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Awakening

@breath-of-eternity / breath-of-eternity.tumblr.com

Lover of words and writing them :: Current WIP: Knights Of Eternity, Fantasy about four immortals :: hopefully I'll add more someday :: visit my site, with complete WIP: Awakening: Knights Of Eternity
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Introduction

It's been a while so I figured I should update this.

You can call me Em, writeblr who is absolutely terrible at writing about herself. I love getting lost in fantasy worlds, and when I write them, they’re usually in a modern fantasy setting, full of too many characters, and way too many comma splices that I’m not getting rid of.

Four immortal warriors, created to protect the world from dangers both magical and human, awaken in a world beyond anything they ever imagined.

Magic is dead, and technology has risen in its place, so was it random chance that roused them from their slumber, or is there a purpose for them in this strange world after all?

Part I now complete.

After an impossible loss leaves the Knights shattered, and while they may approach gods in their power, they are still very much human in their desire for vengeance.

They spent thousands of years eradicating magic, but now someone threatens to revive what they have banished. The world is on the brink of a change they should be guiding it through, if only the three remaining Knights can reconcile their grief with their new existence.

Last

My Tumblr-exclusive story about a young woman’s survival during the last days of humanity on Earth.

In the distant future, Amaia is the last of her people, desperately trying to live in a world ravaged by alien monsters when the planet has been stripped of technology (find links under the cut).

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"syntax error: unclosed if at line 56": perfect error message, tells me exactly what I need to fix and exactly where to look for it.

"memory write failure at address 0xeb008a": good error message. describes the problem well enough to enable troubleshooting by an experienced user.

"something went wrong, please try again": bad error message. does not tell me anything useful.

"oops! something blooped! 🙁": I will kill you with my bare teeth

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nerdishfeels

We have nothing

Hey guys. It’s been a while since I last posted. I was hoping to return with some positive updates, but I think this year hates me.

As some of you may know, I’m trying to find another job to feed my family, but it’s taking longer than expected.

Because of that, my living situation has worsened. We’ve started to run out of necessities, especially food. The house is getting empty and I’m terrified of where we’ll be by the end of the year.

I’m really sorry to ask, but if you could donate towards my goal, I will be forever grateful. It’ll help me support my family while I try and find work.

If you can use the PayPal option, it will help me get the funds quicker, but any donation is appreciated.

This is by far the lowest I have been. I feel like I’m at my breaking point and I don’t know what to do…

Thank you and sorry ❤️

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melgillman

Here’s the horror comic I drew for this year’s 24 hour comic day/48 hour comic weekend, called “The Night-Mother”.

Content warnings: miscarriage, child loss, violence, death, nudity

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Questions But No Answers

Doran was vaguely aware of the others around him helping him onto a hard surface covered in thin fabric. A cup was pressed to his lips and he drank even though dehydration wasn’t the problem. He cringed from the hands running over his body, examining his various injuries, and someone screamed when they lifted his arm. Oh, wait, it was him.

They dabbed something on the gash and the surface immediately numbed. He wondered if they could apply that to his entire body, starting with his brain.

He shut his eyes. Whatever they did to him didn’t matter.

When he opened them again, an older woman with long gray hair tied behind her was bent over him. Face set in a frown, she painted a brown, tacky liquid over the gash, gentle in her touch. They’d probably have questions for him. He closed his lids before they noticed he was awake.

He wanted to sleep, he wanted to forget. He tried to picture his family but their faces eluded him. Please, no. There was no one else who could remember them.

Then, silence, and he was perhaps more grateful for that than whatever bitter-smelling substance they slathered on his arm that benumbed it. He wanted to believe he could do something to change their fate, but lying on a mattress that crinkled softly under him, so unlike anything he had ever known, he couldn’t believe it was possible. That he escaped seemed to be nothing but a fluke, and one that would be rectified when the Apollyon arrived.

He was suddenly awake and sitting on the bed, shirtless with a layer of sweat pouring under his arms while his fingers traced over the gash. The pain throbbed in a rhythm with the beating of his heart, a rapid drumbeat he could play a frantic song to.

“Are you all right?”

Doran raised his fist even after he saw it was the woman who tended to his wounds, and her own hand came up before he was able to get a hold of himself. He forced himself to relax and sat back down to show he wasn’t a threat.

“Sorry, you scared the hell out of me,” he said. “My head feels like it’s going to explode and I had no idea you were even around.”

“It’s all right,” she said, her eyes shining hard. “It may be a side effect of your head injury.”

“My head?” He put a hand on his hair and raked his fingers through it. All the pain seemed to be on the inside, not the outside.

“I didn’t find anything when I looked you over, but if your skull rattled your brain hard enough, it can have the same affect. A few years ago, a man came in with head pain after falling off a husker. No visible injuries, but the damage was there, and it was days later that he collapsed from it.”

A husker? Another question he couldn’t ask.

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azzandra

Digging through my WIP folder and I found notes for a story idea I had about a dragon adopting a human.

Not on accident, mind you, the dragon doesn’t just stumble across a human infant and adopts it. The dragon decides it wants to adopt a human.

The dragon explains this to its lich friend: “I want someone to take care of me in my old age! A human would be great! Imagine how easily it could talk the other humans into leaving me alone! And– and it might decide to grow up and become a goldsmith, right? Some humans become goldsmiths. My human might decide to go into goldsmithing too!”

“I think you’re overestimating the percentage of humans who become goldsmiths,” replies the lich friend, who is not terribly discouraging of the idea, but also not particularly invested in it at this point. It seems like a plan with a lot of potential points of failure.

The dragon is undeterred, mostly because it has a whole hoard of gold coins and goblets and jewelry and trinkets that seem to indicate to it that there must, in fact, be a great number of humans who know goldsmithing to have produced all that.

Anyway, the dragon decides to shapeshift into a humanoid form, go into a city, and adopt a human child. It needs the lich’s help, because it doesn’t know anything about human fashion. The lich’s knowledge on the subject is a few centuries outdated, but they attack a few fancy carriage on the road and reverse-engineer an outfit from what the humans inside them were wearing. (Those humans were nobles, it’s fine, it’s a victimless crime)

The lich fusses a lot with the humanoid appearance of the dragon until everything looks just so.

(“Am I actually doing it wrong, or are you just making me shapeshift into something you find more attractive?” the dragon asks.

“If you want me to pose as your husband, this is the price to pay,” the lich replies.)

They go into the city, anyway, and they find an orphanage on the shady side of town, where the tired, overworked and underpaid matron clearly sees there’s something not right about these two, but not in any obvious way she can put her finger on. She’s just happy to have one less mouth to feed.

Anyway, child get! 

She comes along quietly, and doesn’t even comment when she’s taken to a dragon lair.

The dragon is ecstatic with its new acquisition.

(“Does it know any commands?” the dragon wonders. “Sit! Stay! Roll over?”

“You may be thinking of dogs,” the lich points out. “Children do not perform tricks.”

They both looked at the human child, trying to figure out how to approach her.

“So, what scam are you running here?” the little girl asked suddenly, startling both the dragon and the lich.

“I was wrong,” the lich says, “they’ve definitely been teaching children new tricks since I was alive.”)

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riririn-yes

I’m calling it: the girl becomes a thief and adds gold to the dragon’s collection. The dragon claims their human child is a goldsmith, because look all the shiny jewelry she gives them!

Dragon, smugly: My child is officially a goldsmith! Look at this chest full of gold she just gave to me!

Lich: Really. And she made all this gold all by herself?

Dragon: She worked very hard, yes.

Lich: So she made this gold? She made it with her own hands? She didn’t steal it from the king’s tax wagons that rolled through here last week?

Dragon: SHE WORKED VERY HARD AND THIS GOLD IS HERE AS A RESULT OF HER LABORS. AND SHE HAS GIFTED IT TO ME, AS I HAVE PREDICTED

This was too good to leave in the tags.

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Giving the Devil his due

The devil to pay was a phrase originally from the 16th century and coined to describe the odious task of caulking seams. The devil was the ship’s longest seam, usually taken to mean the outboard seam where deck and ship’s sides meet, whereas paying (from the french word payer, to pitch) referred to the process of sealing a newly caulked seam by pouring hot tar along its length.

Caulking the hull, 19th century (x)

Paying the devil was a task universally despised due to the seam’s size and the awkward contortions usually required to chinse (caulk) its entire length. The devil to pay, and no pitch hot or ready ! was another phrase coined in reference to this hateful task, it being used to describe a challenging situation one is ill prepared to cope with. As standing room was nonexistent for the most part, repairs to the devil were normally performed while hanging over the ship’s side from a bosun’s chair, often while underway. In fact, being in the unenviable position of swinging around below the devil in said chair while attempting to caulk and pour hot pitch gave rise to another phrase, that describing one caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Doesn't seem to be true from what I've read, as the phrase predates calling the seem that.

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