A novice Fantasy Novelist. Self-proclaimed world-building master
T'is my normal blog for my WIP Romantasy book, Sunset. Ask me about it!
Wips: Sunset, White candy, Frontline, Godless, Cette vie nous vivon
These amazing dividers were made by @cafekitsune. go check them out!
My banner was made by an IRL friend of mine. if you see this(which i doubt you will but maybe), thank you!
Hello! The name's Enju. This is my introductory post. Welcome!
I'm a aspiring author and poet living in the US. I mainly write Fantasy and am dipping my toes into dystopia.
i have three projects, listed later.
Asks and tags are always welcome, but please please please don't be mad if i dont answer right away. I'm alittle slow on the upkeep + life outside of writing is pain. Ill get to asks eventually, I promise!
Although i treat this like my Main blog, my dumbass made them in the wrong order when I first got here. @i-hate-happy-endings is my main, and its quite empty lmao.
#Sunset things: Related to my WIP, Sunset
#Ailan's Legacy: Related to my WIP, White Candy
#Frontline: Related to my WIP, Frontline
#meet my OCs: A little series where i go into depth about my OCs
#Enju's Worldbuilding: Stuff pertaining to worldbuilding(usually tagged with #Sunset things or #Ailans Legacy)
#Greeted the Messenger: Replying to Asks
Master list for my WIP posts + taglist
Whenever i make a WIP post I'll make it pretty clear what kind of stuff is in it. CW mentions will always be at the top for mature themes and I'll try to put tone tags as well if i think there's any sorta stuff that might disturb people in there. And Lastly, Here be Dragons. I wont always remember or know what judgement to make, so Here be Dragons is my go-to warning label.
My WIPS:
Sunset: Sunset is a high-fantasy medieval romance series and the main topic of this blog.
White Candy(Ailan's Legacy): White Candy is a mystery novel with solar/steampunk elements.
Frontline(Placeholder name): Frontline is a dark fantasy dystopia with mature elements. Interact at your own risk.
this'll get updated as I do short stories.
An Eternity With you: A short story on a immortal guy and his journey of love
I'm afraid to tag my moots bc i interact with like two of them regularly. but they're all amazing people so here goes:
@theliteraryarchitect @garden-of-runar @the-ellia-west @saturnsconstellation @wyked-ao3
Was playing Unbeatable(rhythm game) and found a song (True, also Done in Love) and found out it’s from ANOTHER rhythm game called “NOISZ STΔRLIVHT” and it looking at this Yuri-ass cover going “there’s no way this isn’t a gay ass game”
LO AND BEHOLD THEY ARE TRANS
AS IF THE LYRIC TO THE SONG BEING “won’t you believe in a world where you can be you, won’t you believe in a world that knows your reality?”
Anyway highly recommend, it’s just a good song as well
Most countries cut the map like that because it's the easiest and most logical place to have a big vertical split! Everyone else agrees that the awkward and self centred way that Americans cut the map so that they sit in the middle is obnoxious as hell.
Rlly? The US-centric maps are common enough; though we have euro/atlantic centric maps as well. I never really thought about it, but the one that just includes the whole thing with no wraparound is just better.
Your eyes won’t open, or- Maybe you can’t see, she doesn’t really know. Thinking is out of the question.
Your only measurement of time is the dull throb of your heart, the pounding in your head, the pulsing agony that ebbs in and out, like the tides on the beach.
A tide of blood.
Your eyes finally, slowly, open, adjusting to the dim light of… wherever you are. You had been at home, hadn’t you?
Oh, right. Shopping. You were about to go shopping
Thoughts begin to coalesce as your brain finally begins to spin into motion. Many questions surface, but the most important two- where are you? And what happened?
You try to sit up, only to be stopped by a metal band circling your throat: tight, giving you no room to move. Similar bands hold your wrists, pinning them outstretched on either side of you onto the unforgiving table beneath you. An uncomfortably large gag sits between your lips, pressing down on your tongue.
Your legs remain free, for- whatever good that does you. You’re not sure yet.
Somewhere to your left is a lamp- the only light source currently illuminating the cold, dark room. You can barely make out the top of a door towards your feet- and a shelf to your right.
The items contained within make you shudder- things you’d rather not have used on you.
After an indeterminable amount of time, the door creaks open, bringing with it a pair of footsteps.
A woman of Auburn hair, unnatural pale grey eyes, and walnut skin enters your field of view. “Awake?” The woman purrs, a hand trailing uncomfortably up your leg. You swallow, unable to speak through the gag. You’re suddenly aware of your lack of clothing, though that is the least of your problems right now.
When you don't reply, she pinches your nose shut, and you’re struck with the sudden realization that the gag really inhibits your ability to breathe through your mouth. It’s not- not impossible, but it’s quickly getting very difficult. At the Same time-
All the air is forced out of your lungs by a scream that is pulled free from your mouth, only to be stopped by the gag and end in a pathetic, choked whine. Your legs kick, muscles locking as the taser is held firmly to your stomach.
It’s pulled back just for a moment before it touches another part of your body- your side- just for a moment, but a moment is all it takes to make you scream again. And again, and again.
Your wrists burn from pulling against the unforgiving cuffs holding them- the skin red and raw from struggling.
The taser lands- and holds- just under your breast, pressed firmly to your ribs. But no amount of jerking or struggling lets you escape the taser, or the pain it brings.
Out of breath, with tears blurring your vision, the aching in your muscles amplified by your obstructed breathing. Each inhale is a struggle and each exhale is a surrender.
“I’ll let you rest for a moment.” She murmurs. “A kind Keix won’t afford you, so enjoy your moments of peace while you can. So a word of advice: respond when spoken to. The faster you give us useful information, the less you will suffer.”
Recognition tickles the back of your brain. Keix. A Man associated with the league of Nine. An interrogator. A infamous one at that.
Not much is known about him- no one does. You vaguely recall him being one of the Association’s most wanted. Never a good sign.
The woman takes a step away from you, her attention turning to the implements on the shelf. “He’ll be here soon.” Silence fills the room, save for your own shaky breathing.The door clicks, signaling her departure.
You feel Keix approaching before you see him, like you feel all Psionics before you see them. A shared connection to the Source.
The door creaks open again, and a tall man steps through. Brown eyes, black hair tied back in a bun. He looks… ordinary.
Something tells you he isn’t.
“My, my.” the man- you presume to be keix- drags his eyes over your body in a rather uncomfortable way. “I was not informed of your state of undress.” His tone is amused, but you detect no lust.
You glare at him, biting down on the gag.
“I’ve got a job to do.” He moves on, ignoring your glare. “And I hope you can have your cooperation in completing it.” he meets your eyes. “Miss.”
He reaches behind your head, unbuckling and removing your gag. A cough escapes you, your lips dry.
“Name.” he uncaps a bottle of water, taking a sip.
“If I tell you, will you give me some water?” you cough out.
“Perhaps.” Keix drawls.
“Mack.”
“Good girl.” he brings the bottle to your lips, unceremoniously pouring some water between your lips. “And your rank?”
“Rank?” your parched throat works to swallow the mouthful of water.
“Your clearance within the Association.” he clarifies.
“Clearance Three.” harmless information… so far.
“Hm.” Keix sits, pulling a stool closer. “So you would know the whereabouts of the Association headquarters?”
Uh oh. “T-the headquarters is public…” you begin.
“The real headquarters.” Keix leans forward.
“I don't know where it is.” you whisper.
In a Vain attempt to distract him, or to escape, you try to use your psionic powers, the psychic abilities you've had since birth, trained and honed-
- nothing.
His psychic aura crushes yours, suppressing every bit of potential resistance you could’ve possibly mustered- and with it, your connection to the Source.
Crushing pain flares deep in your head. A deep, cold emptiness that simultaneously stabs and twists, a clawed hand squeezing your heart so intensely you feel it might explode. Little needles worm their way under your skin yet no blood is spilt, only white hot pain.
Psionic domination. The exertion of a psychic’s power over another psychic, the suppression of their power- a victory of wills. His presence in your mindscape is suffocating, pushing your thoughts around despite your best attempts to shield them, sliding around freely like your resistance means nothing.
You scream into your gag, writhing with an intensity you didn’t know you could muster- but all in vain, for nothing against the unyielding steel bonds.
“Not bad.” His Psionic aura recedes, and your mind is your own again. A spasm rocks your body, and the physical pain begins catching up with you.
Three clicks and suddenly the cuffs around your wrists and neck are open. It's barely a reprieve, though. keix’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you into a sitting position on the edge of the table. Your arms feel stretched, and your wrists- god. The tightness of the cuffs did not do you any favors.
“Walk.” his fingers never leave your scalp. “Dont even think about trying anything.”
You slide off the table and slowly trudge towards the door with his hand still in your hair. Your back and neck ache from lying on the hard surface for who knows how long, not to mention the cuffs.
Keix is anything but gentle, forcefully dragging you through pale white halls until you reach an unmarked door. Pushing it open reveals a dimly lit room. A mechanized chair in the center, illuminated by a surgical light. A messy workstation dominates the left half of the room, the right half a clean, office-like cubicle, a single lamp turned.
“That the one?” a soft voice questions, and you realize with a jolt that there’s a- you’re not quite sure- standing in the shadows of the room.
The voice is vaguely feminine. But the body is tall, maybe 7 feet tall, spindly legs and two pairs of arms topped with a head without a face. Its hunched-over position and skin-like… well, skin, makes it an uncanny sight.
“What are you?” you can’t stop the horrified whisper that slips from your lips.
“Dont be rude.” you realize the voice is disembodied- it doesn't come from the abomination. “This doll serves its function immaculately. I haven’t designed their face yet.” an eccentric-looking face peers out from behind the doll, messy brown hair slightly hiding deep blue eyes. “Hair.”
“What?” bewildered, you stare at her- him?- before Keix yanks out a strand of your hair and you flinch. “Ow!”
“Be quiet.” He mutters, handing the strand of hair to the woman and pushes you forward, seating you in the central chair. A strap runs across your chest and under your arms, holding your upper body while cuffs clamp shut once again over your wrists and ankles.
The stirrups ratchet apart slightly. The armrests, if you can call them that, slide up, pulling your arms with them.
“Zwei, is your Hex ready?” Keix questions, adjusting the light to shine directly into your face.
“Of course.” Zwei Mutters.
“Good.” Keix tilts your chin up. “You, darling Hero,” His voice drops, cold, emotionless. “Will hand over everything you know. And I'm sure you won't do so willingly. So I will extract every bit of information from you forcibly.”
Extract? You swallow, hard, fear coursing through you. “What do you-”
“I find pain and disgust to be beautiful motivators.” he jerks your head to the side, forcing you to look at Zwei- who is leaning over a mannequin. Or an action doll, but much larger. “Zwei here has a very useful power- linking two objects in certain ways to become one. Sympathetic magic. I prefer to be hands-on, but I cannot parse your memory and inflict pain at the same time. So she-” he pauses. “You are she?”
“Today.” Zwei doesn’t look up.
“She will make sure you feel as much pain as you can without… passing away.” he turns back to you. “So. I will give you one last chance to tell me that one vital piece of information before I take you on a trip through Hell.” he leans back, clearly waiting.
Your lips part, panic coursing through you. You could tell. You could spill the beans right here, right now.
“W-we have keys.” the words tumble out of you, driven by panic. “They transport you to the HQ. For us it's a getaway key, a fast transport. It gives us fast transportation across the world without needing planes or boats.”
“And your key?” Keix inquires.
“My key ring.” you whisper. “A small brass key? Just among my other keys.”
Keix raises an eyebrow. “Hiding it in plain sight, I see.”
You don't respond. He flexes his fingers. “Very well. He reaches up- and lowers a visor over your eyes.
“W-wait, you said- i told you- i told you everything!” you cry out, panicking. “I told you how to-”
“And I made no promise to free you,” he murmurs. “Have fun, darling.”
Pain immediately explodes across every inch of your body. Horrible, all-consuming agony. Your screams are cut off by a thick gag sliding between your lips, muffled by cloth being secured over your mouth. You struggle but the bonds only seem to get tighter, which only makes you thrash harder.
The pain comes in waves- but every wave starts before the last one ends. Each wave is different- every method of injury inflicted all at once. It consumes you, erasing your thoughts, leaving behind empty space for the pain to occupy, carrying you along helplessly.
Drifting.
Nothing else exists.
@chaotic-orphan
in true Fanfic writer fashion, i imagine, i will drop this unannouced onto your front porch, call it part one, and vanish into the wind. I hope its to your liking- I must admit that writing in second person gave me quite the struggle. I apologize for the lack of real whump/torture, and i promise to make up for it in pt2.
Anyway.
ninja vanish! *poof*
The story of Frontline revolves around the Enforcers: a group of Genetically-engineered, pseudo-clone soldires created by the Directorate of Janus's councilors- who I will cover in a different post. this post is dedicated to my brainchild and absolute behemoth of a Megastructure, the SNV Victoria. This post is subject to a bit of change after i post it, when i inevitably realize i made some kind of mistake somwhere.
THIS POST IS NOT STANDALONE!! i have to use words and terms I made up that i can't jam into this one and will go in a seperate post, which will go on my masterpost. this is hard sci-fi, which may not be for everyone! I WILL be using numbers like 70 trillion and you MAY not be able to comprehend how many goddamn things that is. here be dragons!
The SNV Victoria
A Massive megastructure designed to deliver powerful PDS, fleet support, battlefield control and ground invasion forces through the use of artificial gestation chambers, The Victoria is the mobile home base of the Enforcers- the Directorate's elite army. 6,000 miles from top to bottom, 4000 miles in diameter at it’s widest point, the SNV victoria is comprable in size to a small exoplanet. importantly, however, upwards of 90% of the Victoria's volume as suggested by those measurments is empty void.
Despite this, the Victoria is inhabited, populated and manned by roughly 70-80 trillion enforcers- around half being Artificers responsible for upkeep, intelligence, repair, and logistics.
The victoria is designed to take up a massive amount of space- featuring a central spire which contains much of the Victoria’s vital systems under heavy shielding and redundant space- and Two layers of rings: a smaller, inner ring and a larger, outer ring- provide stacked housing, depots, foundries, armories, hanger bays, farms, and other spaces.
Dimensions
The central spire stands 6000 miles in height from top to bottom with only about ~700miles being a central core, with 4000 miles of length being a spire that tapers as it ascends, and 1000 miles being a dome on the underside. the assymetry of the Victoria's design is purposeful- the spire is a tool of intimidation, while the Outer ring protects the core of the Victoria and provides a geometric "shadow" for its escort fleets- and other ally fleets which may be present.
The inner ring has 300 miles of space separating it from the central spire(outside of spire to inside of ring). The inner ring is 30 miles thick, 80 miles high, and from the inner ring, outer edge to the outer ring, inner edge, there is a roughly 1,200 mile gap. The outer ring itself is 250 miles high and 80 miles thick.
What is where- a loose description of the distribution of stuff in the Victoria
The upper spire holds long-range sensors, command hubs, spinal ordinances and launch control sites that require and benefit greatly from the unobstructed view such as command and leadership hubs.
The outer ring bristles with close-to-medium range weapons, PD, and a few select long range heavy weapons.the outer ring contains agricultural and residential hubs to maintain the enforcers who are stationed there full-time in addition to hanger bays and docks for various strike craft and ship upkeep.
The Core and inner ring house bulk of the housing, farming, and important infrastructure. Major internal foundries, armories, and the Gene engineering bays exist deep within the core structure, in the shadow of the outer ring- well shielded and protected from attack. The majority of food for the spire and dome are shipped from here as well.
lastly, the underside dome contains a few weapons designed for precision orbital bombardment and the Drop Channels for quick orbital insertion drop pods- for when troops need to hit land fast and hit hard. it houses many infermaries, supply depots and a few bays for returning pods and shuttles.
45% of enforcers live inside the inner ring and core structure. 20% live in the outer ring, 15% in the underside dome and a further 15% in the central spire.
The Victoria is the crown jewel of Directorate engineering. it dominates its space in a battlefield as a indomnitable mobile fortress. a status of the Directorate- and the Enforcers- power. To lose it would be devastating- and so the Victoria is always accompanied by a Dreadnout- a Directorate instrument of war- and it's compliment escort. This ensures that the Victoria and its fleet will hold out until reinforcements inevitably arrive.
Some tags under the line
@horlahreader1 You wanted to be tagged
@the-ellia-west @angst-is-love-angst-is-life hope you dont mind you two 0.0
how do landing actions function? planetary defenses are a hell of an obstacle especially on worlds without atmospheres.
is the assumption of orbital supremacy and orbital bombing being enough to devastate defenses (at least locally)? or are you going for the classic dropping an aircraft carrier from orbit maneuvre?
oh yeah! what kinds of engines does that thing use? the empty volume provides a ton of space for propellant, but you'd need some terrific torches to push such an enormous thing around.
It primarily moves veeeery slowly with use of VASMIR- Esq propulsion. To travel far distances it uses the biggest warp engine(which actually, I decided how “FTL” works in frontline so I should post about that), and it relies on that even simply moving across a system.
As for the insertion and landing of troops: yes, orbital supremacy is assumed and almost assured. The Victoria is so big that even if space combat is ongoing, it can park itself above a planet and bombard it with its “underside” while its outer ring and compliment fleet fight the battle in space- and almost always the Victoria arrives in places where space battle is ongoing. It’s a big “Fuck you” because whatever the Directorate is fighting, now has to deal with the Victoria and the safe space it creates for allied Directorate forces.
Bombardment devastates local defenses and creates points where Enforcers can be dropped, ODST or Space Marine-style. They take measures to make sure that all enforcer pods land. In my post about Enforcers I went into alittle more detail about their operations on the planet.
Edit: Low-key, I should probably start dropping the Hard-sci fi tag. I’m trying to keep it that way but this takes place so far into the future that some things I just can’t keep it “realistic” and I’ve already taken a lot of liberties. Sorry if you RB’d hoping for hard sci fi 😅
what they DONT tell you about clarinets is that you have to fucking build the damn thing every single time. "what instrument do you play" fucking legos man idk
about build clarinets damn do DONT every fucking fucking have idk instrument is legos man play" single tell that the they thing time. to what "what you you you
Little Prim desperately wants approval. He does his best to strive for magical and social status to prove to the others around him that he belongs with them, but his mind keeps wandering.
Instead of being stuck in one place, learning magic he can practice on his own, he'd rather be exploring and charting new extents of the caverns, new magic, new plants, new people?
New anything!
He wants a purpose, something he can do that's worthy of history books, not sitting in a classroom or sparring with people
He excels in magic, maps, and literature studies, but not much else. He has a few acquaintances, and one real friend, a Stone golem, named Stren
He and Stren have spent many days laying out potential cavern maps based on temperature readings they've managed to capture with fire magic, little contraptions Stren has drawn up, and airflow. Together, they plan to try and explore what's overhead that's stopped former explorers in the past from returning and made exploration a taboo topic
The two of them
He begs his family for some semblence of real training, but they refuse on the grounds that he's not at a level theh can do that, he's not experienced, not committed, not good enough, but he will be, and he will be soon
He fights back, and he fights hard, but still, that's all it is, over and over again, "Be better"
So he makes up his mind with Stren, they're going to use the little Spider lanterns he made, and together they're going to go exploring
Then it'll be good enough, good enough to gain them both respect and societal status, they'll have SOMETHING and they get to share knowledge with the rest of their society
Only, Stren gets stuck, and it's too cold for either of them to do anything properly
They planned to be attacked, they didn't plan for it to be freezing only a few hours upward
And the only passage they found collapsed around Stren
Leaving little Prim to watch him die silently over several days.
