Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈

@woldry

Librarian, cat papa, husband, invisibly disabled, ancient theater kid, AuDHD gaymer out & proud in rural US for decades. Obsesses over historical linguistics. Author of Clueless Cabot (as André D. Michaels) & misc fantasies under way. Website: woldry.com

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Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 22d

From my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." Our dubious heroes encounter a band of looters. Things do not go as expected (unsurprising, for these fellows.) #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

A handful of people in grubby, mismatched clothing pried boards off the windows of a small building that might once have been an apothecary or a bookstore or a tobacconist.
“Looters,” muttered Boden.
“Ooh, truly? What luck! I’ve never met looters before. How delightful!”
“Dangerous. Don’t only loot buildings.”
“Well, I see no point in being coy. They’ve seen you already,” said Quinceberry. “Besides, I want to see something.” He pulled loose from Boden’s grip and strode forward. “Hello! Hello the crew! How’s the hunt today?”
Boden tensed. He considered leaving the little man to the consequences of his impulsivity.
But he needed that fare.
He hastened his stride.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 23d

"Unruffled" for "unfazed", from the opening chapter my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

“I met her,” said Quinceberry.
Boden did not rise to the bait. The headline still swam in his vision, nauseating him.
“Lady Lavoie.” Quinceberry went on anyway. “Years ago, in the Lyceum Royale, at the Philosopher’s lecture on the conservation of theurgy.” He laughed. “Isn’t that an odd place to encounter a noblewoman? But I was sitting on the aisle, and she tripped on my outstretched foot on her way to the boxes at the front. Her heel caught in my stocking. Tore a hole this big.”
In spite of himself, Boden glanced around the broadsheet. Quinceberry spread his arms wider than he was tall—which wasn’t all that wide.
“She was most gracious,” he went on. “Loving, even, one might say. Altogether unruffled. Offered to pay for repairs, unasked. For a total stranger. She didn’t even know me. Can you credit that?”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 24d

"Laughter of the Hunted Gods, my philosophical godpunk WIP, is perfect for today's #WIPSnips! "Divine" figures twice in this snip, about the first god hunted: a bog tutelar. #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyAuthors

Ennen’s voice grows soft and chill: “He ate my little brother.” She touches one bone in particular, her finger gentler than a feather.
I have no words to offer, no comfort to give. But it clarifies her choice of blessings.
After a moment’s awkward silence, I clear my throat. “And so—How did you get it in the cage?”
“Tricked it. A magpie, trained to sound like a baby crying. He ate her, but by then we’d sealed the cage.” She looks up at me. “He’s yours if you want him.”
“What would I do with it?” But I am intrigued. It’s rare that a philosopher of the divine has an opportunity to study a divine creature up close—even one as petty as this.
“Study him,” says Ennen. “Or kill him, I don’t care.”
“I don’t know if I can. How does one kill an immortal thing?”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 25d

From "We Who Walk in Shadow." Zarzek, cleric of the love-goddess Avikella, counsels his brother Oghor. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

Zarzek sighed. “The ways of the gods seem cruel to mortals, sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Come now. You’ve felt Her blessings, brother. Even if you’ve felt Her talons as well. But had you not endured all you did, would you have been here, in this moment, with me? Would you be blessed with the friendship of our stalwart Captain?” He dared the next, unsure how Oghor would react: “Would you have an Ellyll in your life?”
Oghor pulled his gaze down from the stars. “That obvious?”
Zarzek shrugged. “I’ve known you since we were spanners. And I only spotted it today.”
Oghor’s face was grim. “I’ll only hurt him.”
“You won’t. You’re a good dwarf.”
Oghor snorted. “And you’re a liar.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 26d

"Secure" for "acquire", from "Laughter of the Hunted Gods," my philosophical godpunk WIP. The beginning of the uneasy partnership between our dubious heroes. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

“Ohhhhh my. This is most distressing. Do you imagine there’s anyone at the ticket office might possess a key?”
Boden shrugged.
“It’s worth a try. Come, my friend! We’ll recover our effects one way or another! And perhaps even secure a full refund of our tickets.” Quinceberry seized Boden’s hand and pulled him back up the corridor. “We’ve expended far too much to sit here as the last light ebbs. This shall not stand!”
Boden did not resist. The ticket office was off the train; to that extent, at least, his goal was identical to Quinceberry’s. But his backpack was his lone luggage. Once Quinceberry dragged him off the train, Boden intended to disentangle his hand and make his way northward on foot if need be. The fare to Vinturfell was a problem for another day.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 27d

From my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." Boden has a vision. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

His vision shifted. The river became a rushing cascade, chilly and swift, carving a new path through the loam as it flowed down from a glacier towering behind them. Humans stood on the banks in strange clothing of fur and coarse cloth, singing Arrama-ei! Arrama-ei!
It lasted only an instant. Maybe longer.
He shook his head.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 28d

"Chariot" for "coach", from my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." Our dubious heroes arrive in the mining town of Copperdon. Sparkwagons are a sort of automobile, powered by the divine spark harvested from murdered gods. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Downtown Copperdon resembled some neighborhoods of Thren, with its half-empty storefronts, its ramshackle facades, its lonely, listless pedestrians. The dusty street lay wide. Here and there, abandoned sparkwagons stood slowly turning to solid verdigris. Here and there, though, some sparkwagons still puttered along at a pace barely faster than walking, their hind wheels crackling with faint purple lightning.
Quinceberry grabbed a belt loop of Kier’s coveralls and yanked him backward as one approached. “Beware the chariots of death!”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 29d

From "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." Our dubious heroes take a breather in their campaign across the land to exchange gifts. CW: Mildly suggestive descriptions and sexual insinuations #SnippetShare #writingq #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompt

Quinceberry reached into his pack and pulled out a flimsy booklet of cheap gray paper. He handed it to Kier.

“The road is long and lonely, so enjoy!—but preferably not within my field of vision.”

Kier’s face turned twelve shades of red.

Boden leaned over. He gave a low whistle. “Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

“But—I don’t—”

Quinceberry raised an eyebrow. “I am a keen student of the human experience, my boy. I notice things you don’t even dream of. And speaking of dreams, I have noticed—” He tapped the booklet “—your inclinations.”

Boden gently took the booklet from Kier and flipped through it. Printed drawings of nude men, women, and people who might be either—or both—filled every page, in various combinations and poses and positions.

“Oh! And—I almost forgot.” Quinceberry handed Kier a small corked crock glazed with vivid cobalt. He gave an exaggerated wink. “Unguent.”

Kier’s face, miraculously, grew even redder.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· 29d

Reposting with alt text. #impeachNOW

A tweet by Dr. Catharine Young (@DrCatharineY) that reads:
"A year ago, the CDC made Cyclospora surveillance optional. It had been tracked for 28 years.

Today: ~3,000 cases across 31 states, no confirmed source, and CDC's own count (843) is trailing what states are reporting by thousands."

The tweet also retweets one by ABC News (@ABC) reading:
"Cases of cyclosporiasis, an intestinal infection caused by a parasite, are currently being reported in nearly three dozen states, according to an @ABC News tally. abcnews.link/TPc8HXf"

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 13

The ubiquitous shattered towers of unbreakable glass left behind by the half-forgotten fae of Aur Bennan, in "The Circus Beyond the World." #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

They'd walked together, the whole lot of circus folk, out beyond the edge of Pettigloan, where the circus wagons stood gathered in a broad open field beneath the towering spire of glass. Stars shone overhead, almost as bright as out at sea; the only other light came from the shattered glass itself, a ghostly aquamarine gleam that barely sufficed to see the path. And always, always, as subtle as the gleam, the quietly mournful thrum of the towers underlay the chirping of crickets, the distant hoots and squawks of strange birds, and the quiet goodnights of the circus folk calling across the growing distances as they made their way for the various wagons.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 12

I do make use of flashbacks (maybe too much) but very rarely of dream sequences. But here's one of the latter, from my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." Sen is—or rather, by the time of the events of the book, *was*—the god of luck. #QueerPrompts #FantasyWriters #WriteSky

Kier was at his side, crouching, one hand on Boden’s shoulder. “Are you all right, Mr. Durth?”

Boden’s mind reeled. He’d dreamt of meeting Sen in the ruined temple, a person of such transcendent beauty he could not look away. Taking their hand, dancing together to the music of ancient hymns. Their lips meeting, as tender as any kiss Boden and Tondille ever—

He shook his head, glanced around.

In the firelight, behind Kier, Quinceberry sat upright as well, hugging himself and quietly weeping.

“Fine,” Boden said to Kier. “I—I’m fine. Just a dream.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 12

From "The Circus Beyond the World." Vos meets the chief members of the Peacock Circus, on the remote island of Aur Bennan. ("Aurenn" is the adjective for someone from Aur Bennan.) #SundaySnips #WritingCommunity #Writingprompt #Writesky #HQpress

Aurenn patrons of the Golden Peacock sat pretzel-legged on woven straw mats on the floor, drinking and eating, laughing and talking at low tables of heavily lacquered wood. If there had been chairs, and taller tables, it could have been any mainland pub, but for the colorful, patchwork clothing, the scent of arcane spices, the lilting language, the unfamiliar stringed instrument plucked by a handsome man with hair the color of parchment.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 12

From "Fables of Fire," a contemporary reimagining of Hansel and Gretel as small-town gothic magical realism, chock full of queer rep and fairy-tale allusions. Vibes (what's a couple of extra doughnuts?) #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 10

Vibes this time, from my philosophical godpunk WIP "Laughter of the Hunted Gods"—the first meeting between the two women who are the greatest minds of the Theurgical Age, a sparkwork utopia fueled by the murder of the gods. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

The Philosopher smiles grimly. “We promoted one from among their number. The Bloodhound title is retired, though. Irreplaceable, though now we have an Alaunt.”

The Lady sighs. “I had hoped you might tell me they were all being retired. What are the Hounds, without the Bloodhound to—”

“Until the final cull, we need them,” says the Philosopher. “Every one. The Grand Project. They are invaluable.”

“Invaluable. Irreplaceable.” The Lady sets her cup down. “How many others those words once described as well.” Her fingers trace the neck of the teapot. “But I confess a certain curiosity, your wisdom. What brings you here today?”

“You invited me. But I have always wanted to meet the benevolent Lady Lavoie.” The Philosopher raises her cup in a silent toast.

Lady Lavoie raises hers with a bow of her head and a humble smile. “As I have always wanted to meet the architect of the theurgical revolution. You are magnificent, my darling. I do hope we may meet many, many more times over the years.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 9

Constantin Brâncuși's "L'Oiseau dans l'espace" ("Bird in Space"). It does not physically resemble a bird at all, but to me it's mind-blowing how well it embodies the feeling of watching a bird soar through the sky.

A bronze cast of Constantin Brâncuși's sculpture "L'Oiseau dans l'espace" ("Bird in Space"), a narrow elongated vertical arc of smooth bronze, standing on one end on a small round pedestal.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 9

From my #EpicFantasy WIP, "We Who Walk in Shadow." #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“Years past, I swore an oath to keep that child safe. Let us make a compact to protect our mutual interest.” Leaning back, she lifted a wine glass.

Oghor did not lift his. “Define protect.”

“It pains me for even the least harm to befall the boy. Let us keep him out of harm’s way. He is a healer of some promise. I should hate to see his promise squandered if he were, say, to be sent to a battlefront.”

Oghor relaxed a little. “He hasn’t the training.”

“Not now. Years away, perhaps. Several twelveyear, even, which—so I imagine—seems a long time, to the lesser folk.”

Oghor knew better than to rise to the bait. “If he chooses to go?”

She set her wine down. “My dear Oghor. You are wise enough to know—his choices have not always served him well. Let us keep him safe.”

“I can promise not to harm him deliberately.” He raised his glass.

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s something, at any rate. We old monsters must hang together, mustn’t we? There aren’t many like us.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 9

Yes, but the starship redesign had fans up in arms

A still from "Treasure Planet", showing a young boy holding onto ship's rigging, with another ship soaring through space high above. A cosmic background looks above the ocean surface of a planet far below.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 8

From my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods." #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Naked, Boden left the paper behind and padded to the next room. A half-dozen cast iron tubs stood in a row on a white-tiled floor, filled with steaming water, and numerous candles stood flickering in steel sconces. The air hung heavy and humid. A tall narrow window, half steamed over, overlooked the Cenobium lawn, the snow pale in the wan light before sunrise.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 8

"I spoke with my old friend Mitch McConnell."

The undead corpse of Connor Vinderblad from "Baldur's Gate 3", with a half-rotted body and face, and milky eyes.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 7

With "quarterstaff", from "We Who Walk in Shadow," my #EpicFantasy WIP, a surprise reunion between old comrades at arms who haven't seen each other in decades. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

The other passengers moved past Kindral at the bottom of the gangway. Last of all came Jad Walaal, leaning on a black wooden quarterstaff. She set down her colorful canvas bag and warmly embraced Kindral.

“But did she keep it secret on purpose?” asked Jad, as if they’d been mid-conversation, in her familiar lilting accent. She let Kindral pick up her bag.

Kindral shrugged. “Who knows? Nuinnan isn’t exactly the scheming type. She’s more the Forgot to tell ye, didn’t I? type.”

Jad laughed. “You sound exactly like her. Your impersonations have improved.”

“My singing hasn’t.”

“I never imagined it would.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 6

No "stadium" at all, nor any close cousins. How about "theater"? From my philosophical godpunk WIP, "Laughter of the Hunted Gods. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

I turn to hear someone calling my name.

I’m packing away my slates and chalks after my last lecture of the day. The lyceum servants have begun lighting candles in their iron sconces around the dusty lecture theater.

A student descends the risers of polished oak, carrying a strange item covered in layers of sackcloth. “Professor?”

“Yes—”

“Ennen,” she supplies.

“I was about to say,” I lie.

The student’s face lights up. “You remember me!”

“I remember all my students.” I have a vague sense she might have attended some of my lectures on philosophies of power the previous summer. Her attire suggests one who struggles with the expenses of the academy, like so many of my students. Or like myself, when I was a young woman. “What can I help you with?”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 5

I don't have "grill", so how about "grille"? From "Laughter of the Hunted Gods," my philosophical godpunk WIP. #SundaySnips #WritingCommunity #Writingprompt #Writesky #HQpress

Mr. Morrow turned away and lifted a languid arm to open the back door of the cramped stall. He disappeared from view.

“Now,” whispered Quinceberry.

“Now?”

Quinceberry rolled his eyes. He touched the latch on the grille. “Don’t you see? This is flimsy as tulle. With your strength…” He waggled his eyebrows above his spectacles.

“You want me to—?”

“I do. I want you to break open this grille, and we will attain the contents of his till. Tulle—grille—till. We will have our refund, and not in two months’ time. No one is watching—and should anyone direct their regard this way, who would raise an outcry on behalf of Bronzeplate Rail? But you must make haste, my friend. Opportunity awaits neither man nor god. Our young friend and the overseer will be back any moment.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 4

I could just use yesterday's again, so we'll go with this bit from "Fables of Fire," a contemporary reimagining of Hansel and Gretel as small-town gothic magical realism, chock full of queer rep and fairy-tale allusions. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FairyTaleRetellings

“Where do you usually walk?”

Over the past few months, he’d found her on Main Street, stumbling and shambling like a dead thing. He’d caught her pacing her porch in the early morning dark. Even on the outskirts of town, back in January—Luz Mendocino called Jonny because Peg was kicking over their backyard grill in the middle of the night.

Peg didn’t remember kicking it over, but she remembered the shape, squat and round, like a toad.

“Peg? Where do you walk?”

She shrugged. “I’m asleep. I never know.”

“What do you dream about?”

She didn’t know how to answer that.

“Seriously,” he persisted. “Sleepwalking is acting out dreams, right? So what are you dreaming about?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth, but she owed him something. “That night.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 4

The world may be falling apart, but my fabulous norn mesmer muscle bear is ready to face anything with his killer abs and his new legendary staff. #guildwars2 #gaymer

A screenshot from the video game Guild Wars 2, showing a bearded, muscular man in hot pink clothing with bare arms and exposed chest and abs, in a dramatic pose. He holds an ornate staff glowing with rainbow colors. Palm trees, ships' sails, and a starry sky can be seen in the background.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 3

The opening of "Laughter of the Hunted Gods," my philosophical godpunk WIP. The mostly-platonic meet cute of our dubious heroes, if a jaded old warrior and a serial con man being thrown together by a stalled train can be considered a meet cute. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“Fooled you, didn’t I?”

Sitting in the stalled railroad car, Boden lowered the paper broadsheet he’d been half reading. A round little man in a badly patched gray waistcoat and frayed green trousers sat on the worn mahogany bench opposite Boden. Spectacles askew, hair unkempt, grin awry, he looked to be in his forties. Maybe fifties. A ragged cluster of dried bluerain blosssoms was pinned to his lapel.

Boden, unimpressed, said, “I saw you slip into my compartment, if that’s what you mean.” Not that his entry could have escaped notice; the bronze door grated when it opened, with the sparkwork mechanism depowered.

“Excellent, excellent.” The little man held out a little hand. “Fimble Quinceberry, at your service, sir.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 2

From "Laughter of the Hunted Gods," a memory chapter from the Philosopher, about the first godling captured—a bog tutelar who eats children. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

As I eat my meager dinner, the caged little simian thing in front of me on the table—reaching a clawed paw now and then between the bones toward my mutton and millet, the greedy thing—when a knock comes at the door.

“Enter,” I call.

Ennen walks in. I’m not surprised. “Hound!” I wave her over. “See here, a most puzzling phenomenon.”

I hand her my notebook. Chewing her lip, she peruses it. “Not even with the microscope?”

I shake my head. “The blood goes on the slide. I can see it. Purple as a grape. But through the microscope—nothing.”

I slap the top book on the pile next to me. “Berlonius claimed that bog creatures, much like the fae, had one foot in the shadows. I’m starting to believe he was right.” I laugh. “Absurd mysticism, of course.”

Ennen sits beside me. Her face is cruel, harsh, avid. “What if we cut him open? See what his liver weighs?”

I almost choke on my mutton. “Oh, that’s not appropriate. I’m surprised at you. We can learn so much more while it’s alive.”

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 1

From "We Who Walk in Shadow," my #EpicFantasy WIP. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FantasyWriters

Taking refuge in a small lean-to, Borrowsorrow examined what she’d looted from the laundry lines. Most of it wouldn’t fit, but the wide skirt covered her legs, a plain linen tabard worked for most of her upper torso, and an embroidered sash tied it all in place. Ooh, and to shield her head from the sun, a wool scarf—scratchy against her skin, but as her mother always said, This is your river. So swim in it.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jul 1

Drop an image from your favorite film. 🖤

A still from the film "Babettes Gæstebud" ("Babette's Feast"), showing a line of men with heavy-laden wheelbarrows, and a boy carrying a massive block of ice, are led through a rustic village street by Babette (portrayed by Stéphane Audran), a woman wearing a voluminous black woolen hooded cloak and carrying a cage whose contents aren't clear.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jun 30

Quote-Post with something that's a circle

A circular stained glass window in tones of bronze, gold, rose, and green, with a symmetrical floral shape frame, in a solid black background. Stars of David and crosses alternate in each "petal" of the flower.

Eric Woldry (he/him) 🌈@woldry· Jun 30

From "Fables of Fire," a modern-day reimagining of Hansel & Gretel as small-town gothic, chock full of queer rep and fairy-tale allusions. The contest (for "tournament) commemorates a forest fire 20 years ago Peg & her brother survived. #WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts