Find the Word tag

I was tagged by @enchanted-lightning-aes - thank you!

I guess the same words are in play: judge, hidden, forest, trend, wake, and play.

It's a Going Quietly special this time, with words to prompt the usual bouts of Nathan's sad self-reflection:

Judge

Nathan rifled through his own pockets and produced his wallet, counting out the coins inside. Cass would no doubt judge him for carrying so much cash, but Paul still dealt in change as well, and he supposed that he was set in the old ways.

Too much in his life had been lost, and he didn’t think he could be blamed for a little nostalgia in what he had left. The change in his pockets was heavy, but it served as a tiny anchor against the change which had wracked the rest of his world.

Hidden

Nathan had followed enough people to know when he was being tailed: he just didn’t know why, or for how long. Had they trailed him from the entrance to the park, hidden amongst the crowds? Or had they come here with him, and were waiting for him to go someplace alone? He’d come close to it in the gardens. Perhaps the woman on the bench had inadvertently saved his life.

Forest

He found himself a pint and a table, and tried not to think about it. Dwelling on these things took him to a dark place, and not just this bar. But there wasn’t much else to occupy his mind. He tried listening to other people’s conversations, but there were too many voices to pick out any words: unable to hear the trees for the forest. So he sipped his beer instead. It shouldn’t be a crutch, but it could be a distraction.

Trend

He wondered where the GA Insurance teams would go for drinks. Somewhere young and trendy like this, perhaps: although he wasn’t sure he was the judge of that, or if anyone even said ‘trendy’ anymore. Or maybe they had a regular place near to the office, somewhere that suited the older heads as well. He was familiar with the idea of cop bars, but wondered if other professions had theirs as well, booths crowded with taxi drivers or tax advisers.

Wake

Monday finally rolled around, and Nathan rolled out of bed to meet it. He ate breakfast before putting on his suit, cannily avoiding any risk of spills, and then walked briskly to the office to wake himself up.

Play

She shot him the usual daggers, and Nathan relaxed. He’d known this topic would sour the conversation – that was why he’d wanted to avoid it at all costs – but it was good to know they’d found their way back onto more comfortable ground. Play-fighting freely, not perched on the brink of the other kind.

I'm tagging recent interactions @lunarmoment @introversiontherapy @smreine @dgwriteblr and anybody else who'd like to jump on board!

Your words are plucked from that last paragraph: usual, relax, avoid, comfortable, and freely.

The reason I like urban fantasy is that my worldbuilding sucks.

I can build my own society in an already created world! 

I love the desc you used for Baron in Mirth's Ebenezer: "dark, evil villain" but "kinda shy softie"

That's so adorable! Such a cute villain trope!

I'd love to be on the tag list for Mirth's Ebenezer it if you ever decide continue it, it was such an intriguing read! :)

Please and thank you! 💖 💖 💖

Hey @feline17ff! Glad to hear I'm not the only one who's a fan of the "dark, evil but kinda shy softie" villain trope😊

I hadn't planned a continuation for Mirth's Ebenezer, but it's definitely within the realm of possibilities because 90% of my writing is...unplanned (outline? what's an outline?) lol. If and when I do, I'll be sure to tag you (because thinking about it now, there's lots of possibilities for a sequel)!

In the meantime, if you're looking for hero x villain fluff (yeah I tag this too lol), I tend to tag things with fluff, flangst, angst, etc. and have a couple more soft hero x villain snippets if you're interested💜

New Threat (Part 1) series (some angst, but trust me)

Why You Love Me

Ice Cream to a Gun Fight

Visitation Rights

The Museum Job

I’ll be posting the revised version of Chapter 1 next week!

When I was eight years old, I met my new school teacher at the beginning of August.

There were still a few days left of summer break. I was proudly wearing several rows of friendship bracelets around my ankles, all of which were made for me by the friends I made at summer camp. My mom tells me to show them to my teacher. My mom laughs, and promises that I will take them all off before the school year starts.

I never understood why my mom cared so much about my anklets. Sure, they looked dirty and ragged by the end of the summer, but they were on my body, not hers. Maybe she was embarrassed for her child to wear something so sloppy and obviously handmade. Maybe it was the length of my leg they covered; maybe if I'd only had one or two, it would have been acceptable. Maybe the abundance too closely resembled shackles, something thick and unwanted.

That is true, there was easily a dozen or more tied around each ankle. They were thick. But they were also wanted.

Perhaps I might have liked them to be more shackle-like. So that they would have been harder to remove.

You ever write a line so good and poetic it you begin to obess over it and show all your friends it like a poor little Victorian child showing the passers by his wooden toy he just carved? Yeah, me neither.

“I think you just enjoy cooking,” he said, reluctantly pushing himself back up. “Would your family be very upset if we just started carrying all the pieces over?” 

“Probably not. But you know what would be funny? If we put the wheel together and rolled it over.” Finley cackled at the face Cassian made. 

“We would destroy all this work.” 

“It’s a joke! Dear lord, you are the best Cassie.” Finley grimaced when some of the wire caught his bare arm. “Ow. Worth it. The faces you make.” 

Cassian felt for something, finding a scrap of wood to toss in Finley’s direction. He missed horribly, which only made Finley laugh more. “Put down the wire. We’re going to start moving things over.” 

“Shouldn’t we at least ask first?” He was still peeling his gloves off as he stood. 

“If your parents say yes, then we have saved a trip. If not, we can bring it back.” Cassian started on the the slats of the wheel, able to get most of them before he couldn’t see past them. “You’re going to have to lead the way.” 

“Or I can just — ” Finley had started gathering the rest of the slats, but he paused to pull some of the excess from Cassian’s pile. “You don’t have to overload yourself. It’s why I’m here after all.” Finley revealed a bright grin as he freed Cassian from his self made blinder. 

“Thank you.” He was at least getting used to Finley’s physical closeness. Didn’t stop him from nearly tripping when Finley shoulder bumped him, but still. “You should probably still lead the way. I’ve been to your home once.” 

“Not even. Technically, your dad owns the stables.” Cassian rolled his eyes, but he dutifully trudged up the hill behind Finley, mindlessly following him when they cut through the fields. 

He looked down at the soft green shoots just poking out of the ground, puzzled. Something seemed a little off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “When did you guys plant your fields?” he asked slowly. 

“A month or so ago,” Finley replied. “Isn’t it nice? It’s been just long enough the fertilizer doesn’t smell anymore.” 

“Interesting.” He squinted, trying to remember back a month. “You helped?”

“Planting and harvesting is all hands on deck. So, yes. I helped.” Finley didn’t seem too concerned about whatever it was niggling the back of his mind. Maybe it was just one of the days he couldn’t come over. Cassian certainly didn’t know how long it took to plant a field. Or three? The Meiers didn’t cover just their and the Marcadets after all.

Of course, he could just ask, but he didn’t want to seem ignorant. Finley wouldn’t judge him — but something just didn’t feel right. He pushed the feelings back even as he adjusted his grip on the slats. Ahead of them, he saw smoke and the top of a chimney stack, Finley’s modest little house appearing over the crest of the hill. 

Writing Tip: if you’re writing a character pass out suddenly, the first sign is darkened vision followed by collapsing. The thing many people miss is that you’re actually somewhat conscious, unless you hit your head of course. (“Somewhat”, because you can’t control your body and you’ll feel fuzzy, but you’re not out like a light completely) Most people only pass out for less than a minute, so take that into account. Afterwards, recovering feels like your vision’s still covered in spots, and you’ll hear ringing and exhaustion. Oh, also, you’ll feel very hot. If it’s slowly, the vision starts to go first, then the hearing and heat.

HAPPY STS!

What’s your favorite part of writing?

I don’t really think about writing while I’m doing it, it just sorta happens, I guess. Like I know what I want to write and then I write it. But when I reread it, I’m no longer thinking about what I wanted to write, I’m thinking about what I did write. And that’s sort of a special feeling, especially if you genuinely do write for yourself. I can reread my work over and over and it’s my favorite thing, but simultaneously not good enough to show anyone.

I think you are the sun— you think you are the moon. You think your light is just the result of someone else’s. I think yours is the original. Everything looks beautiful when it is bathed in your light. If I look at you too long my head spins and my hands shake. You are warm and beautiful, but you are also fire. Growing up my mother told me never to play with fire. I would risk it, for you.

If you are the sun then I believe that makes me rain. Together we make a rainbow— a beautiful array of color. It’s not an unlikely pairing but it’s also not a pairing that is usually talked of. I think the sun and the rain make a beautiful combination. The rain becomes warm and comforting, as if influenced. But the rain can also be beautiful on its own. It can prosper without the sun. People long for the rain but most want the sun. Most see the sun.

I think in the end I really would love to talk with you about the weather. Not that we haven’t before, it’s just I want to tell you all of this directly. Who would ever think the rain fantasizes about the sun?

-R.V

Hi! Happy Storyteller Saturday! What character is likely to come up with a plan to save the day and is it likely to succeed?

This is a fantastic question because literally the plot of Hunted is just “Danny has an idea and it fails spectacularly”

So yeah. Danny.

Finished chapter 4 today!

Realized I need to expand the book though. This first act is going way too fast and I'm not even getting to put in world details.

So I expanded my parameters from 36 -> 40 chapters and 2,500 words per chapter target -> 3,000 word per chapter target.

I still got to write the inciting incident today! Goals are changing. Things are happening. It's all very cool. This does however mean I just went from 12k out of 90k to 12k out of 120k, which is a bit different. Oops.

Really should have just trusted my gut and started at this.

That maladaptive daydreaming hits different when you're a writer...

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CeHW2B5Jt7h/?igshid=MDJmNzVkMjY=

Finally posted the final chapter of Aduantas! It’s been a while coming, but I’m glad to say its finally complete. 🥳 

Aduantas is an queer, adult, modern fantasy, romance novel. Set in Ireland, the story follows Ann: a selkie disguising herself in plain sight as a socially elite swan maiden. When a festival celebrating her alter ego fills the streets of the local town, tragedy strikes her selkie community and leaves her vulnerable and seeking comfort from a sympathetic woodsman, Tate. While she recovers with his support, she finds herself drawn to him in more ways than one. He becomes a rock. A protector. But what will he be to her when she discovers the strange beings that lurk curiously within the near by woods?

Stripped of her foundations, Ann must decide how she is going to continue her life after misfortune: will she move forward with acceptance of the events that traumatized her or will she clutch on to the remains of anything that can help fill the void?

You can read the whole thing from the beginning on AO3 !

Any Sense

“Wait....this doesn’t make any sense.” Hero frowned as they checked the device. “This should have worked.” They prodded the machine. 

“Yeah...weird...” Sidekick replied as they patted the missing piece in their pocket. 

“Today was definitely going to be the day we defeated Villain! They can’t hold up to this. But now?” Hero held up the broken device. “Now we’re weeks behind again!”

“Such a shame.” Sidekick’s voice was neutral. They were not going to let Hero defeat their lover. They would just have to keep finding ways to sabotage the hero until they and Villain could make their escape. 

With all the work Cassian had with trying to create a waterwheel from scratch — and, admittedly, having never actually seen a waterwheel in person — time passed by surprisingly quickly. Fortunately, the weather never turned against him. It was always pleasant and comfortable, giving the duo time to pull the larger pieces of lumber that didn’t fit in the shed.

Finley was sitting in an especially soft patch of moss, working diligently on unraveling the fencing. His clothes were covered in the weird slick substance coating the wire, but he’d finally started wearing gloves. Cassian kept walking back and forth, unable to really picture the wheel from all the pieces they’d laid out. 

“You’re going to make me dizzy if you keep doing that. What’s wrong?” Finley stared as Cassian just ignored him, kicking one of the slats in irritation. 

“I’m starting to think this is too big for the stream I’ve got,” he said with a bit of a pout. He stopped and sat, rubbing his face. “But there’s nowhere else we can set up. I find it doubtful Mr. Fischer wants a giant wheel right next to his shop. Or electricity.” 

“Experimental electricity,” Finley added helpfully, grinning when Cassian glared at him. “But… yeah. I think you’re right. We really overestimated the size of the wheel for your stream.” 

“Fuck.” He dropped back into the grass, hiding his face in his hands. “I should’ve started with the stream and worked my way out, not with the needs of the entire house. It would’ve been enough to light up the shed.” 

Finley let Cassian complain himself out, continuing with his unraveling. “Well, the stream connects to the river before going by my house.”

“It doesn’t go near enough to safely travel to your house.” 

“No… but it sure would make evening chores in the barn easier.” 

“You do evening chores?” he asked doubtfully. “You’ve been here cooking with Holly every other day for the past week.” 

“I do them when I get home,” he replied. “So you can see why those electric lights would be handy.” Cassian rolled his eyes. “And you can thank me for helping your sister with her cooking. She’s actually getting pretty good.” 

I try to draw the sadness out,

I cannot.

I try to sing it out,

I cannot.

I try to shout it out,

I cannot.

So I write it out.

Maybe that will have to be enough.

I watched a single video 20 times because I suggested it to everyone and I wanted them to laugh a little but I don't want them to watch it alone, yeah that's what a people pleasure do.

Ive been working on two poetry books in my google docs for the last 7 years. The first book, ‘Losing, and Other L Words’ is reaching its conclusion and the second book ‘Remedy’ is far from done. Still, I would like to start posting snippets from them. I don’t really relate to some of the writing anymore. It’s been years and I’ve changed too much I think. But I’m tired of keeping everything inside myself. Post related to them will be labeled in the tags. I hope my words reach whatever wild thing they’ve been howling to.

Hi hi. Chap 12 is out!!!✨️🔫🪖🌇