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nyxmaren.bsky.social
NyxMaren
@nyxmaren.bsky.social
83 followers 350 following 590 posts
Neither man nor woman, but a force of nature. Great Value Baba Yaga. (Avatar and banner both by Dakota Curry)
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nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Snippet time (game edition)!

Early on, Ayo's instacart driver Clyde comes over to drop off groceries after they get sentenced to bedrest for going into a burning building. He starts asking about their inventions and, uh, we'll let the text do the rest of the talking.
An excerpt from HOMEBOUND, which continues into the next image: "Don't you even think about it, Ace," Clyde said, using his body to block Ayo's path to the bags. "You walked into a fire last night. You think I'm gonna let you work those lungs of yours on putting some jars in the pantry?" Not even if I have a burning desire to help? "A bur–oh, you stinker!" Clyde chuckled merrily at the pun. "You should be taking a breather is what you should be doing." Ayo reciprocated the laughter, which quickly became a cough. "See? You can't even laugh at my jokes. Sit your butt down, and tell me how you made that ramp while I put your groceries away." Clyde picked the bags back up and brought them past the dining room and into Ayo's kitchen. Reluctantly, Ayo sat back down. Alwir hopped up on their lap. Are you in cahoots with him? Ayo asked the cat, who responded by curling up in their lap and closing his eyes. To Clyde, they said, I used the Conveyor. "Right. Yeah, so I guess you, uh, conveyed that big rock from the Other Side?" Clyde said from the kitchen. After years of this, he knew Ayo's system by heart. He could probably put their orders away with his eyes closed. More or less. Ayo told him. The Conveyor isn't really supposed to be used like that. It mostly latches onto certain material signatures and ferries them Across the Divide. You know how you can give some dogs a single scrap of cloth and they'll track that smell for miles? Imagine that, except the dog tugs on the rest of the shirt or whatever and pulls it to you. "A reverse bloodhound, huh?" Clyde said. "So what, you just dump a bunch of crap onto the Other Side, then this Conveyor thingy, it yoinks them to you wherever you are?" Basically. Ayo confirmed. There was a brief silence, then Clyde said, "a bag of holding." Huh? "You made a bag of holding." Clyde repeated. "It's, uh, it's this thing in–do you know Dungeons & Dragons?" a continuation of the excerpt from the previous image: Jamil plays it. Ayo said, which wasn't a "yes" exactly. I thought you were more of a retro video games guy. Clyde laughed. "Yeah, that makes sense. Well, the bag is like a portal to a pocket dimension–a tiny little Other Side–and you can put whatever you want in it until that pocket dimension is full. Then you just carry the bag with you and you can grab that stuff whenever you want." He paused. "But, you should only be able to grab the stuff you put in, right?" Clyde was smarter than he let on. From what Ayo had seen of his wife and heard of his daughter, that was a Tanner family trait. He was absolutely bang-on with that question, which was wild considering he'd arrived at it by analogy to fantasy roleplaying game. Exactly. But if you know what's on the Other Side, and there's something there with a powerful enough signature, you can tug on it the same way you tug on the things you put there deliberately. "And that pillar had a strong…whatever you called it?" Clyde deduced, moving from Ayo's fridge to their pantry. Ayo nodded, realized Clyde wasn't looking at them, and said, Yes, exactly. But it's also really big.
December 4, 2025 at 11:58 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Excerpt time!

This comes from the most recent chapter in HOMEBOUND. Here we see Jamil, Ayo's childhood bully-turned-friend, expressing his own understanding of a defining, traumatic incident they both shared through the lens of Ayo's gender and faith. I'll let the text say the rest.
An excerpt from HOMEBOUND, continuing across all images. It begins: " That was the wound the two kept picking at, the scab that never quite healed, a shared misery that neither one had ever–could ever–truly heal from. As the two spiraled inward, closing in on that moment once more, Jamil could not help but think back to that fateful day. Ayo committed so many unthinkably selfless acts that day, from the simple act of turning back to help him to destroying their own air pump in service of breaking into the truck that had pinned him down and destroyed his leg. But there was one act of Ayo's that stood out beyond the rest, which was burned into his mind like a brand, because it was not merely an act of selflessness, but also one of profound intimacy. To save Jamil from drowning in the sand, Ayo had removed their hijab. At that age, it had hardly been an expectation–woman or not–for anyone to wear hijab, but that wasn't the point. Ayo wasn't a girl, though even back then that had been a lot of people's first instinct looking at them. This much had been true and evident even at that age, hence Dromak's entirely valid rebuke when Jamil had slipped up that day. In theory, Ayo's gender should have made removing their hijab a lot less of an issue, right? And socially, who the hell knew? Hijab-wearing as a practice was so riddled with cultural nuances and caveats that, especially before adolescence, it could easily be regarded more as a fashion statement than an act of faith. But it was different for Ayo." Continued in next image. Excerpt, continued from first image: " To don an article of clothing–and hijab was indeed more than just the scarf, even if the scarf was its most visible aspect–so inextricably linked to femininity despite their rejection of the gender as a whole had been the culmination of an agonizing period of self-discovery for Ayo. They had sought the advice anyone and everyone, including lay people, teachers, and even the occasional outsider, as well as the more traditional veins of parent, spiritual leader, and tailor. They had gone to the internet, to strangers and scholars alike, and heard their thoughts on the matter. Even at such a young age, Jamil recalled, Ayo had been uncomfortably thorough in their search for truth, even when that truth was ultimately their own to decide upon. To his young and jealous mind, it seemed as though they had picked the brain of every single person in the whole world except Jamil in that search. And really, what reason could he have given at that age that his opinion was at all worth listening to? He was a menace, a bombastic bully with a penchant for slinging the worst insult he could think of at the most vulnerable person he could find. Jamil remembered looking up at a shadowy figure, emerging from the dust to loom over him and thinking that Death was a lot smaller than he'd imagined. Then, when he realized whose face Death had chosen, he'd revised his assessment to that fatal entity merely having a truly fucked up sense of humor, taking the face of his most recent victim as it claimed his soul. It had only been once Ayo began to gesture–for sign had not yet entered the equation–that he even realized that the figure was not Death at all, but truly was Ayo. Even still, he thought they had simply come back to finish the job the truck and storm had started. It had taken Ayo beginning to unravel their scarf for him to realize they were doing what they always did: coming to the rescue." Continued in next image. Excerpt, continued from previous image: " After spending months deliberating on whether or not to wear hijab, after weighing every possible angle from theological to practical, Ayo had chosen to make their clothes the most visible pronouncement of their faith. It wasn't something they had to do, not even through the lens of cultural or social pressure. It was tied up so closely with a gender they'd discarded, and yet it still fit with their conception of themself and their relationship to God. A God whom Jamil, for reasons he rarely had the courage to disclose, had long since discarded his own belief in. And what was the one rule even idiots like Jamil knew about hijab? Only the people you are the closest with are supposed to see you without it: family, lovers, close friends of the same gender. And, of course, men certainly weren't supposed to see your hair. But Ayo had taken it off to save Jamil. Jamil, who not twenty minutes prior had been beating them mercilessly. Jamil, who in following his father's example, had struck only the places on Ayo's body that would go unnoticed unless they chose to reveal them. Jamil, who had been saying the vilest, most vicious things he could think to say. And Ayo had shown him not only the unimaginable mercy of saving his life, but the agonizing closeness of removing their scarf. Ayo had sacrificed more than just their physical health to save him that fateful day. They had polluted their own sanctity, violated their own rules, just to save the shittiest little boy imaginable." Continues in next image. Final portion of excerpt: " Jamil had been the first to rouse to consciousness after the tarp came down. So he'd gently, carefully, oh-so-timidly raised Ayo's tiny, light shoulders from the dirt and re-wrapped their scarf around them. He didn't avert his eyes that time, partly because he didn't know any better, and partly because, even if he had, he'd been in so much pain the thought would never have occurred to him. Had he not done so, no one would have said a word. No one would have judged two scared kids doing what it took to survive a storm like that. But even then, underneath a howling, broken sky, Jamil had known Ayo wouldn't want to be seen like that." Excerpt ends.
November 20, 2025 at 6:34 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Excerpt Time!

This one comes from the end of Act I. Ayo has infiltrated a cult hideout and is attempting to stop a ritual to bring a Hollower called the Ten Thousand Faces into our world. Along the way, they release someone, who guides them to the ritual site. But things go awry...
An excerpt from HOMEBOUND, split across multiple images. This one reads: "They turned toward Vess, and immediately wished they hadn't. The Director was a bloody mess on the ground, his head smashed open like a melon that got a little too cozy with a hammer, and at least one limb messily torn off for good measure. If she had them, Ayo would have said Vess was elbow-deep in the Director's chest. "Don't look at me!" Vess shrieked at them, standing up and twisting toward Ayo. "It's not my fault!" She cried. "You people are just so fragile, and your guts are so tasty, and I haven't had anything to eat in so long–" Vess's arms pulsed as they justified themself. The pulses ran slowly up her arms. Ayo swallowed the bile rising in their throat as they realized what was happening. Secret option three. Ayo cursed themself for not considering it. Vess was a victim. Vess was even on their side. Vess was also desperate and alone and starving. And now Vess was ashamed, which Ayo knew wasn't going to help things. Better think quick, Wizard, there's not much Director left in there. Ayo reached for the Hopper and nearly flipped the switch before they remembered the kid behind them." A continuation of the previous excerpt. This one reads: ""He was trying to summon one of THEM!" Vess screamed. "Stop looking at me like that! He wasn't even really there!" Yeah. Ayo knew that. But if they could save the kid, if they'd saved Blake, then the Director might have still been in there somewhere. And maybe they couldn't save the kid. Maybe there was a point of no return they hadn't isolated yet. And they'd certainly abandoned more than one Hollow to their inevitable fate after Stitching a Tear. Ayo would be a hypocrite to truly judge Vess. But Vess couldn't hear them thinking that, couldn't see that the horror on Ayo's face was entirely at how terrible Vess's situation was. All Vess could see was Ayo's face. All Vess could hear was the Ten Thousand Faces mocking them for thinking Ayo was ever going to understand, taunting her with Ayo's disapproval. Ayo understood now, as Vess dislodged themself from the Director, viscera sliding off her arms in chunks. Vess wasn't going to spring a trap. Vess was the trap. Right down to the fact that Ayo couldn't help thinking, just for a moment, about what those arms could accomplish in a more intimate situation. If they made it out alive, and Vess got some serious help, maybe they'd even come calling on her someday. But right now, Vess was a problem Ayo needed to solve. She was strong, violent, and deeply afraid of anyone and everyone. Vess could easily kill Ayo in a fair fight, and probably in an unfair one. Even if Ayo used the Hopper to get out of here, the kid was still in danger, and so was the aide in the pencil skirt. Leaving them to Vess's ravages would be as good as killing them." The third excerpt, which reads: ""I mean," Vess was starting to sound hysterical, "if you think about it, I probably did him a favor! At least now, wherever he is, he's not a meat puppet for some unthinkable thing on the Other Side!" They laughed, and either the acoustics in the room were incredible, or Vess was laughing in stereo. Multiple sets of vocal cords! That was so cool! If only she wasn't two strides away with murder in those giant eyes. THAT ONE WAS FUN TO PLAY WITH. WE DIDN'T EVEN NEED TO TAKE IT. Vestige, indisposed. Hopper, out of the question. Voice, left behind, probably wouldn't be helpful. Skybox, might give off a good light show, but wasn't going to actually save anybody. That left the Conveyor. Ayo hadn't replenished the plywood since the fire, so they'd have to rely on whatever was nearby to–oh. Oh now there was an idea. They rummaged in their pocket and pulled out the device as Vess wound up one bloodsoaked appendage to flail at Ayo. "Why won't you SAY anything?" they bellowed as Ayo turned the device on, ducking the blow. No screen to check for readouts, only a couple settings to tweak. They spun to the side faster than would have been advisable on their best day. Nothing behind Ayo but stone and copper. No one in the line of fire. They just needed time. HOW QUAINT. THE PROTIST THINKS ITSELF A PREDATOR." The same image as the third excerpt, repeated for character limit reasons. The conclusion reads: "Not a predator. A bacteriophage. The Conveyor could pull on powerful signatures in the Beyond. There was only one signal it could even detect here. Only one thing, and it was too big to fit through the tiny hole the Conveyor would punch. But maybe, just maybe, if Ayo played their cards right. They fired up the Conveyor for a fraction of a second, felt their ears pop, then leaped to the side, feeling their shoulder hit the ground rough, as they dodged another swipe from Vess. Scrambling to their feet, they turned it off, then back on again. Just a few feet from the first spot, another tiny hole in the Veil, and another hook in their quarry. They tucked it into their body, then rolled back a few paces as an arm came slamming down where they'd just been. Off, back on. Dodge. Off, back on. Dodge. Off, back on. Do–"
October 31, 2025 at 2:34 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
Two answers for Green: Lizard, Connors's Curse is fun to try and build around, finding ways to retrigger that enters effect in mono-green. If Spidey and Co aren't your jam, then may I introduce you to Tyvar, the Pummeler, that he may introduce his fists to your enemy's faces?
Tyvar, the Pummeler is a Magic the Gathering Card. He costs 1 generic mana and 2 green mana, and is a Legendary Creature -- Elf Warrior with 3 Power and 3 Toughness. He has two abilities. First, Tap another untapped creature you control: Tyvar gains indestructible until end of turn, tap him. Second, for 3 generic mana and 2 green mana, creatures you control get +X/+X until end of turn where X is the greatest power among creatures you control. His art depicts Tyvar, a buff elf with long red hair in a green top, with a baseball bat, beating the snot out of shadowy, body horror monsters. Lizard, Connors's Curse, is a Magic the Gathering Card. He costs 2 generic mana and 2 green mana, and is a Legendary Creature -- Lizard Villain. He has 5 power, 5 toughness, and trample, as well as "Lizard formula," which says when Lizard, Connors's Curse enters, up to one other target creature loses all abilities and becomes a green Lizard creature with base power and Toughness 4/4. His art depicts a humanoid reptile with green and tan scales standing on a broken table in a ransacked lab. He wears a lab coat with an ID over top of a torn shirt and shorts.
October 20, 2025 at 3:46 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: snippet time!
It's a short one this time, the conclusion of a scene where an innocent is essentially possessed by an eldritch entity, but to run the whole scene would be overkill, and I'm partial to last line.
An excerpt from "Homebound," which reads: "Yes, there are some tunnels beneath the campus. You can access them–let me get a new pamphlet–here, here, and here." Damien heard himself speak the words, and watched himself circle spots on a brochure not soaked through by the stranger's last spill, but could not tell if it had actually been him doing the speaking or the drawing. From his reflection in the stranger's glass, he could see his lips curled into a vicious grin. Damien had never been the cruel sort. Dismissive on occasion, but not outwardly vindictive. So when he heard his next utterance, he knew that Damien Blake was a lie, a fiction, a face worn by a nightmare that had merely dreamed of being human once.
October 3, 2025 at 9:55 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Snippet time!

Here we see an early interaction between Ayo and authority figure, namely Hill, the guy nominally in charge of keeping the refugee camp from being attacked by, y'know, the people who are responsible for there being a refugee camp. Also, something's...off...with Hill.
An excerpt from "Homebound," the first of two, which reads: " "What's all this, then?" a familiar voice called out. It was the tired, but never informal, voice of Chief Administrator (CA) Hill. He stood, flanked by two guards, a few feet away. Hill rarely left the Administration Corridor, preferring to do most public communications by PA announcement. Hill was a pretty good dude, all things considered. He pretended not to notice most of Ayo's less-than-legitimate sleuthing, and had even directed them to a mentor only a couple weeks prior. His job was mostly making sure everyone in the camp was fed and that the place didn't get bombed. The first one he was pretty good at, even if it meant he got into a lot of arguments with Ayo's folks. The second one he wasn't quite as good at, although that wasn't really his fault. No one was supposed to bomb a camp like this at all. The fact that he kept someone like the General at bay at all was commendable. "Hill." Ayo's mother growled as she stepped back out of the tent. "You have some explaining to do." "And explain I shall, if you'll allow it, Mrs. Saeed." Hill held his hands out in a placating gesture that looked as forced as his smile. There was a strange lilt to his voice that Ayo didn't think was usual for him. Was he drunk? High, maybe? "First, let me assure you that the bin-Rashids are perfectly safe." "Safe like you or safe like us?" Dromak asked bitterly, making her father wince, though Hill barely seemed to register she'd anything at all. Which also wasn't like him. Hill was usually quick to acknowledge grievances, even when they were coming from petty, self-righteous teens with a chip on their shoulder." Excerpt continues in following image. An excerpt from "Homebound," continued from previous image, which reads: " "When they won the last lottery, Yusuf expressed a concern to me about being a target of political violence, considering both his role in the previous government and his sexuality," Hill continued. "I had my people look into it and the threat was credible. So, rather than letting everyone know, we decided it was best handled discreetly. Another winner was chosen to keep the plane full, and we took the time to ensure the bin-Rashids could be moved without detection." His smile widened as though he'd forgotten he was smiling already. "I apologize to everyone for the deception, but until I receive notice from Yusuf of his safe arrival, I cannot tell anyone, no matter how trustworthy or close to the family, where they are heading. It is for their safety." Ayo took mental note of every detail in Hill's story to confirm independently, and watched as their mother did the exact same thing. This came with the sudden and unwelcome realization that their defiantly inquisitive nature was not so unique as they had imagined. Apparently, it ran in the family. Without waiting for questions–another aberration in his behavior–Hill turned and walked away from the tent that had once housed the bin-Rashids. Dromak sidled up to them, crouching to get to Ayo's ear level, and murmured, "Awfully convenient that we have to take his word for it, don't you think?" Ayo nodded solemnly in response. It was convenient."
September 19, 2025 at 2:04 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat September Monthly
Q14: Snippet -- Mood

Let's meet Clyde Tanner, one of my favorite characters, and an absolute trainwreck of a man. Despite his geniality, you may surprised to learn that, if one can argue there's a real "antagonist" in this book, it's Clyde.
An excerpt from "Homebound," which reads: " Clyde Tanner was a big guy, well over six feet tall with broad shoulders, a beer belly, and a voice that you felt almost as much as you heard. He wore cargo pants and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt over what appeared to be an athletic mesh tee. Clyde stooped to set the bags down, then stood and dusted his hands against each other. "Ace! Buddy!" He threw his arms wide, then mimed a hug rather than walking over and squeezing Ayo. "Heard about the fire, and I want you to tell me all about it, but first, I have news for you!" Ayo stood from their seat. Did she get in? They asked. Clyde's daughter, Cassandra, had applied to New Cahokia University's law school earlier this year. Right around now was when the letters would be going out. Ayo saw the answer in the grin plastered to Clyde's face long before he told them. "She did!" he said, unable to keep from doing a gleeful little dance where he stood. He did so without a hint of embarrassment, which was part of what Ayo liked about him. Clyde's feelings were just as big as he was, and he had no trouble letting them out. "My little girl's gonna be a lawyer!" That's amazing! Ayo said. You must be so proud. "Proud doesn't even begin to cut it," Clyde told them. "But yes. I am so, so proud of her.""
September 15, 2025 at 11:26 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat September Monthly
Q12: Snippet -- Description

This isn't our first glimpse into the Beyond as readers, but it is chronologically Ayo's first time there. It's a brief moment as they take it all in, but I find it's nonetheless evocative of that alien-yet-familiar place.
An excerpt from "Homebound," which reads: " What they saw was a stone path, for it was undeniably artificial. Laced through it like veins were some kind of green, vinelike plant that bloomed with white flowers at regular intervals. At its edges, the path curved upward to create a kind of bannister, the purpose of which Ayo quickly realized as they turned and saw a steep drop toward a field of crystal-looking grass. Angling their view up the path, they discovered that it twisted and turned, but ultimately wrapped up along the outside of an even bigger stone structure, looking up which gave Ayo their first view of the sky on the Other Side, which was a riot of colors, spiraling around one another, sometimes mixing, sometimes seeming to slip through each other without interacting at all. It was beautiful. It was horrifying. It was beautiful because it was horrifying. More than anything, though, Ayo wanted to see more. They stepped forward without thinking and found their foot catching on stone, not tile. They pulled the Viewer from their face and realized something was very, very wrong. They weren't just gazing into the Beyond. They were standing in it."
September 12, 2025 at 10:17 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q1: Snippet Time?
A snippet from "Homebound," which reads: "Ayo spent most of the rest of the day in various states of repose. Couch, bed, office chair, couch, office chair, toilet, bed. The exceptions to this came in two forms: food and tinkering. Ayo's thoughts ran like a river. They played back all their interactions over the last couple of days, even the ones that had gone well, and found places where they could have done better, could have said something more clever, could have been quicker on the draw. Most of all, however, they played back watching that poor boy fall through the bridge they'd made over a burning hole in the floor. How had they missed it starting to crumble? The answer was painfully obvious. It was the same reason they needed to take three days off from doing basically anything at all. Riosa. A disease that should have been treatable. Basic gene therapies had been around for decades, even when Ayo was a child. But gene therapies required gene clinics, and gene clinics were only in affluent cities. Ayo's suffering was preventable. Or, rather, it had been preventable, once. That was before the storm, before another thirteen years living in a desert encampment, before the Hollowing, before bombing runs they'd been lucky to survive. Their lungs had been broken before their heart, but the tools existed to repair them. Too bad the Scholarship didn't get Ayo out until after the damage to their pulmonary system had become irreversible. Too bad there were others their age with Riosa who wouldn't even get the chance Ayo had. Ayo compartmentalized all that resentment by giving it Dromak's voice in their mind. All the pain, all the frustration, all the justified anger at how unfair it all was, that was her. It was her, telling Ayo these colonizers they kept saving over and over again wouldn't do the same for them." (con't in next image) A snippet of "Homebound," continued from previous: " It was her, insisting that they didn't need all these people around them. It was her, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, Ayo could use all their technical know-how to do something for themself for a change, or maybe even take some small measure of revenge against the system that had, inarguably, doomed them to an early grave. When Dromak's voice became the only one rattling around in Ayo's head, they went into the workshop, and they found the Vestige. It looked kind of like a steampunk facehugger, with six spindly legs and a horseshoe crab-like body, and an optional tubelike attachment that could understandably be read as a tail. It was fitted to Ayo's measurements, intended to strap to their shoulder. The Vestige was still a prototype, but that was because they hadn't had the opportunity to field test it, not due to any kinks they had to iron out. It was their ace in the hole against Hollowers, and the last nail in the coffin for VeilTech. It was what Jericho claimed bridging could never be: a shield, a wall, a defense. Ayo tapped on its shell and it whirred to life, spinning around in place on its legs before scrambling up their arm and latching on. Immediately, Dromak's voice quelled from a roaring storm to a soft, mellow undercurrent. Ayo sighed heavily, then tapped the shell again. The Vestige turned off, flopping unceremoniously onto the table in front of them, legs curled inward in a parody of a spider's death. This ritual they performed no fewer than four times that day. Twice, they stayed in the workshop afterward to fiddle with some minor imperfection they noticed in the Vestige. A slightly misplaced gear, a coil that had shifted with its movements, a readout that had gotten stuck. Small things, but important nonetheless. The Vestige was a promise, and while Ayo didn't always like promises, they treasured the ones they made."
September 11, 2025 at 10:45 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat September Monthly
Q7: Snippet -- Drama

This comes from a flashback sequence to Ayo's childhood, when they tried to steal a particular sort of copper coil from under lock and key. "Bridging," the tech mentioned, is the art of crossing dimensions to the Beyond (aka the Other Side).
A single paragraph from "Homebound". The text reads: To complete their first bridging device, Ayo only needed one more component: a copper coil in a particular arrangement often used by VeilTech devices. It was meant as a sort of bridging-101, a way to teach the principles of the technology in the process of building it. Ayo had been assembling it on and off for the better part of the year, only to discover the final piece they needed was kept under lock and key in the Administration Corridor. They needed a way to get in and out undetected, which was where Jamil's deliveries came in. They'd devised a crate with a false bottom that Ayo could squeeze into. With the proper timing, Jamil could let Ayo out and they could slip into the VeilTech Vault–really it wasn't more than a storage closet, but Ayo liked the drama of calling a Vault–snag the coil, and then wait for Jamil to come back, stuff Ayo in the crate again, and then head on out without anyone being any the wiser. The word "drama" is higlighted.
September 8, 2025 at 5:25 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat September Monthly
Q3: Snippet (Beginnings)

I've shared a bunch of the "origin story" before in these chats, so instead, let's have a look at the opening of "Homebound." We begin, not quite in media res, with a scene that will show our hero through the eyes of ordinary civilians.
An excerpt. It begins with bold text reading "Chapter 1," which is titled "Smoke." The main text reads: No one saw where the fire started. Eventually, the Commission would discover that it began in an unoccupied apartment on the second floor, probably thanks to faulty wiring. But the Commission wouldn't save anyone today. That this wasn't their job was cold comfort to a family of four and the two stragglers they'd picked up on the fourth floor, all trying to escape. The father stumbled out of a doorway, coughing. They were all coughing by now, but his face was caked with soot and his daughter had to run up and pat out his beard before the smolder became a blaze. "No good." He managed to get out. His mouth hadn't felt this dry since the time he tried the cinnamon challenge. "Dead ends in a bunch of rubble from upstairs." "Shit." His wife hissed. "Mom!" Their son objected, earning a raised eyebrow from the waitress from across the hall and an ill-advised chuckle from the older man from two doors down. Peter was only ten, and considering Allison's rebellious streak, they'd thought it best to keep the swearing to a minimum. Only now, being chewed out by her own son for cursing at a very appropriate time to do so, did she consider that maybe they'd overcorrected. The waitress was already trying the next door. The ceiling in the main hall had collapsed, blocking off direct access to the stairs, but if they could bypass the blockage, the group had a hope of making it out alive. Or maybe they'd luck out and one of these units would have a window that opened onto the fire escape. Thus far, luck had not been on their side, and the waitress didn't see that changing any time soon. She wasn't just looking for a path, but for something that could clear the way. A fire axe might be too much to hope for, but maybe one of their neighbors was a mechanic or something. A hefty wrench would probably punch through this place's shoddy drywall in a pinch, right?"
September 4, 2025 at 2:39 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Setting snippet. OOOOH BOY this house is HAUNTED. Wanna watch my protagonists realize that the light is coming from the WALLS? And then realizing that means the walls could be hiding OTHER things?
An excerpt that reads: " "Okay so the only common denominator is the lack of an obvious light source," Cassandra conceded. "Which is starting to freak me out a little now that I've noticed it." "Yeah, where is the light coming from in here anyway?" Jamil wondered aloud. "It feels like we're under fluorescents, but I can't see them." "Don't fluorescent lights kinda buzz?" Cassandra asked. "Shouldn't we be able to hear them?" We should. Ayo agreed, then they looked down, searching for their shadow. They found two, sticking out at odd angles, kind of looking like hands on a clock. They sought out Cassandra's and Jamil's, and both of them also had two shadows, though one of Jamil's ran up the wall instead. Two shadows meant two light sources, and following the angle of the shadows, Ayo started moving towards one of the walls. What if the discoloration wasn't from water damage at all? "Hey, Tinkerton, what's going through that head of yours?" Jamil asked, and Ayo suddenly realized he was right beside them. They jolted away on instinct and he backed up a couple spaces, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, you just got that focused look on your face, the kind that says you're working through a problem." Is that an issue? Ayo asked, confused. "It is if you start solving the problem without talking to us first," Jamil said. "You don't get to make decisions without us any more than Cass does." The excerpt continues in the next image. An excerpt, continuing from the previous image, which reads: "I'm just figuring something out. Ayo insisted. "So why don't you tell us what it is that you're figuring out?" Cassandra suggested. "Maybe we've given it some thought." Ayo held themself back from saying I doubt it and instead pointed out their shadows, working the two of them through the logic up to that point. Jamil was beaming with pride, which made Ayo feel a little uncomfortable, but Cassandra looked worried, which was worse. What's up? Ayo asked her. "If the lights are in the walls, the walls should be warm, right? And the color shouldn't be diffuse. We should be able to see specific spots where it's emanating from." She took out her phone and shone the flashlight through her hand to demonstrate. "See?" The orange glow that came through the back of her hand was indeed concentrated near where she held the beam, darkening as it filtered it neared the edges of her hand. "If you're right, and the shadow thing means you can't be far off the mark, then the walls have been intentionally designed to disguise the light source." Isn't that obvious? Ayo asked, turning back towards the wall. "But if they're hiding the lights, could they be hiding something else?" Cassandra asked, a hand on Ayo's shoulder. Ayo froze. She was right. Hadn't they wondered where that tendril had gotten off to back at the landing? That room had the same strange lighting as this one, didn't it? They stepped away from the portion of wall they'd identified as a likely light source."
August 7, 2025 at 11:19 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: a moment of conflict

Here's a recent bit of terror from Homebound, now that our intrepid heroes are actually inside the haunted house, it's their first encounter with the monstrous hidden within.

For context, the ceiling of this room looked like "popcorn ceiling" at first glance.
An excerpt that reads: At the far "left" of the room was a plain white door with a simple brass knob, whereas the "back" door was more akin to the exits they'd taken from the previous room, made of dark, stained wood. Their focus now on the doors–as much as the ceiling would allow–the trio failed to see the floor pattern shift, ink swirling in the tiles as the floor eyes changed position. Only Cassandra's yelp of surprise as she flinched away from the others gave them any warning. Jamil's glance snapped upward, Ayo's down, and he dove toward them, tackling them aside as something long and fleshy shot down from the ceiling, spearing into the floor where Ayo had been standing. The purplish strand that connected the claw to the ceiling went taut, and struggled against the weight of the tile it had pierced. The trio watched in rapt fascination as the tile struggled back, fighting with more than just the force of gravity against the ceiling's pull. The rest of the claws had gone still and silent. No, not still, Ayo realized as they got their bearings and Jamil rolled off of them. Not still: tense. They vibrated with anticipation, readying to strike. Jamil got to his feet, helping them up. No time to scout, Ayo said. Run! An excerpt, continuing from the previous image, which reads: Neither Jamil nor Cassandra needed to be told twice. All three scrambled towards the "back" door as more claws launched out from the ceiling, impaling the laminate tile beneath them. The three intruders, hellbent on escape, didn't see behind them as some of the claws yanked dead tiling free from the floor, while others encountered the same resistance as the first, soon to be joined by additional claws, impaling the living floor one after the other. Cassandra reached the door first, grabbing the knob and twisting as she slammed her shoulder into its bulk with enough force to bruise. The door skidded open, and Ayo practically flew through it after her, propelled by a toss from Jamil. As they hit the ground with a thud, they twisted around to watch Jamil the Juggernaut live up to his name. He barreled through a mess of purple, dodging and spinning and leaping with perfect accuracy, and never once ceding any ground gained. The whole ordeal couldn't have taken more than a few seconds, but Ayo felt–as they often did in these situations–that time stretched out long enough for them to see every move Jamil made in excruciating detail. It was almost impossible to tell he favored his injured leg as he responded impossibly to movements he had no way of seeing, his shoulders lurching this way and that as claws fell around him like rain. When one slammed into the tile in front of him, seeming to block the door, he spun on his foot, spiraling around the tendril and slipping between it and the door frame, giving him the perfect opportunity to grasp the door, both to steady himself and to slam it shut behind them as floor and ceiling tore one another apart. "What. The fuck. Was that?" Jamil panted as he slid his back down the door. Neither Cassandra nor Ayo had an answer for him, divine insight and a decade of experience both failing to capture the essence of the previous room in that moment.
July 17, 2025 at 11:19 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: meta-writing snippet!

From the beginning of Haunted House WIP, right after Ayo survives a brutal sandstorm. Their doctor, "Doc," tells them they can't speak, but as you'll find out, "Just because you can't talk doesn't mean you can't say anything."
An excerpt which reads: Ayo worked their jaw to start speaking again, but this time Doc interrupted. "Ah, ah, ah. No talking. Doctor's orders." Ayo raised their eyebrows at him in challenge, a trick their mom had taught them. He raised a hand placatingly, "But just because you can't talk doesn't mean you can't say anything. Here." He handed Ayo a small panel, a little bigger on each side than most phones, that had a pen-like thing attached to it and a single button at the bottom. "Use the stylus to write on the tablet," he explained, tapping each of the items with a clawed finger to indicate which was which, "the button on the bottom erases what's been written." Ayo picked up the stylus and scribbled, Is this for real? That at least made Doc laugh, and it wasn't even a pity laugh. "I know it feels tedious, but that storm really did a number on your lungs. And your throat. And your nose. Probably your eyes, too, but we won't know that until we get an optician in, which might be a while. For now, you need to do as little as you possibly can. No talking, no walking, and certainly no climbing on cars for dramatic rescues, not even if it's for a game. Nothing that's going to put any stress on your lungs." So I just lay here until I get better? "Well–" Doc cleared his throat. "Not exactly. If you're being monitored by a medical professional, brief walks and other light activities are probably okay, as long as you listen to your nurse, doctor, therapist, or whoever else is watching you and stop immediately when they ask you to. I don't mean walk over to the nearest bench, I mean you sit your butt down in the dirt right where you are, do you understand?" An excerpt, continuing from the previous, which reads: No choice, right? Ayo asked. Doc sighed heavily. "No. Not really." Then, despite seeming very sad and very tired, he smiled at them. It wasn't his normal, everyday, happy-to-see-you smile. This was a smile Ayo was used to seeing on their parents' faces whenever they did something really clever or really nice. It was one of those smiles that made you think someone was sad, but also was still completely real. Pride, Ayo remembered, was the word their father used to describe it. "What you did out in that storm for Jamil," he told them, "is pretty amazing. I hope you know that. It takes a very special kind of person to put so much on the line to help someone, especially someone who just hurt you. And pretty badly, if he's to be believed." Jamil, who was still in the room, made an uncomfortable noise, like a whine that he gave up on halfway through. Doc bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the sound.
June 20, 2025 at 2:00 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: excerpt time!

I could share literally any excerpt here, so in the spirit of being as queer as possible, here's one where Pilot (a trans woman) talks about how Medic (a cis woman) used to be her type, and then discusses Security (agender, xe/xyr) and xyr temper.
An excerpt that reads: A long time ago, Medic would have been my type: smart, eager, round-faced with a bulky build. I would have loved watching her dramatically swish her lab coat as she spun around to go look at some samples, and listening to her go on and on about her latest theories–which she would no doubt correct me were "actually hypotheses," because "a theory is corroborated by evidence." Yeah, that used to be exactly my type. Then I met a few too many people like Technician, and the illusion of the bright-eyed academic dedicated wholly to truth was shattered by the reality that academia is mostly a bunch of people passive-aggressively sniping at each other in dense, deliberately impenetrable language. There are some good eggs in there, don't get me wrong. They just aren't worth sifting through the sands of the insufferable to find the pot of gold. I've never seen Security out of xyr hardsuit. Maybe xe needs to be in it for medical reasons: compromised immune system, catastrophic trauma, something like that. Or maybe xe just likes it that way. I'm sure as hell not going to judge. I will judge xyr temper, though. The amount of damage Security has inflicted on Ship's insides just by throwing xyr little fits is staggering, not least because that hardsuit clearly augments xyr already imposing musculature. I don't think Security's temper would be quite as big a problem without Technician egging xe on. The hardsuit is crimson and black, full edgelord bullshit (if anyone has a right to the color red, it's me, but whatever), with hardpoints for weapon mounts on the forearms and shoulders. An excerpt, continuing from the previous, which reads: Xyr armory module–a crate about the size most people's wardrobes–contains multiple weapon varieties for each mount, as well as three different sidearms for the hardsuit's hip holsters and four different shoulder-slung longarms, just in case none of that was enough. All of that firepower, and Security is still only the third most dangerous person on the ship.
June 6, 2025 at 12:29 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Excerpt time!

This one comes from Space WIP's prologue, which admittedly might be a bit of a cop-out, since it's the only place where a god physically shows up. In it, Tlatoliztlaq, god of lies and stories, speaks to Xoco, the protagonist's mother, about how godly domains evolve.
An excerpt that reads: "Take not my words so literally," he said, and his tone again could have been Tecuzi's. Where was he? And where was her daughter? "Rixcatl (the word "Rixcatl" is purple) did not become the god of trade through rigid definitions." The Serpent of the West, the Winged Wind, not the opposite of Tlatoliztlaq, but perhaps the most opposed to him. The Tradelord was first the Windlord, but as the wind moves from place to place, so too did goods and ideas, and thus the Master of Change became the Patron of Merchants, not just a god of weather and storms. (the words "weather and storms" are purple, and point to a footnote, also purple, which reads: The many-colored wall slid open before the Twins. In its place was an eye larger than any the Twins had seen in their adventures so far, fixed upon them with curious intensity." – Excerpt from The Traveling Twins, as translated by Tomali Xiu, in the Year 1652 of the Red Sun.) "Wind moves, and along its path, so too does trade," Xoco recited dutifully. "And the trader would be wise to seek protection from Rixcatl's wrath as she travels." She paused for a moment, adjusting the more local deity's weight on her shoulder. Though she could tell he was doing what he could not to lean too heavily upon her, Xoco was still shouldering a burden not meant for mortal bodies. No amount of musculoskeltal reinforcement would make carrying a god made of smoke any easier. "And yet," she noted, "the Tradelord is known for his mutability, a trait which he kindly passed on to the people of this world. A trait you quite plainly lack." Excerpt continues in next image. An excerpt that continues from the previous image, reading: "Are you certain you're not a theologian?" the Lord of Night asked of Xoco, taking her steadying moment as an opportunity to flick some strange, thick blackness through a nearby window before pointing out their next path. Xoco did not think it was a coincidence that, as the two waded forward, flames burst from that same window, nearly knocking her off balance, only saved by her clenching-claw feet. Tlatoliztlaq frowned at this, but made no further comment. "People talk," she said, addressing his pointed remark, "about the things that matter."
May 29, 2025 at 7:58 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: an excerpt about the body.

This one comes from the Haunted House WIP, and it's the first glimpse we get of a childhood bully turned friend after a several-year timeskip. He's a professional soccer player now!
An excerpt that reads: "Ayo pressed the call button, and Jamil picked up in less than one full ring. his forehead was already glistening with sweat, and his messy tussle of brown hair scattered in every direction. He greeted Ayo with that same crooked smile, unchanged since childhood. It looked endearingly juvenile on his otherwise mature face. His gray eyes had tinges of green near the edges of the iris, and his entire body was a tribute to the concept of angular features."
May 9, 2025 at 2:17 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Excerpt time! This one's a long one, and it's from a new side project I'm calling "Transfusion." It's the protagonist ("Pilot") musing on nature of space, what it means to be still or silent.
An excerpt that reads: "Space is quiet, but it is not still. Ignoring the simple fact of its expansion, space is not empty. Though they are so diffuse as to typically be negligible, dust and hydrogen atoms litter the void of interplanetary and interstellar space like wrappers tossed carelessly into the brush off the highway. Also like those wrappers, these particles are mostly harmless, but should the wrong wind catch them, they can do far more damage to the next vehicle that passes by. These particles do not remain still. Often, they are the remnants of cataclysmic events, flung at relativistic speeds across the cosmos. Even those that are not so produced, or which are, but have lost enough of their kinetic energy through radiating heat or–yes, even in space–friction, are still not motionless, for gravity with its long reach tugs upon them. Like the great garbage patches of Earth's once-clean oceans, the detritus of the universe seems to seek itself out. Thinking smaller yet, the constant fluctuations of quantum fields can, at times, cause new particles to pop spontaneously into existence, right before they vanish with equal suddenness. Then there are the flashy things: gravitational waves, neutrinos, the cosmic microwave background, and all the many, many forms of ionizing radiation that spews forth into the void. So no, space is not still. It is constantly, invisibly frothing, roiling, and bursting at the seams with potential. In that way, space is like you or I. No matter how still you stay, you must breathe, your heart must beat, your neurons must fire. A thousand imperceptible motions must be made each second just so you can remain "still."" An excerpt that reads: " Space is not still, and thus it is not silent. At least, it is not entirely silent. Most of the matter is, it is true, too diffuse to carry the pressure waves we call "sound" very far at all. But just because the air is too thin to carry the sound of a tree's crash thirty miles to the nearest road does not mean the tre made no noise as it fell. It is true for most people in most of space that no one can hear you scream. But that is the fault entire of distance and medium, not for lack of output. There are places that are undeniably in space where, could one survive, material is dense enough for sonic waves to propagate, and thus one would suddenly be able to hear the roaring cacophony that is the universe. Accretion disks around active black holes, the shock front of a supernova, the densest portions of a coalescing solar system's protoplanetary disk, and even the ice and dust that forms orbital rings. Here, in these places, where one would almost certainly feel the need, no one would hear you scream, but only because human lungs simply cannot overpower celestial devastation." An excerpt that reads: " In the stillest places in space, however, where the emptiness feels total, where no star lies in easy proximity to guide you, the quiet can feel similarly infinite, a pressure all its own, encouraging you to join it in silence, making every creak and groan, every breath, every pulse of your veins, feel like an intrusion into the vast peace of the universe. Sounds you cannot hear in normal life become a deafening roar against the baseline of nothing. This quiet oblivion may not be utter silence, but it is quieter than even death, for death contains in its domain the squelch of defecation, the rattle of defiant lungs drawing one more breath, the battering of a desperate heart, and the spasm of flailing limbs. And even these things are not present in the cold arms of the cosmos. Space may be (nearly) silent, but spaceships are not. Where the heartbeat and breath of the universe are minute, only discernible to those with the time and technology to seek them out, spacecraft are tiny bottles who contain a whirling, wrathful storm. Its winds have been siphoned off into ventilation systems, its rains twist around the hull as radiation shielding or else stave off thirst for us starfarers, and its lightning powers every switch and bulb, every computation and meal, even the vats of water where algae sit in perfectly-regulated temperature to produce new air, all are the domain of lightning, which courses like blood through a ship's copper veins. So constant is the cacophony of a ship that it is ancient spacer wisdom to say, "if you hear something outside, then run, but if you hear nothing while aboard, death has already come.""
April 25, 2025 at 12:33 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: Excerpt time!

This one's a bit of a chonker. Context is, our protagonist has just saved six people from a burning building, but it put a lot of strain on their already kinda messed-up lungs, so they used the same device that let them save everyone to dip into another dimension.
An excerpt that reads: "Ayo left before anyone could see them collapse. Their respirator had been pushed beyond its ordinary limits in that apartment. On the Other Side, they slumped against a ruined wall and started coughing. No, wait, they started laughing, as they grinned a big, wide grin up at the swirling, impossible clouds the Other Side had to offer. The laughing quickly became coughing, but it was laughing first, and that was important. Just like it was important that they'd saved people. They hadn't saved everyone. They knew they'd read an article the next morning about the fire and there would be a death toll listed. It would probably even be higher than the six people they'd actually managed to save. Somewhere in the high teens or low twenties, if they had to guess, but that didn't matter. Or, well, it did, but it wasn't as important as the fact that the people Ayo had saved wouldn't have been rescued by firefighters. They would have died tonight if Ayo hadn't stepped in. With any luck, that ramp would serve as another means of ingress and egress for more people to be saved. Firefighters could reach the upper levels without battling the flames, and fortunate or scrappy survivors might find it and get out on their own. It had been a long time since Ayo had managed to save everyone. In fact, it had only been the once, and they'd been a child when it happened. But they'd learned quickly that every single life saved mattered, every single extra breath mattered. Those kids would get to grow up, and they'd do it with both of their parents. That old man who'd instinctively understood their gestures would get to pass on his wisdom for at least another night. That woman, who couldn't have been much older than..." An excerpt that reads: "That woman, who couldn't have been much older than Cassandra, and probably wasn't that much younger than Ayo, would get to live a full life, not one cut tragically short. Ayo spent a while on the Other Side this time. They tried not to. It was dangerous here, even if it was beautiful. Sometimes, they met some of the Veiled while they were here, but usually it was desolate, empty, just a place that had once been full. It wasn't the emptiness Ayo liked. In fact, that was the scariest part. Monolithic architecture surrounded them, things constructed in ways that simply weren't possible on the Ordinary side of the Veil. The rules were just ever so slightly different here, but Ayo could always read clear and present intent in the construction. People had made these buildings, and then they had gone, and now they were ruined. And that meant something, something Ayo had never been able to figure out. What Ayo liked was the strange, impossible beauty of it all. The colors of the clouds, the way buildings grew and twisted out of the ground, the mysterious and alluring smells. While they laughed in the hollowed-out ruins of an impossibly old, impossibly powerful civilization, Ayo missed some things on This Side of the Veil. Ayo, so wrapped up in their personal accomplishment, didn't see the survivors they'd rescued marveling at it. They didn't see the firefighters and EMTs wondering aloud, "who was that masked stranger?" They didn't hear the tale of their daring rescue being spun into a larger-than-life story of sorcery and spellcraft."
April 10, 2025 at 7:15 PM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
And while I'm at it, here's the first time we hear about Ayo's own feelings towards their gender.
An excerpt that reads: " Puberty hit the camp like a bombing run. Almost all the kids were Ayo's age, except the twins. For Ayo, it had meant another round of contending with how they didn't really feel like a girl, even if their body was changing in the way girls' bodies were supposed to change, but they also didn't really feel like a boy, either. They'd tried that for a few days when they were younger, and it had felt just as wrong. Ayo was something different, and not in the way adults meant when they told Ayo they were "really something else, you know that?" At least the other kids were also changing and growing and getting all teenager-y, so Ayo had a pretty good idea of what to expect. So many changes, so many hormones, and that wasn't even counting the Veiled. "
March 23, 2025 at 5:38 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Gender Excerpt!

I'm super excited to share this, a footnote from Space WIP's first chapter about gender and pronouns. Enjoy!
An excerpt of Footnote 14 that reads: "In a galaxy with thousands of species, each with hundreds of cultures, each with its own understanding of gender, sex, and how they interplay, it's nearly impossible to accurately portray the sheer scope of possibilities. However, some of the most common are: he (male, him/his), she (female, her/her), xe (ungendered/default A, xem/xir), they (ungendered, default B, them/their), tzi (galactic trade designation for third genders, tzim/tzir), and null (null is not itself a pronoun, but rather a feed designation for pronounless-gender. A null individual is to be referred to by name and title only). These are, of course, only the most common in this linguistic tradition. Find another language, and new ways of understanding gender will fall out as you start studying it. It's one aspect of Rixcatl I quite understand and respect."
March 23, 2025 at 5:38 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4: edited to death.

"to death" might be a bit of a stretch, but I've made more passes on this segment of Haunted House WIP than just about anything but the beginning, which has an unfair advantage. This is the first, and only, look we get at a truly monstrous eldritch being.
An excerpt that reads: "Ayo didn't answer. They didn't need to have a complete map in their head, just the memory of the twists and turns they'd taken to get from–they'd decided to call it–the Landing to the Altar. They glanced through the lens of their device to get a final bearing, pivoting at the last second to correct their angle, and then jumped through the window and into open air, much to Irem's shocked, screaming chagrin. The girl wrapped her arms around Ayo's waist as they fell, helpfully freeing up one of Ayo's hands. They glanced down to catch a glimpse of whatever horror Not-Hill had been feeding in hopes of waking up. About seven wriggling stalks, each around a third the height of the Tree-Climbing Temple, all twisted toward Ayo, and they saw the bulbous things that tipped them were glittering, crystalline eyes. The gurgling arose from below them, and Ayo watched as the land itself yawned open below them, a maw of shining, technicolor teeth. Good thing Ayo didn't plan on hitting the ground on This Side of the Veil. They pulled the device back up to their face and watched open air turn to metal, to ductwork, and then–Ayo wasted no time, they pulled the lever, using their free hand to make a profane gesture towards the waiting, hungry earth below them."
March 7, 2025 at 1:28 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q4:
This one comes from the Haunted House WIP. It's Ayo's (protagonist, they/them) first encounter with the horrifying side of the supernatural in the setting. They've just discovered someone's tampered with the population records in their refugee camp and rushed to the berth in question.
An excerpt that reads: "There were no hints of a life, no divots in the cot to remember the shape of their sleepers by, no forgotten remnants, cast aside in the fervor of last-minute packing, no mementos or gifts to the next occupants of the berth. Ayo had never seen a place in camp so–there could be no other word for it–sanitized. It turned their stomach to look at, yet like a twisted version of Arshia's webbing or Dromak's smoke, Ayo couldn't bring themself to look away. They could bring themself to take a picture, though, and it was that act that finally shook the tent's other occupants back into reality." They all looked dazed, like they'd just been through a bombing run. None of them looked at the empty spot that had once held their neighbors. They shuffled around the tent without making eye contact, barely acknowledging one another's presence. But the sound of Ayo's phone clicking, of the truth being recorded, looked to have the effect of a hypnotist snapping her fingers. Suddenly, and without warning, the tent was full of life again, the bustle of camp returned as though nothing had changed at all.
February 28, 2025 at 12:40 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
Meanwhile, Haunted House WIP routinely focuses on what characters can and, more importantly, cannot see as means to build narrative tension.
An excerpt that reads: "An hour should have been plenty of time. That was because they didn't see a tiny, confused kitten wander away from its nursing mother and into a small, cramped food storage tent, and because Dromak didn't see Nadia surreptitiously pouring an entire bottle of vodka into the punch bowl."
February 28, 2025 at 12:26 AM
nyxmaren.bsky.social
#SFFChat Q1: In the Space WIP, there's a character (Takori), who has electroreception, and feels a constant, intense pressure beneath her feet on the capital world of Syr Craigh, that only gets more intense the deeper she goes.

It drives her to start investigating something truly dangerous.
An excerpt that reads: "Most days, her eyes were simply a supplement to this sense, which constantly mapped her position in three dimensional space without needing to change her own position, a handy adaptation to have when your people spend half or more of their time in the water. On Syr Craigh, however, the usual tingle of background noise on the soles of her feet felt like lightning constantly dancing on her skin, a constant electric pinch."
February 28, 2025 at 12:26 AM