Zuzanna 'Pryvian' Śliwa
LightNews LightNews
banner
pryvian.bsky.social
Zuzanna 'Pryvian' Śliwa
@pryvian.bsky.social
440 followers 320 following 530 posts
(she/her)
Writer, author of short stories (currently working on a novel), avid reader, TTRPG addict, can talk about narrative design for hours. Queer ADHD witch. MA in Italian Language and Literature.
Piszę, czytam, korektuję, tłumaczę #AmWriting
🇵🇱 🇬🇧 🇮🇹 🇪🇸 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿
Posts Replies Media Videos
pryvian.bsky.social
Whoever came up with this term should be given up to the French for a "microrevolution" treatment.
Screenshot from the Merriam-Webster social media account commenting on an article on the term "microretirement" with "Vacations. The word is vacations."
July 8, 2025 at 10:10 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
Polcon, Day 2. I hosted one panel and did a presentation on Basile's Pentamerone. Yet, the most important thing is that I got back to cosplay because I love Clea from @expedition33.bsky.social 💙
A woman in a cosplay of Clea from Clair Obscur (dark blue skirt and white shirt with golden paint stains) presenting PowerPoint presentation. A woman in a cosplay of Clea from Clair Obscur (dark blue skirt and white shirt with golden paint stains) presenting PowerPoint presentation. Selfie in a cosplay of Clea in Clair Obscur done in the mirror.
July 5, 2025 at 11:06 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
Survived train to Warsaw, found the convention... The QnA with @adapalmer.bsky.social hosted by @ninedin.bsky.social truly felt as the dream came true ✨️💜
Polcon's identification badge Ada Palmer and Aleksandra Klèczar, Q and A panel, Polcon in Warsaw, 2025
July 4, 2025 at 4:06 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
Last October, I wrote a series of micro-stories about a gothic village inhabited by all kinds of witches, warlocks, seers, etc. and lovers to local gods. I posted them all on my Instagram but then I stopped posting there anything because Meta sucks.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #AmWriting
Micro-fiction. Light grey font on the dark grey backround. A graphic of a moth in the corner. Text: In one of her recurring dreams, or perhaps memories of the times before the village (because there had to be a before), Anisa hears a male voice (her father's? brother's? master's?) warning her that the plague is insidious and ruthless, and that is why they (who are they?) must fight it. She never mentions this dream to Murtaja. She doesn't wish to hurt her. Murtaja is neither insidious nor ruthless, but shy and sensitive, and always oh-so-quick to jolly laughter, which then turns into a choking cough. Not to mention her tenderness that is etched as deeply in her very core as the corrupted breath, fever, or nausea. And tenderness it was that burned brightly in her eyes, though dimmed by shame, when one night she crumpled a bedsheet (which they would burn in the morning) in her fingers, searching in her head for the right words to express all that did not need any words at all. "I am your flame, am I not?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. "What do you mean?" "I once heard people say that there are some who are drawn to their doom like a moth to a flame and can't stop it," she explained, the first tears flowing down her sunken cheeks. "I don't want to be your flame. I don't want you to get hurt." Anisa nodded. "Did you ever think that maybe I am your flame?" she asked, taking Murtaja's face in her hands. "After all, it is healing that brings an end to every plague." The kiss they shared wasn't insidious, but it was full of ruthless love.
July 3, 2025 at 3:43 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

Apparently, "yesterday" doesn't appear in any of my English works so again I had to translate from Polish a bit.😂

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #AmWriting
Microsoft Office Word's screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: "What could the Countess of Trevadh possibly want from us? And no, I don't believe in her pure politeness." Manraj put the invitation back on the table. "We live on the other side of the country, she has probably never heard my name until yesterday and I doubt her to be mindless enough to consider me a friend or a suitable match for her son. So why does she bother herself with us?" "Isn't it obvious? She wishes you to provide them with entertainment." "I'm a warlock, not a juggler for hire!" Manraj grumbled, deeply offended, to which his brother responded with a sudden burst of laughter. "It's not about your magic tricks, Raj, but to have something to talk about and find a victim whose life they could poison a little. They already noticed that someone with power has taken an interest in you. You will become the carrion over which the ravens hover... Only instead of waiting for the wolf to eat and leave, they will join the feast and devour you to the bare bones along with him." "You missed your calling, Nick. You should have become a poet, not a doctor." Manraj adjusted the ring on his finger. "I can defend myself, you know." "Perhaps, but you clearly don't know how to avoid danger."
July 2, 2025 at 2:39 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#LGBTQWriteAThon June 22: Line share - glee

Manraj not always is the best of brothers, but he does his best to be a good uncle (and the "cool" one) 🔥.

#QueerWriters #pride #writesky #writingcommunity
Screenshot of Microsoft Word document. White backround, black font. Text: Manraj let out a soft chuckle and extended his left hand toward his niece. As soon as he uttered the first syllables of the spell, the gold ring on his middle finger glowed with a fiery red light. A flame of fire shot into the air from the palm of his hand, slowly taking the shape of a flower. It took him a moment to obtain a fully bloomed daffodil (Selina loved daffodils), but the delighted smile on her face was more than enough to reward him for the effort. He straightened up and offered the fire-flower to Selina, bowing to her with the gallantry of a knight from an old song. "Take it to your room and read one of the books that uncle Aakash has brought you. This spell gives a brighter light than candles and won't burn you." Selina accepted the flower with a gleeful smile, but before leaving the library, she gave him one last worried look. "Do you promise that everything is okay between you and Dad?" "You have my word. You see, constantly arguing is a brotherly way of showing love to each other. Be glad you don't have any brothers." He winked at her and ruffled her hair. "Now, go read."
June 22, 2025 at 8:48 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#LGBTQWriteAThon June 20: Share a mock cover or a moodboard today!

One day late but I didn't feel well yesterday ^^" And I picked a moodboard, because I still don't have a title (neither Polish nor English) so making a cover could be difficult 😅😂

#QueerWriters #pride #writesky #writingcommunity
A moodboard for a yet untitled fantasy-of-manners: a close-up of a group of young women, all in elaborate masquerade masks; a gentleman lounging in a leather chair, brown brocade waistcoat, and white shirt; a close-up of a green gemstone necklace on a green background; black and white poker chips (and two Kings, King of Spades, King of Clubs); a gentleman in traditional South Asian attire with a red patterned scarf; an ornate, ancient book with esoteric designs; conjuring a magic fire between two hands; two gentlemen kissing fiercely in an elegant room.
June 21, 2025 at 10:36 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
#LGBTQWriteAThon June 15: Line share - color

I finally sat down and translated a bit of my fantasy-of-manners! (This text REALLY needs a title asap)

#QueerWriters #pride #writesky #writingcommunity #AmWriting
A photo of a palace corridor and a excerpt of text on brown backround. Text: "Somehow—Caleb didn’t care by what means exactly—Eirlys had convinced her mother to seat him not on her left, as the protocol would require, but among the debutants; or rather, directly opposite his target: the youngest of Helygenwen’s heirs. He vaguely remembered one of his older brothers, the one who had later caused quite a stir, scandal, and perhaps a few minor heart attacks by abandoning his hard-won place in the healers’ circle. They actually had debuted in the same year, and Caleb had seen him as quite handsome but also rather inapproachable man, and subconsciously had expected the same of his brother. Manraj Raumon, however, turned out to be gifted with much sharper features, giving his face a certain austerity. His thick, dark hair was tousled, and his burgundy shirt, although it beautifully emphasized the swarthy hue of his skin, was visibly worn. He seemed younger than twenty-one; Caleb wouldn’t give him more eighteen. He seemed to be an exemplary specimen of a youth one would enjoy chatting with for an evening, maybe stealing a few kisses from, and then forget about his existence entirely the next day. Or so Caleb thought until he looked him straight in the eye. Manraj’s eyes were a warm, auburn hue, almond-shaped, with sharp corners that held a mixture of curiosity and suspicious watchfulness. And they were so incredibly similar to another pair of eyes that had haunted Caleb’s dreams for years that looking into them felt physically painful."
June 15, 2025 at 11:06 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
Right column is for Caleb, my duke/thief, and the left is for Manraj, my beloved pyromanic warlock ♥️🔥

Translation of the quote:
"Do you miss your innocence?"
"It's difficult to miss something you hardly remember."
(Polish and English) Moodboard złożony z 9 obrazów. 1. Srebrny naszyjnik ze szmaragdem na czarnej okładce książki. 2. Płonący list. 3. Stara biblioteka z drabiną do sięgania po wysoko ustawione książki, oświetlona przez światło dnia wpadające przez okno. 4. Zbliżenie na ręce mężczyzny tasującego karty. 5. Cytat " - Czyżbyś tęsknił za swoją niewinnością? / - Trudno jest tęsknić za czymś, czego się nie pamięta." na granatowo-pomarańczowym tle. 6. Zbliżenie na męskie dłonie pomiędzy którymi lewituje magiczna kula światła. 7. Bogata, pałacowa klatka schodowa. 8. Ogień na tle nocnego nieba. 9. Złocista kobra na ciemno-zielonym tle. Moodboard composed of 9 images. 1. A silver necklace with emerald. 2. A burning letter. 3. An old library, illuminated by daylight coming through the window. 4. A close-up of a man's hands shuffling cards. 5. Quote: "- Do you miss your innocence? / - It's difficult to miss something you hardly remember.". 6. A close-up of male hands between which a magic ball of light levitates. 7. A palace staircase. 8. Fire against the night sky. 9. A golden cobra on dark green background.
June 6, 2025 at 1:35 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
QRP with your flags!

I've always known I'm bisexual (even when I didn't know the word yet), and actually, as a sheltered ADHD kid, I was pretty shocked in high school to discover that not everyone are attracted to people of more that one sex.
Bisexual Pride Flag Demisexual Pride Flag. Tricolour Polyamorous Pride Flag.
June 2, 2025 at 3:16 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
Share characters you've romanced and let people judge you:
Sciel from "Clair Obscur" game Minthara from "Baldur's Gate 3" Thanatos from "Hades" video game Solar from "Dragon Age: Inquisition"
May 31, 2025 at 11:09 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
Happy 31st birthday to me! I've finally finished writing my Polish queer fantasy-of-manners. 100 884 words and it's only part one 😂

Najlepszy prezent na 31 urodziny dla mnie samej - skończyłam pisać moje queerowe fantasy of manners! ♥️
Microsoft Office Word's screenshot. Text in Polish: "End of Part One" / "Koniec części pierwszej" and the document's statistics.
April 29, 2025 at 9:31 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
Wymeldowuję się ze świata do wieczora 💜
Okładka książki "Wschód Słońca w Dniu Dożynek" autorstwa Suzanne Collins
March 19, 2025 at 12:18 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
Prezent ode mnie dla samej siebie jako remedium na wylatujące z głowy słowa 😄❤️
Okładka "Słownika przypomnień" Władysława Kopalińskiego
March 13, 2025 at 2:59 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity

Odile's aunt definitely has a style 🦢✨
Microsoft Office Word Screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: A glowing aura of silver light that surrounds her blinds me for a moment. It’s too bright for this place and my tired eyes. I blink to clear my vision, so I can survey her. I’m more than sure I’ve never seen this woman before and yet something about her feels familiar. Even in her human form, she still reminds me of my father. She has his–our–colouring: pale skin and black hair, and the very same sharp and freckled nose. What feels strange is her magic, less primordial than my mother’s and much more wild than both my parents’ and mine combined.
March 12, 2025 at 3:27 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity

I may have a small weakness for Nightmares. 🌙🐎
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backroung, black font. Text: The creature is surrounded by a seven or eight others, all of which share the same ashy skin and red eyes, but that's all. Some of them have horns and long claws, some wear costumes of bones, moss, and spiderwebs, some smile widely to show their sharp fangs, and some seem frozen between their equine and human form. Nightmares. The most beloved children or the most despised enemies of the Lady of Night, depending on who you ask.
March 11, 2025 at 2:12 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

🦢 I remembered "cherries" but not "apples", ha! 😆
💗 Once again, happy International Women's Day to all those who celebrate!

#AmWriting #WritingCommunity
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: “Do you feel any better?” I nod, still a bit befuddled and not quite sure what should I think of his presence here. He smiles in return, and yet there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Please forgive my intrusion. I just… Well, my mother always says that a good husband should watch over his wife when she’s in pain.” He lays his hand on my bed sheets, almost exactly over my aching abdomen. I feel my cheeks blushing red and panic creeping out from the shadows of my mind, but I force myself to breathe steadily and keep a smile plastered on my face. I must think rationally; there’s nothing to fear. Not here, not from him. Siegfried would never hurt me. Benedikt has said it himself and my mother was dreaming for years about my marriage to the archduke, and she would never give me away to a monster. His touch is a sign of concern, not of some vicious plot. “We are not yet married,” I point out in a half-playful tone. Siegfried chuckles. “A good fiancé, then? Liesl says that when her bleeding becomes unbearable, she makes poor Ludí read her philosophical treatises for hours while she’s stuffing herself with cherries, apple cream and chocolate pralines.” I’ve not yet had the pleasure of meeting prince Ludvík Chovnin, but the stories of him that I’ve heard from Margit’s joyful chatter are enough for me to paint the picture of him in my head and make me laugh at the scene described by Siegfried. Poor prince, indeed. It’s hard to believe that a tentative cavalry officer with a penchant for poetry and horse racing finds any pleasure in reading philosophers. “I appreciate the idea, but I’m afraid that I’ve never been a keen admirer of philosophy.” Siegfried claps his second hand over his mouth in a faked surprise and then leans towards me and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “That makes two of us.”
March 8, 2025 at 11:54 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
#ScribbledSheroes Day 8 ✨

For today, I translated a bit of a short story I wrote two years ago. It is told from a POV of Lysander, a young prince to be married to one of heiresses to the Empresses of half of the known world (and who will probably become Empress herself in the future).
#AmWriting
Excerpt of a short story, displayed on a textured background featuring an ornate, metallic design with turquoise and gold hues. Text: At the opposite end of the hall, three mature women sat on three-legged thrones, while eight youths sat on cushioned steps leading to the dais. Here they were, the all-powerful Empresses of Adara and their priceless heiresses, about whom he had heard so much over the past two years that he felt as if he had grown up among them. He felt so relieved to note that the descriptions of the ambassadors were precise enough for him to match their names to the faces without a problem. The oldest of the empressas, the dark-skinned and black-haired Rokosana Nazara Noriessa, was twenty-four years old and watched him with caution from under narrowed eyelids, her hands shielding her belly swelled beneath the azure material of her dress. Right next to her sat the youngest one, Aelia, a girl with milk-white skin, snowy hair and cataract-covered eyes, who, like Rokosana, was the daughter of the Domina of the Northern Throne. And, despite her unseeing eyes, Lysander had the impression that she was observing him no less closely than her sister. Fragment opowiadania wyeksponowany na tle złocistych zdobień, esów floresów, pochodzących z jakiegoś klasycznego obrazu. Tekst: Na przeciwległym krańcu sali trzy dojrzałe kobiety zasiadały na trójnogich tronach, zaś na prowadzących na podwyższenie, obitych poduszkami stopniach siedziała ósemka dziewcząt. Oto miał przed sobą wszechmocne Imperatorki Adary i ich bezcenne dziedziczki, o których przez ostatnie dwa lata opowiadano mu tyle, że czuł się tak, jakby się wśród nich wychował. Z ulgą zauważył też, że opisy ambasadorek były na tyle dokładne, iż nie miał najmniejszych problemów z dopasowaniem imion do twarzy. Najstarsza z imperatess, ciemnoskóra i czarnowłosa Rokosana Nazara Noriessa, liczyła sobie dwadzieścia cztery lata i przyglądała mu się czujnie spod zmrużonych powiek, dłońmi osłaniając brzuch pęczniejący pod lazurowym materiałem jej sukni. Zaraz przy jej boku znajdowała się zresztą najmłodsza z obecnych, Aelia, dziewczynka o mlecznej skórze, śnieżnych włosach i zakrytych bielmem oczach, która tak samo jak Rokosana była córką Dominy Północnego Tronu. I, pomimo jej niewidzących oczu, Lysander odnosił wrażenie, że obserwowała go nie mniej wnikliwie od swojej siostry.
March 8, 2025 at 9:31 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

I've been feeling a bit ill for the last couple of days and forgot about posting here. But not today!

#AmWriting #WritingCommunity
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: My mother had a mirror made from polished silver from Helverg. It was a work of art: tall, framed in gilded wood and carved with vines and flowers, birds and tree branches, yet for the most of the time, it was covered with a sheet. She sat me in front of it for the first time when I was but ten years old, caressed my cheek with her long, goldish fingers and gently tucked my hair behind my ear. “Are you ready to see the real you, my dearest nestling?” she asked me with a soft smile, and without waiting for my answer, uncovered the mirror. The Helverg silver reflects not the physical shape but the very soul. As so, I didn’t see a slightly too-thin girl with black hair and grey eyes but a little creature with shoulders covered with owl feathers and no hair at all–only snakes, curled up in a glorious imitation of a coiffure. Since then I looked into this mirror tens of times, always when I felt disheartened and needed to muster all my confidence–last time just before the Siegfried’s birthday ball. And only thanks to this, I don’t scream, hearing annoying hisses and seeing angry snakes in front of my eyes as I open them.
March 7, 2025 at 3:43 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #AmWriting #WritingCommunity

🦢✨
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: "Is this still about Klementine?" asks Siegfried, clearly confused, looking from Benedikt to Lieselotte and back again. Benedikt mumbles something incomprehensible (and probably unflattering), while Liesl grins widely at Siegfried, yet her eyes are cold. “I have no idea what are you talking about, cousin,” she says in a falsely conversational voice. “It’s not like someone would be mad enough to reject my sister’s hand in marriage. Publicly.” Benedikt sends her an irritated scowl across the table. “Your sister, your grace, is one of the most annoying creatures in the entire empire. I feel completely justified.” I believe I may actually befriend Klementine.
March 4, 2025 at 9:47 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
#ScribbledSheroes Day 3 ✨

The first meeting between Gwenvred (Gwenhwyfach) and Medraut (Mordred) ♥️

#AmWriting
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backrounf, black font. Text: "When I entered the dining hall, the queen was waiting for me with an unexpected guest: a beautiful youth with a freckled face and tousled blond hair that stuck to his forehead. He was dripping wet, trying to warm himself by the fire. Let it be known that although I would later meet many men more handsome than him, none of them evoked such a strong feeling of love and belonging in me as he did. A cacophony of voices, foreign and know-it-all, resounded in my head, lecturing me about courtly rules, modesty and innocence. I ignored them all. He was mine and I was not going to let him go."
March 3, 2025 at 7:33 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WIPSnips

🦢 A closer look at Benedikt.

#AmWriting #WritingCommunity
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White background, black font. Text: "For a moment, I suspect him of being Siegfried’s cousin, since I know that the late emperor’s brother lives in Elshary with his family, but I dismiss this theory almost immediately. He is way too pale to be Elsharian and, more importantly, he doesn’t sound like one. Judging by his coarse accent and slightly trilled Rs, he comes from the southern Saelberg most probably. It’s one of the poorest regions of the Empire, mountainous and sparsely populated, but Benedikt definitely doesn’t lack money. His clothes are finely-tailored and of impeccable cut, but also a bit too understated to call them fashionable. He wears a coat of dark blue superfine embroidered in geometric patterns–the same he wore during the ball–yet he has no jewellery except an intricate gold ring on his right hand, one of those worn customarily by the heads of the noble houses; people much older than him. He certainly hasn’t reached his mid-twenties yet."
March 3, 2025 at 11:47 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
Thanks to @veloravenn.bsky.social for hosting #ScribbledSheroes, I love the idea of celebrating heroiness!
However, I won't be posting excerpts from my Swan Lake retelling, instead I'll go with my other English WIP: the Arthurian novel from the POV of Gwenhwyfach, Mordred's (Medraut's) wife. 👑♥️
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: They'll say we were half-sisters, yet twins, born on the same day of the same father but two different mothers. They'll say we were identical in everything but a crown shaped birthmark on my sister. They'll say I seduced her husband out of petty jealousy and ill-placed mad love. Lies. All of them–at least partially. We indeed are half-sisters, both daughters to king Leodegrance of Cameliard and his two wives. Gwenivar is thirteen years my senior, however, and I was only two when she left to become wife and queen to the young king Arthur of Camelot, so there never was any strong sisterly bond between us. We were nothing but strangers to each other when we met next time–and I was a married woman by then. If she has a birthmark, crown shaped or any other, I know nothing of it.
March 1, 2025 at 3:54 PM
pryvian.bsky.social
🌈📚
#WIPSnips

Today's fragment comes from the first meeting scene between Odile and Benedikt. And honestly, their dynamic in this text is probably my favourite 💙 Rivals to Reluctant Allies to Friends to Much Much More ✨

#AmWriting #WritingCommunity
Microsoft Office Word screenshot. White backround, black font. Text: “I came to save him, my lord. To bring him back,” I say instead, forcing myself to sound as complaisantly as possible. He raises an eyebrow in a silent comment, saying that he very much doubts it, but at least he shakes his hand and stifles the spell. The deathful light fades and dies out, leaving behind only a faint stench of burned skin. Someone has problems controlling his own magic. Interesting. “I don’t need your help,” he replies in a gruff voice, which makes me gasp in disbelief. My help?! It is he who has just burned himself with a simple fire spell! “Go away. You’re already late for your meeting with the gallows, aren’t you?”
March 1, 2025 at 9:55 AM
pryvian.bsky.social
#WSPitW #A #F #LGBT

🦢 SWAN LAKE x REIGN 👑

Odile has come to the ball to dance, flirt, and fall in love with the archduke. Now, she faces execution for high treason as a co-conspirator in his murder. A pact will Wild Hunt might help in clearing her name, but will it be enough for her to survive?
WIP Moodboard. The top-left image features a woman in a light, flowing gown sitting among scattered flower petals, holding a small ornate object in her hands. The top-right image shows hands reaching into a mirror, creating ripples as if touching water. The middle-left image portrays a young girl in an elaborate, voluminous gown standing in a dimly lit forest path. The middle-center image displays two black swans, forming a heart shape with their necks on a misty lake. The bottom image presents a winter landscape with a frozen lake and a dark castle. An excerpt from a text presented on a decorative blue background with ornate floral borders. The text reads: "I've always thought I would die like my mother. I knew it wouldn’t be a quiet death, since hers definitely wasn’t. Those of her kind who dare to cast away their gift of immortality rarely pass away peacefully. I guess that’s only fair since they are born out of the forces of nature and so they should die surrounded by them. In the deep wilderness and in the raging thunderstorm. Or–just like my mother–after hearing the mountains’ call, in a dark ravine, under the shroud of the night sky, a fierce wind moaning her eulogy. She died tragically, that’s true, but at least she died free. I doubt she’d ever imagined her only daughter to leave this world by the rope."
February 26, 2025 at 10:51 AM