7 May 2024

I worry that I’m making Isaac too judgmental. He is supposed to be flawed, but I need to balance that; not sure. Probably relies on the rest of the narrative before I’ll know for sure—if that’s even something you CAN ever know for sure.

Next to Isaac, Phillip gawked at the Tower, and the way its hallways stretched well beyond the space it should have had. Isaac couldn’t muster the excitement. Even in the most magical place on the grandest adventure he’d likely ever get to go on. Isaac could only stare at the girl leading them onward.

This was Aurora? Really? This cowardly, frail slip of a girl was supposed to be his long-lost sister?

Over and over, Isaac tried to deny it, tried to find some other possible explanation. But each new theory was more outlandish than the last, and the more he thought about it, the more his dreams of adventure seemed to fall apart around him.

After around fifteen minutes, Aurora–rather, Rapunzel–led them to what at first seemed like a dead end. Then she knocked on the wall, and it opened to reveal one of the finest paint studios he’d laid eyes on.

27 March 2024 part 2

This is a little tidbit from what I plan to be the second book in the Majesty trilogy. I want to have a lot of foreshadowing, so it feels believable when Elliott becomes the villain of book 3 (spoilers, sorry).

Elliott watched as the officers clapped his friend on the back. Everyone seemed to be celebrating. And why wouldn’t they? With Charles’ transformation, they had another dragon on their side; they actually had a chance, now. Not that Charles seemed comfortable with the attention. 

Despite all that, Elliott couldn’t bring himself to join them. He couldn’t feel happy about Charles’ success, and he didn’t have the energy to fake it. As he stalked off to his [chambers/tent], he kept circling back to one thought.

Why wasn’t it him? He was the prince, wasn’t he?

20 March 2024

I think I’d started watching the anime Zom100 when I wrote this. There’s some pretty cool themes about seizing control of your life in there. Anyway, I had zombie stories in my head, but had no idea what to do with it. I was looking through my list of concepts I want to play with, and saw plant people. I wondered, how would “plant people” zombies be different from the human kind? So here we are.

Even almost a decade later, Violet still had nightmares about that day. The fear on her parents’ faces when the alarm sounded. The screams and press of people out in the streets. The claustrophobic feeling of breathing through a mask. The moment when someone knocked Mother’s mask loose, and Violet and her father could only watch in horror as Mother unwillingly rooted herself to the ground, her face twisted forever in pain as the fungus used her body to produce even more of its deadly spores.

Violet had come a long since then. But there were times, especially in the dark of the night, where she still felt like that same little kid.

1 February 2024

“Isn’t your godmother a witch? Isn’t this, like, child’s play compared to the things she can do?”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe? But Maleficent’s even worse than Mom is when I get near magic. I think she blames herself for what happened with my sister.”

It took another hour or so to reach the shack in the center of the swamp. A rickety old sign teetered at the edge of the island, with the words, “Fortunes and Potions! No Refunds.” The shack looked dilapidated at first glance, but closer inspection revealed it was actually quite sturdy, and just designed to look bleak.

With a grin far too wide for the dreary atmosphere, Isaac said, “Well, let’s check it out!” He marched right up to the door and pounded on the door, with Phillip only a couple steps behind him.

A scratchy female voice called out, “Just a minute!” A short time later, the lock clicked and the door opened a crack, revealing a hunched, beady-eyed woman even shorter than Isaac. She wore a fraying green dress over her stooped frame. “Yes? What can Alne and Deifra do for you?”

Alne and Deifra… Something about the names tickled the back of Isaac’s mind, but he put it aside. “Hi! I heard you do fortunes?”

“Yes, yes! Come in, come in!” The old woman led them into the building…

29 January 2024

This isn’t canonical. It was an alternate idea I briefly considered of pulling in other shenanigans for the more bull-headed version of Aurora, but I think that would have gotten complicated. That, or I was just reading a lot of magical girl-themed stuff on Royal Road at the time, and decided to play with it a bit.

“Too easy,” the creature said, picking at a fingernail.

Rapunzel sputtered. Here she was, offering up her cleverness, her health… She was even putting her life on the line! And this diminutive furball had the gall to say that was too easy?

Reading her thoughts–whether through her expression or more magical means, Rapunzel couldn’t tell–the creature said, “You were willing to let go of all that long before the princeling ever showed up at your doorstep. You’d already resigned yourself to a short life.” Then the creature smiled far too wide for its face, and with far too many teeth. “No. What I want is far more precious than that. I want your leisure.”

“My leisure?”.

The creature nodded. “Suppose I do as you ask. Let them all free, wake them up. As an added bonus, say I even let you live as well. What happens then?”

It took a moment for Rapunzel to understand what he was getting at. There’s no way her family would let her go after all this. She wouldn’t be going back to her Tower. No, she’d have duties, responsibilities, expectations.

She’d have to become a princess.

19 January 2024

Really short. I was wondering, there are sentient weapons; why not sentient tools? Then, I apparently had trouble focusing. Partially inspired by this song on Youtube.

“Good morning. Will ye be crafting anything today?”

I sighed and pulled myself out of my bedroll. There was no sense in replying; the hammer and I both knew I’d left that life behind me long ago. Fool that I was.

I walked out of my tent to see my compatriots preparing breakfast around our little fire.

15 January 2024

Six months after the seal over the demon king shattered

“...after six months, the police are still no closer to cracking the case, and they are calling it closed until new evidence shows up. Meanwhile, across the country…”

Kyra rolled her eyes and flipped the television off. The TV was one of the few “modern” conveniences she’d actually gotten used to. It wasn’t so different from the town criers, or the theater performances Fera used to drag everyone to. “Okay, kiddos, time to clean up.”

There was a chorus of groans from the orphanage kids, but they obediently began putting their toys and things away. At least, until one of the younger ones, Lacey, looked out the window. “It’s Mela! Mela’s back!”

12 January 2024

Lena felt quite pleased with herself. She and Frieda had managed to score an invitation to one of the western countries, announcing the birth of the new crown princess. If things went well, they might even gain recognition as the fairies who opened the door to the west for the fae. And considering how tense the east has been after that fiasco with Maleficent… Well, even if things didn’t pan out, it should still be safer here than back there.

And things were going well, too. Standard gifts, health, beauty, what have you.

11 January 2024

Wow, this was short.

Then the tower rocked her chair, and Rapunzel jumped up. It took her a second to process what was happening, but as soon as she had, she squeaked and threw the sheet back over the painting.

Not a moment later, Mother’s voice called through the door. “Rapunzel, [honey], are you in here?” The door opened, and a rather mousy-looking women in a white dress with a blue apron came in. Rapunzel was surprised; that was the look Mother wore when she planned to head outside.

10 January 2024

As you can see, though, I decided to have a very different sort of Rapunzel. I couldn’t convince myself that the more badass version wouldn’t have left on her own years ago, no matter what excuses I made. Even if such excuses would work in real life, if I can’t believe it, how will I convince my readers to buy into it

Yes, Rapunzel had figured out the truth of her real family several years ago, now. She’d thought about leaving the Tower to go and meet them. Once, she’d even snuck out and gotten as far as the nearby village.

As soon as she’d arrived at the fringes, however, she froze up. There were so many people. Each of them had their own dreams, feelings, hurts, worries, goals. How was Rapunzel supposed to talk to any of them? What was she supposed to say? Mother Gathel, as well-meaning as she was, could be a lot all by herself. How was Rapunzel supposed to handle a whole town’s worth of people?

So she ran back. And any time Rapunzel so much as thought about leaving, she’d panic and decide it wasn’t so bad staying in the Tower, anyway.

Not that it would matter much at this point. She only had a [few weeks] left to live, anyway. It seemed almost cruel to go meet them now, when she’d just be taken away again so soon.

Rapunzel shook the morose thoughts from her head and focused on her painting. Queen Hannah always seemed to have a kind and gentle face; it soothed Rapunzel’s soul as she got lost trying to recreate it. She was so focused, in fact, that at first she didn’t notice the Tower’s warning.

9 January 2024

Once I got back, I realized I wanted to see if I could actually finish draft 2 of Rapunzel. So I was writing that. I also decided I am perfectly okay posting that here. …Not that I did much at first. It was hard to get back into the swing of things, I guess.

Rapunzel stretched her arms high as she made her way out of bed. It felt like a good day. “Good morning, Tower!”

The Tower clacked a few floor tiles in reply, then helped lift Rapunzel’s hair out of the way while she got dressed. Then she wound her way downstairs to the kitchen, where a breakfast of bacon and eggs waited for her. Rapunzel beamed. “Thanks!”

She ate quickly, then wove through several rooms and passageways to her paint studio, where her current project lay hidden under a sheet. Rapunzel didn’t want to upset Mother, after all.

She looked around, and just to be safe, she asked, “Is Mother awake yet?”

Several bricks in the far wall spun around to make a red “x”, and Rapunzel heaved a sigh of relief. She removed the blanket and stared at her latest work in progress; a portrait of her mother. Her real mother, not the fairy pretending to be. The queen of Lowenveil.

9 June 2023

Short little fluff piece; the kind of day-to-day shots that were half the reason I started writing Elsenaia to begin with. I can’t profess a great wealth of experience in matters of romance, but the ones that stuck with me the most in things I’ve read and watched weren’t the ones about passion or grand gestures of love. Those could show up at times, sure, but it was the quiet moments, the small shows of support, the ability to simply be with each other that make for the most poignant romances to me. I might have to write an article on that at some point.

Of course, a healthy relationship makes for poor drama, which means to have a story, either the relationship needs flaws, or there needs to be a major outside force that is the actual focus of the story. That’s probably why almost none of my favorite romances are found in the romance genre.

On this particular Saturday morning, it was Nick’s turn to fix lunch. It was a gorgeous day outside, and he found himself humming cheerily as he cooked bacon and cut tomatoes for some BLTs.

Once he had everything ready, he headed downstairs to get Elsenaia. It was amazing how much more vibrant the house felt with just one more person. He found her with her hair tied back, pointy ears showing, and dressed in a ratty shirt and old jeans, both covered in fresh paint of all colors. It was probably to most casual he’d ever seen her, and somehow, it made her seem even more radiant.

She stood before a large canvas, palette in one hand and brush in the other. Other paintings cluttered the area; several bore a stark resemblance to Jackson Pollock’s art style, but there were a few landscapes and other things mixed in.

12 May 2023

This is just notes on a dream I had, but depending, it may be good reference material for another story later.

Set in an Indian-style culture (or, as much as can be w/ my limited knowledge). Central character was a young woman with special powers; she could either reinforce things or superheat them. This was good, because they were often attacked by brass/bronze creatures. I’m not sure how they moved; it almost seemed weeping angel-ish, but everyone acted like they could move normally. Maybe it was just a low-budget dream?

There was romance; the central character loved a guy from the upper city/upper class, and he even seemed to reciprocate. I don’t think the class divide was an issue; I think the problems came when he found out she was attracting these brass monsters (they werre trying to kill her), and he and all his people wrote her off as cursed and refused to have anything to do with one another.

That’s when the things actually attacked in the dream. She piled scraps and paraphernalia together and reinforced it into walls for everyone. The rest of her village seemed used to this; they knew how to fight the things, and did so w/o fear. Only a couple small ones even made it to her. She was fending off a couple rodent statues (a rabbit and I think a squirrel), when a couple others tried to sneak in behind her–snakes. She noticed them (this is where the freeze-frame came into play), and took care of them.

The only notable thing that happened in the dream after that was when her (ex-)boyfriend was kicked out of the upper city during this attack. He was too closely associated with the main character, and thus also cursed.

10 May 2023

Here it is; the last of the Elden Ring fanfic shorts. This one explores a pretty common idea to play with; what must it be like for the enemies when the player character comes back over and over and over again, no matter how many times you kill them?

The fight, if it could even be called that, barely lasted an instant. Strangely, Malenia felt… disappointed by that. The armor he wore, with the stylized lion on the chestplate, should have meant he would pose more of a challenge.

No matter. The warrior was dead, now, faded to mist as tarnished soldiers werre wont to do. Malenia had nearly put the whole series of events behind her when a bright glow beamed at the entrance to her grotto.

She spun, and there was the tarnished, performing Golden Vow with the iconic halberd of the Tree Sentinels. He shifted it to his off hand and swung another halberd, in a style Malenia recognized from Morgott’s Night Cavalry, to his right.

This fight lasted barely any longer than the first, but still the tarnished warrior returned.

8 May 2023

This one’s pretty short. I was traveling at the time, attending a wedding, so I was squeezing things in were I could. I think that’s another reason I went for fanfic; I didn’t want to spend too long figuring out what was happening. So here’s my take on what’s going through Malenia’s head during the opening cutscene to her boss fight. There’s one more of these I’ll post tomorrow (10 May 2023), which would eventually lead into the alternate route/side story for Malenia. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to it, though; I’d prefer to prioritize my own stories.

When she woke, everything, especially her memory, was blurry and indistinct. She had the feeling that a piece of her was missing, but she didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was or where to look for it.

One thing she did remember, though, beyond the flashes of gold and rotten red from her dreams, was him. Her brother. He was… gone. But he heart beat with hope; he had promised he’d return.

By the time she had fully roused, she realized someone was standing before her. She didn’t recognize him, but there was something… His armor, in particular, made her incredibly wary of him.

She narrowed her eyes and drew her sword. “...Heed my words. I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat.”

22 April 2023

Well. This one’s short. Really short. I’d taken a 3-ish hour trip to St. Louis and back, so I was wiped, and also apparently dealing with some mental stuff, based on the notes. Still, progress is progress!

Also, I should probably name the father character at this point. Not sure what his name will be, though.

Notes

The father seemed a bit shaken, himself, but he managed a smile at Hanako. “I’m… really glad you’re on our side.” Then a thought struck him, and he frowned. “The other oni can’t do that, can they? Make themselves look human?”

Hanako shook her head. “I don’t think so. At the very least, I’ve never met any.”

With a sigh of relief, the father nodded and looked around at everyone else.

<-Hanako First

<-Hanako Previous

Hanako Next->

Current Draft of Hanako’s story (including unposted content)

18 April 2023

This would take place in book 3 of the Majesty trilogy, assuming I get that far, after Charles and Arylwen are already married, and rulers in their own right. Shenanigans happen, and Arylwen needs to get help from the dragons. It occurred to me, before I wrote this, that my “realm of dragons” could be the Underworld/afterlife, and that opened a ton of possibilities I wanted to play with. Also, I like the idea of this section just for Arylwen showing up and being all different kinds of badass. Don’t really see that here, but I’ll get around to showing it off someday.

Also, so many names are in brackets because I haven’t settled on them yet. They’re liable to change; the country of Baldren, in particular, is highly likely to be named something else in the near future.

The stuffy silver dragon looked down his nose at Arylwen. “And will anyone vouch for Miss Arylwen to speak before the High Council?”

There was a rumble, and a massive dragon covered in stone shifted. “I will.”

It took a second, but Arylwen recognized old [Ferghus] from her time in [Baldren]; it was good to see the old coot again.

Then, from the back of the room, a female voice called out, “I, too, vouch for her.”

Arylwen’s blood froze, and she turned to see an all-too-familiar figure in deep black armor. [Agthere] still bore the wound in her chest where Charles had killed her a decade and a half earlier. If anything, she seemed to wear it with pride.

Arylwen’s first response was to lay into the conqueror with her claws, but even if [Agthere] weren’t one of the only people sticking up for her, Arylwen got the distinct impression most of the Council would frown at such a blatantly violent display. With some deep breaths, she barely managed to keep herself contained.

She couldn’t help feeling unnerved, though; she and Charles were among [Agthere’s] most ardent foes in the past, and had ultimately been the ones to kill her. So why was [Agthere] helping them now?

5 April 2023

I wrote this kind of late, and honestly I’m still not sure what to think of it. I was trying to lay the groundwork for Arylwen and Bethany to develop a friendship while they’re still kids, but I don’t think this approach is going to be the best. Moira will still intervene, but it will be more chastising Arylwen. I also don’t know that I fully agree with the logic here, and it definitely feels out of character for Moira, even if I’m having trouble pinning down why. Additionally, I don’t want to even imply that bullying is in anyway justified. It’s not. So yeah, this is getting scrapped. It does help me figure out some of what’s going on in Arylwen’s head, though. And I might just have to tone this sub-arc down, so she’s not actively mean or malicious to Bethany.

The little girl curled up tighter, wrinkling her dress. “I just… I want to be friends, too. Why is she so mean to me?”

Moira leaned forward, resting her arms on the balcony railing. She pondered the question for several moments. “You may not believe me, but you and Arylwen have a lot in common.”

Judging by the expression on Bethany’s face, she didn’t believe her. Moira had to chuckle at that. She said, “I’m guessing you didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, right? Spent most of your days around adults, all trying to teach you how to be a ‘proper’ lady?”

Bethany nodded. Moira continued, “It’s not so different for Arylwen. There’s not that many kids on pirate ships, and the small handful Arylwen did meet were all terrified of her, especially after hearing she’s a dragon.”

17 January 2023

I came up with the idea for this story seed while pondering on Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean. Specifically the first movie. In particular, it was about Gibbs and his superstitions, and the way each of his captains handled that differently. When he brings up his statement about bad luck (including “it’s bad luck to have a woman on board”), Norrington kind of waves him off, ignores it. Later, though, when Jack Sparrow hears Gibbs’ concerns, he validates them, while still holding his own position, all with one simple line; “It would be far worse not to, however.”

That approach struck a chord in me. And then I’m taking it too far. :) Rather than simply acknowledging and being considerate of a crew’s superstitions, what if a captain weaponized them and twisted them to suit his needs? It’s actually kind of terrible, now that I stop and think about it; incredibly manipulative. Might be a fun story anyway, though. Not that we’ve got to that part.

Elizabeth wiped the sweat from her brow and pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear. “So you are tracking this place down off a rumor that there’s a ghost here?”

The captain turned back to flash her a grin, with a twinkle in his eye. “But of course! How else would I drive off whatever curse the ship has?”

Elizabeth gave him a flat look, though the effect lost a lot of its power since she was drenched in sweat. “Ghosts aren’t real. And even if they were, wouldn’t that be the exact kind of thing your crew would avoid with a passion?”

“As to your second question, I have it covered. ‘Twill be a simple matter to convince the crew a ghost would be to our benefit, so long as it comes willingly. As for you first statement, on the reality of ghosts, well…” The captain pulled a branch away and pointed into a clearing within the jungle. “What do you make of that, then, I wonder?”

13 January 2023

This was a point where everything seemed to be a struggle. I felt like I had no time, no energy. So I went ahead and used an assignment from my Institute class (kind of like a Bible Study type of thing) to count for my daily writing this day.

Not that I was particularly good about things after this, either. I didn’t write at all from the 14th through the 16th, and then only made it about 3 days before I had another break. And even then, the 18th, was mostly just venting, and I don’t plan on posting that one. I should be back on my updated schedule by next Thursday or so, based on the things I’ve found.

At the flooring mill where I currently work, it can look kind of dreary. Concrete floors, metal beams, corrugated tin roof, fluorescent lights, typical warehouse stuff. It's not too bad, especially once you get used to it, but it's not exactly soothing to the soul, either.

In the summers, some of that can be mitigated when they open the massive doors in every part of the building, hoping to invite a cross breeze in addition to all the fans whirling. That lets in some natural sunlight, and glimpses of the Missouri greenery around us. In winter, though... it's too cold for that.

Despite that, this past week, I had a chance to work outside for a bit. There were some things to clean up, and it had actually warmed up a bit. I'd forgotten how much natural sunlight improves my mood compared to the artificial, "false" light from the fluorescent bulbs. It seemed to warm my soul and ease my burdens that day, just from the way I could relax my eyes.

I think that's the way the Savior is. Even when we're working hard, and things are going relatively well, if we don't include the Savior in our lives, we don't have that natural light in our life, and we never get the peace and comfort that comes from his presence.