"Danglies in a do rag" Love this. Great voice.
I changed the "Jolly Green Giant" to a jolly purple giant.It doesn't have the same ring, but Green Giant is trademarked. I know we writers use brand names, but I don't know how Green Giant would take my giving their big guy danglies, much less tying them up in a do rag.
[One of my Card-Carrying Villain protagonists is being asked if it's possible that she only identifies as The Bad Guy as a defensive mechanism: if it's possible that deep down, she's not actually comfortable with all of the people that she's hurt and killed, and that she's just compensating by trying to trick herself into thinking that she's more comfortable than she really is.]
"You know, there's a word for the good guy who feels bad about bad things happening, but who wishes she was the bad guy so that she wouldn't have to feel so bad about it."
"Really? What's that?"
"The bad guy."
Thanks! For almost all of my writing process so far, I've planned on her being unconscious for most of my first book, but a few months in I came up with a group backstory that revolved entirely around her, and now I'm finding out that she's going to be my favorite protagonist once I get to my intended sequels.Haha, I love this! The sassy response does a lot. I only have these few things to go off of, but if this is a good taste of her attitude, I already like her lmao
The following is my play on the fates, including a fourth, Karma.
Aelfinn tells his brother, who is recovering from poisoning, about the plans for a religious pilgrimage.
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From the POV of a woman wearing an underbust corset:
My stomach is a quarrel of sparrows in a steel-boned cage.
From the POV of a woman wearing an underbust corset:
My stomach is a quarrel of sparrows in a steel-boned cage.
Thanks! It was fun to write.I love the way you use words. This was fun to read.
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It was something in his eyes. A softness that entered them when only she was around, the difference between mud and soil, soft and fine and receptive. She could plant flowers in those eyes, that mind, and watch them bloom. He could be so good, she knew that. He could be so beautiful.
“Maybe she’s for getting rid of snakes?” That would be a sensible sort of deity. Oddly specific, though.
Soon Grenth’s match began and Jason shouted to him.
“Go get her Grenth. You can do it.”
Grenth stared at him for a moment, shrugged and then nodded. Milliandra stared at Jason in confusion.
“Why are you encouraging him? He’s a freld.”
“Be nice to the idiot’s, sometime in the future you might just need cannon fodder.” He said and then turning to her, winked.
It was something in his eyes. A softness that entered them when only she was around, the difference between mud and soil, soft and fine and receptive. She could plant flowers in those eyes, that mind, and watch them bloom. He could be so good, she knew that. He could be so beautiful.
Amy has just found out that magic is real and that her personality lends itself perfectly to manipulating metal:
"So, like, if I ever wake up one morning and think to myself, 'I do not have a war hammer, this is not a good start to my day,' you're saying that I'd be able to fix this?"