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katerwaul.bsky.social
Katerwaul
@katerwaul.bsky.social
770 followers 240 following 190 posts
Writing mecha lesbians committing violence and transcending humanity. | She/her | Trans
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katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Inanna meets the Archangel, the god who has defined her life since before her birth.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
The Archangel’s broadsword Sunsplitter is impossibly dense, black as the void itself, forged from neutron star matter. With this sword—its cutting edge enhanced to an impossible extent by divinity—she split Earth down the middle. She is the apex of the Adamant philosophy: her existence is a cutting edge, an endless sword that cleaves through all who oppose her. She wouldn’t even need to touch Inanna to sever her from the mortal coil. A communications channel opens at an unfamiliar frequency, insinuating itself into Inanna’s systems as if it has always been there. “Approach,” says the Archangel. “The others will stay behind. For you only, Inanna’s Vengeance, I guarantee safe passage under the Celestial Conventions.” Some comfort. Those conventions were overturned centuries before Inanna was born. But if the Archangel brought her here to kill her, she would have done it by now; trickery is forbidden by her own Codex. With a twinge of fear, Inanna flies past the buoys—and her atoms remain properly assembled. She accelerates, trailing gold, eating up the kilometres in less than a minute. As Inanna makes her final approach, the Archangel turns to meet her at last. Golden eyes glow in her helm like molten metal, serious yet inviting; a flock of eye-drones floats around her waist. The Archangel is larger than any Seraph Inanna has seen, easily five times her size. This close, the gold of her is tinged with chromatic aberration, her edges slightly out of focus like a photograph of herself. Once, this was what Inanna longed to be. Every Knight follows in their god’s footprints, forbidden from taking the final step. But she is not a Knight any more; she has broken free from the strictures of rank and doctrine to build her own path. The Archangel stares for an endless moment, eyes and drones and sensors scrutinising every detail of Inanna’s body in every spectrum that exists. What must she think of Inanna, her antithesis, apostate of the Adamant faith?
November 13, 2025 at 10:42 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS

At a grand masquerade above the clouds, Bliss sees her beloved Val again, as if for the first time.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #ReadSky
*There she is.* Across the room, their gaze is drawn to each other, inexorable as gravity. A bronze hawk mask, shrewd and graceful, hides Val’s face. *Like that could fool me.* Bliss has caressed every contour of the body underneath, kissed every centimetre of skin. She could never fail to recognise her Knight. A tuxedo sheathes her powerful frame: limbs draped in black velvet, white shirt collar stark against her dark skin. With her air of sternly contained violence she could be mistaken for a bodyguard, but the reality of Val is far more lethal. If Bliss dared, she would run over and embrace her in a moment. But as long as they are under the watchful gaze of the Houses, their love must remain a secret. *Love.* They have never spoken the word to each other, never named what lies between them. And yet they have broken countless laws, defied the gods in pursuit of the cardinal sin. What else could it be?
November 12, 2025 at 9:51 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

In a desperate mecha battle, Linnea draws on a forbidden power to save her wife Violette.

You can read ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS here: www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
Screenshot of text: A thundering rhythm pounded through my chassis. I saw the path out, described for me in musical notation, and followed it without hesitation. With a sickening crack, my arms bent backwards and grabbed hold of the blade in my back then yanked it free, out of the Knight’s grasp. My shoulder-grapnels fired, catching a second Knight; I soared on broken wings, propelled by the cables as they reeled in, and ran them through. Their spark guttered and died around my stolen blade. The other three’s reactions were slow, predictable. I already knew when they would strike and how. Each swing of my claws carved a bloody furrow in their armour, laced with paralytics. I cackled madly at the rush. As the music reached its crescendo, I receded into myself. There was only the bright and triumphant melody driving me forward, emanating from a far greater power than the Mother herself. It was scalding-hot, brighter than a supernova, razor-sharp, just behind the veil— A command rang in my mind. -Linnea! Persephone! Listen to me! Consciousness dawned dimly. Something with the tang of blood and steel was stuck in my mouth. I worked my teeth free and saw the obstruction clearly: the broken neck of a Seraph. The Knight’s armoured ribcage was cracked open, chunks of meat already gouged out and eaten; their spark was shattered into golden crystalline fragments. There was no sign of the pilot. I clicked my jaw back into place and licked my lips. I felt so very full. Best to leave the rest for the Vultures. I left the four Seraph-corpses to drift in space and returned triumphant to the hangar. The medics cut me free from the cockpit. Flesh, fresh and pulsating, had grown onto the conduits that ran into my spine. Wobbling like a newborn foal, unfamiliar with the clumsiness of human muscles, I stumbled onto the gantry where Violette waited for me. On her ageless face was an expression I had never seen before: a look of purest horror.
November 4, 2025 at 10:18 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
FLEET & FABRICANT by @tinylesbianrobot.itch.io: Harrowing sci-fi horror in the vein of SIGNALIS. It's emotionally devastating, unflinching in its portrayal of robots (and trans women) as a disposable underclass, and ruthless in critique of capitalism. If you like these, there's a third book too!
A book cover featuring a space-suited figure on the surface of the Moon - "A Quiet Universe - Kay F. Atkinson" A book cover featuring a woman with a hatchet sitting on a throne in a red sea - "A Sea of Silence - Kay F. Atkinson"
November 2, 2025 at 2:45 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
THOSE WHO BEAR ARMS duology by @benjanun.bsky.social and @devi.bsky.social: Gorgeous thriller romance featuring ruthless crime lord sisters and the women who kill for them. The second book is one of my very favourite romances.
Two book covers - "The Gunrunner and Her Hound" and "The Spy and Her Serpent" by Maria Ying, against a background of a gun. "Two sisters rule two cities. They'll have it all: wealth, women, and power."
November 2, 2025 at 2:28 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
THESE RAINY AUTUMN NIGHTS by @shadell.itch.io: One of my favourite reads of last year. This forcefem time-loop story really pushes the limits of co-dependence, with the three leads spending millennia clinging to one another and refusing to emerge from their cocoon into the harsh outside world.
A book cover depicting a spiral staircase from above, with the text following the curve of the banister: "These Rainy Autumn Nights - Erin Elkin"
November 2, 2025 at 2:16 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
This bundle is full of so much quality writing! I just read @trishusband.itch.io's KEEPING THE PEACE and it's such a great work of cyberpunk noir: grimy, full of messy relationships and deeply flawed characters, with nobody's hands left clean.

More thoughts on the other books I've read to follow!
A book cover with an alcoholic drink against a black background. "Keeping The Peace - Tris Husband"
November 2, 2025 at 11:31 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

In the midst of the battle for the Chalcedony Palace, Red Eris finds some cannon fodder to vent her frustrations on.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
Eris takes the measure of her prey as she advances on the twin Knights. Eye of Horus and Linen of Anubis are a matched pair, liveried in burnished bronze and carbon fibre, animal-headed. They are unfamiliar to her, so she skims their identifier signals. For a Knight, an identifier is an epic poem, a compilation of their grand deeds, like the victory marks on the nose of an antique fighter plane. Horus and Anubis’s poems are filled with theoretical accolades: first in formation training, most comrades ratted out to Doctrine, highest score on combat sims. Eris bares her fangs in glee. As she swoops in to assist Titania, she gloats, "Darling, these boys haven’t had a real fight in their lives." "Then let’s show them a proper Hunter’s welcome," replies Titania. The evacuation shuttles are halfway to orbit now, their fields rippling as they weather the Knights’ missiles. Titania shields them with bursts of chaff, walls of thorns and, failing that, with her own body. Her monarch wings are shot through with holes; her armour sheds petals. A sonic boom breaks around Eris as she gives chase; the horizon begins to curve. The layers of atmosphere resolve in gradient, orange fading into the utter darkness of space. Despite everything, this world still contrives to produce scenes of beauty. Eris barrels through laser fire, eager to add a spatter of blood to the canvas. She strikes to wound, to prolong suffering. After all their Saint has done today, it’s the least the brothers deserve. Their defence is automatic, drilled, predictable. Eris slips past their shields, bites and claws on instinct; their movements flag as her toxins set in. She spits out broken armour and pulped flesh. They are nothing but tin soldiers, fodder for all her frustrations. Her mother has thrown her and everyone she loves into a war zone. She needs this. She deserves this. Enough of pretending to be human. Eris will show them the monster they’re all afraid of.
October 23, 2025 at 8:13 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
October 16, 2025 at 1:35 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Inanna tries to talk Skadi into escaping together.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: Skadi laughs bitterly. "When I saw your halo ignite like a beacon in the sky, I felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in years. I should have known that it would be short-lived. There’s no such thing as revolution in this universe, Inanna. The gods snuff out the sparks before they can ever ignite a blaze; I learned that more thoroughly than anyone." Inanna sets her jaw, glancing sidelong at Skadi. "That’s not the story I remember. You told it to me yourself: the legend of Hel’s Right Hand, who faced down impossible odds and survived. She would have fought to the last breath, until the stars burned out. Are you really her, or just a pale imitation? Will you let Sigrún’s sacrifice be in vain? Are you content to be their dog until the day you die?" "Don’t," Skadi snaps. "Don’t use her name against me. I should never have told you that story!" "And yet something compelled you to. Did you want to remind yourself of who you used to be: the indomitable Queen of Valkyries? We could make short work of these four Knights together. It’d be easy for someone like Hel." Warning lights begin to blink in the collar interface. Just a little further; she’s sure of it. "I’m not that person any more," says Skadi. "That past is dead and buried; I can never return to who I was when she was by my side." "I don’t want the past. We can never go back; our only option is to keep moving forward into the uncertainty of the future. You’ve made of yourself a mausoleum for so long, drowning in grief until you became nothing more than the shadow of her absence. Isn’t it time for you to start living again, on your own terms?"
October 13, 2025 at 7:47 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

Inanna's Vengeance sees Red Eris, Bliss's mech body, for the first time.

#BookSky #WriteSky

You can read All The Stars To Cinders here: www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...
A screenshot of text: A countdown timer ticks at the back of her mind. Three minutes until the sun goes supernova, marking the beginning of the duel. She arcs gracefully towards her mark. A camera drone watches her silently, broadcasting her image back to the Nova Station. She can see the station from here, impossible to miss in a Seraph’s vision with the field lines bending to divert the solar radiation around it like a pebble in a stream. It looks so small, teardrop-shaped— A silhouette eclipses the station. Like a sudden falling sensation, Inanna’s spark resonates with the ripples in space-time it leaves in its wake. Bathed in crimson sunlight, the Seraph’s form is revealed as she approaches: chitinous limbs bent at strange angles, faceted black eyes above a fanged mouth, membranous bat wings spread wide behind her, vicious claws ready to tear open armour. She is red, red, red, stained to the marrow with the blood of myriad hunts. Bliss’s Seraph body. Red Eris, in the flesh.
September 19, 2025 at 5:00 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
I completely forgot Reze was there in that scene too because my main memory of it was this page with Quanxi lol
September 2, 2025 at 3:56 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Back against the wall, Bliss has no choice but to fight for real against the woman she loves.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: Outwardly, Bliss is sanguine about the day’s hunt: very normal, very restrained. Inwardly, she has never left the minutes after her mother cut the call, when she screamed her throat raw and beat and clawed her punching bag until it fell apart. This is a death march: gun pressed to her back, feet cut to ribbons by rocks, nothing but a bullet as her reward. Her only opportunity to act will be when the trap is sprung. She climbs back into the cockpit, letting metal and chitin close around her, cocooning herself in warmth. Inside, all Seraphs are the same: the grey synth-flesh walls, the steady golden pulse of the spark. Linnea died in a place like this; Bliss, instead, will live. -Good hunting, she says as the conduits plug into her spine, and the flight echoes her in answer. If she must fight, she’ll give them all a show to remember.
August 20, 2025 at 9:34 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
The Chrysos Spoons will complete the Flame-Broiled-Chase Journey and usher in Era Deliciosa 🫡
August 15, 2025 at 8:50 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Eris and Inanna duel in their mecha bodies, drawing out their true feelings for each other.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: When they clash once again, their strikes are unpredictable, guided by that distant melody. But Inanna is weakening by the second. A claw slips past her guard; she catches it on her arm, struggling against the sheer strength of it. Eris is almost near enough to bite. Her monstrous face is bathed in flickering light and deep shadow, like a creature from a horror movie. “Why are you still striving for a lost cause, little Knight? This hunt is over, whether you think of yourself as prey or not.” “You’re beautiful like this,” says Inanna, even as the Hunter threatens to overpower her. “What?” The pressure eases up, just a little. “You must have heard it before.” “Never from an enemy.” Eris’s claws cut deep into her armour. Something like fondness glistens in her black eyes. “Then again, I’ve never had an enemy quite like you.”
August 14, 2025 at 7:28 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Bliss visits her girlfriend Summer in the poison garden.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: The deadliest plants of long-lost Earth could never compare to the botanical bounty of Protean House. The greenhouse is a jungle of stinging vines and hypnotic golden flowers, trees with acid-spitting boles and parasitic red mushrooms that burrow into flesh. It is alarmingly, terrifyingly beautiful, and one of Bliss’s very favourite places on the ship. This is their armoury. From deeper into the labyrinth comes a high, sweet voice singing an old spacer folk song, one of Summer’s favourites. Bliss takes the paved path towards the sound, ducking beneath branches and dodging the grasp of entangling roots. Her breathing is amplified in the helmet, drowning out the noise of creaking vines and dripping water. She is acutely aware of the thin suit that is the only thing between her and excruciating death. This is nothing like being Red Eris, whose carapace is a second skin, whose claws rip and tear with brutal ease. In this body, any manner of thing could kill her in an instant. Perhaps that is what excites her so about Summer; she was the first person to make her feel hunted. The singing lures her into a clearing. Here, the plants are quiescent, as if listening to their mistress. Every flower is rapt, turning towards the sun: Summer, in her radiance. Her stature is short, less than intimidating to the unaware. She wears a similar hazard suit to Bliss, but her gloves are lined with golden wires which run down her fingers and extend out like roots into the garden. Everything within these glass walls dances to her tune.
August 10, 2025 at 8:54 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS

A T4T enemies-to-lovers lesbian romance in which godlike mecha pilots indulge their mutual love of violence as they fight on opposite sides of a galactic war.

This is the free release of CHAPTER 13: DENY THY MOTHER.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...
A book cover depicting a huge, monstrous angelic figure with glowing blue eyes, with the text: "ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS - Kate Taylor" A screenshot of text: They slice her from her own body with saw and scalpel, severing her from the conduit with the wet sound of tearing flesh. She queries her diagnostic systems: what is happening? There is no answer; her sensorium is shrunk to the limits of eyes and ears, to a pea-sized neural implant with communications privileges revoked. They make of her a helpless puppet of meat, carried by hulking ceramic-shelled marines across gantries. The clang of their boots reverberating on metal is deafening, disorienting; the hangar lights overload her optical implants with bloom. She screws her eyes shut and tries to prime her weapons, to unfurl her wings, to escape from the grasp of her captors. Nothing happens; she is cruelly reduced, a divine being of violence left with no weapon but her fists. She curls and uncurls her cybernetic fingers, struggling in the clutches of the marines, but they hold her fast, indifferent. They are more weapon than her now.
August 2, 2025 at 8:32 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
Ascend to mecha-godhood through the power of lesbian love.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...
A book cover depicting a huge, monstrous angelic figure with glowing blue eyes, with the text: "ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS - Kate Taylor"
August 1, 2025 at 8:39 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

In a mecha duel with Inanna's Vengeance, Red Eris comes to a realisation that can turn the tide.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: Ahead, Inanna has stopped. She hangs in the air, her sword raised high in both hands like an angelic statue. Her eyes burn fiercely, daring Eris to come closer. If every Knight was as valiant as her, the Adamant would have overrun Protean House centuries ago. Her electric field lines bend inward, her spark ionising the air above her, changing the path of least resistance to— “Do you have a death wish, or are you just stupid?” Eris cries. “If you want to stop me, then come and get me.” Inanna is impossibly, infuriatingly calm. It makes her long to tear off that perfect, shining armour to get to the beating spark underneath. This is the only way they can understand each other. She is close now, the rain hammering against her carapace. Barely a kilometre ahead, the Knight waits. Eris unloads every projectile she has at the unmoving target. Lightning strikes, and Inanna catches it. The false sky dims around her. Her sword crackles with barely contained power as she brings it to bear. The air itself sings with danger, and for the first time since the Nova Ball, Eris is afraid. Afraid. That was how she felt on the day of her first hunt. She was weak and childish, and it took everything in her to bring down the beast with a makeshift wooden spear. When her mother demanded two more, she waited until nightfall and crept into the groundskeeper’s cottage to steal their gun. That was the lesson Violette taught her. When the odds are stacked against you, find a way to cheat fate.
August 1, 2025 at 4:57 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

HER HEART'S SCHEMATICS:

Aveline encounters a broken automaton as she travels through the streets of Paris.

#WriteSky #BookSky
A screenshot of text: As we rounded a corner into a less busy road, I spied a commotion: a handful of people gathered around a street-sweeper automaton on the pavement, wringing their hands and muttering to one another. The automaton sparked and twitched erratically; clearly it was in the midst of a malfunction. I popped open the window and called up to the driver: “Can we stop for a minute? I can help.” The driver looked down at me from his high seat in puzzlement. “Oh, right, the sweep. You sure, madame? Didn’t take you for the type to go tinkering.” “Yes. Stop the cab, please.” I stepped out as the cab rattled to a halt, striding confidently towards the broken automaton. A few of the bystanders looked askance at me as I passed, no doubt noting my lack of Guild insignia, but they were quickly mollified by my air of competence as I pulled my tools out of my leather satchel. You can get away with almost anything if you look like you know what you’re doing. The automaton was a recent Beaunier model, tall and slender, equipped with a panoply of mechanised brushes and a leaf-blower attachment. In this day and age, an automaton cannot be a crude homunculus of rivets and steel plates, as they were at the advent of the technology; artificing has become art, and the street-sweeper’s appearance reflected this. Its outline was sculpted in sweeping strokes of brass filigree, decorated with stained glass that exposed the working of joints: a triumph of Art Nouveau, the inorganic rendered organic.
July 30, 2025 at 7:52 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Summer confronts Eris after her incomplete ascension.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: “The Mother’s design would proscribe me as an apostate, Summer,” Eris says. “All for seizing control of my fate, for daring to follow her path and reshape my body in the mould of divinity. Are you willing to abandon the love we shared? To condemn me to recycling or worse?” “You’re the one who’s abandoning me,” snaps Summer. “All for this infatuation with a woman you barely know; a Knight, no less. What does she have that a good Protean woman doesn’t? Is her body even real under that uniform, or is it just plastic and metal? She didn’t only kill Bear, you know. She killed over a hundred of our fellow Hunters. Don’t you care about them at all?” “They had it coming, I imagine. They signed up to be monsters, just like you and me. I didn’t know them, so I don’t care.” “Again with this ‘monster’ nonsense! That’s not what I signed up for. It’s the highest calling: a chance to become part of something greater, to defend the superorganism from invasive species who’d see our beautiful ecosystem destroyed.” “Invasive species? The Adamant are just as human as you, Summer.” Summer spots the omission. “But not you?” “No, I’m not human. Not any more. I finally tipped the balance.” Eris stares unblinkingly at Summer, pulling back her lips in a triumphant grin. “What do you think of that, darling? Will you call the doctor to psychoanalyse me? Will she lock me in a padded cell for my own safety?”
July 29, 2025 at 8:38 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Bliss is banned from duelling after her disastrous defeat at the Nova Ball.

www.scribblehub.com/series/738578/all-the-stars-to-cinders/

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: “The duel was… a miscalculation,” Bliss blurts out. “I’m sorry, Elder. My judgement was impaired. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” It burns her right down to the heart to apologise like this. Red Eris did the best she could. Her claws were sharp; her instinct was keen; her venom was prepared by Summer especially for the occasion. How was she to know that her opponent was so eager to die to prove her worth? She clearly recalls Valour’s stoic expression on that night a week ago, putting on a brave face for the crowd, all the while afflicted by Eris’s agonising venom. She would dearly love to see what would finally push that woman over the edge. “Again?” Violette says. “There will not be another duel like this for you, Bliss. The Chorus have already made their decision. If you wish to prove yourself, do it on the battlefield.” She sighs. “I am sorry too. I told them my daughter was destined for higher things, but the consensus of the Elders went against you regardless. I am assured it was for the greater good of the House.” Bliss’s grip on her wine glass tightens, almost hard enough to shatter it with her gene-spliced strength. She longs to hurl it at the wall, but what would that accomplish apart from making a mess? Soon enough, she will have the opportunity to let go and forget about this humiliation; Ash has finally stopped making off-colour jokes about it in the mess hall. She needs to hunt. Very soon, she will have the opportunity to spill blood again.
July 28, 2025 at 7:44 AM
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#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Val visits the memorial garden on the Feather of Truth.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: The garden’s silence is absolute, to aid in contemplation. No breeze stirs the sheltering branches of the cedars; no rain weathers the surfaces of the memorial obelisks. Time is suspended here, where the glorious dead are commemorated: the twelve obelisks rise in a circle like numbers on a stopped clock, connected by winding paths. On a canvas of pinprick stars in the ceiling, a hologram of Earth’s moon bathes the scene in pale light. This sky, too, is gone but not forgotten. Val walks the radius of the garden past memorial after memorial, each golden name etched in the obsidian another life sacrificed in service of their House. She always thinks of her childhood friends when she comes here. Even Jebat—his young life cut cruelly short—is memorialised in the church of Martyr’s Rock, but no such honour is accorded to Marta. Her body still lives, still serves Adamant House, and when that vessel dies it will be Trueheart who is remembered for her sacrifice.
July 20, 2025 at 9:41 AM
katerwaul.bsky.social
ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS

A T4T enemies-to-lovers lesbian romance in which godlike mecha pilots indulge their mutual love of violence as they fight on opposite sides of a galactic war.

CHAPTER 13: DENY THY MOTHER is out for patrons!

www.patreon.com/posts/all-st...
A book cover depicting a huge, monstrous angelic figure with glowing blue eyes, with the text: "ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS - Kate Taylor" A screenshot of text: They slice her from her own body with saw and scalpel, severing her from the conduit with the wet sound of tearing flesh. She queries her diagnostic systems: what is happening? There is no answer; her sensorium is shrunk to the limits of eyes and ears, to a pea-sized neural implant with communications privileges revoked. They make of her a helpless puppet of meat, carried by hulking ceramic-shelled marines across gantries. The clang of their boots reverberating on metal is deafening, disorienting; the hangar lights overload her optical implants with bloom. She screws her eyes shut and tries to prime her weapons, to unfurl her wings, to escape from the grasp of her captors. Nothing happens; she is cruelly reduced, a divine being of violence left with no weapon but her fists. She curls and uncurls her cybernetic fingers, struggling in the clutches of the marines, but they hold her fast, indifferent. They are more weapon than her now.
July 19, 2025 at 1:42 PM
katerwaul.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

ALL THE STARS TO CINDERS:

Bliss enters her mecha body for a sortie with her fellow Protean Hunters.

www.scribblehub.com/series/73857...

#BookSky #WriteSky
A screenshot of text: She slips into Red Eris like a favourite dress. Flesh laces up behind her as the cockpit seals her in, comfortable and warm. This space is all hers, the safest in the universe, her second body. If walls had ears they would be scandalised; more than one tryst has ended here with bodies pressed up against the wall, sweat trickling down flushed skin, tongues and fingers bringing out gasps and moans until they can take no more. Not that she should be thinking about that right now. After the hunt, high on adrenaline with emotions surging through the bond, anything could happen. Hunter flights live and die on relationship drama. Sooner or later, they all love or hate each other. Cradled in her harness, she calmly watches the chamber fill with green impact gel, barely registering when it displaces the air in her lungs. The conduits plug into her spine: four, three, two, one, action. Red Eris spreads her wings, unsheathes her claws. Lovingly stitched together and regrown after the Nova Ball, she feels as good as new. Her claws are as sharp as ever; her arsenal of toxins and acids and autocannon rounds is newly replenished. The damage, the disgrace, persists only in her memory. A shimmer passes over her vision; a momentary flash of dissociation. A reading in her vision tells her the obvious: the ship has entered real-space. Her mapping systems plot a gravity-assisted trajectory to the moon. The bond howls with concentrated bloodlust. The hangar door slides open; the Hunters launch one after another into open space. Once more, Eris joins the hunt.
July 17, 2025 at 7:46 AM