Fellow Writer

Muse, chafe inwardly, and write https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellowwriter

[fellowwriter]

Since a couple people have asked:

Yes, Part II of the The Equestrian will be finished. I do not care about Chapter 25. He will never die in my world.

[For those of you who weren't around during the writing of Part I, I am slow. Painfully slow. Why? I'm a pantser, and I write myself into holes with the plot that I can't get out of. I am a turtle in a fucking marathon who has fallen into trap after trap. YET, I DON'T CARE HOW LONG IT TAKES. I HAVE BEEN WRITING EMOTIONAL ALPINE PORN FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND IT'S NOT READY YET SO YOU HAVE TO WAIT JUST A WEE BIT LONGER, OK?]

You are welcome to interact, chat, send asks, whatever. I appreciate you and thank you for your patience. Hugs to you all.

[fellowwriter]

Why is no one talking about the picture of Dickens on his desk?

[fellowwriter]

Happy Holidays, dear readers. I hope you all have a wonderful week!

[fellowwriter]

Have you missed the whole Impera/Papa IV tour?

Yup! He did come near me twice, but I didn’t go for health reasons. I did see Terzo and the Cardinal plenty of times though, so don’t feel bad for me.

[fellowwriter]

After sitting on the sidelines since 2019… I’m finally going again!

[intothestacks]

[hippodameia]

Départ pour le Sabbat by Albert Joseph Pénot (1910)

[fellowwriter]

Would you be able to share anything about your real book?

I prefer not to; that’s private until I’m published. 🥰 To be clear, I am not done with my manuscript, and I’ve got query letters to do after that. But I’m always working on it.

If you want to guess the genre I’m writing, I will admit to that.

[fellowwriter]

I want to write a Ghost collab with someone else. Who wants to? I’m thinking we take turns writing scenes and/or chapters. I do not care what the plot is. Send me a DM if you’re interested in chatting. I need an outlet outside of my own head to let loose. My only rule is no minors please.

[fellowwriter]

Chapter 9: Couchette

[fellowwriter]

“Like this.” The man in black gently lifted my wrists until both my palms were against the side of the bus.

“I have to wait like this? Why?” I asked over my shoulder as he let go.

“Pheromones. That’s how he’ll choose you. Or maybe… he won’t.” The man stepped back. “I have to get back to work. Good luck.”

“Wait! How long until he comes out?” My arms were already sore after 30 seconds.

The man turned around to meet my gaze. “Depends. Just don’t look at him when he arrives. If he wants you, you’ll know.”

“I don’t understand. We made eye contact during the whole show. He talked about being here in the parking lot.”

“That’s different,” the man said. “He looks at everyone. He’s said that to everybody,” he chuckled, “even me.” He took a step forward and lowered his voice. “He’s paid for that, you know. Out here, though,” he gestured with his head across the asphalt, “he does what he pleases. Just don’t expect him to say a word.”

"He doesn't talk?" My question rang out unanswered as another roadie called out to the man to get back to work. He adjusted his cap before rounding the back of the bus out of sight.

My hands were clammy when I heard footsteps minutes later.

[fellowwriter]

Family on the US leg? Elizabeth in Raleigh? 🥹

We sure this isn’t a goodbye tour? 😭

[fellowwriter]

Chapter 8 is out

[fellowwriter]

A glass of wine now after tonight’s pencil drop. Posting tomorrow!

[fellowwriter]

Copia pressed his other palm to my back, reassuring me—and possibly himself. I heard him swallow. “Sometimes...” He paused dramatically, pressing his closed lips to my shoulder when the rest of the words didn’t come. I squeezed his fingers in encouragement. “Sometimes,” he started again slowly, choosing his words carefully, “I’m more than half-demon.” I sat perfectly still as he swallowed again, his stubble lightly grazing my skin. He kissed my shoulder. “It’s going to happen soon.”

“I’ve told you I’m not afraid.” I reached for him, holding his jaw, and our temples pressed together. The only sound in the room was our breathing.

[fellowwriter]

So I'm all curious (or maybe just have a shit memory), what was the initial idea that evolved into The Equestrian?

I never talked about it here before. He was always an equestrian to me as soon as I heard Witch Image (when Prequelle came out). But the fic was much, much darker originally, and he was a tyrant. That doesn’t suit him at all obviously, but you have to remember the time. I had watched my beloved PEIII get dragged off stage and Nihil promised us “Dark Ages.” So I went really, really dark. I did not expect to eventually also love the new character. In fact, I resented him at first; I called him a murderer at rituals. Sometimes when I wrote his character in the beginning, I had PEIII in my head still. Copia acted like PEIII at first; it was not a stretch. But all the scenes at the Cadre Noir was where it turned, and the character found his footing. That’s when I accepted him, and that’s when the ending concept ultimately changed. Originally, all the women were going to succumb to the tyrant’s evil semen—even the stablehand.

[fellowwriter]

now do the Escort next pretty please

“May I take you upstairs then.” When I didn’t answer right away, he slowly snaked both arms around me, sliding my pocketbook onto the dining table. “We’ll go at your pace.” He checked my eyes. “However you’d like.” I nodded at him and glanced away, overcome by it all now that the time had arrived.

“I feel nervous.”

“I am too,” he said softly when I met his gaze, but I didn’t believe him. “Would you like to kiss me now.” A gloved hand reached behind my ear and delicately brushed my hair back. “We both enjoy that.” His eyes went back and forth between mine, transfixed, as he took every part of me in. I slowly raised my chin.