✨ Orion ✨

@thisorion.bsky.social

287 Followers 387 Following

They/Them | 29 |🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️⚕️ Halò | ᎣᏏᏲ | Yáʼátʼtééh I do all the things~ Writer of Fantasy, SciFi, Romance, and dabbler in Horror | Editor | Artist | Beader | Knit&Crochet | Spooky | Caffeine Addict 2Spirit, Mixed 🐢🪶/🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 + Proud https://linktr.ee/orionskarsgard

A wooden button that has popped off of a blue, tan, and black shoulder bag.

The scene snippet reads:
The brick and mortar building sat on its own run down lot on the outskirts of the city. Yet, there was a heavy bite of salt and seaspray that hung in the air. What was once bright in color had dulled over the years, the abuse on the building taking an obvious toll. The walls were composed of dingy brick and mortar walls that looked as if they would crumble before the slightest of breezes. The inside, however, was a sharp contrast from the grime.
The interior was sleek and modern with a rustic undertone, resonating warm and inviting colors. The furniture that filled the room was nothing extraordinary. Oak dining sets were set in the middle of the room. Matching wooden booths lined the outer walls only leaving enough wall space for the bar itself which had a polished black marble countertop. Oak bar stools with black vinyl padding were neatly lined against the bar. The only lighting in the room were the sleek black lamps perched on the decaying brick walls aiming light down towards the booths and two matching fixtures dangling from the ceiling above the limited space behind the bar.
Alcohol bottles varying in size, shape, and color lined the back wall behind the counter, dim light hitting the bottles to illuminate the liquid euphoria. Occasionally drunken fools would grace the doorstep of Malano’s, order a few rounds of hard liquor, and carelessly slosh their drinks about, allowing the liquor to joyfully flee the glass. The alcohol would oftentimes scatter fat droplets across the tabletops, scarring the wood with it’s unmistakable scent. Every now and then the fumes would waft from the furniture and mingle with the woodsy scents creating an unforgettable smell that would cling to the clothing of any passerby.

Dobby, a tuxedo cat, laying in the middle of an open book, glaring at the camera.

There was a much too short moment of stillness and quiet while her thoughts begin to spiral. Cold wind whipped into the alley and almost knocked her off her feet, she closed her eyes to the hair flying in her face and shied away from the onslaught of snow flying her way. She brushed away errant clumps of hair when the wind died down and flicked clump of snow from her knee before it could soak through her jeans. Pulling the ends of her sleeves over her hands, Marzana looked back up at the figure, heart skipping a beat. Was it closer? Or had it always been that close?

Casper, a white and tan spotted Great Pyrenees dog, laying on a blue moving blanket.

Salem Saberhagen from the show Sabrina the Teenage Witch (‘96) sitting on a table with the caption “Thank God it’s Fridyah.”

Infographic for #FantasyIndiesAugust. Day7: Mental health in WIP

Infographic for #FantasyIndiesAugust. Day 6: What kind of books would your MC read?

Infographic for #FantasyIndiesAugust. Day 5: Do you tend to write in the morning, afternoon, or evening?

"Lu?"

Lu hummed an acknowledgment, sipping at his drink.

"You wanna dance?"

Lu sputtered, nearly spilling his drink down his front. "No…"

"Chicken." Marzana crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"What?"

"You might as well find a way to turn yourself into a chicken if you're going to act like one."

"I should turn you into a chicken."

Marzana's lip quirked, a sharp fang flashing in the dim lighting for a moment. "I'd be delicious either way."

WIP Snippet Reads:

Marzana looked up at the man. "Don't suppose you could let me out, could you?"

A low crackling rumble came from above them. The floor creaked and groaned under the weight of something large. She could almost see the floor bow.

"Sooner the better. We should move."

Thin lines began to seep between the crevices in the boards, growing and expanding outwards like a creeping vine on steroids. The floor groaned more. Thick, tar black tendrils looped down, like slime dripping from some looming monster's mouth. It was bowing. Holy fuck.

Infographic for #FantasyIndiesAugust. Day 1: introduce yourself and your WIP

Picture of a cat with short legs walking. Text on picture reads: “Small steppy is better than no steppy.”

Nari leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and looked at him incredulously. “Do you really believe everything your government tells you?”
Callum didn’t answer. Just kept his lips pressed together. What was he supposed to say to that? Yes, because he’d never had reason to doubt them before? Yes, because they’d given him purpose after he’d lost it all?
He looked at Nari then, firelight flickering across her face, scars coming in and out of view. They had clearly been wrong about her. She was nothing like they claimed she’d be. Or they lied.
Callum prayed to whatever gods would listen that it wasn’t lies and only misunderstandings, but a little whisper in the back of his mind told him otherwise. He met her heavy gaze, eyes burning, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
He picked at the callus on his hands and wondered what other falsehoods he’d swallowed.

Writing Styles Alignment Grid. True planster and chaotic planster are highlighted.