Bi-focal12 - Love And Peace ✌️

New WIP!!!

The Ghostly Aria

In a forgotten corner of a bustling city lies an ancient opera house, its walls steeped in stories of both grandeur and tragedy. Liang Wenqing, a young and gifted Chinese opera singer, arrives at the opera house with a voice so hauntingly beautiful that it seems to echo through time itself. Yet, as his fame rises, so does the shadow of something otherworldly—an eerie presence that lingers in the forgotten corners of the theater.

When Liang discovers an old, forbidden manuscript of a long-lost opera, he is drawn to its sorrowful melody, a piece rumored to summon the spirits of the past. As he prepares to perform it, he unwittingly awakens the ghost of Yin Zhenhua, a legendary opera singer who disappeared under mysterious circumstances centuries ago after her final, fateful performance.

Bound by an inexplicable connection to Yin, Liang must unravel the secrets of her disappearance before he becomes the next victim of the opera house's dark history. As the spirit's whispers grow louder, Liang finds himself torn between the allure of completing the forbidden aria, which promises to give his voice unimaginable power, and the danger it poses—not only to his future but to his very soul.

The tale weaves together haunting melodies, the weight of tradition, and a mystery as old as the opera house itself. A story of beauty, mystery, and the price of fame, The Ghostly Aria invites readers into a world where every note sung echoes with the voices of those who came before.

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My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @frostedlemonwriter @oliolioxenfreewrites

for the last prompt:

“Don’t touch those books, sweetie. They have souls.”

Miranda hesitated with her fingers poised over a golden spine. 

“Excuse me?” she asked, wide-eyed and more than a little fearful. 

The librarian simply rolled her eyes, adjusting the hem of her coffee-colored sweater. “Did you not read the danger signs we passed?” 

Slowly, Miranda lowered her hands and laced them behind her back. “Thought that was another of Dougie’s pranks,” she murmured quietly. 

The librarian sighed.

“Miss Pickery-"

“I still don’t know why you hired my brother,” Miranda interrupted, eyes slipping back to the shiny, golden book she had been tempted to pull off the shelf. “He’s not exactly…bookish. Or terribly employable.”

“Well, he doesn’t attempt to touch the books with souls, for one,” the librarian replied. 

Miranda pressed her lips together firmly, attention slipping guiltily to the carpeted floor and catching on an oblong stain that the librarian gestured to with the toe of her heeled boot.

“And he doesn’t suffer the consequences of such misbehavior like my previous apprentice, Ronald.”

Miranda couldn’t help the startled gasp that left her as she drew her arms closer to the center of her body, head whipping back and forth in the narrow aisle to ensure no part of her was near any part of these…these murdering, soul-having books.  

Seriously, if Miranda had known about Ronald the Oblong Stain when she’d received her brother’s stupid email about checking out his “cool new job”, Miranda would have deleted it without a second thought. Unread, unreplied to, and un…un-in danger, Miranda thought sternly. 

The librarian frowned back at her, all sharp featured and unimpressed, like she was privy to Miranda’s imaginary word making.  

“U-um, so where is Dougie, anyway, Miss?”

“Late,” the librarian replied. She raised her right wrist to peer at a square watch wrapped over her sweater sleeve, the arms curved like octopus tentacles and spinning far faster than the plain, round one on Miranda’s own wrist. “Or perhaps early, depending.”

“Depending on what?”

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be conversing with Ronald, instead,” the librarian murmured to herself, causing a deep frown to appear over Miranda’s face. 

Oblong Stain-Man, one. Miranda, zero. 

“Well, he invited me here,” Miranda petulantly reminded the woman. “I’m still not sure why, but I doubt it was to kill me so is it possible for us to wait for him in a different section of the library? Maybe one without, you know, danger signs?”

The librarian gave Miranda a swift once-over, then peered up at the ceiling, expression unchanging. 

“No. Here will do.”

“Oh, okay,” Miranda whispered shakily. “I’ll just stay here and try not to turn into goo, then.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the librarian dismissed, waving her hand in the air. “That Evelyn has much more flare than that. She would have ignited you, most definitely.”

“E-Evelyn?” Miranda repeated, peering behind herself for other, potentially-murderous library patrons. Perhaps one carrying a blowtorch.

“The book you were going to touch,” the librarian explained. “She has quite a flair for the dramatic, that girl. Your death would have been very phoenix-like.”

Miranda eyed the golden-spined book with far more wariness than before. 

“Phoenix-like…” she echoed. “Like…as in I’d come back to life?”

The librarian’s nose scrunched. “As in you’d go up in a spark of flames and crumble to ash before you could say-”

“Mimi!” Dougie called out happily, appearing in a cart-like contraption over their heads. Dougie tugged gently on a hanging rope within his cart and the whole thing slowed to a squeaky stop.

Miranda eyed the small cylinder of metal attaching the cart to the track embedded in the ceiling with open skepticism. 

“Took ya long enough,” he said, smiling. 

“Took me-?!” Miranda began to sputter, only to be silenced by a hand from the librarian. 

“Douglas,” she greeted calmly. “Anything to report?”

Dougie’s smile turned slightly bashful, and he scratched the back of his head. “Not yes, Miss. But with Mimi here, things should be fixed in a snap!” 

“I fucking hate that name,” Miranda muttered darkly beneath her breath.

“Quit whining, girl,” the librarian said, not unkindly. “It’s time to go.” 

“Please,” Miranda agreed, quickly ascending the thin, metal stairs that had stretched out from Dougie’s cart like a particularly slow accordion. She would happily go anywhere to get away from Evelyn and Ronald and who knows who else. 

The librarian followed quickly after. 

“Where are we going?” Miranda asked, cringing at the grating noise emanating from the ceiling as the cart rocked jerkily back into motion. “To lunch?”

Dougie’s email had promised lunch. 

“Uhhh, not to lunch,” Dougie admitted, ignoring Miranda’s heavily disappointed sigh. “We need you to fix something, actually.”

“And it’s not a sandwich?” Miranda pressed hopefully. 

“Sorry, sis,” Dougie laughed. “It’s…uh, well it’s a little bit bigger than that.”

“These swinging death cages, then?” she tried next. Because they could use some serious oiling, but otherwise seemed mostly stable. Even if the eccentric design didn’t invite anything but distrust. 

Dougie pulled on the rope again as they entered a new room and Miranda brought her hands up to cover her ears while she peered curiously over the edge of the cart, still hoping in vain for a cafe or a bistro. 

What she saw instead was a massive, boiler-looking thing, with moving arms on just about every square inch of its rusting, bronze surface, rounded caps lifting periodically to release hissing trails of white steam. 

What really caught her attention, though, was the small door built into its base, boasting a massive dent and an odd array of talon-like scratches along its surface. And one scrawled out word. 

Miranda Pickery. 

“...well,” Miranda said slowly, hands falling to her hips as she quietly examined the structure. “Surely I’m not the only Miranda Pickery in the area. Total coincidence, really.”

The librarian’s wrinkly hand landed on Miranda’s shoulder, her other pointing towards the far end of the boiler room. 

Miranda followed her gaze to a large, hand-painted mural spanning the entire length of the flaking wall. The figures were all done in black, or perhaps a very deep blue, and nearly impossible to make out in the dim space. The orange light from the boiler only illuminated the lowest section, where there were rows and rows of what looked like people, carrying stacks of what looked like books, and a few, hanging, claw-like feet that suggested an array of birds above their heads. 

The librarian clapped and the space flooded with blue light. Hovering orbs lined the room like street lamps- above the boiler but below the cart- revealing a concerning amount of bookshelves lining this room, too. 

A concerning amount of bookshelves and Miranda’s likeness, that is, painted in the very center of the mural with such detail that any hopes of pawning off this mystery onto some other hapless sod immediately wilted and died within her heart. 

“Oh,” Miranda said dumbly. 

“Oh,” the librarian agreed. 

“So…” Dougie started, awkwardly clapping his hands together. “Lunch, anyone?”

WRITING PROMPTS - Library

A 24/7 library has no staff, but those who enter never think to steal.

"We can't make out! This is a library!"

A magical university has a library that changes its contents entirely whenever it hits midnight.

"Shh! Reading time."

A library is the only building unaffected by a massive earthquake.

"Where did you get that book?"

A group of academics decide they want to be buried alive in the cursed library that the government are burying.

"Don't touch those books, sweetie. They have souls."

Author Ask Tag

thanks for the tag @sharkblizzardblogs (and @aalinaaaaaa, who tagged me with this game as well!)

What is the main lesson of your story?

I think there could be a few takeaways from Forest Fire but it's mainly about learning to let go of a romanticized image of the past and learning to face the things you've been running away from (a lesson for each main character, respectively).

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

The idea started when I was looking out at the scenery during a spontaneous road trip to California but none of the worldbuilding I did then actually ended up in the version of FF im working on now, lol. For the current version, Studio Ghibli is a big inspiration (especially a scene towards the end of the boy and the heron) as well as the song This Place Is a Shelter by Ólafur Arnalds.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? So you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

Forest Fire is set in a dual POV, following two estranged brothers forced to grapple with a past they remember very differently, so-

Sylas just wants his older brother back and for his family to be the way he remembers it as a kid. He's desperate to bring his brother back home and keep him there.

Lincoln, on the other hand, doesn't want anything to do with the town he grew up in or the memories he can't escape there. He wants to be a responsible adult and return both Sylas and another young character (Peggy) to their respective homes and then get the hell outta dodge.

Through them, I'm trying to tell a coming-of-age story that teaches both of the characters to stop letting their past overshadow their present/future.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Genuinely I have no idea, but hopefully at least 20?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content! No idea what to do with it after I finish but once I start the editing process (or if I particularly like any snippets from the first draft) I'll probably share them here on tumblr :)

When did you start writing?

Literally the end of last year, this is a very fresh project for me.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

I think my best advice is to not let the fear of the blank page overshadow your creative drive. Firsts drafts are meant to be of a lower quality than you want (or than you're capable of) because there are just so many elements to juggle at the same time while also learning how to best tell your story, so don't sweat the small stuff and give yourself the space to be curious and interested in what you're writing!

Take a breath. Take a stretch. And just write :)

gently tagging:

@peaceheather @moody-tortured-artist @mk-writes-stuff @agirlandherquill @antsday @sorrowsfallallaround @emilywrites185 @aether-wasteland-s @cee-grice and @blu3ha1redbrat

hello saiki k-ers im back in my kbys era after like 4 years [gnawing on the bars of my enclosure]

born to slay forced to go through whatever is happening in jjk

:o wow I have fifty followers now, thanks so much you guys <333

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