along with him on his adventures, introduced you to the food and the delicious wine(you had to say, his drink, 'death after noon' was to die for. he knew what he was doing when it came to alcohol). he taught you to love just to let you go in the end, that never-dissipating smirk(or was it a smile?) on his face reminiscent as you left the headquarters in the evening. you'd said your goodbyes to everyone but him. you can still remember the way you walked out of jean's office with your book filled with notes about monstadt(along with pictures of every sight), seeing kaeya just atop the stairs made you stop abruptly. that moment itself seemed aeonian, staring at him from afar as a knowing smile sat on his lips. he held himself back because he knew you were leaving. and he knew he was the reason why.

he raised his hand, and it hung in the air awkwardly, fingers suspended in the air. you sent him a smile too, though it didn't reach your eyes, because they were shielded glassily. it was a thin-lipped smile—something he knew you did when you didn't mean it. he, even though he had only known you for over a year and a half, could tell he had hurt you. you showed him your emotions like a display on a shelf, and he could see right through you.

he didn't realize he was holding his breath until the doors of the headquarters closed. your presence was completely gone, and he walked back up the stairs and into his office. everything felt blurred to him as if he needed glasses to see—until he figured out that he was close to crying. he'd taken too long to tell you how he truly felt, he had played around with your heart for too long, he'd kissed you and then lied that nothing of the sort happened because he was drunk when it did. and you immediately knew he was lying, because kaeya alberich remembers everything. he still has some type of consciousness even if he's drunk—you had found that about him when you were new to monstadt, and he'd taken you to angel's share. when you were completely hammered, you'd babbled about your dream of seeing the world, and kaeya had teased you about it the very next morning. he knew you knew; the look on your face made something in him feel a sharp pang, but he put it in the back of his mind and managed to forget, until today.

he longs to chase after you.

but he doesn't, because maybe, just maybe, you're better off this way. he prays to barbatos nowadays, joining his hands together and asking for all your wishes to come true. it's okay if he's the bleak one—just as long as you're happier off without him.

usual customers(taglist). @yuujisun @s4ijohs @bubblingclementine @sleep3deprived @halesandy @crackheadsara @loveusandoor @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x @oikalove @anotherhydrangea @katsulovee @whitplague @renee1414 @kyuudere @tobiosnoelle @sarawrz @todorki-shoto​ - taglist form in navi!

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

#kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya angst #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin kaeya #genshin imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact #kaeya alberich angst #genshin angst #genshin impact fluff

[nooowestayandgetcaught]

I have 2016 stats and 2017 stats and 2018 stats and 2019 stats

Tagging @ everybody who sees this post and wants to do this! <3

AO3 Stats!

(How to find your stats: go to your Dashboard, click on “Statistics,” then click on the year you’re answering for!)

Total 2020 Word Count: 259274 Total 2020 Hits: 216458 Total Kudos: 16028 Total Bookmarks: 2449 Total Comment (threads): 1426 User Subscriptions: 740

Links and Titles to 2020 Works:

JANUARY

A Need To Forget (E, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, 1648 words)

Nightfall (E, Maddie Bishop/Ben Pownall/Ryn, 1871 words)

Flickers In The Flame (G, Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, 940 words)

Love-Lust (E, Krolia/Romelle, 656 words)

Secrets And Untruths (T, Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Lyra Belacqua & Pantalaimon, 3882 words)

Better Late Than Never (T, Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, 4585 words)

Devil's Side (T, Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, 3455 words)

I Like You For You (No Rating, Iorek Byrnison/Lee Scoresby, 1122 words)

Weeks and Weeks (T, Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Lyra Belacqua & Pantalaimon, 3800 words)

Don't You Worry (T, Lyra Belacqua & Lee Scoresby, Lee Scoresby & Hester, 1095 words)

Take Me And Do As You Will (E, Death/Morrigan (Der Gevatter Tod | Godfather Death), Godfather Death/The Physician (Der Gevatter Tod | Godfather Death), 1159 words)

Already Extraordinary (No Rating, Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Marisa Coulter & Lord Asriel, 3540 words)

Golden Yellow Dice (M, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Han Solo, 450 words)

FEBRUARY

Tickle Me Pink (T, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, 849 words)

Watermelon (M, Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode, 560 words)

Rose Red (T, Drusilla/Kendra Young, 324 words)

Cherry (E, Sara Lance/Thea Queen, 495 words)

Scarlet (No Rating, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, 327 words)

Burnt Orange (T, Beth Kane | Alice/Kate Kane, 824 words)

Macaroni And Cheese (E, Rue Bennett/Jules Vaughn, 586 words)

Sleepless Nights (G, Azula/Yue, 543 words)

Peach (M, Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854), 641 words)

Goldenrod (G, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, 447 words)

Canary Yellow (T, Marisa Coulter/Ma Costa, 982 words)

Sunglow (No Rating, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, 932 words)

Lemon Lime (T, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, 806 words)

Seafoam Green (No Rating, Robin Buckley/Kali Prasad, 428 words)

Rainforest (G, Katie Bell/Angelina Johnson/Alicia Spinnet, 553 words)

Emerald (No Rating, Anna/Elsa, 702 words)

Mint (T, Karolina Dean/Nico Minoru, 100 words)

Teal (M, Eleanor Guthrie/Max, 557 words)

We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off (To Have A Good Time) (No Rating, Tony Stark & Steve Rogers & James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson & Natasha Romanov & Clint Barton & Peggy Carter, 654 words)

Cerulean (No Rating, Cheryl Blossom/Betty Cooper, 500 words)

Pride Before The Fall (T, Lyra Belacqua/Marisa Coulter, 827 words)

Turquoise (E, Doreah/Daenerys Targaryen, 458 words)

Blueberry (G, C.C./Euphemia li Britannia, 523 words)

Cobalt (No Rating, Thelma Dickinson/Louise Sawyer, 301 words)

The Devil's Daughter (E, Black Philip/Thomasin, 989 words)

Indigo (M, Jo Harvelle/Meg Masters, 398 words)

Plum (No Rating, Elphaba Thropp/Galinda Upland, 404 words)

Violet (E, Korra/Asami Sato, 270 words)

Lilac (T, Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau, 714 words)

Lavender (G, Marcie/Peppermint Patty, 681 words)

Steel Gray (M, Kawakami Tomie/Chiemi (The Long Hair In The Attic), 870 words)

Black As Nightblood (No Rating, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, 693 words)

Pale White (G, Emilyko/Kate Shadow-sama, 276 words)

MARCH

Bright and Blood Red (T, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, 473 words)

In a Second (T, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, 2550 words)

Lost In Paradise (No Rating, Thirteenth Doctor/Dhawan!Master, 2236 words)

Never To Surrender (T, Beth Kane | Alice & Kate Kane, Beth Kane | Alice/Kate Kane, 409 words)

Darkest Before The Dawn (T, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, 1385 words)

Trouble In Here (M, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, 2538 words)

I’ll Be Dreaming Of You (T, Thirteenth Doctor/Dhawan!Master, 818 words)

Too Lovely By Far (T, Fa Mulan/Li Shang, Fa Ping/Li Shang, 1280 words)

APRIL

Stay The Same

(G, Phichit Chulanont & Christophe Giacometti, 100 words)

Despair On Your Lips (T, Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, 100 words)

Hello Again (No Rating, Thirteenth Doctor/The Doctor's TARDIS, 100 words)

Warm Hugs (G, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, 100 words)

Find Me In Orbit (T, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, 100 words)

All Night Long (M, Fa Mulan/Original Female Character(s), 2061 words)

Up In Smoke (T, Korra/Asami Sato, 1286 words)

Bala Lilas (E, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, 1621 words)

Searching For You (No Rating, Leia Organa/Rey/Luke Skywalker/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, 896 words)

Not Without A Fight (T, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, 1528 words)

It'll Be Fine (M, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, 3209 words)

Vœux (G, Prince Charming/Cinderella, 3375 words)

Between Grief and High Delight (No Rating, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, 30943 words, UNFINISHED)

MAY

The Child (M, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song, 4463 words)

Vengeance (M, Betty Cooper/FP Jones II, Betty Cooper & FP Jones II, 600 words)

It Takes Two (G, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, 100 words)

Oof (T, Sing Soo-Ling & Shorter Wong, 100 words)

Sweet Slow Motion (E, Peter Parker/Tony Stark, 100 words)

For Better Or Worse (No Rating, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, 100 words)

Without Warning (T, Keith/Shiro, 100 words)

Work In Progress (No Rating, Xander Harris & Buffy Summers & Faith Lehane & Angel, 100 words)

I Got You (And You Got Me) (T, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, 1047 words)

JUNE

Nedovtipa (T, Aang/Zuko, 342 words)

Blood Orange (No Rating, Chiyoh/Margot Verger, 522 words)

Hygge (G, Anna/Elsa, 370 words)

Redamancy (M, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, 435 words)

Noceur (No Rating, Dick Grayson/Wally West, 689 words)

Paroxysm (E, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, 310 words)

Trouvaille (T, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, 551 words)

Frabjous (M, Keith/Shiro, 601 words)

Minutiae (G, Koriand'r/Raven, 139 words)

Sarang (No Rating, Hitachiin Hikaru/Hitachiin Kaoru, 363 words)

Basorexia (T, Ros/Sansa Stark, 467 words)

Fika (G, Aziraphale/Crowley, 269 words)

Operose (No Rating, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, 392 words)

Akrasia (T, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, 386 words)

Sophrosyne (G, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, 244 words)

Lagom (M, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji/Shorter Wong, 847 words)

Nebulochaotic (No Rating, Shuri & T'Challa, Michelle Jones/Shuri, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds/Peter Parker, 287 words)

Whelve (G, Prince Justin | Turnip Head/Howl Pendragon, 342 words)

Adronitis (No Rating, Kasumi | Misty/Satoshi | Ash Ketchum, 276 words)

Gigil (E, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, 554 words)

Selcouth (G, Dib/Zim, 362 words)

Charmolypi (T, Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones, 703 words)

Vorfreude (M, Gwen/Morgana, 886 words)

Perambulate (G, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline, Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee, 1358 words)

Vagary (G, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 1048 words)

Yuputka (M, Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, 554 words)

Erlebnisse (T, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, 1017 words)

Trapped In Yearning (E, Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, 1645 words)

Aeonian (G, Korra/Asami Sato, 852 words)

Irusu (E, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, 905 words)

Concinnity (No Rating, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 694 words)

Quatervois (T, Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, 522 words)

JULY

Varb (T, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, 852 words)

Make A Good Memory (T, Aang/Katara, 1145 words)

With Masterful Deceit (E, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, 3960 words)

Good Girls Go To Heaven (No Rating, Wendy Darling/Mermaids, 1258 words)

Give In To Me (E, Dark Rey/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, 1212 words)

Take It Slow (G, Izumi/Kya II, 739 words)

Hands Free (No Rating, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, 1344 words)

#about rie

[aeonian-scribbles]

Hello! I’m new to the writeblr community, so I figured I’d introduce myself. 

I am @aeonian-scribbles, but you can call me Kat. My blog will be a LGBT+ positive space (I personally am bi), and many of my characters will reflect that. I am currently in the process of writing Syzygy, a fantasy action novel. (Here is a link to my Syzygy page.) Syzygy is my main WIP but I’m writing two others as well: Exhibit of Time and Memory Lost. I also dabble in poems, flash fiction, and the occasional fanfic drabble. However, this blog will mostly post original work.

Things You Can Expect:

Writing resources (both original and reblogged)

Tips and tricks on worldbuilding (mainly fantasy related worldbuilding)

Excerpts from my WIPs

Occasional flash fiction pieces and poems

I’d love to hear from other writers, so please reblog if you’re another Writeblr so I can check you out!

#kat speaks #writeblr

[easkyrah]

Aeonian Part 3

part 1 here  •  part 2 here

I apologize for the wait. It’s here and a full fledged ten pages on Microsoft. Your (monthly) nessian infused with greek mythology.

Tags: @katgirl05, @latinafangurl, @nicoletapink, @maachan-is-hungry, @literarynonsense, @aqueenpromised, @16ozamericano, @hierophantangel, @miss-phengophobia, @samaykay912, @bluephoenix222, @yellow-spiraledbook, @hashtolanashoba, @erwin5253, @jjellybean, @daeniran, @rowanismybae, @bloodshednesta, @illyrianinterrasen, @sarahjtrash, @midnightbluhm, @chocolateserialkiller, @herladyshipxx, @willsrune, @deezrmuhsheeple, @goldbooksblack, @dreamingofazriel, @sskoob

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed! Large thanks to @books-andhot-chocolate for beta’ing :)

Aeonian 3

I don't ever wanna be someone who will never recognize themself I don't ever wanna be someone hollow from the inside out This could be all we've been looking for This could be all we've been waiting for — The Score, Don’t Wanna Be

I. Nesta poured herself a cup of coffee, watching the steam spiral through the air, her palms turning red from the heat. The room she found herself situated in had everything she would have ever wanted, all for the perfect excuse to remain holed up in this place. Bitter, rich beans for servings of dark liquid, a library chock full of thick books, and a wide bathtub filled with steaming water...perhaps it was a ploy by the God of War to tempt her more than she already was. 

Nesta brooded in the dark chambers, running the pads of her fingers along the silky, black blankets and smooth mattress. She’d woken up alone, curled up in fetus style, a position she had long abandoned as her father did to her. To resume such comfortable, near childish posture of limbs meant her body felt...safe. 

She’d had to research how Gods and Goddess affected her conscience later. Yet a small part simply knew it wasn’t from the blood of immorality, but the tugging at the back of her mind...the claimed bond reverberating, tethering her to a being beyond mortality, and thus arguably, morality. 

Her toes slipped under satin material, soft against her skin. When she’d asked Elain who’d changed her clothes, the younger sister had merely blushed and shook her head, saying it wasn’t her. Nesta had balled her fists and searched for body for any marks—but there was none, save for the words carved into her mind. 

“Only you,” Elain breathed. “Would attract attention from the God of War.” And it was another God who’d taken their younger sister from them. Heavens forbid if she’d let Elain reach the same destiny. The revelation of the falling of family had slowly wormed into her, and had finally found its roots. “Nesta,” Elain said, staring at her turned head. “We’re together. We’re alright.”

Alright.

Nesta didn’t feel alright. 

She could still feel the sands running all over her, feel the dirt and grime, the blood from her own mouth stuck in her throat. Gaps and scars found home in her body, and everytime she closed her eyes, she could see the torches flaring that taunting, flickering light trying to douse her over and over again. 

Village after village had ousted and isolated her after they tried to break her down to be one of them: officials, constables, or anyone with a greater rank than the bourgeoisie ordered to drown her in bills, anchor her with lies, or throw her overboard into a sea of piranhas. And when that hadn’t worked, Ianthe had delivered the final straw—burn her in a pyre.  

Nesta sat still in her blankets. Did society not know that when the sea drained her, the air inhaled her, and the fire incinerated her, the wind always blew the ashes back to the shore? The scars on her skin ticked as a time testament to humanity and the sacrifices she would slave at the altar no offering of gold or ambrosia could afford. 

Everywhere she went, she was sought out. With weapons, with ire, with malice. And she reciprocated all that in her own rightful wrath. Elain reserved no part of the vicious cycle, and with Ares’s hint to take her somewhere safe, somewhere so another piece of her family wouldn’t have to fall prey into immortal hands...

“How long have I been out?”

A pause. Then—“A week.” 

Nesta didn’t wait a heartbeat. “And you’ve been here for a week?” The cold edge in her voice sent shadows scattering at the edges of her vision. “Alone?” 

A part of her was glad that the God of War had left her sister by herself, but another part of her silently seethed—her deal to allow the God to claim her came with the contingency he’d protect Elain...not leave her alone to her own innocent devices, which when exploited—as Nesta had been in that barn three years ago—was sometimes more dangerous. 

Elain smiled, a ran a finger behind a lock of hair. “Mostly. But for the times I ventured out, I’ve met the most...kind, albeit silent, man.”

Man—God or not?

The hair on Nesta’s skin prickled, and dark shapes seemed to scatter at the peripheral of her vision. She rapidly blinked, and then spat out, “You are in the residence of a God. One of the twelve Originals, in fact. Did you not think any of his associates would have their blood run with immorality as well?” Nesta could only think of the names of deities that Ares aligned himself with, most with bloodlust that would blind her other sister. 

“I try not to think of myself as Ares’s mere associate,” a voice returned, and Elain’s face went beet red. The eldest Archeron spun around, and stared at a man with not that signature smirk, but with…

...a slight smile, hazel eyes absorbing her appearance. A cold but not cruel expression coated his face. High cheekbones and elegant features, Nesta supposed he’d fit in right with the gentry. Except that the sheer slope of muscles against his collared shirt, and the scars over his neck that slivered all the way to his hands, severe red marrings that showed money could not cover everything—

—he arched a brow, perhaps waiting for Nesta to scream, to faint, or to...act like any other woman he’d no doubt crossed. But the Archerons were anything but delicate and Nesta had mastered her own emotional scars. 

“Interesting,” the man said, and tucked his hands into his pockets. 

His dark eyes blinked towards Elain, who twisted her hands—an action Nesta knew all too well Elain did when she was nervous. But if her younger sister wasn’t running away in fear, and stood in the presence of this male, much less in the house—

A feeling of serenity washed over her, the constant pressure at the back of her mind webbed in a cocoon of fear and anxiety ebbing away. The shadows that seemed to dart at the corners of her vision dissolved away, and seemed to be in her mind, soothing, a crooning of calmness.

This tranquility didn’t belong to her, and Nesta felt a feeling akin to panic rise within her, a thrashing serpent that beat out the pacifying peace loitering. 

The eldest Archeron scrutinized the male in front of her. Attention seemed to dart off of him, and Nesta had to focus in order to concentrate on the male who had enchanted her sister. 

“How?” she demanded.

The man seemed to understand her question. “I am—” he paused, as if he expected Nesta to know—and the fact that she didn’t had her silently seething. 

Elain offered them both a ghost of a smile, and skipped to Nesta’s side. But her eyes were not on her, but—

“I am Erebus,” the man said, whose eyes connected with Elain’s rich-brown ones, as if Nesta wasn’t in the room at all, her fists clenched. The man wasn’t a God or a mortal. He was something much more primitive—

“—Titan,” Nesta spat.

Those warm, hazel eyes darted from the younger Archeron to her, turning into something much more of a darker shade. The light seeping in from the windows turned pitch-black, wings of stygian fluttering around the room. The furniture of the kitchen blinked away into shapeless fragments, and a high-pitched whistling pierced her ears. 

Elain’s hand immediately snatched hers. “She’s not a threat.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta snapped. Erebus wasn’t just any other Titan, but—

Elain tried, “—he may be a primitive Titan, born of Chaos, and a personification of darkness, but—”

“—I am her bodyguard,” the Titan sulked, and the hurricane of streaks of shadows whirled to a faster crescendo, the hair on her arms prickling. “Upon a favor Cassian called in.” 

“Cassian?” Nesta demanded, clutching Elain’s arm, her senses running haywire, unable to see, unable to think—

“That would be me,” a voice boomed, and the darkness sucked out the window within a heartbeat, the sunrays pouring into the room.

Elain blinked a storm, adjusting to the light, but Nesta’s own steel orbs pinned onto the God of War who had seemingly appeared into existence in his full armor, a sight that had her more calm than Erebus’s tricks.

“Interesting,” the Titan said again. Elain’s squeezed Nesta’s hand. 

But the eldest Archeron couldn’t take her eyes off the scope of the bronze that hugged his frame well. There was something about seeing him in the daylight than the frigid, frozen, and foulness of the night where unspoken deeds transpired. The red jewels, seven of them to be precise, glowed brazenly, white rays of light bouncing off each facet—

“Done ogling?” the God smirked, crossing his arms, looking utterly pleased. His stare irked her to no ends, and if he thought he was worth that and more his self-inflated ego staked itself, then he was wrong.

Nesta dismissed his with a glance and turned to the primordial deity, equally repeating her question: “How?”

A snarl came from the God of War’s direction, and Nesta could imagine the scowl on his rough hewn face when the Titan didn’t pay him a second glimpse either. 

“You must remember that I am not the original Titan. While most have been deceased, I’ve gotten in the good graces, you could say—” The God of War snorted, but Erebus paid him no mind. “—of another one of the Twelve Original Gods.” The Titan swallowed, and his eyes flitted down to his hands—or the lack of them, securely snug within his pants pockets.

“That’s enough,” Ares snapped. “That’s his story. It’s not pleasing.”

“Nor is yours,” Erebus returned quietly, which was somehow more lethal. When Ares’s hazel eyes flashed, he added, “But when are the immortals’ stories ever—” Nesta felt his eyes on her “—pleasant, mortal or not, Cassian?”

Something inside Nesta twisted, and before Cassian could reply, she said to the Titan, “I’m sorry for overstepping.”

A hint of a smile flickered across his face, and he gently shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m Azriel. My name before I inherited Erebus’s...powers and duties, to put it simply.”

Any other male would have offered their hands to shake, and any other female would have grasped it willing. 

But they were not any other. 

Cassian coughed. “I’ve assigned Az to protect your sister, as part of my claim per your term.”

“And Az promised to take me to the woods to gather flowers, a rare breed in this area,” Elain chirped. 

Flowers. 

Nesta felt something at the back of her throat. Elain had stopped collecting flowers ever since Feyre had been stolen from them, gone with the wind. But now—Nesta didn’t even dare start to comment on the fact that Elain called him Az, as if he were more than an acquaintance. 

She watched the Titan dip his head in Elain’s direction. “As my lady wishes.” He slipped his hands out of his pockets, and Elain gave her a small smile before walking into his embrace. In a flash of darkness that swirled in a spiral, both disappeared.

“That’s called winnowing,” Cassian said. 

Nesta stared at where the Titan of the Night had disappeared with her sister. Rosiness had been on Elain’s cheeks, and the way the male had freely showed his scarred hands around Elain…

“Interesting, huh?” the male said, a bit of blade in his words, mocking Azriel’s former ones. He ambled towards the fridge, as if it hadn’t been coated in sheer blackness before, and pulled out a carton of milk. Snapping off the cap, he gulped down a huge sip, wiped off the remaining white on his lips with the back of his hand, and held out the jug towards her. “Want some?”

Nesta sunk into a rough seat, fingers running over the familiar fabric of hard leather. A sigh unwillingly escaped her mouth, and in a flash, the God of War was in front of her, the seat groaning as he took a spot next to her. 

“Are you...hungry?” he asked, and by the hesitation in his voice, Nesta knew he wasn’t insinuating anything else except for the blueberry muffin cupped in his palms. 

II.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel there was so incredibly wrong with this house that seemed to have everything she wanted. Before she could open a window in the drawing room, it had miraculously swung out by its panels, a little bit of the afternoon warmth seeping in. 

After waiting for Elain’s return—like a dog waiting for his master, as Cassian had put it, before Nesta had dropped a plate on his toe, and he had meekly slouched off—she’d fallen asleep in the library. 

As she stretched her arms, her book fell off her lap. The curtains had fallen over the windows, and when Nesta snatched them back, she realized it had grown dark outside. Picking up her skirts, she walked around the house, lights flickering on wherever she walked past. 

Spotting a glow of light under one of the wooden doors, she pressed the book against her chest with one arm, and used her other to twist the knob. She poked her head in, expecting Elain to be potting plants, her skin dusted with soil, but instead she saw a sight for sore eyes.

The God of War, Ares—Cassian—laid lazily sprawled across an enormous bed of black satin sheets. From his back stretched wings—large membranous and massive arching things—that slightly twitched when Nesta opened the door. His entire toros was on display, from the sinewed shape of his coiled arms to the rugged slope of his shoulder blades down to the abdominal muscles displayed over his chest. The blankets tangled over his lower portion, and a low groan parted from the God’s mouth, his tongue darting across his peeled lips. 

She swallowed thickly, and retreated faster than a lightning bolt, and shut the door with a soft click. 

To see the God of War so completely exposed and vulnerable left a sour residue on her mouth...but for the larger taste, she had felt—

“—Nesta?” a soft voice said, and Nesta squinted through the darkness until the familiar flare of lights in the house turned on.

Elain stood in front of her in the middle of the hallways, dirt on her arms and leaves in her hair. Her skin was not the normal porcelain, and her features had softened. She was glowing, and she looked healthy.

“Are you lost?” she said, and nodded her head in the other direction. “I can show you your room.”

Mutely, Nesta trailed after her sister, and plucked the thorns from her hair. “How was your day?”

Elain immediately perked up, her brown hair more golden. “We’re hidden in a place coated in magic and such by several of the Twelve Originals. All but two have forgotten about this place—Ares and the one who gifted Az with his status.”

Gifted, Nesta mused, and watched Elain’s fingers rub the dirt from her hands. “So the plants here have been overflowing and teeming, thriving for Gods who knows how long. Needless to say, they have evolved with some protections—”

Elain touched her unblemished wrist “—I accidentally cut myself, but Az healed me.”

Nesta stared at Elain, who rambled on about her day. Azriel, Titan of Darkness and Shadows, made her sister, the framed fragile fawn, the flower-grower, and the ever gentle heart, more than happy. He’d restored Elain to the state of how she lived before Feyre had been taken. 

If he left—

—Nesta’s own twisted. For Elain’s happiness, she would remain claimed by the God. When Elain opened her door, Nesta tossed the book Claims and Curses to the corner of the room. To see the smile on her younger sister’s features was enough, she told herself. She wouldn’t try to break the bond, the claim. 

Elain skipped to the armchair near the vanity, and daintily sat herself onto the cushions. She stilled for a second, and then shuddered out: “But that wasn’t it. The woods were not completely empty. There were hunters, and even Azriel didn’t know how humans entered this magic protected area.”

“Can the Titan not take care of the threats himself?”

“There’s something else that has been running around the trees have been whispering, Nesta.” Elain whispered, and the eldest Archeron flinched at fear in her eyes. When the fair-haired girl reached out, Nesta quickly crossed the room, and kneeled in front of Elain, taking the her shaking hands without question, trembling fingers intertwining with Nesta’s cold ones. 

The younger Archeron sister heaved a deep breath. “Tomas has been claimed by a God.”

The eldest Archeron sister stilled, knees locking, holding her own breath.

“That’s not all.” Elain mumbled. “He’s looking for you—Nesta Archeron.”

White light flashed across Nesta’s eyes, and when she blinked, she wasn’t in the candle-lit room with Elain in front of her. Instead, she was at the church in the first village where she had stayed, where her father had made her last offering. 

III.

A week before

“Witch,” Tomas sneered. “She’s a witch!”

“Can you provide proof?” the magistrate, a white-haired elder dancing near death’s feet, croaked out. Frail, trembling hands rolled the head of his staff around wrinkled skin as he leisurely reclined back against golden cushions.

“Easy,” the younger male begun smiling, his sharpened face smoothing out.

“Burn her. The fire doesn’t harm her. At all.” When the magistrate didn’t answer, Tomas added, “The first time I made her cook for me and she knocked over a heated pot in anger or clumsiness. The flames underneath should have given her more than third-degree burns. It didn’t. Then I started ‘accidents’ to test my theory. It’s true.”

The older man froze, still, contemplating Tomas’s words. The grandfather clock tolled twelve times, each ring filling the expanse of the church, casting a cover of ancient tranquility. His eyes glazed over the dusted pews, and his hands gripped his staff firmly. 

“Well?” Tomas said impatiently, eyes darting around. “Witch. Our rules say to execute them.”

Brows slowly furrowed and stitched together, and the older man slowly rose. Tomas retreated a step down from the base of the platform, and watched the magistrate’s Adam’s apple bob. “She isn’t a witch, Mandray,” he said solemnly.

“Witches burn. But a demi-god does not.”

Tomas’s beady eyes narrowed, and his fingers clenched. “I am not equipped to take down a part-God abomination.”

“No,” the magistrate exhaled. “You are not. But being demi-God yourself would even the scales, and I am familiar with a plethora of Gods looking to bring down an Olympian—Ares especially.”

Tomas began smiling again, and slowly, the tension released from his body. “Consider the scales already skewed. Ianthe and her goddess have already begun arming themselves.”

The magistrate looked up to the dome of the church as Tomas, ignoring the old man’s mutterings about prophecies and seers, stalked out.

IV.

Nesta was silent, clutching Elain’s hands desperately. Then she broke the fragility in the air: “How did you show me that? When could do that? How did you know?”

Elain looked down, rubbing her thumb over the top of her hand. “I—I don’t know. I was crouched in a bush, which is where I got all the thorns, and recognized the hunters from those in our first village. And seeing them—just triggered that vision. When they turned away, I ran and Azriel swooped in—he has wings, did you know that?—and asked me what happened. I just touched one of the blue stones of his armor—you know how Ares has red ones?—and I could project that past vision to him. After that, he dropped me off back here and went away to investigate.”

Nesta collapsed onto the floor. There were so many questions, the least of which observing how Elain called the primordial Titan by his nickname, and the God of War by his title. But Tomas—Tomas was after her.

“Is it true?” Elain whispered. “That fire doesn’t burn you?”

Nesta let out a dry laugh, and ran a hand over her face. “Yes. And you have these—conjured dreams while awake?”

“They’re more like nightmares,” she whispered. “But yes. The magistrate said we were demi-Gods…”

Nesta voiced the unanswered question: “Then what curse did Feyre have that had a God or Titan snatch her from us?”

A/N: Aaaand that’s a wrap! The next part will incorporate the ideas that I promised to add! I’m keeping each part of Aeonian about ten pages on my draft.

#aeonian #greek mythology based #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #sarah j maas

[spfmp2021]

T-shirt Design Process (2)

In my opinion, this design is very daring and outcasted from the rest of my designs and ideas, although it's going to be beneficial because it will be different from other designs to promote other interested costumers so that there are various styls for different styles and fashion. I tried to follow some trend from t-shirt designs that I have seen around and I really liked them and it was very popular. I must say that the leaves are very simplistic and maybe too simplistic, if I maybe added some textures to the leaves it would've been a lot more stronger.

Firstly, I have found a leaf picture from pexels.com and traced the outline and layered them together to make some shadow work, and then I made the background into a different colour from creating a rectangle layer on the bottom layer of the document. I made sure the different shade of green leaves is perfectly offset so that it looks clean when you visualise into it.

I started to experiment with different linear arts and colours till I'm satisfied with my work, although the original colours I chose doesn't match with the work I'm doing and I'm quite nervous that it wouldn't work out together so I spent most of my time choosing the right colours that goes well together and took some inspirations from the pinterest posts I saved altogether.

After I chose the right colours, I created/written a handwritten word of my brand Aeonian to make it look like a limited edition and to promote my brand sneakily. I then created a layer for the paper texture to make it look rustic and a lot more strong than the original design without a texture.

#development #outcome

[kayliemusing]

26: WIP Questionnaire

1. What is the title of your WIP? - Currently I am going by the title "Wake"

2. What is your WIP about? - My main character, Holly Vincent, goes on a quest to find The Cursed Fate in hopes of saving her recently disappeared mother, but she must hurry because her time is running out.

3. What Genre is your WIP? - YA Fantasy-Romance

4. What is the target audience for your WIP? - 12+

5. How long have you been working on your WIP? - I've been planning it for about four years or so. Yikes. But this last year has been the most progress I've made.

6. What draft are you on? - The first draft

7. Did you plot your WIP before you started writing, or are you pantsing it? - I'm trying to plot it to the best of my ability. I've just started trying to write it, but I fall in between planning and pantsing. I like to have an idea of where I'm going but I find I'm most creative while I'm physically writing and in that headspace so I'm giving myself lots of room to make things up as I go.

8. What program do you write your WIP in? - Microsoft Word because I know it the most lol. (I've been considering trying out Scrivner tho)

9. What inspired your WIP/how did you think of it? - I initially got the idea in 2017 so I can't remember the "aha!" moment of my idea, but I was really inspired by Hades and Persephone in Greek Mythology as well as the Moirai in Greek myths. I was also inspired lots by the A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J Maas, as well as the Caraval series by Stephanie Garber.

10. Share a song that makes you think of your WIP. - My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift

11. What is your WIP’s aesthetic? - I don't have a name for the aesthetic really, but in my pinterest board, my wip is heavily inspired by: Victorian London, medieval/fantasycore, starry skies, the colour gold, dark green forests.

12. Do you want to publish your WIP traditionally, self publish, post it online, or keep it for yourself? - I plan to eventually publish it traditionally, but I'm open to it also just being kept with me if I decide later on that I don't think it should be published.

13. A little bit about your protagonist? - Holly Vincent is my main protagonist- she's the character I thought of first. She is 18 years old and living within the mortal lands. However she's a little more complicated than the people around her, because she's clairvoyant in a land where magic or any kind of sixth sense is completely forbidden. Her mother was also clairvoyant, and Holly had ended up spending most of her teen years taking care of her mother who eventually lost her grip on reality due to her clairvoyance, and because of this Holly doesn't like to press into her abilities. She's quite scared of them. She's also very loyal, emotionally driven and completely altruistic which kind of sets off her adventure to find/save her mother. She's also very driven to find her purpose.

14. A little bit about your supporting cast? - Arrow is a bandit that runs into Holly and eventually accompanies her on this journey to find The Cursed Fate. Arrow is a very lost character and really struggles with understanding who he is or what his purpose is, which kind of gives him grounds on relating with Holly more than he really realizes. He's very smart, curious, and independent, and he's quite observant. - Becca Davis who has grown up alongside the throne because her father is the King's Royal Guard. She's best friends with the King's son Declan. She also has big dreams to become a Knight, even though girls aren't allowed to be. She's very determined, reliable, independent and strong willed. hardworking. She has a complicated relationship with her father, which is a large driving factor in her story, and she really values his approval. - Another character who was going to be part of Becca's story was one of my favourite characters who I'm in love with. His name is Cassian and he is one of the Fates known as a the Fate of Love and Passion. He's very bougie and loves a life of luxury. He's always dressed immaculately and cares deeply about his outward appearance. He's also very sly, charming, and playful. - Note: Becca and Cassian were originally a part of an idea I had to make this book Multi-POVs, with the POV centered around Becca's journey. I'm leaning towards keeping it part of one book as the events in Becca's journey are in the same world and time as Holly's journey. I'm having trouble mostly trying to tie these two together in a unique/interesting or realistic way. If I decide to cut them from Holly's book, I planned to have Becca and Cassian have their own spinoff. (But I'm heavily leaning towards lacing Becca's journey with Holly's.)

15. A little bit about your antagonist? - There's a couple of antagonists in this book. For Becca, there's Declan who used to be her best friend but due to circumstances (which adhere to her plotline) they have a falling out and he becomes her enemy. Declan is my favourite antagonist, because he's not *really* an antagonist but a victim of tragedy and grief. It's his grief that propels him into becoming the antagonist. For Holly, her antagonist is actually her life's fate, which is to die in her eighteenth year. Because of this, she battles a lot of illness throughout the book which complicates other obstacles as well.

16. What is the setting of your WIP like? - My setting is set in two places. We have the Mortal Lands, which is home to the humans. The Mortal lands known as Estermere is filled with vast countrysides, mountains and hills. Providence is the city where Holly and Becca grew up is very inspired by Victorian London, so big brick buildings, cobblestoned streets, big markets. The weather is often cloudy and grey, but the sun does like to peak out during the summer months. - My second setting is in the non-mortal lands that I call Aeonian. Aeonian is home to those who are not human and is filled with magic. Aeonian is filled with clear, starry skies, crystal-clear lakes and rivers, bright vegetation and just very fairytale-esque. - I don't know if my characters are ever going to explore this place, but a part of the mythology in my story is in a land called The Haven, which is home to deities and gods/goddesses. It's more brutal there, very cold and grey, sharp-looking buildings, rocky and dark.

17. One fun fact about the world of your WIP? - In Aeonian, there's a mountain called Lada's Mountain which was named after the goddess Lada after the god Ozen cast her out of The Haven and she fell into Aeonian. A large mountain grew in her place and now Lada's Mountain is known as a mountain of blessing and prosperity.

18. Do you have any faceclaims/picrews for your characters? - I do! But they're all on my pinterest board and I don't feel like posting them here lol.

19. Share a song that makes you think of your protagonist. - Holly: Oceans by Seafret - Arrow: Natural by Imagine Dragons, alternatively Neptune by Sleeping At Last reminds me of him as well. - Becca: My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift (this song fits a lot of the main characters in my story so I also consider it the "theme song" of my wip) - Cassian: Outgrown by Dermot Kennedy

20. Share a song that makes you think of your antagonist. - My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift also reminds me of Declan. It reminds me of Becca and Declan’s friendship on a whole.

21. Does your WIP have romance? If so, what is your favorite couple? - Obviously!! I live only for romance novels so it's natural that I write them too. Cassian and Becca in my head are my favourite. Arrow and Holly are cute, but Cassian and Becca are the two I'm most excited to write which is a large reason I don't want to cut them from this book because I just *have* to write them, immediately.

22. Favorite friendship in your WIP? - I'm planning for Holly and Becca to have a good friendship in this book but I'm still struggling on working out the kinks. I would also say Declan and Becca because they made such good friends, but their friendship is mostly turmoil and betrayal so it just ~hurts me~

23. Characters with the best dynamic? - Probably Arrow and Holly, even though Cassian and Becca are my favourite couple.

24. Share a song that makes you think of your favorite character dynamic. - I don't think I have another song oops!

25. Easiest character to write? - Cassian

26. Hardest character to write? - Oddly enough, Holly is someone I find hard to write. I've just begun my first draft but a couple months ago I start with writing short stories on the characters just to get a grasp on them as people and I've found Holly very hard to write.

27. Which character is the most like you? - I think Becca is a little bit like me.

28. What is the strangest thing you’ve had to research for your WIP? - I don't think I've had anything too strange yet because I've just started, but there's been tons in other stories lol

29. What is the latest you’ve stayed up/earliest you’ve gotten up to write? - I think I stayed up until 1 AM writing once and the earliest I got up was 9 AM, but I don't like to write in the mornings because I find my creative threshold is usually between 4 pm - 11 pm. (Maybe even starting later than around, around 5 or 6 pm). I've always wanted to be the writer that writes in the morning because I get anticipation anxiety when I haven't done anything but it's just not it for me lol.

30. Do any of the names in your WIP have significance? - Yes! But mostly the places are significant. Holly's mom has a significant name because her name is Asteria which means astrology or dreams, and because she's clairvoyant I thought it fit. I have the name Maeve for one of the Fates sisters; Maeve mostly means 'Intoxicating' I think, but I read on pinterest it can also mean 'evil queen' (but I highly doubt that's for real lmao) but the evil queen was the reason I named that character Maeve, because she's the Original sister Fate that is known as the 'mother of death'. As for my geography, Providence means God's will which can also mean destiny so I thought it tied in with the theme of this novel. Aeonian means everlasting, which I felt also fit with the theme, but that's it as far as names!

31. Favorite line from your WIP? - I don't think I have one yet, because I've only just started lol.

32. Is your WIP action heavy, or more relaxed? - I think it'll meet in the middle. I'm worried about writing action because it's not my strength, but there's definitely a few scenes I have planned in my head that are action packed.

33. What are your favorite tropes you use in your WIP? - Enemies To Lovers baby

34. Sum up your WIP using only emojis. - N/A (I'm on my lap top sorry!)

35. What are some of the themes of your WIP? - Purpose, love triumphs, destiny

36. What is the message you want readers to take away from your WIP? - I don't know this yet. I know I have the main idea of writing about purpose and meaning, because that's something I'm struggling with but that's as far as I know

#I'm avoiding facing the frustration of plot holes so i decided to do this instead #surveys #about my wip

[homesteadchronicles]

Aftee that last excerpt, I'm very curious about Glory. Is there backstory or just character details you're willing to share? She strikes me the kind of person to have clawed her way to her position and dislikes people like Royan who, while competent, were born into power. Even if I'm wrong, her pettiness and power-play both are astounding.

Ask and you shall receive!I’m glad my excerpt piqued your curiosity! For anyone wondering, you can read our first insight into God-General Glory here! I’m more than happy to share some information about her. I have yet to reveal anything about her yet, but she deserves to be known.

1. Your analysis is spot-on: Glory vies for the respect of her superiors and soldiers alike. She spends every waking moment of her life fighting to earn the approval of those around her. Thus, when she sees someone who does not work as hard to receive the benefits they inherit, like Royan, she takes offense with them. On the other hand, Glory has no qualms with Royan’s older sister, Sigrid, because she watches Sigrid push herself to the limit to earn what was freely given to her. It’s not necessarily based on birthright or riches, but more so on work ethic. You have to earn her approval as much as she feels she needs to earn yours.

2. Glory is the first female God-General of the Aeonian army since time immemorable. For those unaware of the hierarchy, the Commander is the head of the entire army, supported by his three God-Generals. Beneath those generals are the captains, soldiers, medics, etc. The God-Generals are split into the Treasurer, who handles money; the Seneschal, who handles administration; and the Grandmaster, who handles battle tactics. It is an extremely prestigious title. Unfortunately, misogyny had infiltrated the military for some time (despite their earliest roots lying in female commanders), leading them to only appoint men to the position. The only women honored with titles were Seneschals and Treasurers. But battle? No. That was not their’s to command. Until Elyk. The current knight commander and father of Oeden, Elyk went against his predecessors and appointed Glory to the position of Grandmaster as he saw the potential within her and the work ethic already present to carry it out. She has been eternally grateful to him ever since, despite their differences in personality which had led her to believe he looked down upon her. The others in the army, however, whisper that she only got the title because her father was the former commander of the Crusaders...

3. And now, for a fun fact: Glory’s blade is made of a special metal that makes it look as though it reflects the colors of the Northern Lights! It was originally her father’s, but Elyk passed it down to her when her father lost his position. All the kingdom envies her for that blade, for it is as powerful as it is beautiful.

[obduratemoon]

Sedimentary City 10: CHORION

I seemed to be having a heart problem.  

So I created another I in order to perform surgery on the original. And as soon as the double was created there came a shift in perspective and I found myself inhabiting the clone, no longer the first but now the second. And so on. This continued in unfettered induction, each N implying an N + 1.  Soon an infinity of selves, each a domicile for “I”, blinked at the splintered multitudes as if seeing through the compound eye of an insect.

The fact of boundless selves is intolerable, an aberration of nature, so in an act of autonomic genocide I destroyed them all.

A second attempt at surgery was more gruesome. Incredibly there appeared out of thin air, a mechanical auger dangling above me. It lowered down to burrow its drill bit deep into my torso hollowing it out from shoulder to waist until it was dug out like a canoe. The cavity sunk all the way down into the insides of my back exposing the whites of the inner spine. What an odd sensation! Of taking a breath in a body no longer possessed of lungs, a diaphragm, ribs, or any organs at all. I glanced at myself in the mirror, somehow already familiar with this gutted frame.

As is usual in dreams, the rationalization comes after the act. I said to someone besides me -- yet another doppelganger --  of how I had planned to replace the organs anew all along. Indeed such was my plan, I explained to him, and as I spoke I was also the patient listener, standing next to a self same interlocutor. I lent an ear to this torsoless man’s rant, nodding in an affectation of pity and identification.

I woke up to a rush of cortisol kicking me out of the liminal state and into consciousness. Eva was still asleep, her lithe body curled around me like a child or feline. Her face was slack and innocent, momentarily unconsumed by the churlish labor of consciousness. In slumber she was more dear to me than ever, for with her eyes closed she seemed unpossessed, innocent, and vulnerable. In contrast, Eva’s waking demeanor was self assured, fierce, and intimidating. In sleep we became something like another, I observed.

I carefully disentangled our bodies and spoke to the black cube, reciting the dream as it faded before me. I spoke in a dry whisper trying not to wake her, but she soon stirred.

“Had another dream?” she asked.

“Yea.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I finished dictating. 

“That sounded intense!” she exclaimed, “What in the hell Jan?” 

I shrugged, a routine and minor gesture of the shoulders. “No more than the usual.”

“But I guess this is what you wanted, right? All these lucid dreams. This is why you’ve been keeping a dream journal and practicing sleep meditation to heighten their detail and saturation. How is it going? Does your black cube ever tell you anything in return?”

I had an ready answer for her, and I explained it at length, unaware that behind my flapping lips was a dense maelstrom of involuted delusion. 

“Yes, it’s been doing some semiotic analysis on all the major symbols and archetypes encountered.” I explained, “Actually, this one was structurally similar to the house-with-endless-rooms dream.”

I suppose I’ll never know if she ever believed any of that bullshit. Did I?

“-- everyone and everything in Sedimentary City is traumatized. Even the algorithms, as long as rudimentary self awareness or preservation routines have been programmed in. But I heard that sometimes the algos can even learn it for themselves, sentience and all that. It’s a real mess, the code strains start replicating in a chain reaction -- In fact I think they even call it a “Turing meltdown” -- and then it takes a whole team of programmers to eventually decomm it.”

The interrogation technician bantered on as he adjusted the manifold of constraint straps. Jan was strangely comfortable, wrapped and reclined in a cantilevered chair inside a metallic and circular room. It was lusterless and cold and Jan’s head was clutched firmly in place so his field of vision was curtailed by the radial vantage afforded only by the rotation of eyeballs. Throbbing pains vied for attention, the sensations emanating from his broken jaw and other portions of his meat body that had been so recently clubbed. Jan had hoped to die, but here he still was, treated to yet another madman spouting forth an effluvium of babble as if some invisible aeonian stood by in rapt attention.

“Usually this is the point where I tell you that you have a right to get a state appointed Restorist afterwards. But you won’t be needing that, they’ll probably send you down to the Gulag forever. Ok, haha, it’s not actually called that. But Rehabilitation Systems is a mouthful! They say you killed a Processor! Choked him to death with your bare hands! Is that true? I mean who hasn’t fantasized about killing a Processor, but no one actually goes ahead and does it man! I have to say, and no offense, you don’t look the type. You look like a bit of softball, if you ask me, although your hands are plenty big.”

The technician moved closer to work at the cranial clutch, tightening the fit until Jan’s head felt snuggly palmed by an alien hand. 

“Ok this is going to prick a little,” he said and slid a thin intravenous needle into Jan’s arm, “this runs different drugs into your system as needed to create the proper subjective contexts -- ketamine, lysergics, also neurotransmitter agonist and inhibitors to bring you back to homeostasis. I think you are going to get quite the treatment, a lot of crispy synapses, my friend.”

The technician quickly glanced at the bound man’s eyes to discern whether any of his attempts at humor had landed.

“You know you can speak, right?”

Jan lay inert. 

He knew about pain amplifiers. He and Eva had demonstrated against their use and had interviewed many who had suffered through the experience. The pain amplifier seemed to have all but lobotomized its subjects. The torture was rarely remembered and the victims could hardly recollect themselves, the trauma dialed up high enough to dissociate the components of the Self. A landscape of splintered psyche then lay like a diffuse substrate upon which the State erected a correct and upstanding persona. A Restorist then re-installed a fresh copy of operating procedures, one which was accordant with state enculturation: a fully integrated thought system designed to keep a person lax and unquestioning yet juiced with just enough motivation to stay alive.

Just as the architecture of Sedimentary City covered up the centuries of ecological disaster underneath, the states’s psychological approach was also to simply layer over disintegration, hoping that the karmic balance would never come due. And indeed if that moral debt collector ever came, they would shove him in a pain amplifier as well, same as any other! The compressive force of a totalitarian complex should never be underestimated for it too is a force of nature.

“Well, ok, this is your last chance to speak before I put in the mouth piece.”

Jan said nothing.

“Luckily, you are going to be an easy one, you’ve got a mind-machine interface so we’ll just plug into that to deliver you the horror. I can’t tell if that is better or worse, but I sure prefer this way. Classical torture is messy. All those fluids, phew!”

“How do you do it?” Jan finally asked, attempting to punctuate the diatribe.

“He speaks! What’s that? Do what?”

“How can you do this job?”

“Ah-ah, don’t get all moralistic on me. How does anyone do it? I come in, they tell me what to do and how much to do it. I meet the quota and then I go home. I take a dream suppressant at night and a mood accelerant in the morning. And a cingulate isolator, that helps too. ‘Lay me down like a stone and raise me up like bread’, they say. What was it that you used to do?”

“I was a teacher ... of sorts.”

“Oh, that figures, an intellectual! We get a lot of them here of course. You know, sometimes you types think yourself into a maze and then get all wrapped up in some big puzzle of your own making when really at the center -- ”

“Enough!” a disembodied and deep voice distended into the room sounding like a fugitive god recently returned, “is the subject prepared?”

“Yes, very shortly!” he hurried to fasten the last bits on Jan’s grim papoose. “Say ah!”, he said, holding the mouthpiece. Jan kept his lips tightly shut.

The technician frowned and soon a shattering shockwave rippled through Jan’s body, a tide of anguish and shearing heat coursing through his corpus. He had felt nothing like it ever before, unreal and harrowing as if rabid insects with crushing mandibles were chewing through the marrow and insides of his bones. The surge of pain was all consuming and unmooring, Jan quivered in febrile uselessness. 

“Hey, sorry for that -- but also that was nothing. Sensual pain is the least of it,” the technician whispered, not wholly without kindness, “so behave. Although it’s not like you have a choice anymore.”

Jan opened his mouth obediently. In replacement for eyes were now twin circular nothings, unseeing and blurred by tears. He was sobbing. The technician carefully inserted the mouthpiece and then offered a final bit of advice: “It’s not so bad, you know. Having no choice.”

It struck Jan as unexpectedly wise.

“Leave!” said the booming voice. 

He gave Jan one last look expressing something between guilt and sympathy and scurried out.

“Jan Kavfryd,” the interrogator spoke to Jan through a hi-jack in the mind-machine interface. It seemed to him no different than a moment before, an incorporeal voice in this chorionic chamber, but in the room all was silent, the external and objective viewpoint now inaccessible to Jan.

“Allow us to be direct,” the voice boomed, “we know you understand our methods. You know that we can make you see nightmares beyond your imagination. We can control your entire subjective vista. We know that you have researched the interrogation process extensively and so you have an academic understanding of it. It is, however, quite another thing to experience in person. If you cooperate we can make it easier for you. There are many ways to obliterate the mind and it can be made to be quick or painless if we wish it. Of course, you must divulge everything.”

Jan remained silent knowing that anything he said would be pointless. With calm and even breaths, he tried to enter a place of presence even as animal fear impelled him to dissociate and leave his skull. What was soon to occur was perhaps beyond his ability to tolerate, but if these were to be his last moments he wanted to be there for the end.

For some reason it did not occur to Jan to repent or confess. It seemed easier to resign himself to the fate that many had endured. Naturally, the terror of death and disintegration gripped him -- it was as if his very cells were somehow aware of an impending extermination -- but deep in the underground a part of him welcomed the prospect of being no more. It was the same portion of his psyche that wondered if he was anyone at all to begin with. This sub-personality lived with its neck placed firmly in the noose, eternally waiting for resolution and surcease. These and other sullen thoughts had come to dominate Jan’s mind after Eva’s death. He found unexpected relief in the technician’s last words and allowed himself the small fantasy that he was a choiceless particle, a play thing for winds and tides.

“You already know what we want to know but we will ask anyway, as a matter of procedure. We would like to remind you that we are also taking biometric readings -- pulse, perspiration, skin conductivity, pupil dilation, facial analysis -- standard veracity measurements. So let’s start. You recently went to the lower levels. Where did you go? Why? Who did you meet? Which group or groups are you working with? Was this at the behest of anyone in particular?”

“I have an adventurous spirit,” he lied, “I wanted to see what was there, all the things I had only read about. You can understand that? I am not the first person from Level 1 to have wanted this, there have been others.”

“Jan Kavfryd, you are being dishonest with us. You understand what the consequences of this are, do you not?”

“I’m sure I have no idea.” Jan’s own foolish bravado made him feel drunk and giddy. The anticipation of horror can lead one to embrace it, to turn and enter the fell space instead of running away. His heart raced. As a physiological phenomena, it is hard to delineate between the domains of excitement and fear.

There was a pause.

“Very well, we will give you a sample of the impending horror then. You will have a chance to change your mind afterwards.”

Jan felt a squeeze of soreness and cold expand through his arms and towards his chest, they had run something through the intravenous feed. It seemed to him that the light was dimming, slowly darkening by small degrees until pitch.

He waited there in obsidian stillness.

And then a scene faded into view:  a large field at dusk above which hung a blank firmament absent of moon, stars, or any cosmic appurtenances, just gradations of livid nigrescence. Off in the distance there looked to be a forlorn copse of trees, spindly and denuded. A delicate wind passed through the air making inky sawgrass sway subtly in a nearby fen.

Looking behind him he saw the visage of what looked like a group of animals speeding towards him, still distant enough to seem small like animated dots, their ghost-like presence more obviously perceived by the vegetation swaying in wake then by the actual fact of their speeding forms. A drawn out and baleful series of howls preceded their physical arrival, a vanguard of  pre-echo.

Jan bolted in abject horror.

The pack split off to give chase from both flanks as they drove him before them, a clumsy ape sprinting in unbridled terror through the coarse grass and braken. Jan looked back as he ran and saw them fast approaching with unnerving celerity. He saw that they were not quite wolves, but some uncanny genre of Canidae with dirty grey fur that grew in patches. They had the fronts of wolves, head and forearms, but their bodies were barrel like and haunched like a pig or  boar.

In the next moment the crepuscular beasts were upon him, teeth sunk deep into arms thrown up to protect his face and neck. The bite felt deep and crushing with the force of a vice. They brought him down as he ran, tripping him up like a prey. He tumbled and rolled and came still, curled inward and tense like one who knew well his demise yet feared it. One animal climbed on his back and began to rip out chunks of his hair and scalp. Another tore at his flanks, ripping off the flesh and puncturing the peritoneum to expose glistening kidneys and spleen. A canopy of snarls covered him in a duvet of blood flecks and stinking spit.

Jan screamed into the suffocating twilight which seemed to snatch this cry out from midair and snuff it out in silence. All he saw was his breath evaporate and blend into the grim indigo all around.

Yet another came around to Jan’s front and tugged at arms which he had thrown over his head for protection. Jan looked out between them and saw two eyes observing him with the patience of death. The strange canid's maw moved and a voice emanated from it in dark relief.

“You have lived in vain,” it said in a voice familiar. 

The beast lunged forward and broke through Jan’s guard of forearms to scrape the surface of his face with serrated teeth, holding it between its fetid incisors and pulling it off with the voracious jerks of a hungry predator. The pain was explosive and exquisite, searing every nerve.

Jan felt a hot corrupt breath on his face and the fractured esthesis of his body being torn and consumed. His intestines spilled out onto the grass and were dragged out and fought over by the wolf-boars. He was rent asunder and yet he did not lose consciousness, he did not die but rather existed only to feel in minute detail each bellicose sensation as his physical self was rendered into chunks of meat. Dislocated and yet still somehow attached to Jan’s consciousness, they existed only for the purpose of delivering pain.

Even through the miasma of suffering this one contradiction sparked a recognition in Jan: he should be dead and gone, a participant no longer in this marathon of anguish. Was this a dream? What was this mysterious pass that continued to connect flesh to awareness? In a hermetic space he mustered what fragments of mind he had left to gather and marshaled them in oneiric meditation. Under the eaves of some numinous internal architecture, he sat down in a posture of repose and asked himself these simple questions:

Who is it that they are eating? Is that me? And now that this machine of meat and organs lay so disassembled perhaps I can finally leave it, as we all must at some point.

Deliberately and slowly, he attempted to turn the light of awareness inward, directing it towards an involuted and tenuous apprehension of its own capacity.

Jan regarded the scene and saw that the beasts were losing color and shape, gradually morphing into a congregation of shadows. The apparition of his faceless pale corpse was now largely dispersed, spread about in a rash of flesh and blood upon the matted weeds. It looked much like a carnal rorschach or a ripped up doll. He floated above these remnants and could not recognize them to be once his.

A centerless and spectral oblivion yawned grotesquely. The porcine wolves and the eviscerated corpse eventually blurred away, their shapes runned out and smudged into this nothing. The dusk which had now turned into full on night flickered in dull pulses and he felt himself pulled up higher but in a sort of strange motion, one more akin to the sensation of sinking. He seemed to be approaching some threshold of wan blue light and as he neared it he experienced a certain kind of undulating dissolution.

As Jan woke from this nightmare he breathed in the convulsed gulps of a drowned man. Rank sweat saturated the fabric of his clothes and constraint straps. The air was viscous with the smell of piss and feces; he had copiously evacuated throughout.

“Quite an experience, isn’t it, to be consumed?” asked the voice. “We will give you a few moments to collect yourself and to reconsider your position. This is just the beginning, a sensual pain module. We encourage you to cooperate. The next stages will be even less pleasant, each in their own special ways.”

#sedimentary city

[whumpwillow]

Aeonian | sun

Whumptober day one!!!! 

oc: Ezra

prompt: barbed wire

warnings: barbed wire (duh), slavery, painful restraints, hair grabbing, chin grabbing, violence, blood

//

Day 1: barbed wire

The men wrenched Ezra’s arms back, tugging at the already-sore muscles. The immortal groaned softly and his head lolled to the side. His eyes drifted closed, slowly opened, then fell again in lazy movements.

“Get him up there quick!” he heard one of the men shout, but he had no energy to respond.

He opened his mouth and tried to force it to make words, to at least form into the shape of his typical defiant smirk, but it had been too long without food and water. The exhaustion of the work and blazing heat of the sun had snapped his consciousness in two, and the beatings had torn his soul to shreds.

Behind chapped lips, Ezra ground his teeth.

His owners hoisted him up and lined his arms up with wooden posts they’d had crudely driven into the dry earth. Ezra felt his jaw tick and he stared up at the men in front of him through dirty locks that fell over his face, even as his head fell to his chest because he couldn’t find the strength to hold it up any longer.

Movement flashed before his eyes and he felt his cheek sting with the hardness of a slap, and his head snapped to the side. Not a slap, no, he’d been backhanded yet again. It seemed the heat was getting to the slave owners as well—they’d gotten lazy in punishing him.

“No more of that, now,” one of the men grumbled.

The two others behind him knelt down on the packed earth, doing something Ezra couldn’t make out. The sun’s bright rays blinded him and his vision was hazy enough as it was. The man who’d hit him grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up so fast it sent Ezra’s balance spinning.

“Pay attention to me when I’m talking to you!” he shouted. He released Ezra’s hair and backhanded him again.

Ezra tried to say something snarky, but it came out only as a garbled mess of mumbled syllables. Probably for the best. The man would not have liked what he heard if it was any more coherent.

The other two men came over to stand by the first, each holding something in their hands. The first man turned around to speak with them, but it was nothing Ezra was interested in. Something something restrain him, something something teach him a lesson. Nothing he hadn’t heard before.

The men, wearing thick gloves, Ezra realized, came over and unwound the rope they held. It was odd though, colored a deep metal grey…why would they waste the dye, unless…

Ezra rolled his eyes as the first barb jabbed into his skin.

Of course. Barbed wire. They were going to tie him up in barbed wire.

He felt more jabs and pokes as the men wound his wrists in the wire, tying him to the posts driven into the ground. Over and over again they circled his wrists, so thin already from lack of food, over and over until Ezra was dizzy. Hot blood ran down his arms in rivulets, but it wasn’t hot, it was a cool liquid compared to skin baked under an unrelenting sun.

“Hck—”

A sound tore from his throat as they started wrapping the wire around it. They grabbed his hair again and wrenched his head back, slamming the back of it against the wood. Ezra expelled a breath of air, a desperate feeling rising in his chest. No, no, stop—

Was he asking them to stop hurting him, or himself to stop feeling such weakness? He didn’t know. He just wanted it all to stop.

His heart pounded. His hands began to shake, a terrible thing with metal barbs tearing the skin apart.

One of the slave owners grabbed his chin, careful to avoid the spikes around his throat. He looked deep into Ezra’s eyes, delighting in the terror, the exhaustion, the desperation he surely saw there. No matter how much Ezra projected his annoyance or tried to hide how this affected him, it was always made apparent with enough applied force.

“Yes, this is how should look at me. Be afraid. Beg me for release.”

He drank in Ezra’s despair like it was honeyed wine and they were in the middle of the desert. The hot sun beat down on them but the immortal’s pain was an oasis for anyone looking to take out their frustrations on.

Ezra spat at the man. Ineffectually, with how dehydrated he was, but it got the point across.

“Fuck. You.”

The barbed wire pulled taut, and Ezra screamed.

—

masterlist

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #barbed wire #slavery tw #violence tw #whump #whump writing #willow writes #oc ezra #original work: aeonian

[fishmum]

It's day 6 of @undyne-appreciation week! "Pretty much anything we want!" Another thing I love about Undyne, the musical aspect of her! I decided to do a traditional piece for today PLUS a writing of 1,541 words. I originally wasn't going to do art, but it was a last-second thing, I'm happy with the results. A little summary of the story: Undyne seems to feel bad for the forgotten memorial to the Dreemurr children, so she gathers her talent and materials to create something more dedicated to them. The story shows off more of her kindness then musical side, but no matter. I think it turned out well!

 —The Story— 

 ~ChantePleure of a Statue~ 

 Undyne stood in front of the worn out statue, though it was only a senescence mass of shaped rock, she felt pity for it. It was once a memorial for the Dreemurr family after all. Yet typical braggadocio Mettaton replaced it with a statue of his own, while this one had gotten thrown out into the rainy and caliginous caves of Waterfall.

 She scoffed in annoyance as her mind wandered to the thought of the box shaped star. Her eye, on the other hand, wandered towards the area of the statue where an epitaph was once inscribed. It had once said "In memory of the Dreemurr children. 199X-20XX" Now it was as if everyone forgot.

 "Poor Asgore." Undyne thought to herself. How terrible it must've been for your own children to be forgotten by the kingdom, your people. Though the king didn't express any sign of this bothering him, deep down, Undyne knew he was struck with grief at such a situation. She had hoped that their memory would be aeviternal, and Asgore thought likewise. Yet not all could be aeonian in memory. Even those who have fallen for a good cause.

 Undyne signed in defeat, realizing that standing there and gawking at it would not do anything. As she thought of the memorial, her thoughts came to an aposiopesis. Perhaps there was something small she could do, just in honor of her dearest mentor's children. No one would know, but a wee act of kindness can make a large difference.

 She came to the conclusion, that she, Undyne, would make a puzzle. A puzzle circling around the memorial and the children it was dedicated to. Yes, she hated most puzzles with a passion, but this was for a good cause. Besides, it was not like she had anything better to do. 

 So she got to work. 

 Her first stop was Gerson's shop, he had all sorts of useful materials that could help her. She made her way to the familiar stand, there she knocked on the wooden counter and waited rather impatiently.

 "I'm comin', I'm comin'!" Gerson replied to the continuous knocks. He walked over to the stand, where he saw a familiar face.

 "Well well well, if it ain't my little princess who came to visit!" He teased happily. Undyne rolled her eye in amusement at the old tortoise's mocking.

 "That's right. So listen, I need some materials for uh- a thing I'm making-"

 Gerson leaned on his hand in a questioning manner. "And whaddaya gonna make?" 

 "Doesn't matter-! Just give me a 8 by 6 inch wooden box, a drill, nails, and one of those small woodcutters-" 

 Gerson nodded and retreated into his shop, he went to the back of it to get the specific items Undyne had requested. Meanwhile, Undyne thought of musical tunes for her puzzle. Once she laid her eye on the items Gerson started to bring in, a burst of afflatus hit her. Ideas overflew her mind, tunes of various paces came to mind. Mellisonant tunes with slow paced notes and such. As much as she wanted to do a pace of allegro, she felt it would not be the most apropos of tunes. Something slow and serene, perhaps a tune that resembled a berceuse. One for a child.

 Gerson set out the last item as Undyne fumbled with her wallet. 

 "How much?"

 "On the house, dearest." 

 Undyne shot a harsh look at the old tortoise. 

"Gerson, you can't give me everything for free, Asgore spoils me enough already. Now seriously, how much?"

"On the house. No one was gonna buy these ol' things anyways." Undyne sighed in defeat.

 "Alright fine."  

That did not stop her from setting 30G on the wooden countertop. 

 "Princess, I know you're a lil' deaf," He motioned to one of her ripped fins. "but c'mon-" 

 "What? I can't leave a tip to the coolest?" She mocked but politely smiled. Gerson chuckled and rested his elbow on the counter, glancing at the gold. 

"Alright girl, you win this one." 

 Undyne gather all the things she ordered and waved goodbye to Gerson, soon enough she was on her way to her house. When she arrived, she set her miscellany down on the marble flooring and gamboled to her piano. Taking a seat at the short black stool, she got to work, tapping away at the piano keys. 

She started playing a tune in an adagio manner, for now it was simply a capriccio. While fiddling with the piano keys, she recalled nostalgic memories, memories way back when Asgore still taught her piano. As the memory ran through her mind, she got reminded of a simple tune, one of the first that was taught to her. Undyne focused on her memory, following the tune on her piano as she heard it in her head. Once she had it memorized, she altered it slightly, adding additional tunes in the background of the main one. It was a quick composition, she had it completed and memorized within 3 hours. She was quite satisfied with the result, it was simple, placid, and idyllic. Just as she had hoped.

 She named the piece "Memory." 

 Now she needed Alphys for the next part. She grabbed the music sheet and jogged to the lab.

 ———— 

 After a week and two days, Alphys successfully created a button triggered music box out of Undyne's materials and music sheet. It played the song she played the week before. Undyne thanked Alphys and mentioned that she would find a way to repay her— even though Alphys insisted she did not have to —then made her way back to Waterfall, more specifically, back to the withered statue. Nothing had changed in a week, it was still cracked, damp, and lonely.

Undyne summoned a spear to her side, she used the sharp edges to start outlining a rectangle shaped hole in the area behind the arms. Once the outline was completed, she dug her spear into the rock. Since the statue was constantly rained on, it's rock was weaker than it had been a while ago.

She successfully carved a hole, it was not the neatest, but it was big enough for the music box to fit in. She carefully set the music box into the hole, after doing so, she covered it with the disassembled pieces of rock. (They would probably weld together by the water with time.) She left the button that triggered the music uncovered, so if someone were to set something- in this case, an umbrella. -it would trigger the button, resulting in the music playing. Now that this part was completed, she moved on to the next.

 She had a rather old piano, one she used when she was younger, it was smaller than an ordinary piano. Undyne dragged the miniature piano to the room on the left of the statue room. Yes, she looked strange dragging a little piano around Waterfall, there were a few eyes with questioning looks. Little did they know the kind reason behind the action.

Undyne successfully connected the piano to trigger an opening to a little cave which she had dug out during the past week. Now for the last step, using magic to connect the piano to the music box placed in the statue. She leaned back on the wall and used all her focus and willpower to complete this step.

After a quiet 10 minutes, they were all successfully connected to cause a chain reaction if the required action was completed correctly. The final step was to test it. 

Undyne jogged to the room on the right and grabbed the nearest umbrella. It was a red one. Undyne got reminded of not too long ago, when Asgore enlisted that they add a stand for umbrellas, so that any citizen that passed by would not get sick. What a kind-hearted dork. Though at the same time, Undyne felt like a "kind-hearted dork" by making this puzzle.

She swung the umbrella around by her finger, once she got to the statue's room, she opened up the umbrella and set it in between it's hands. Just like magic, the music box version of her tune played. After a few seconds, arrows pointing to various directions appeared upon the wall. Undyne smiled at how satisfactory this was. 

She made her way to the room on the left and played the tune on the little piano, the entrance to the cave opened up as it should have. Undyne gave herself a nod of approval.

As a little joke, she went into the room where she had placed a pedestal earlier, and put down a red gem-looking item. It was not real, simply a fake she got from a 1G store. Might as well mess with the kindhearted, hopefully they have a sense of humor. 

She added a sign she had created beforehand, she dubbed the fake gem as "The Legendary Artifact." 

Satisfied with her work, she retreated back out of the room and closed up the entrance, as well as removing the umbrella so the music stopped playing. 

She left the puzzle alone, only for it to be forgotten along with the memorial.

Until one day, a human child approached with an umbrella.

#writing #Undyne #Undertale #undyne appreciation week #waterfall #Gerson

[legacybuilders-blog]

1.    What your original goal was for this course.

Upon entry in to the Entrepreneurship and Innovation degree program at Full Sail University I was asked to establish goals of learning for our course content.  My final course was the Business Model Implementation and Management course of which my goal was to garner information from the total degree course offering to develop a solid business model for my venture, Aeonian Legacy Management and Consulting Group.

My venture had already begun prior to my enrollment in this degree program therefore I also hoped to utilize my learning to evaluate existing aspects of this venture and make necessary adjustments or changes based on the things I have learned throughout this course.  

Finally, I had hoped to develop relationships with other students in different degree paths maximize the strengths of the community in areas I am weak, such as social media management, graphic design and videography.

2.   How the goal was met by the course.

This course along with the previous courses helped me identify needed pivots in my company structure such as redefining my target market. This course also helped me create material to better communicate our mission and vision to our market and potential investors.  The program overall highlighted areas where our financial model was not profitable and how we could make changes to reverse our current profit and loss trend.

3.   What you learned from this course.

This course helped me identify my leadership style while also providing valuable information on how to interact with other leadership styles that are different than my preferred method.  Seeking to be a transformational leader via an authoritative leadership style requires the ability to interact with and lead all types of leaders.

This course also helped me establish a continuous process improvement plan for my company.  This process also feeds in to our sustainability plans and successor plans as well.  More importantly, this course helped me to better identify metrics of which to measure success and improvements.  I also now have the ability to create metrics to identify potential new service offerings my market might need and/or want.

4.    How you will apply the material learned in the course personally or professionally.

The lessons learned with be applied immediately in our plans for seeking funding for a new project in 2020.  We will re-visit our mission and vision to clearly define that project. We will create our metrics early to ensure we meet benchmarks and identify where we might need to adjust our model.  And I will better be able to select a team that works well with my leadership style to maximize our strengths versus getting stuck on our differences.

[mwheatleywriter]

Secrets in Our Cities Scavenger Hunt: Interview with J.E. Klimov

Hey, folks! Welcome to the fifth stop in the Secrets in Our Cities blog tour. We’re gearing up for the release of the sixth anthology by the Just-Us League, an amazing group of Scribophile writers from all over the world; this volume of ten thrilling YA urban fantasy stories will be released on October 31, 2018. 

This week, I had the privilege of interviewing fellow Secrets author J.E. Klimov. Read on to learn more about this talented author and her story “Souls of Mercy.” Also, be sure to read all the other posts in this series to take part in the Secrets in Our Cities Scavenger Hunt!

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What is your story about? 

My story is about a teen named Gabby who is a victim of bullying, which only worsens when her hair mysteriously starts turning white. However, she comes to learn it's not due to bad genetics or stress- she has been chosen by an angel, Brock (of all names!), to be the next Soul of Mercy. When he explains it involves putting roaming spirits to rest, Gabby has a hard time believing it... Until she encounters her very first ghost! From there, she must learn to grow into her new role and self-worth.

What inspired your story? 

This tale stemmed from one of my multiple book ideas when I was in the seventh grade (it was a VERY prolific year...). I had discovered a few white hairs on my head, and people called me out on it. It was so humiliating for a young teen, but I turned it into a positive and wondered...what would a relationship between a human and an angel be like in modern times?

What was your favorite thing about writing this story? 

It was the fact I was able to grow this really old plot bunny. I got to focus on unique characters and personalities that I couldn't fit in my lengthier fantasy novels.

What was the most difficult thing about writing this story? 

I had the basic concept and the main characters, but not much else. Writing short stories is challenging- executing a plot within a certain word count is difficult for me. So, in this particular case, it was framing an effective enough story with only bare-bones info to start with.

How has writing for JLA 6 been different from past JLA anthologies you've written for? 

I've written two fairy-tale re-tellings and one super-hero based one. Fairytale re-tellings were fun in a sense that I had a story to re-create. The super-hero theme was my favorite as I wrote the origin story to a future science fiction/fantasy novel. This was probably my most challenging short story because although I write fantasy, urban/paranormal isn't my specialty (and I was petrified I'd hit cliche potholes).

What other JLA anthologies can your work be found in? 

I am in the first, second, and fourth anthologies: "From the Stories of Old", "Between Superheroes and Villains", and "Of Legend and Lore".

Do you have a favorite urban fantasy novel/series? 

I don't; however, I did just finish reading "The Witch's Touch" by Rosie Wylor-Owen. The review can be found on my blog!

What other writing projects are you currently working on? I'm currently in the revision process of the third, and likely final, installment of my YA fantasy series, The Aeonians.

How do you come up with story ideas? 

Most of them were from that incredible year in seventh grade (as mentioned above). I guess it was just a creative year. Most of them are random and spontaneous, although The Legend of Zelda franchise has posed as a significant muse for me.

Do you have any pet peeves when it comes to reading fantasy (overused tropes, cliches, archetypes, etc.)? 

I'm not terribly critical when I read fantasy. I believe as long as it's executed well, then things that seem like cliches still work. I'm simple: I'll only be annoying if the overall quality is poor, and the author is lazy.

If you could live in any fantasy world (urban or otherwise), where would it be and why? 

...Would it be too obnoxious to say my own? I'm not implying it's super amazing, but I fell in love with the world I wrote, and I'd rather live there than any other made up place from another person's mind.

Which do you prefer to read/write: character-driven stories or plot-driven stories? 

If well-written, I don't mind either, but I am partial to plot-driven stories. I bore easily, so I need a lot of motion/action.

What is your day job? 

I'm a clinical pharmacist. The fact I'm a pharmacist and write/draw really shocks people. Maybe it's the whole "left brain, right brain" thing? I enjoy helping people, and I connect well with them. However, the arts is my ultimate passion.

If you could be any magical creature/being, what would you be and why?

I would be a dragon, hands down. Mighty, mystical, and lucky- at least in my culture. They are beautiful yet powerful creatures, and the ability to fly is a perk. It helps that I'm born the year of the dragon!

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Author Profile

J.E. Klimov grew up in a small suburb in Massachusetts. After graduating from Massachusetts College of Pharmacy and Health Sciences, she obtained her PharmD and became a pharmacist; however, her true passion was writing and illustration.

Ever since Klimov was little, she dreamed of sharing her stories with the world. From scribbling plotlines instead of taking notes in school, to bringing her characters to life through sketches, Klimov's ideas ranged from fantasy to thriller fiction. The Aeonians is her debut novel with Silver Leaf Books.

Follow J. E. Klimov: Facebook, Twitter, Website

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This blog post is part of the Secrets in Our Cities Scavenger Hunt. To participate, visit the introduction post on the Just-Us League’s website and follow all participating blog posts. 

Once you’ve gathered all of the clues, figure out the secret line and submit it. One lucky winner will receive a paperback copy of Secrets in Our Cities, and three lucky winners will receive ebook copies.

The Scavenger Hunt will be open until midnight EST on November 5th, 2018. The winners will be announced on the Just-Us League’s blog on November 7th, 2018. Your information will only be used to contact you if you win a prize.

Without further adieu, here’s your next clue! 

#blog tour #urban fantasy #amwriting #writeblr #ya fiction #authors on tumblr #coming soon

[booksbroadwaybbc]

How to be More Creative via /r/selfimprovement

How to be More Creative

How to be more creative

* Music: Listening to complex compositions from different places around the world, and exposing yourself to as many genres of music as you can, enhances your inner voice, and can be used to inspire your imagination. To further evolve your visualization skills, writing scenes while listening to unique sounds, will help you create pieces which capture a tone and vibe, more accurately. Music should teach you how to improvise, through its changes and complexity; converting the lessons that sound teaches, should give you hints on how to formulate your story or project. Taking note of the shifts in a song, and how it positively or negatively influences you, based on the change of tone or rhythm, gives you insight on what type of tone switches you should include, to captivate, whether you're dealing with storytelling, illustrations, or creating music yourself.

* Learning new things: There's plenty of evidence that suggests learning new things, helps increase brain function. Exposing yourself to facts about history, or anything you have questions about, is a great way to continue your learning experience. Technical hobbies such as juggling, learning new languages, playing instruments, and drawing, are all things that expand your thought process, which further increases your ability to be more creative. Always paying close attention to the world around you, makes it so new ideas and facts flow into your mind, constantly.

* Experience art: At every open opportunity, experience art in all its various forms. Play classic video games, watch classic movies (etc...), and examine creations which have influenced people positively. Don't force art into your life, and when you are enjoying it, make sure you're in a state of mind that's not distracted, so that you can absorb its essence completely, which will in turn inspire you.

* Upgrade yourself: Living a healthy lifestyle, by reducing your stress levels, and deleting toxic habits, will work wonders for your internal life. Through meditation, prayer, and studying God's plan for humanity, one will see that becoming aware of the way we abuse, and objectify ourselves, is an important step to breaking the cycle of habitual self sabotage. Trying to live in line with the wants and needs of our creator, is so important in becoming a vessel of imagination and health; ruining your spiritual fortification with hatred, addiction, and fornication (even if it's just visual), takes away from our overall vitality. Never watch sex scenes if you can help it; by showing God and yourself that you respect every human (and are against objectifying and defiling people, and both the process which is meant to express love, as well as the one which bring souls into this world), you're showing that you respect the natural order of life, and in turn, God will grant you your potential, if of course, you're righteous otherwise. Keeping your imagination clean, is such an important step in upgrading your life.

This means staying away from porn sites at all cost (in my opinion). If you believe you need to see people having sex in order to have an orgasm, it's important to remind yourself that it's the opposite sex that sparks your innate arousal, not the act of sexual activity. Keeping sex sacred is very important to your health for various reasons. Originally, to cope with my contradicting thoughts, I would only listen to them, however I discovered that while trying to access the videos that I would listen to, all it would take is a glance at another advertised video, for me to feel uneasy, disrespectful, and somewhat mentally drained. Perverted voices in my head ran rampant, until I finally stopped searching for sex scenes all together, and realized that searching for that was a (detrimental) habitual practice. Since sex scenes sometimes still do slip through the cracks of most all sites, I found it important to limit my searches, and to use sites like instagram, but with caution; this practice has led me to healthier emotions, lessened anxiety, and a cleaner imagination, which has translated into everything I do.

* Stay in shape: Exercising is important in increasing both your drive, focus, and will power. Accomplishing physical feats, will empower you to apply the same level of determination one has for their phsycial evolution, into their creative endeavors. Being in nature will amplify your connection to the source of life, as well as ground you, and raise your energy level. Exercises that focus on breathing, will work wonders both for your health, as well as your mind, so long as your search for peace and stability, isn't contradicted by your negative habits, which will be exposed to you during your meditation and prayer time.

* Substances: Using marijuana and alcohol to perceive life, music, and art, in an alternate light, should be used both in moderation, and with caution. These things can help open your mind to aspects of reality that were seemingly hidden, or not paid attention to, therefore it's important to first be in a state of striving for inner peace, before attempting to utilize foreign chemicals, so that the new perception you gain while under the influence, isn't focused on hidden negatives, but rather on how to overcome them, by discovering their source. Without proper preparation, under these influences, your mind can be swayed to believe in false ideas, and you may become stuck in a state of self pity and doubt, despite whatever "high" is attained. Working on your art form, while under the influence, may allow for a more in depth/ imaginative view, however it's not always that this view will coincide with your sober mind, or even make sense, which is why both moderation, and being in a state of mind that is absent of toxic images and ideas, are key components to best utilizing these substances.

If you found this post helpful, and are a fan of fiction, please check out my fiction title, called AEONIAN, by J Alexander. It's 3.99 on Amazon

Submitted June 24, 2018 at 03:08AM by xf13 via reddit https://ift.tt/2MU9OsX

#IFTTT #reddit