breezeshadow | Entries tagged with writing

( Winter won't stop coming, and neither will Conan's brash behaviour. )

Just a quick, rusty story after a loooong time of not writing. I love Kader, and her interactions with Conan are fun. She, like me, doesn't like kids, but unlike me, her reaction to him is to be her typical self, swearing and all. Sometimes, this gets her and Conan into trouble.

This story presents such a different Kader from usual, damn -- one who has lived with people who love her for a few years, and one who has had a meaningful job and life for what might be the first time. Doesn't stop her from being a swearing grumpy lady, though. She'll be that until the day she dies, and if there is an afterlife, probably afterward, too.

Will try to finish this and tidy it up later.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: blah

Just a weird little piece I wrote this morning after some funky-ass dreams. Apologies for inaccuracies regarding space travel and all. Did minimal research; will try to brush it up later if I get the muse.

( TW for bugs and blood )

Current Mood: accomplished

( TW for mentions of war )

Just something I'm working on today.

Current Mood: okay

( TW for mention of depression, suicidation )

Just lots on my mind. Sorting through the scrapbook, so to speak. Don't worry, though: I'm fine.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: thoughtful

Sometimes you're just driving home, thinking about your characters while trying NOT to think about the horrible shit you read about last night (seriously, no more reading about the Yugoslav wars. I think the paralyzing panic I got while driving home was a cause). And it makes you realize that one of your characters had a good chance of working as a prostitute for a while.

And thus was born Alden the Prostitute:

( TW for frank mentions of sex, including some very depraved sex )

My search history now looks extremely wrong due to the research I had to do for this. Also I haven't figured out what Layla looks like yet, whoops. I have an "Asian" -- no such thing in Malanee, but two countries in the Welen mountains were based on China and Thailand, respectively -- character I plan to introduce, but she didn't seem to fit as a prostitute (not to mention it felt wrong to do so) so she'll show up later.

And thus hopefully I'll get past the scenes where I have to pretend I know how sex and prostitution works. Oh boy!

Tschuess.

Current Mood: weird

( TW for PTSD )

Rose May had a pretty damn traumatic experience during the Frenton Rebellion, yet I never seem to touch upon it in AG. This is me attempting to -- I feel like Duff's at times intimidating, emotionless manner may be enough to set her off. Duff was likely in his twenties when shit went down, so he'd remember the story of the little girl, once it got around. And I would not be surprised if it was that story that gave him another push to abandon high-class society.

Feel free to comment and give me tips. I don't have PTSD myself so I'm writing based on what it feels like it would be, to me.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: tired

I was playing on the Exhibited pet sim when this story came to me. This is actually the second draft, as I had an idiot moment and pressed the wrong button when it asked if I wanted to save.

( Light mention of animal cruelty, otherwise nothing major )

raze and other rescuers can tell me how inaccurate any of this sounds. ;)

Comments welcome as always, especially since I rarely write futuristic stuff. This is what happens when I play a dinosaur sim and read Cloud Atlas. Note that the tissue engineering is probably pseudo; hard to say since it's so young, but it involves crazy shit like scaffolding and matrices and a hellll of a lot more than just a petri dish (I wanted to work with it before I realized it was research-only and I'd need a Ph.D).

Tschuess.

Current Mood: peaceful

I think that I've been a bit secluded on here, which I've been a bit (okay, a lot) in real life as well. So forcing myself to post an update.

First off: the health news I got last month was confirmation that I have an autoimmune disorder, Sjögren's Syndrome. The shit clinic I went to in college found this originally, did not tell me, and then put it on my health record. This was a nasty surprise when I got rejected for insurance, before Obamacare stopped that especially shitty insurance practice. I kind of ignored it because I didn't show the classic symptoms, but in early October I had a very nasty week where my joints hurt horribly, I was exhausted, and furthermore I couldn't really THINK.

I went to the doctor since my knee at that point had been hurting for a full week, and she offered to check for rheumatoid. I mentioned the diagnosis from two years ago, and sure enough: it's there, chilling out, because my body things chronic illnesses are Pokemon.

So far it hasn't done much -- Sjogren's isn't usually diagnosed until people are in their 40s, so I have many years before me to try and kick it in the shins and keep it from getting too severe. Right now my joints hurt horribly, but I think it's my hormones punishing me for not getting pregnant. How dare I, truly.

On the writing front, I am participating in NaNoWriMo, despite this month being crazy for me work-wise. Tonight for instance no writing will be happening despite me being behind a day, because I am simply too exhausted. I am rewriting the second part of Abandoned Gardens, and right now at about 17K (so about 3K behind).

On the life front, one of the top reasons I'm exhausted is not work, but my brain being apeshit. Please enjoy this acid-trip-without-the-acid dream, created by my lovely brain instead of letting me sleep restfully last night, as posted on my FB:

"Okay, really brain? I dream that my family adopted a Basset Hound named Anna, except Anna was apparently some freakish Basset/hawk hybrid considering she suddenly flew off, grabbed a freakin' VULTURE, and began dropping it from a high height to kill it? You realize that seagulls do that to shit like crabs to crack them open, and I don't think it works on things that can, you know, FLY. Also why did the vulture turn into a peacock? And why the FUCK did I then dream that some evil asshat was trying to kill people/take over the world and locked me outside my own house in like, 20 degree weather?

I want a new brain."

Truly. The vulture part was truly gruesome; I will spare you all the details because no one should have to know, and I'd rather just forget about it all. Though

raze, I will love you forever if you draw the bonkers bassethawk.

That, in a rambling not-nutshell, is how things are going here. I am actually going to tuck into bed early because right now it hurts to sit, and I know that by tomorrow most of this stupid "How dare you not get pregnant, you must be punished" shit will be gone and I can be a human again.

Hope you've all been well.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: exhausted

( TW for hints at suicidal thoughts, PTSD )

Just a little Andy story. I was trying to think of who to use for the prompt "wounds" (

origfic_bingo), and sadly it took me a while to remember Andy instead of Tegre or Gareth.

Will fit it out a bit more. I just have focused on two works in October and wanted to get a third in as something to share.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: okay

I've been playing Sims this weekend, particularly Kader, Tegre, and Eilis once they are in Arebe. They've been making me smile; Kader keeps acting very much as she does in the stories. Caring for the kids even though she hates them, getting pissy at anyone who compliments her, and during one hilarious incident, she slapped adult Conan, then beat the crap out of him. I still have NO clue what he did.

It gave me a bit of inspiration, though unfortunately it's pretty crap so far.

( Six-year-old Conan vs. mid-to-late thirties Kader, go! )

So yeah. Apologies it's crap. Hopefully it'll get a bit better as I work on it.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: okay

Forget-me-not sayeth the flowers, seeds of burrs and petals of baby blue.
But oh, what did you do to never be forgotten, with your mouse's ears and fingertip flowers?
What have you heard, Myosotis?
Should we not forget, because you cannot?
What have you seen, clustered in dozens along her cobblestone walls?
O! if you could but talk, the stories you could share, like the fly on the wall in her kitchen, hearing the buzz of a timer that received no answer.
Why are you so blue, Myosotis?
Who turned those petals red, the color against the wall, whose eyes lay open and sticky?
O! poor flowers and flies and walls, stuck in their ways and worlds.
We will not forget you, Myosotis.
We will maintain the garden of memories, alongside her cobblestones.

---

Prompt "forgetting". What in the WORLD this is, I couldn't tell you.

Once I finish a few other stories, though, I'll have a very late bingo for

origfic_bingo.

Current Mood: meh

Title: Lavender
Genre: Fantasy
The Troops: Tegre and Cassandra
Status: Complete but very rough
Rating: PG-13, disturbing imagery and also just very depressing
Summary: Sometimes your body stays alive while your brain slowly rots...
Prompt: NA
Author's Notes: I'm not too happy with this, but I AM happy to have finally finished something. I'll let this stew before going back to flesh it out a bit more. This story was first posted here.

( Major TW for depression, familicide, physical disability )

Current Mood: okay

Hagaas taught not to hate.

She repeated the thought in tune with her breathing, forced and careful, against the hammering of her heart and mind.

It was such a silly thing to hate someone for. Plants grew back. They weren't like people, smashed to pieces and then lost forevermore. But they weren't like clothes either; she couldn't run to the store and buy a replicate, good as new and immediately replaced. Plants needed time and care. She had spent innumerable hours among the flowers, removing weeds one at a time if she needed to, protecting them from too much sun or water, even shielding them from the last rash of frost earlier in the year.

And some asshole overnight had stomped through her flowers, tearing some out of the earth, smashing others, and definitely stealing a few. Ripped petals littered her front patio and led down to the very edge of her yard -- deliberate vandalism. Not a single plant was left untouched, though a few poor things were still standing, bared and dying in the early morning sun.

She wanted to smash them apart, break their bones and rip their clothes, leaving them to dry out in the sun. But such thoughts were unwarranted; she didn't need Hagaas to tell her that. Violence could not be justified or rectified with further violence. Death was never justice, but revenge that would haunt the murderer just as much as his victim.

He continued on to speak of understanding, and how a kind heart and loving hand would help bridge all differences. Clearly, Hagaas never had his garden smashed to pieces.

----

All of my characters have major problems, so I figured SOMEONE out there should be pissy over something everyday and not traumatic.

Eilís lived a pretty privileged life and I never really focus on her much, so there we have it.

For

origfic_bingo, prompt "hatred".

Current Mood: blah

And of course they picked the happy one.

( TW anyway for mentions of war and past trauma )

This will be a cotton candy story, but more due to my and Lynette's dry senses of humour.

Also, too much fire metaphor, jeez.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: tired

This post may get a bit rambling, but hopefully it'll all make sense.

So on Saturday I drove down to a coastal town a hundred miles from me to visit their aquarium with some friends. This was breaking new territory for me in many ways: I invited them out, not the other way around; I was driving welllll beyond where I'd usually go; and I was leaving the house to get to their place BY 9AM. And so on and so forth.

Unfortunately ( TW for social phobia )

The good news is my friends are total sweethearts and handled me being a neurotic mess with grace. They told me it was fine if I needed to duck out if the crowds were too much, and were willing to move which table we sat at at the chocolate shop since we were right next to a table of shrieking brats (that isn't exaggeration. I kept wincing, and one of my friends started to get a headache). I felt so bad that I was such a mess, but they were understanding and encouraged me to invite them out again.

I tentatively mentioned us meeting up for board games this weekend for my birthday and they said sure, so we'll see if I get over that activation energy bump again.

I'll try to link some pictures later, but Facebook is FREAKING OUT at uploading them, and also my hands were shaking so badly that most of the photos are shit. But there are some I'll share.

----

Now onto other things. First: Scott Lynch's Red Seas under Red Skies has a mother-fuckin' dark-skinned single-mother-of-two PIRATE as a character. I'm not enjoying this novel as much as the first in the series (The Lies of Locke Lamora, an excellent book), but DAMMIT that character is made of win. Apparently some asshat whined at Lynch about wish fulfillment regarding her and Lynch very bluntly told him to shut the fuck up, women need wish fulfillment too, which, <3

My favourite character is still Jean because I don't even know, he's just funny and adorable and he carries around twin hatchets, leave me alone.

----

Finally, I'm almost done with the Gareth/Andy story (I know, SUPER SLOW writer). I can't figure out how to end it, which is normal for me. So here, have a random excerpt until I figure it out:

( No TWs that I can think of )

I'm not used to Andy talking so much. I don't think he is either.

----

On that note, I'm going to take Red Seas with me to bed and either finish it or fall asleep trying. Hope you all are doing well.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: tired

First, what you all are more interested in: more of the Gareth story from yesterday.

( Soft TW for phantom limb mention )

Really, I just wanted to share that last paragraph. And also share that it took me at least a MINUTE to remember the word "ambush". I stared at WordPad thinking "There's a word for when a group surprise attacks you. I KNOW there is... But what is it?" I was just writing out a text to a friend to ask when it came to me. Thanks, brain.

Also I apologize for my writing being awful lately. I've been severely out of the habit, and Zoloft-brain is being pretty bad lately in creative writing.

And then, to explain the icon: ( TW for anxiety )

Now to continue this story and hope it gets a bit less like pulling teeth.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: anxious

For

hc_bingo, prompt "First transformation">

( TW for phantom limbs and violence including eating live things, cannibalism )

Jeez, this is even darker than the first writing of this story. But once I saw the prompt, I knew I had to rewrite when Gareth first morphs into a werewolf.

Need to clean it up some so the plot is less stereotypical and to make sure my metaphors aren't completely batshit insane. Comments welcome. Obviously, the comfort part is still to come.

Fun fact: every time I write Gareth, I get his pronouns wrong at least once.

Fun fact two: I first wrote that the cannonballs were sleeping. Slackers.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: antsy

Welcome to the first real episode of my Sims 3 Legacy. I'm afraid I don't have a fancy name for it because I can't name my own stories (As evidenced by "Abandoned Gardens"), but hopefully you'll enjoy it.

( Lots of pictures! )

And that's the end of this "episode". Stay tuned next time for Cow Plants and moving neighborhoods!

Tschuess.

Current Mood: amused

So I don't know if you guys know, but there's this Legacy challenge with the Sims 3, where you basically have to go through 10 generations of a family without cheats etc. There's also a version where you roll for what the generation has to do, etc. I'm playing that version with some modifications (I use resetSim a lot thanks to my Sims getting stuck being idiots), and allow myself 1-2 rerolls since some options just bore me.

Some people create blogs about their legacy's, and Selena linked me to this one, and it is absolutely hysterical. So I was inspired to try my hand at it.

My legacy's already started though, and so for now...

( Previously, in the Sims 3... )

And that's where we stand right now! Gen 3 will be ready to roll soon, so hopefully I can track them more carefully. And hopefully the stray dogs will STOP SHOWING UP. Or at least let me adopt them.

Tschuess!

Current Mood: tired

My circadian rhythm has decided to fuck everything again, and after a few weeks of waking up at 7AM, then a few more weeks waking up at 6AM, this morning I woke up at 5-fucking-AM. NP recommended upping the trazadone and I'll be leaving work early tomorrow (did so today as well, or tried) to try and convince the dumbassery to go away, thanks.

Been trying to get back into writing regularly, but seems I'm at a rough point in AG. Here you all are anyway:

( TW for spousal abuse )

Rose May is a one-track record and she ain't gonna skip because you're going to Frenton.

On that sleep-deprived note, will try to get a bit more writing tonight. We shall see.

Tschuess.

Current Mood: exhausted

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Brittany

August 2016

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All Artists See the World Differently. Some are just crazier than others.

Entries tagged with writing

Do Not Jump Fences on Ice

Cicadas

Refugees Asea

Memories

So an Asexual Writes about a Prostitute...

The Man behind the Man

Breeze can Write SF?

Mini Update of Stuffs

Tidbit of Writing

Kader is <3

Myosotis

I finally finished something

Eilís has a FWP

I asked two friends to pick a prompt

Rabble rabble rabble

Bit of Writing & Madness

My Weird Analogies Really Make this Piece

Sims 3 Legacy: Of Horses & Egypt

My Sims 3 Legacy: "Previously, on..."

Running on Empty