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Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

multi-story open concept buildings, stylized with rough-hewn stones outside. Finally, the North-Western district may be the most elaborate. They are Art Nouveau to the Central's Art Deco. Curves, elaborate ironwork & stained glass. Since the rise of the Seditionist movement in the North-West, 6/

Photo of Singer House – St. Petersburg, Russia as an example of North-Western District architecture,

September 17, 2025 at 3:28 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

Districts) will almost uniformly cover their building fronts with marble, in creams & whites but also flashes of colour, to maintain those clean lines. As you get further away, marble gives way to cobblestone & brick, things getting a bit more lived-in looking. Picture Edinburgh + Art Deco. 2/

Photo showing an image of a street in Edinburgh, Scotland, with a line of brightly coloured store fronts and cobblestone streets, with a woman in black standing in the middle of the street.

September 17, 2025 at 3:28 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#Septopolis 17
The overarching design sensibility of a lot of Braehal could be described as fantasy Art Deco. They overall favour crisp geometric lines & clean surfaces. The most prosperous areas (Castle Braelon, the Hal District & Central Square, Temple District, the starts of the Merchant & Food🧵

Example of the type of architecture favoured in much of Braehal. This example is of Art Deco architecture from the entrance to a building in NYC featuring a ceiling twice as high as the doors, decked out in blue and teal marble and a lot of gold accents.

Example of the type of architecture favoured in much of Braehal. This from a screenshot of Piltover from the first episode of Arcane: League of Legends.

Example of the type of architecture favoured in much of Braehal. This one a screenshot (possibly production art) of Piltover from Arcane: League of Legends, displaying a lot of elaborate Art Deco buildings, and a large courtyard.
Written on the bottom of the image: UNIVERSITY COURTYARD - Piltover

September 17, 2025 at 3:28 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

Poisonous Blue-Spark without removing their stingers. Restaurants in Braehal serving Kunarin/Southern food are banned from serving the dish (cooked over an open flame after an initial steam wrapped in banana leaves) in the traditional fashion (see the snippet below).

The Southern & South-Western

“And then she says ‘Well how’m I supposed to know it’s real blue-spark if it don’t got the stinger?’, and I just respond ‘ma’am, you just gotta take our word for it, the Sovereignty frowns on us poisoning our patrons with fish’!” Vin recounted as she leaned on my shoulder, and we all howled with laughter. “Lady Whatsername didn’t like that.” She added after a moment, taking a sip from her cup.

September 14, 2025 at 2:48 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

languages & how the FMC feels (or was brought up to believe) about Brael, her only language. Her explanation of only needing one language is what children, royal & civilian alike, for hundreds of years, though occasionally you'll get hints of other languages, particularly words mixed into provincial

“All right, I can accept that you didn’t mean your ruse maliciously.” Then a thought occurred to me, “I’m confused about one thing, though. How did you learn Brael so easily?”
Cameryn briefly giggled at this, and for a moment she seemed like a young girl, rather than a confident woman and experienced warrior. Eye widened slightly, she let out an exhalation of air and got a thoughtful look as she said, “I assure you, it was not easy. Your language has much complexities.”
Brael, a language fluently spoken by millions across a vast continent stretching tens of millions of square kilometers, was complex? A soft, involuntary laugh escaped me, which I quickly stifled with my hand as Cameryn shot me a small frown. “Forgive me, I suppose I’ve just never viewed our language as particularly complex before,” I admitted quietly.
Cameryn regarded me with unguarded curiosity. “Have you ever learned any others?”
“There are no others,” I answered instinctively, eliciting a raised eyebrow from her. “In the Sovereignty, I mean. We only have one.”
“Across such a vast realm?” Cameryn asked, her disbelief barely contained. “We have cithr…er, four?” She held up her fingers, confirming with my nod that she was remembering the word properly. “Four across our realm, plus a secret one for our Cheifidhar, our mystics.”
“We need only one language,” I replied with a nod, my voice tinged with pride. “There are mild variations—provincial dialects, accents and the like,” I added. “But my ancestors have devoted a millennium teaching the people to speak in one voice, to ensure that everyone across the Sovereignty could communicate with one another.”
Cameryn pursed her lips at this, an expression I couldn't quite place flitting across her face.

September 11, 2025 at 5:34 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

guard, & do protect the Braelon family (particularly the Queen), but they also function as her arm across the breadth of the Sovereignty as both holy order & elite military unit. Families send their most cherished daughters to temple training in the hopes spots may open in the exclusive order.

The Augury had been a fixture of the Sovereignty for a thousand years, tracing its lineage back to the first devotees who stood beside my Divine ancestor in her courageous quest to liberate the realm. Their unwavering commitment granted the order a uniquely revered place in our realm. The Order transcended the role of mere soldiers or guardians of our safety; their duty was believed to embody a profound calling, and held a blend of military prowess and spiritual devotion. Though their ranks numbered less than five hundred, and they willingly renounced all claims to property or noble family roots upon taking their oaths, the Augury wielded power second only to the royal family.
With our Sovereignty sprawling across such a vast continent, it was necessary to divide it into eight provinces, each overseen by a Matriarch—noble women imbued with the sacred responsibility of tending to the daily lives and needs of our subjects in my mother’s stead. These were positions of great renown and authority. It was a testament to the Augury’s power that if even one member of the Order arrived at a Matriarch’s door, it was her duty to ensure to it that her needs were met, ahead of all other provincial concerns. This practice ensured a steadfast consistency in the crown's vision of safety and security for all.

September 10, 2025 at 3:33 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#Septopolis 8
Sovereignty history books teach that the founder was just known as 'the Stranger' when she arrived. There are different accounts on how she came to be there, & the Sovereignty allows all properly-respectful versions of the story. What is shared by all accounts is The Hill was occupied

More than a thousand years ago, our lands were in chaos. Rival fiefdoms dotted the continent of Eatron from the ocean to the mountains, each desperate to hold onto what little power they could squeeze out of their vassals. The peasantry would trample each other for loaves of bread. Lives were brutal, and generally short.

This all changed with the arrival of the Stranger. Where She came from has been lost to time. Some say She arrived from across the uncrossable Ituraine sea, walking on water, others that She descended from the heavens. She was first encountered in the centre of a field on the edge of a cliff that dropped hundreds of metres down to the western edge of the mighty Ituraine. Some believe that in a single day a mighty golden oak grew and that the Stranger walked out of the tree, a gift from the land to the suffering.

With the Stranger came Her divine power, the ability to exert control on the very world around her. Vibrational Bending, She called it; the influencing of the divine energies that compose all elements in the world, from the smallest pebble to the largest sequoia. This magic, given to the Stranger by the old gods when they left the mortal plane, allowed the Stranger to give the lands back to the people.

September 8, 2025 at 2:15 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#LesFicFri 09/05
The word this week is 'secret'.
#DarkFantasy #Sapphic #QueerAuthors

“Wait, my mother knew you were a serial killer?” Mona exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief. “And she still chose you to be my guardian?!”
I really must convince her to use a different term.
However, 'serial killer' may have possessed a sliver of accuracy that I struggled to escape. “She knew I had killed. As to being your guardian, she asked me when you were about three years old, shortly after your father…well, when she found herself a single mother.”
“You can say it,” Mona muttered, bitterness colouring her tone. “He ditched us.”
“Yes, well,” I said softly, “After your father left, she asked me if I would consider being your guardian, if something ever happened to her.” I didn't disclose the darker truth that shortly after that conversation with Marianne, and learning of his treatment of her, I sought her ex-husband out and eliminated him like the despicable creature he was, much as I had disposed of her father before him. Some things could remain my secret.

September 5, 2025 at 3:58 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

I actually did think of that! I'm still working it out fully, but after I wrote the first draft of book 1 in about 6 weeks, I was on a high and kept on going, writing about 8 chapters of book 2 before stopping and realizing I should revise and work on new drafts of 1. Anyway, wrote this:

Cameron showed us up the stairs to the upper levels, and for likely the tenth time that day, my jaw dropped. Above the main hall, the stairway was open to the sky so we could look out on the bay, but my eyes didn’t linger long, too busy looking above us at the structure unlike any I had ever seen. The second level wasn’t directly on top of the main hall but rather held up by criss-crossing beams of strong-looking wood, mixed in with what seemed to be living branches of the Tree of Memory, about ten feet above the first level. It jutted out from the trunk of the tree, and had an interesting looking pulley system with a platform on it that reminded me of the dumbwaiter on a Wyvern airship.

“That is the apartment of my ardva...my grandmother,” Cameron explained as we ascended, passing a door to the apartment, intricately carved similar to the front doors of the Banhalla. “You will meet her later. It is getting difficult for her to move, so this level has a pulley system she can lower or raise herself using, rather than using the stairs.” As with most of the roofs around the capital, the top of the apartment was covered in wild grasses and flowers.

September 3, 2025 at 3:08 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 08/31
I have been super scattered with my posts this month, I'm sorry, but it wouldn't feel right not to post the last day of August. This is while Mona is learning of Gwen's harrowing backstory at Pan's hands.
#DarkFantasy #QueerWriters #Sapphic #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

Without a word, I handed Mona a tissue. She offered a watery thank you before blowing her nose. As she gathered herself, her sorrow lingering just beneath the surface, Mona locked eyes with me and whispered, “God…Gwen, I am so, so sorry.” She paused, shaking her head. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t feel like it even does it justice…”
I offered her a small, sad smile. In a soft voice, I said, “It’s funny you bring up God. I was brought up in the Church of England, as many of us were in those days. And there was a time, shortly after I was turned, that I was certain I was damned for the monstrous acts I was responsible for in the time immediately following my transformation. Yet the longer time passed without retribution, the notion of a benevolent God, or one that held any care of what we do in this world, became increasingly difficult to maintain.”
“I guess faith gets pretty hard to maintain when…well, when your world ends.” she sighed. I was unsure if she were referring to me, or herself. I remembered her mother attending services regularly as a young woman, but Mona had given no indication of religious beliefs in the time I’d known her. Her brow furrowed after a moment, and she frowned. “Gwen, what happened to you wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
“Wasn’t it?” I said in a small voice, genuinely curious. “Sometimes I’m able to believe that.”

August 31, 2025 at 2:21 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

FOREVER IS A VERY LONG TIME
⚔️Enemies to Lovers
🏳️‍🌈Butch/Femme Pairing
🏳️‍⚧️Non-binary & Trans Rep
😡Vengeance Era Women
💀Flirting Thru Decapitation
🏴‍☠️So Many Gay Pirates
🩸Blood Drinking As Eating Your Feelings
💔Broken (Stabbed) Heart
🧜‍♀️Mer-folk Will Eat You
🫂Hurt & Comfort
#PosterPit #PosterPitW #A #DF #LGBT

Image shows the rigging of a tall-masted ship, dark against a storm-cloud laden sky.

Text is as follows:

A Book by Alex Baker
Gwen Dale as Wendy Darling
Roseline Rivière as Capt. Hook

Enemies to Lovers
Butch/Femme Pairing
Pan-pires & Pirates
Spicy Sapphics
Hurt & Comfort
Support Women's Wrongs

FOREVER IS A VERY LONG TIME
Welcome to Neverland. Hope you survive the trip.

August 16, 2025 at 12:39 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

Happy #LesFicFri, friends!

I've shared this snip before, but I still like it a lot so y'all get it again.
#DarkFantasy #Sapphic #QueerWriters #WriteSky

What the fuck am I doin’?
I should’ve probably slept, but I couldn’t. Instead I slouched in my chair, watching her.
Beastie was sprawled without a care on my bed, naked other than my patchy purple sheet, which was only pulled up to her hip. She shone. The candlelight seemed tailor made to highlight the flawless porcelain of her skin, the gentle arc of her ribcage.
She was asleep. I was pretty sure she was asleep. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen one of them sleep…not since I was a kid, at the very least. She didn’t move, not one inch, even with the gentle rocking of the ship. She looked like a statue. Or dead. Her fuckin’ chest only rose and fell every 10 minutes or so, but for the life of me I didn’t know if it was because it needed the air, or if it was just a random impulse.
Their bodies didn’t let them do that. Sleep, that is, unless they felt safe. Because it made them vulnerable. She felt safe around me.
Without thinking, I looked at my hook, laying on my table where I’d left it before tugging her into bed. I could use it, finish her and be done with. It’s what Beanie wanted me to do, he’d made that clear. It’s what twenty years of fighting against the monsters threatening our lives told me I should do. How could a few days compare to that? I’d seen what she was capable of. Those slender fingers that had made me whimper her name like a prayer had also ripped Nibs’ head clean off. I’d seen her covered in blood!
And yet…she didn’t feel like the enemy, and not just ‘cause I made her come, not just ‘cause I could still taste her on my tongue. I’d seen past her mask. That snobby, nose-in-the-air act she put on, I’d peeked beneath it. Not to the monster, but to the woman. The pain of a hundred years. Even now, in her death-like sleep, her brow was pinched, furrowed, worrying about that niece of hers. Her lips were parted in a little oh, like she wanted to call out. She was scared about what lay ahead. Probably smart.
What was I gonna do?

August 15, 2025 at 1:54 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 8/14
Hi friends, sorry I've been quiet but I've been using all my attention span to put together a final plot outline to try and finish this book (pantsers trying to plot, I swear it's like pulling teeth).
Today, Gwen & Pan have a confronation (CW: violence, implied gore)
#DarkFantasy #wlw

I hit them once again, snarling, but even as I did a part of me knew they were telling the truth, as they saw it. As I stared down at them, I felt as if I could see their face attempting to rearrange itself, could hear the flesh and cartilage knitting itself back together. It was a wet, organic sound, like worms moving in damp earth, a sound that one feels up their spine.
“We cannot die this way, Widow. All of this is silliness,” Peter said smugly as their nose straightened and popped back into place. I was unsure how much time I had. Surely repairing a nose was an easier task than reconstituting an eviscerated torso, but they seemed confident that they would be fine in the end.
“‘We cannot die this way’,” I echoed, looking down at my first love and greatest enemy. “So, we can die then?” I thought back to everything I had learned since emerging from that secret room I’d been sealed in. “The hook’s wounds…they did not heal until you had fed off Michael. The hook is different…that is why you held so much animosity towards the Captain.”
“You do not have the hook any longer. You dropped it in the sands of the beach,” Pan sneered, as much a confirmation as I needed.
“Perhaps,” I replied, “But your sword is here. I saw Red carrying it as they helped you through the forest.” I glanced around, trying to spy where the sword had landed. I saw it, shimmering like bronze in a ray of sun peaking through the canopy, beside where Red remained slumped. “You were planning on using it to dispatch me, were you not?” I added, looking down at Peter once again.
They had lost the glibness from their expression, a hateful fire burning in their eye. “Curse you, Widow.”

August 14, 2025 at 3:09 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

definitely give it a shot, which is how I discovered some faves of recent years like Emily Austin's Everyone In This Room Will Someday Be Dead or Endpapers by @jsavrankelly.bsky.social (brilliant books I'd highly recommend). So I guess I mostly read genre, but keep my options open.

Cover image for Everyone In This Room Will Someday Be Dead by emily Austin, featuring a rough drawing on a woman from throat to hips. She wears a yellow t-shirt and blue jeans and is holding a rabbit.

Cover image for Endpapers by Jennifer Savran Kelly.

August 2, 2025 at 3:56 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

character types and found family tropes, and yet weave vastly different stories: On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden & Cosmoknights by @hannahtempler.com. There's also Saga, which is a bit like Romeo & Juliet on a cosmic scale if they had a kid instead of killing themselves, but it's a lot longer.

Cover for On A Sunbeam by Tillie Walden.

Cover for Cosmoknights book 1 by Hannah Templer

Cover to Saga book 1 by Vaughan & Staples

August 2, 2025 at 8:23 AM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 7/26
Had to look through a few works, then remembered I actually do have bail in my superhero WIP. Our friendly neighbourhood crimefighter runs into a familiar face while on patrol.
#QueerWriters #SapphicFiction #Superheroes #WriteSky

“Jimmy Donovan?”
The rail-thin man with the thinning blonde hair startles, drops a pair of bolt cutters he has in his hand, the chain he just cut falling to the ground with them. He looks to his left and right before finally looking up, catching sight of me crouched looking down on him. His narrow eyes go wide, and I can’t suppress a smirk that he didn’t hear me approach even on this frankly safety hazard of a fire escape. Thankfully, he can’t see my grin behind the mask…gotta keep some air of mystery.
“Jimmy, when did you post bail?” I add when he continues to gape at me.
“Nightshade! Uh, hey!” Jimmy, nudging the gas can behind him with his heel. “Hey pal, whatcha doing here?”
Resting my elbows on my knees, I lean forward with a sigh. “Y’know, that was actually going to be my question. I thought you were still in lock-up?”
Jimmy scratches at a bright pink rash on the side of his neck and shrugs, offering a sheepish smile. “Got out this morning.”
“This morning? And you’re already wanting to go back, what, fifteen? Sixteen hours later?” I tilt my head to the side, exaggerating a sigh with my shoulders. It used to be easier to get across emotions to crooks back in the domino mask days, but I’ve gotten pretty good at miming my emotions in the new suit. “Jimmy, seriously, aren’t you tired of the low rent torch jobs?”
“Man’s gotta make a living,” Jimmy offers weakly. When I don’t respond, he throws up his hands. “C’mon, hero, just one last job. Then I’m going clean, I swear.”
With a quick summersault, I drop the ten feet down to the group so we’re eye to eye, more or less. Jimmy’s a bit taller than me, but so skinny, like a balding Iggy Pop. “Jimmy, gimme a break. Please tell me you didn’t actually think that would work.”
“Worth a shot, eh?” he says before pulling the pistol shoved into the waistband of his dirty khakis.

July 26, 2025 at 5:29 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

Shortly after her transformation, Gwen is sealed in a room with her fiancé, Archie...and her hunger gets the better of her. 😖
#DarkFantasy #QueerWriters #WritingPrompt #WriteSky

It was only when Archie fell back against the wall, his body going slack as we slid to the floor, raining us with dirt in the process, that I was able to think clearly enough to understand the gravity of my actions. I released him immediately, sliding on the dirt floor away from him as far as the cramped room would allow. “Archie,” I gasped, “What have I done?”
Those beautiful, kind brown eyes bore into mine, holding me captive. “Archie…my love, I’m sorry…” I uttered softly, my agony plain in my voice. Surprisingly, a faint smile grazed his lips in response, and a shaking hand rose to my cheek. He lacked the strength to hold it up and the hand fell in his lap before he touched me. Somehow, in spite of my actions, he seemed to look at me without hate or anger, just love. Love and profound sadness. My face felt sticky with the blood that still dribbled from his ruined throat, though its flow seemed to be coming to an end. Archie’s mouth moved, but no sounds escaped. “N-no, Archie…don’t try to speak…save your energy…I will think of something...I’ll think…”
Even as I uttered those urgent words, I saw the life leave his eyes, his head falling limply to the side. “Archie, no!” I screamed, crawling back to him and clutching his soiled shirt with fervour. Urgently I gave him a shake, again and again, trying to convince him to come back to me.

July 26, 2025 at 5:03 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

Cat's #SapphicLineShare July 25: Touch!

In a dimly lit Gwen notes the reaction a sleepy Hook (who she knows as CH at the time) is having on her, physically.
#DarkFantasy #Sapphic #LesFic #QueerWriters

I couldn't tear my gaze away from this woman. Our paths had diverged in more ways than I could ever comprehend, yet the underlying essence of our shared experiences remained frighteningly similar. I couldn't help but ponder the endless possibilities of what could have been. She could have been me. Or maybe I would have been her, growing up alongside the fierce crew of the Jolly Roger, fighting against Pan and his Lost Ones. If I hadn't undergone my transformation, would I have returned to England? Perhaps, regardless of the circumstances, a life of normalcy with Archie by my side and a future full of children and grandchildren, had always been nothing more than a wistful dream. CH and I, in our shared misfortune, were two lost souls, two girls who had been mercilessly stripped of their former lives.
Yet, in the midst of these revelations, I couldn't deny the heightened emotions stirring within me. I desired her. The fullness of her lips called out to me, the elegant curve of her throat beckoned, producing a scarcely remembered ache between my legs. But it went beyond mere attraction. My body yearned for her, craved her touch. It was as if I had become acutely aware of her scent, an intoxicating blend of the sea and exotic flowers. She smelled divine. Her heartbeat resonated with a tranquil rhythm, like that of someone at peace. Somewhere deep inside me, my own patchwork heart echoed her rhythm, my own unique song seeming to match up with hers.
She leaned against me, her closeness becoming more pronounced as the night progressed. Her half-lidded gaze repeatedly wandered to my lips, each glance a subtle invitation. I wondered if she even realized, if she could truly see them amidst the dimness of our surroundings. My own gaze danced between her tempting lips and the old scars on her throat, the rush of her blood underneath, calling to the predator within me.
'Do not eat the beautiful pirate.'

July 25, 2025 at 6:28 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

Happy #LesFicFri!

After sneaking out of her castle to cavort with some of her subjects, Princess Evangeliya is walked home in the middle of the night to face her mother, the Queen. From my sapphic political intrigue fantasy. (2 images for alt text)
#Sapphic #QueerWriters #Fantasy #WriteSky

“Where have you been?” she finally asked coolly.
Swallowing down my nerves, I stood a little taller as I replied, “My apologies, mother. I needed some fresh air after dinner.”
“You needed fresh air?” She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.
“Just some air, and I wanted to be alone when I did so.” I said, trying to sound composed. My hands, betraying my inner turmoil, began to fidget restlessly. I moved them behind my back to make my nervousness less obvious. “I confess, your declaration this evening was a shock, and I may have acted rashly.”
“Rashly…” She repeated, “We live in constant threat of insurrectionists who wish nothing but the intent to harm our family, and you decide to rashly leave the castle walls, seeking fresh air.” Her diction was so precise you could cut yourself on every syllable.
“Yes mother.” Her eyes finally returned to mine and we stared at one another for what felt like an eternity, my mother’s glacial gaze freezing seemingly time itself.
“And how, exactly, did you rashly leave the castle’s grounds? Who aided you in doing so?”
I schooled all reaction from my face, offering her a placid neutrality. I couldn’t give away Blaire and my new friends. Still, sweat prickled the back of my neck. “Linens,” I said, seizing the first plausible explanation that rushed to my thoughts. “It’s the end of the week, the linens were going out to be laundered. I hid amongst them. I acted alone.”
Whether my mother believed me or not, she turned her gaze to Kavahn, “Where did you find her?”
“On Union Lane, your majesty.” I let out a sigh, glancing at the Exaugh. Kavahn only looked at my mother, somehow managing to look professional and smug at the same time. “In the arms of a young woman. In a notable state of undress, I’m afraid I must add.”

That bitch. “Mother, she’s lying.”
“Is she?” As my mother gazed upon me, her eyes lingered on my present attire. I still had Siv's scarlet coat draped around my bare shoulders. I seethed with hatred towards Kavahn at that moment. She was offering the Queen fragments of the truth, but skewed, distorted to make me look worse.

July 25, 2025 at 5:30 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 7/25
I've shared this before, but I like this little scene of Hook and her protege/adopted kid, Boomer, dueling, with a touch of backstory as to why the kid's called Boomer. (2 images for alt text)
#DarkFantasy #SapphicFiction #QueerWriters #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

Boomer just laughed and charged me.
Within months of him being aboard, it was hard to remember a time before he was a part of the crew. He was thrown into the basics like knotwork and shooting, much like his present adoptees. Early in that first year, he also connected with our resident explosives expert, Fuse, an older man with a sharp, fox-like face, and the kid became fascinated by things that went boom.
Of course, this fascination ended up biting Boomer in the ass—or more accurately the hand—when he managed to blow off two fingers from his right hand while fucking around with some bombs of his own making during a scouting trip to one of the outer islands when he was sixteen. I could still remember the feel of his tears against my collar. My heart was in my throat holding him through his agonizing cries as Beanie stitched up his maimed hand. Little fucker was honestly lucky he didn’t do more damage. But in fairness, he learned a valuable lesson…his little creations bite.
As our blades locked, neither of us wanting to give ground, Boomer grinned, a bright, glowing expression that was impossible for me not to mirror. This kid, I swear. His enthusiasm for everything was infectious. “Ready to concede, Cap? I won’t tell a soul,” he asked, the innocent tone in his voice offset by the narrowed confidence of his eyes.
“Oh, not sure I’m ready fer that,” I replied, pushing him back to get room to swing my sword. “Yer good, kiddo, don’t get me wrong. But you still got a major problem,” I added, slipping past him when I saw an opening and thwapping him on the ass with the broad side of my blade for his carelessness. “Yer awareness of yer surroundings is still shite.”

The song of metal echoed around us, the soundtrack to our strange, fluid dance. Boomer’s gotten to be a fuckin’ good duelist. He fought with heart and passion, but still managed to keep his head. When he first lost the fingers, I was sure that would mess up his ability to even hold a sword, let alone fight with one. But to my great astonishment, he thrived, shifting to a fluid style of grip and movement that seemed to compensate for his missing pinky and ring finger. I wasn't even sure I precisely understood the mechanics of his technique, just that he worked himself to exhaustion to make up for the handicap. It’s a credit to him that, even after my twenty years of experience, I could only spot a handful of openings in his form.

July 25, 2025 at 2:08 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 7/24
Gwen reminisces how, shortly before leaving Neverland the last time, Wendy tried to find SOMEONE using her newly enhanced senses, but ran into someone she thought of as a friend. (2 images for alt text)
#DarkFantasy #Sapphic #QueerWriters #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

I moved through the woods swiftly, ignoring the feel of my face getting scratched at by all manner of branches, not running but not quite flying properly, simply following the pull of [REDACTED] in my chest when I suddenly impacted something, collapsing to the ground. Or someone, as the case turned out to be, as the target of my collision let out a high pitched squeak, forcing my eyes open.
Tootles may have been my favourite Lost One, ever since I had first come to Neverland. Her voice tended towards being more soft-spoken, and her pleasant tone and charming demeanor always carried with it a seemingly permanent smile to her round, dimpled face. Moreover, her ever-present act of absent-mindedly brushing her lengthy chestnut locks out of her eyes always produced a strange flutter deep within me in the past, one I did not have words for until long after I’d left Neverland.
Collapsed in a heap amongst the underbrush, that smile was gone as we stared at one another for a tense moment. Her eyes were such a deep blue that their faerie dust always seemed to sparkle that little bit more. Even in the midst of the current dire predicament, I could not fully forget those happy times spent with her in days gone by.
“Wen...Widow,” she finally stammered, scrambling away from me to get to her feet and pulling a short dagger from her waistband which she held out before her in a half-hearted defense.
Standing as well, I held my own weapon at my side, not raising it. Tootles wore a pinched expression, a deep frown marring her pretty face. “Let me pass, Tootles.”
“I cannot do that, Widow,” she said with a trembling bottom lip.

Taking a half step forward, I looked down at poor Tootles. She was shorter than I was, perhaps the shortest Lost One after Red, and softly curvy. There was a tenderness to her, even knowing now what her sharp teeth were capable of, the hunger she must feel inside. “You know that is not my name, Tootles. Peter does not get to unilaterally decide who I am.”
“But they do!” She insisted through clenched teeth, giving her dagger a weak shake in my direction. “They always have!”
“But I am the one who named them Peter…doesn’t that mean something as well?”

July 24, 2025 at 3:47 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 7/23
Following their time together in the jungles of Neverland's main island, Hook needs to delicately explain to Beanie that Gwen is coming with them to the ship. But before she has a chance, well... (TW: Gunfire)
#DarkFantasy #Sapphic #QueerWriters #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

But before she could finish her explanation, the man's eyes suddenly scanned past her, widening with terror as they fell on me. “Fuckin’ hell, a blood beast! You been followed, CH!” he bellowed. Faster than I thought possible of a human, he immediately pulled the largest revolver I had laid eyes on in my life from a holster on his hip and fired a shot in my direction. I instinctively ducked behind a rock for cover as the deafening boom of the pistol echoed through the cave, assaulting my sensitive ears.
“Beanie!” CH's voice filled the air, a mixture of shock and anger.
“Think I wouldn’t see them shining eyes, monster?” the man, Beanie, hollered, his voice filled with a mix of fear and determination. He fired off another round, leaving me with no choice but to huddle behind the safety of my rocky shield. All I could do was cover my ears and consider that, just perhaps, I should have followed CH’s instructions. “Can’t sneak up on ol’ Beanie!”
“Oi, Beanie!” CH bellowed once more, desperately attempting to divert the attention of the hulking giant.
I lay with my cheek pressed to the damp stone floor, covering my ears. I flinched as the man fired another round, showering rocky debris down upon me. This was getting tiresome. “Get to the boat, Cap,” Beanie urgently directed, his voice laced with desperation, “I’ll hold it off!” Another gunshot shattered the air. With each shot, I told myself that when his six shots were finally depleted, I would only inflict a minor retribution upon him, if only to protect the precarious arrangement I had with CH. I’d leave this Beanie with one working hand, maybe even his dominant one.

July 23, 2025 at 1:26 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 7/20
Bit of a longer snip today, from my political intrigue fantasy, as MC Eva & her recently declared fiancé Cameryn discuss language when it turns out they can speak (previously, Cameryn had pretended to only know her native tongue).
#Fantasy #LesFic #Sapphic #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

Cameryn regarded me with unguarded curiosity. “Have you ever learned any others?”
“There are no other languages,” I answered instinctively, eliciting a raised eyebrow from her. “In the Sovereignty, I mean. We only have one.”
“Across such a vast realm?” Cameryn asked, her disbelief barely contained. “We have cithr…er, four?” She held up her fingers, confirming with my nod that she was remembering the word properly. “Four across our island, plus a secret one for our Cheifidhar, our mystics.”
“We need only one language,” I confirmed with a small shrug, my voice tinged with pride. “There are mild variations of course—provincial dialects, accents and the like,” I added. “But my ancestors have devoted a millennium teaching the people to speak in one voice, to ensure that everyone across the Sovereignty could communicate with one another.”
Cameryn pursed her lips at this, an expression I couldn't quite place flitting across her face. She cleared her throat and said, “Well, our scouting vessels have had limited contact with your Sovereignty, and on the last trip back a Brael explorer returned with them, a man named Taliesin. He has resided with us since prior to the start of last Samhr, the growing season. I began studying intensely with him when my mother told me of the proposed alliance with your land, and the possibility I would come here.”
I couldn’t even allow myself the time to process that the explorer entrusted with discovering this new land had been a man—major accomplishments by men were practically unheard of—as a bemused, involuntary smugness crept into my tone. “And still, you managed to become fluent in Brael in four or five weeks? Doesn’t sound like our language could have been that complex.”

Cameryn frowned thoughtfully at this. “Ah...I believe our calendars do differ somewhat, but that does not sound correct. I had slightly over ghaena’ saj...excuse me, seven faces of the moon? I wished to be as fluent as I could be.”
“Seven faces of the moon...wait. Are you saying that means seven months?” I found myself whispering, my disbelief hanging in the air. How had she had that much time unless… “Mother. She's been orchestrating this marriage alliance for months, and yet she only chose to inform me a few weeks ago.”

July 20, 2025 at 3:37 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

#WIPSnips 7/19
In flashback, we find the moment that Wendy confronts her own ignorance about the place & beings that have been such a part of her life since she was twelve, only after she's been turned & taken her 1st life.
Hindsight, amirite?
#DarkFantasy #Sapphic #QueerWriters #WriteSky

Desperately, I turned to the onlookers, searching for some flicker of incredulity mirroring my own. But to my dismay, there was none. Not among the Lost Ones, nor among the regular children who stood there in wide-eyed wonder—many of whom I finally noticed held marks of their own, on throats, inner wrists, deep red in the bright sunlight. I stood alone with my shock and disbelief, feeling like a lone fool trapped in a world that had concealed its true nature from me for far too long. How was it possible? How could I have missed the signs of such violence and darkness during my seven years of venturing into Neverland? I questioned myself, doubting my own perception and cursing my own naivety. It was a revelation that shattered my illusions and left me grappling with an unsettling truth. I had been dwelling in a realm teeming with shadows, oblivious to my own ignorance.

July 19, 2025 at 1:56 PM

Alex Is Writing

@alexfromawen.bsky.social

July 18 #SapphicLineShare: Discover.
Sometimes, you have to remind yourself not to eat a beautiful pirate (negative) even as you're thinking about eating a beautiful pirate (positive).
#LesFic #Sapphic #QueerWriters #WritingPrompts

Swallowing heavily, I fought to silence the hunger that threatened to consume me, whispering, “I feel I should inform you that your tonic wore off some time ago…”
Her heartbeat quickened slightly as her head tilted back, her eyes searching mine. I knew what she could see, the faerie dust in my eyes reflecting the small amount of light peeking through the cave’s entrance. In a soft and cautious tone, she inquired, “Anythin’ I need to worry about there, beastie?”
Do not eat the beautiful pirate.
“No,” I said definitively. I did not want to hurt her. I wouldn’t let the hunger have her. She had experienced that enough. “I was unsure if you needed another dose.”
Nestling comfortably back against my shoulder, she let out a stifled yawn, attempting to conceal it with her free hand. “Hmm…best not. Maybe in the morning. Shit’s effective, but best not to have it too often in a day.” She let out a soft snort. “It’s not actually all that healthy.”
“Well, it still sounds very impressive that your Captain was able to develop the tonic,” I whispered with a smile. “Impressive. To accomplish that, to rescue you from Pan. He must be an extraordinary man.” CH made a soft affirmative sound. We were both quiet for a while, but then curiosity struck me. “What was it like growing up on a pirate ship?”
The pirate remained silent. I peered to my right and discovered CH nestled on my shoulder, her eyelids peacefully shut, lost in a serene sleep. Her gentle breaths were steady, and as she slumbered, she exuded an aura of youthfulness. The ghost of the girl she’d been when she first came to Neverland, perhaps. Tenderly, I draped my arm around her shoulders, allowing her to rest undisturbed, while my attention shifted to the entrance of the cave.

July 18, 2025 at 11:17 PM

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