Taylor Frymier
LightNews LightNews
banner
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Taylor Frymier
@teddyberserker.bsky.social
220 followers 770 following 180 posts
Writer of dark fantasy, medieval horror, and press releases.

He/him husband of your local druggist. Father to two feral goblins and their wee dire wolves. Dinosaurs, vikings, theology, metalcore, Pokémon, birdwatching, etc.
Posts Replies Media Videos
Pinned
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Taylor Frymier @teddyberserker.bsky.social · Jul 25
It's been awhile since I've made any progress on The Harrowman. Felt inspired this morning and got over 200 words down though!

#WiP #worldbuilding #grimdarkfantasy
Herra, Ninth of the Acherim Ashan, lost Matron-Sister of Velkravya, Matriarch of the Herrites, first bearer of the Wightwood Crown, who walked into fire and returned veiled in stars, had dirt on her face. Rurika brushes it away with her thumb, gently, as she might tears from a mourner. The shrine’s stone effigy is rough, pitted by centuries of wind and rain. Pulling a rough cloth from her satchel, Rurika scrubs the bird dropping from Herra’s shoulders but leaves the accumulated lichen. The Lady of Lost Things would appreciate something so humble growing upon her likeness. Her movements are rote, reverent, resigned. She wedges a loose foundation stone back into place, reknots the wind-frayed ribbons tied to the shrine’s posts, tidies weathered tokens—dried wreaths, rusted charms, cracked clay fetishes—and adds a small bundle of smoking sage bound with a scrap of woven thread. Windchimes carved from runed knucklebones clatter in the slight breeze off the fen. Rurika strikes a flint and places the newly lit tallow votive in a niche next to Herra’s head. She runs her fingers across the near-erased carvings haloing the ancient matron. It’s a prayer she remembers at the edge of thought. After a moment, voice rough from disuse, “Safely keep us this side of the Veil; let not the space between shadows draw us away from the Light of the Arbahad.” An eiderloon’s mournful song drifts through the misty dawn air. Mazel huffs low in his throat, a warning noise somewhere between a growl and a bleat, raised hackles making his woolen withers bunch up like a tundra camel’s hump. “If she’s listening, I hope she hears better than the rest of us,” a deep voice, weary and restrained, conjures behind her. “You can call off your wulhund. I’m offering you a job.”
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
inkythoughts.bsky.social
The end of #DisabilityPride is nigh so let's have an #ArtShare!

- share this post for visibility
- comment your art below if you're physically/mentally disabled, have a chronic illness, or are neurodivergent
- try to use ALT text
- feel free to add mutual aid posts
- abled ppl: share & support!
Digital illustration of five stylised white lotus flowers in various states of bloom in front of a sunset in apricot colours. Across the green leaves "Disability Pride Art Share" is written.
July 26, 2025 at 11:33 AM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Coooool 🤘
July 25, 2025 at 6:20 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
It's been awhile since I've made any progress on The Harrowman. Felt inspired this morning and got over 200 words down though!

#WiP #worldbuilding #grimdarkfantasy
Herra, Ninth of the Acherim Ashan, lost Matron-Sister of Velkravya, Matriarch of the Herrites, first bearer of the Wightwood Crown, who walked into fire and returned veiled in stars, had dirt on her face. Rurika brushes it away with her thumb, gently, as she might tears from a mourner. The shrine’s stone effigy is rough, pitted by centuries of wind and rain. Pulling a rough cloth from her satchel, Rurika scrubs the bird dropping from Herra’s shoulders but leaves the accumulated lichen. The Lady of Lost Things would appreciate something so humble growing upon her likeness. Her movements are rote, reverent, resigned. She wedges a loose foundation stone back into place, reknots the wind-frayed ribbons tied to the shrine’s posts, tidies weathered tokens—dried wreaths, rusted charms, cracked clay fetishes—and adds a small bundle of smoking sage bound with a scrap of woven thread. Windchimes carved from runed knucklebones clatter in the slight breeze off the fen. Rurika strikes a flint and places the newly lit tallow votive in a niche next to Herra’s head. She runs her fingers across the near-erased carvings haloing the ancient matron. It’s a prayer she remembers at the edge of thought. After a moment, voice rough from disuse, “Safely keep us this side of the Veil; let not the space between shadows draw us away from the Light of the Arbahad.” An eiderloon’s mournful song drifts through the misty dawn air. Mazel huffs low in his throat, a warning noise somewhere between a growl and a bleat, raised hackles making his woolen withers bunch up like a tundra camel’s hump. “If she’s listening, I hope she hears better than the rest of us,” a deep voice, weary and restrained, conjures behind her. “You can call off your wulhund. I’m offering you a job.”
July 25, 2025 at 3:10 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
The Lemarians definitely win the cosiest home award.

My part of this project is a species of dolphin/orca-like aliens that can sing magic songs, called Euphonies, with their forehead melons. 🍉

#worldbuilding
inkythoughts.bsky.social Inky @inkythoughts.bsky.social · Jul 21
concept doodle for a fun lil project I started with @gormigan.bsky.social @zackbel.bsky.social & @teddyberserker.bsky.social

it's a solarpunk space western & these are the treehouse dwellings of a lemur-like alien I'm currently working on, the Lemara

#worldbuilding #sketch #conceptart
rough digital sketch of organic-shaped treehouses in a rainforest.
July 25, 2025 at 11:41 AM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Hey Inky! Glad I logged on today. 😅

5 faves, 5 tags

Food: Mexican & pizza
Season: Autumn
Drink: coffee stout or coffee
Color: brown or deep teal
Anime: Princess Mononoke

@seanreithe.bsky.social
@thechromabooks.bsky.social
@adamcbassett.com
@thinkingsideways.bsky.social
@zackbel.bsky.social
inkythoughts.bsky.social Inky @inkythoughts.bsky.social · Jul 2
Thank you very much for the tag!!

5 faves, 5 tags

Food: pizza & kimchi fried rice
Season: Autumn
Drink: Vanilla Matcha Latte
Color: phthalo green
Anime: Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun

@lumielle.bsky.social
@vazdimet.com
@sacredsapling.bsky.social
@micahseacole.bsky.social
@teddyberserker.bsky.social
kaizeal.aquakatpublishing.com Kai Zeal 🐱📘🔮 | Author of Riyati @kaizeal.aquakatpublishing.com · Jul 2
Ahh thank you so much for the tag!

5 faves, 5 tags

Food: buttered noodles (yes, just butter and noodles)
Season: Winter
Drink: Earl Grey
Color: Light blue
Anime: Utena

@juliemarchbooks.bsky.social
@calling33.bsky.social
@ormakal.bsky.social
@inkythoughts.bsky.social
@emreads56.bsky.social
July 2, 2025 at 5:48 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
The Amon Hen sequence in the Fellowship of the Ring is profoundly etched in the folds of my subconscious. Has been since I was a kid because it most reminded me of running through the Midwestern woods with my friends brandishing a driftwood shillelagh against invisible hordes of uruk-hai. #LotR
March 27, 2025 at 1:08 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Most three-year-olds just ride their play horses. Mine is “breaking” hers in.
February 1, 2025 at 6:14 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
A pop-punk banger that quotes THE Samwise Gamgee?? Guess it’s not all bad.

youtu.be/pcAyOdkEix4?...
Silverstein - Skin & Bones [Official Music Video]
YouTube video by Silverstein
youtu.be
January 23, 2025 at 12:58 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Video game idea: the isometric, team-based, hack-n-slash style of Marvel Ultimate Alliance and X-Men Legends with D&D classes (or other generic fantasy tropes) as your character roster.

I’d also take this as a platform fighter.
January 23, 2025 at 12:50 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Y’all remember the TV series Heroes? I kinda want to rewrite Heroes.
January 13, 2025 at 1:55 AM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
My 3yo daughter’s current obsession is Bigfoot. Now, whether this manifests as Missing Link or Son of Bigfoot or simply running around the room shouting “Bigfoot!” is utterly unpredictable.
December 6, 2024 at 11:07 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
The Daughters’ War by @buehlmeister.bsky.social is absolutely brilliant. Not a page-turner at all, in the best way possible. I dwelt in every page, savored every sentence. Buehlman’s prose is matched only by his biting wit, which is only matched by the biters’ bite. Never will goblins be this vile.
December 4, 2024 at 6:25 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
New pterosaur just dropped.

www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/p...
Paleontologists Discover a New Pterosaur, Filling a Key Gap on the Evolutionary Timeline for These Flying Reptiles
Revealed by a German fossil, the newly described species sheds light on questions that scientists have been puzzling over for nearly two centuries
www.smithsonianmag.com
November 26, 2024 at 3:31 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Elon Musk is the modern-day Henry Ford. Vapid, evil bastards who actively strive against the working class but have 'em convinced that their bootstraps chicanery is the ultimate salve for the blue collar soul.

Just wait, he'll sic the Pinks on a union protest one of these days.
November 26, 2024 at 3:30 PM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
harkthorn.bsky.social
False owlbear sketch. The smaller cousin to the owlbear, based on a red panda, but with no less of the attitude

Originally done in b/w (ballpoint and Ecoline) but I threw a quick basic flat colour layer on-this laptop screen is crap though so if the colour is weird, sorry!

-2882 🎨 #art #ttrpg
A sketch of a false owlbear, a creature with the head/face of an owl, and the body and colouring of a red panda. It is walking down and towards the viewer, turning to the left of the page
November 25, 2024 at 7:12 PM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
windfalcon.bsky.social
Yellow Eyes - Study. An ink & ink wash drawing of a white goshawk I met at the Opočno Falconry Meet in the Czech Republic in 2018.

Unlike my last goshawk ink, this one has looser ink washes & more stylized shading.

9X12 ink on Bristol.

Original available: www.falconmoon.com/originalart....
An ink and ink wash drawing of a perched white goshawk with a loose green, brown and black background.
November 25, 2024 at 5:43 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
A baker's dozen bands/artists to get to know me (imma break this down by genre):

🤘 Metal/core: Spiritbox, Fox Lake, Bury Tomorrow, thrown
🤘 Pop punk/rock: Neck Deep, Envoi, Games We Play, Between You & Me, Charlotte Sands, WSTR
🤘 Youth group rock: Relient K, Switchfoot, eleventyseven
garykruseauthor.bsky.social Gary Kruse @garykruseauthor.bsky.social · Nov 25
A dozen bands/artists to get to know me:

Sisters of Mercy
Life of Agony
Type O Negative
Cradle of Filth
Inkubus Sukkubus
Vision of Disorder
Iron Maiden
Machine Head
Biohazard
Fear Factory
Theatres Des Vampires
Rob/White Zombie
stinasdemons.com ⛧ Mother Suspiria ⛧ (StinaMarie) @stinasdemons.com · Nov 24
A dozen bands/artists to get to know me

Tori Amos
Fiona Apple
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
CRASS
The Cure
Depeche Mode
Nina Simone
Nine Inch Nails
The Pixies
Rasputina
The Velvet Underground
The Violent Femmes
November 25, 2024 at 2:58 PM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
Feelin’ gross.
November 24, 2024 at 10:25 PM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
hellbendermuseum.bsky.social
Bearded Vulture. Or, if you prefer, Lammergeier or Ossifrage. Actually let's be honest the latter two are cooler.
A model I made of a bearded vulture, grey on black background, view from side A model I made of a bearded vulture, grey on black background, view from front A model I made of a bearded vulture, grey on black background, detail of underside showing talons gripping a bone A model I made of a bearded vulture, grey on black background, view from below
November 23, 2024 at 7:01 AM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
kamakru.bsky.social
“Morning mist coated the hills, the trees
It filled the air with blanketed ease
As quiet song and forest lullaby
A great spread of wings lifted into the sky
It pulled the mist in tendrils hewn
And ascended the kingdom of mountains high”
----
#dragons #art #watercolor #gouache #fantasyart #paintings
A painting of a large dark gray or black dragon rising from a misty mountainside. Mist obscures the forest and parts of the mountain, the sky is cloudy. Signed Katie Croonenberghs 2024 and text reads kamakru.com
November 24, 2024 at 9:51 PM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
cjsubko.bsky.social
Reminder that @startingoffwrite.bsky.social is a January month-long novel writing self-competition. You can write 50k or choose your own adventure.

Get ready by joining the optional discord! startingoffwrite.com at Join the Community

DM @celestialfin.bsky.social with website questions

#writing
Starting Off Write
Join our growing community for writing challenges that start the year write with our annualy novel writing challenge in January!
startingoffwrite.com
November 24, 2024 at 9:58 PM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
teddyberserker.bsky.social
An excerpt from my most recent WiP, Their Tongues Become Iron, a dark fantasy tale of ambition and vengeance set in an Early Medieval world full of monsters and magic. It essentially imagines historically inaccurate King Arthur hiring Little Red Robin Hood and her Mirthless Men to do his dirty work.
She hears the familiar snick of a knife leaving its sheath. Heavy boots thumping across the floor. Rough hands grabbing her hair, yanking her to her feet The knife pressed cold against her throat. She feels a line of blood trickle down her neck as the blade bites her flesh. “Stop!” A familiar voice says from the doorway. “I’ll do it.” “The kin-traitor has a pair after all,” Garbeorht says. “You wanna kill your own sister? Be my guest.” Leofrith feels her limp body change hands. Light filters through her swollen eyes. Details are scarce. Nose broken, she just barely smells mint and cedarwood. A scent she’d just this morning considered a sign of home. Now merely the stink of betrayal. “I am so sorry, dear sister,” he whispers in her ear, his voice tight with tears. “I only meant what was best for us. Please, recant your protestations and grovel before the king. He will be reasonable, I know it.” “Your–” her voice croaks through a broken windpipe. “Your gods… will sort you when you die.” He sighs. “Then I give you one last gift.” She feels the blood pour as his blade slides across her neck, yet it bites no deeper than skin. Then he says, “Run,” and shoves her over the railing into the ravine known as the Blackmaw. Darkness swallows her mind as the earth swallows her body.
November 9, 2024 at 12:59 PM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
fghostwriting.bsky.social
From “Being Human” chapter 2…

[Also, I hope the “no AI” thing was about not writing using AI and not about sci-fi stories involving AI 🤣]

#amwriting #writingshare
The image features the following text: “At my present rate of decay, I have less than three months until the ceasing of my life functions. That was the delicate way my situation was described to me. Payment for my years of service, I suppose.” Michelle put her hand on Alice’s. The feeling of being consoled swept over Alice. It made her angry. She pulled her hand away. “Please eat and drink. It will make things far more pleasant for you.” “I don’t need to. I’m not one of you.” Perhaps Ms. Collins—First names are for friends. Machines don’t have friends.—felt a pang of guilt over her deception as she silently rose from her seat, turned her back on Alice, and walked out of the room. Maybe that’s why she suggested the surgery to shut down Alice’s pain sensors. The science team complied. They wanted to make the rest of Alice’s time as comfortable as possible. At least, that was the official reason. Unofficially, they just wanted to see if they could do it.
November 24, 2024 at 8:06 AM
Reposted by Taylor Frymier
florencehrscott.bsky.social
I've made a starter pack for if you want great quality posts about medieval history. Let me know who else to add! go.bsky.app/Eo1HyLT
November 24, 2024 at 11:33 AM
teddyberserker.bsky.social
The other three stories in that microfiction series.
A story from the blacksmith's daughter: > "I was walking back to town one evening after visiting my uncle’s farm, about a mile hence, when a man, hooded and cloaked, approached me on the road. It was later than I like to be out, so I was quickly wary. He asked to see what was in my bag—just some provisions from my aunt—I refused then brushed passed him walking swiftly now. I heard his creaky voice whispering behind me and turned, which I sorely wish I hadn't, to find his cloak shed revealing a hideous, half-rotten phantom glowing with eldritch moonlight beneath. In one hand it held a rowan wand, in the other a bloody coin. It floated toward me and, I tell you, I was petrified with fright. The light consumed my vision until I fainted. When I woke, he was gone and my bag left unmolested. All that was missing was my left forefinger." An account from the Eolderman's serving boy: > "I was cleaning the house’s chamber pots beneath the eave one morning when I noticed something strange tucked into an alcove cut into the longhouse’s wall. It was high up so I had to stand on my stool to reach it. After some straining, I pulled it down. I promptly dropped the object signing all the wards I knew, some twice. For the object was a skull etched with the word ‘Morðere.’ More than an evil omen, I knew. This thing had no place residing in the noble hall of good Eolderman Hathcyn. I later brought it to him but the he dismissed the skull as superstitious nonsense, then made me clean the the hogsty for the bother. He’s never been particularly cruel to me. Later that night, I was returning to my cot in the longhouse loft when I heard the Eolderman whispering from the gable window. I climbed the creeping ivy to get a better look when I saw him talking with a… well, a ghost. He called the ghost mother and she told him he must rule more harshly. That he’d been too soft on his people. He seemed to mislike her instruction, but conceded anyway. She told him to implement a strict curfew, increase his guard rotations, and hold a weaponstake. I lost my footing then and fell from the roof. Sure the noise would draw their attention, I ran away and hid in a bush until morning.” A tale spun by the local huntsman: > “I lost the doe near Thyra’s Anvil. It was there that I heard the moaning and chanting. Approaching the clearing, I saw a man in a tattered cloak hunched over the corpse of a warrior lain upon the anvil. I can only assume he died in the recent battle near Wylmsford. Other corpses were piled nearby and a groaning warrior in bloody armor stuck with arrows stood motionless beside it. From its mouth maggots and worms writhed questing into its nostrils. The cloaked figure chanted in the silence, his knife working at the corpse’s chest. At once, he wrenched the ribs apart with a sickening series of cracks. Seemingly satisfied, he lifted a wriggling bag from behind the anvil and held the opening to the splayed ribcage. Dozens of rats crawled out of the bag and burrowed into the corpse’s open chest cavity. The cloaked man bent the ribs back into place and bound them with hempen ropes. He rent a final incantation and the corpse stirred. It slowly lifted itself from the anvil and looked to the cloaked figure who told it to retrieve another corpse. It shambled over to the pile and helped the other corpse-warrior lift a dead body onto the stone slab. The cloaked figure started working at this one’s eyes, a pair of large spider egg-nests lay in wait. I ran faster than I’ve ever run in my life and came straight here.”
November 24, 2024 at 3:41 PM