Life is always filled with dumb decisions, especially the teenage years. Without dumb decisions, you can’t exactly grow as a person. That’s how Yaku always sees it. Mistakes were essential to growing up and no matter what age there’s no need to avoid making mistakes as it helps you learn and be a better person.
There was no use in regretting past mistakes.
-
Sometimes, coming back to an old lover feels like running through a storm to say "I'm sorry".
In my current WIP I’m writing a Middle-grade book about witches.
Throughout there are spells which are just rhymes, because kids love rhymes. They are easy to remember and fun to repeat, so I wanted to include a few to keep the story interesting and maybe get some kids wanting to make their own rhymes (if I ever get this story to a state that I’m happy to share it).
Three witches, including the main character and her enemy have just been tricked into entering a portal and they are surrounded by purple swirls as they fall through the air as this portal transports them somewhere.
There is a lot of confusion and it’s a fairly short trip, but long enough to write about it.
I could have done a paragraph of the description and tried to make it around 100 words and made that a new chapter.
Instead, I made it a new chapter and wrote pretty much everything that I needed to, in a rhyme of 85 words.
Purple swirled and energy cracked,
As the three witches fell, tightly packed,
Down and down and down they fell,
Where they were going, they couldn't tell.
Iris watched as the other two spun,
Sick and dizzy, this was no fun
Round and round and round they went,
Wishing they knew where they were sent.
Up or down, there was no way out,
Just purple swirls that filled her with doubt.
Until at last she could feel a breeze,
The tunnel ended with one last squeeze.
Hey everyone! I just posted the first chapter to my first CHAPTERED Great Comet fic! You can read it on AO3 here. I’ll be posting updates on my tumblr so keep a watch for those. Under the cut is a sample. Thanks!
His fingers tightened around the fur cloak, settled in a bundle on his lap. Snow flew past, snowflakes falling upon his cheeks but Anatole didn’t notice; he was too preoccupied with thoughts. Between the pounding of his heart and the tingling still in his lips, his mind seemed to be flying alongside their troika; thoughts racing that he couldn’t quite catch. He brought his hand up to his mouth, wiping off any lipstick that may have been still lingering. Natasha didn’t need to see that-- the club was still just so much fun. The cheers and the music, everyone’s eyes on him. He loved the attention; more so how they all thought the same thing: how they wish it could be them instead of a country girl. But they could never rise to her level. Natasha was too pure and soft in all the ways that the club was not. It would never be a good place for her, not right now at the least. But oh, how pretty Natasha would be… He sagged in his seat, running his fingers through his hair.
“Anatole, you’re thinking too much. Second thoughts already?” Dolokhov piped up, from his spot next to his friend. He tried not to be smug, but since day one, he had known this was a bad idea. Yet here he was, in the troika, next to his best friend, after signing wedding papers and collecting funds. It’s hard to say no to Anatole when he asks so nicely with that pout of his.
His friend straightened instantly, brushing off Dolokhov’s comment with his hand. “Nonsense, Fedya. All my thoughts are occupied only by Natalya. Oh, I can’t wait to see her. She’s so --” He made a gesture with his hand, smirking to himself and Dolokhov could only roll his eyes. Anatole was hiding his anxiety with mocked satisfaction. He’s seen it once, he’s seen it a hundred times.
“She’s the most beautiful girl in all of Russia,” He smiled, eyes twinkling like the snow, cold and short lived. Dolokhov could only offer a nod in return to his friend’s happiness. Still, the feeling of dread clung to his stomach as the troika raced down the street. A part of him wanted this to go horribly wrong. Maybe then Anatole would learn a lesson, but he’d hate to see his friend upset.
This happens. He’d get so enraptured with a girl, plan everything, complete with extra money and horses. They’d leave with Balaga and return only a few days later. The girl missing and Anatole arriving at Dolokhov’s home in tears. He wore his heart on his sleeve so often, acted out only what felt good and right to himself. He never learned and Dolokhov was tired. Every time he saw Anatole upset, his heart only ached for the young man. He truly didn’t know any better. How could he blame him then?
Anatole began to bite at his lips, chapped slightly from the cold. A nervous habit from when he was a child that he could never shake. If it made his lips sore and plump, well, that only added to his charm. There was no need for him to stop.
“What about that Sonya Rostova girl?”
“She assumes that elopements happen in the dead of night. We’ll be fine, it’s sunset.”
Anatole grinned, fingers releasing their grip on the cloak. He gently looped it over his forearm. Dolokhov watched him, noting his change in attitude from his anxious state to now casual charm. He hid his feelings, always did under stress.
“Nikitski Boulevard!” Balaga shouted from the driver’s seat. Marya’s estate was not far off from the main road; though they had planned to meet at the back courtyard, it would take only a few back roads more. With Balaga at the reigns, of course.
The plan was only just a plan. And it wouldn’t be a success until Natasha was in the troika. Even then, Dolokhov would hate to consider it a “success”. He knew Natasha, knew their family-- she didn’t deserve this. But being unable to talk any sense into his friend, he might as well enjoy the ride. His stomach lurched with every pull of the horses’ reigns.
“Fedya,” a soft voice pulled him out of his thought, eyes refocusing on the man that sat next to him, “Thank you for your help.” Anatole was so sincere, his head bowed only slightly. As if he was the perfect image of what the Kuragin Prince should be, but Dolokhov knew that the only ‘prince-like’ qualities that he carried were his taste for the French language and being a spoiled child, unable to understand the idea of no.
This was his friend. The only person that had stayed by his side for as long as he could remember. If they were to go separate ways, it would be a true loss of time. All those years spent by each other’s sides would have been for naught. Anatole spent more time with Dolokhov then he did with his own brother. But Ippolit never made public appearances, and Ippolit was just too boring.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Dolokhov supplied, watching an unknown emotion pass through his friend’s features. “Don’t thank me like it’s goodbye. Someone needs to watch your ass while you get used to Poland.”
I said my MC from my new story was a little shit, but I may have poured too much sarcasm into his character.
(Backstory: Damien smoked out the whole school on purpose.)
“Let me see that bottle,” said Mr State, “it’s not see-through like the school rules say it must be. You’ll only allowed water during class time, and seeing as you’re meant to be in class, that includes now.”
Damien rolled his eyes and took his bottle out of his bag. He handed it over to Mr State who inspected the contents.
“Just water.” Damien said plainly, “It’s a refillable metal bottle that lasts longer and is better than plastic. I thought the school was all about lowering our carbon footprint and saving the planet, or did I misunderstand that?” He forced a smile before dropping it again. “Satisfied, or if there something else you want to accuse me of?”
Mr State screwed the metal lid back on and handed it back to Damien.
“If I was you, I’d drop the sarcasm. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“Oh noooooo,” Damien said, waving his hands in the air, “I didn’t realise that with the two hours I’ve been sat here and not allowed to move.”
I just wanted to share part of a scene that I’ve just written (so first draft, will be edited in the future)
So a little background to this scene, the story is set around a school for witches. Iris is a witch who comes from a non-magical family and is basically teased for not fitting in. Miss Silverfang is a stern teacher who tells seems to tell kids off for pretty much anything and is very strict, but she does have a kinder side. In a way, she’s a villain to the kids who read the story, but the adults can also kinda relate. She wants the kids to do well in lessons and just buckle down and do their work instead of messing around. A lot of the time when kids screw up, it’s because they didn’t read something properly or because they were messing around. If it’s a genuine accident, then she doesn’t get angry, she will tell the student how to improve for next time. But if their potion blows up because they were just throwing things in there because they couldn’t be bothered, then she is going to get pissed.
Iris and Miss Silverfang, as well as the school bully end up being transported away from the school by a goblin and they need to get back. They borrow 3 broomsticks from a witch, but during their flight, Iris’ broom is sprinkled by pixie dust (pixie are bitches, fuck the pixies) and it causes the broom to throw Iris off, at probably around, idk, let’s say roughly 4- 6 miles in the air. Iris is also 10, I should probably mention that.
Miss Silverfang rescues Iris and the three of them land safely in the school.
Miss Silverfang peeled Iris’ hands off from around her waist and turned to the girl. She gently held Iris’ hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Iris looked up and shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You’ve got a bit of wind burn on your face and the back of your hands. It’s not uncommon when you fall from so high up.” Miss Silverfang’s voice was calm and warm. “You had quite a fall there. I assume that pixie had something to do with it?”
Iris looked up at Miss Silverfang and burst into tears. She didn’t know why, everything felt a little too much. She could feel her legs shaking and her knees gave way.
Miss Silverfang acted quickly catching Iris in her arms and pulling her close to her body, where she held Iris as she cried.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she said quietly as she gently rocked Iris. “It’s scary when you fall. I still get scared if I lose control. We shouldn’t have flown so high, that’s my fault and I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. You won’t ever fly that high alone, not until you’re all grown up. No matter what happens here, there will always be someone to catch you. You’re safe.”
Iris sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“No,” Miss Silverfang said, “Look at me, don’t ever feel bad for your emotions. Don’t say sorry for how you feel. Apologise for actions, not emotions. Things are big and scary and sometimes things happen, or everything gets a little too much and you don’t know why, but you end up bursting into tears. That’s okay, it’s normal. You were scared and you had a huge fall. You’re allowed to cry.”
This scene, between this ‘stern’ teacher and this child is something I would have loved to have read in a book as a kid. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, but I still want this message. ‘It’s okay to be overwhelmed and end up bursting into tears, because it is normal.’
Of course, this is a different situation, she fell. She was scared. But she felt like she should say sorry for crying and basically apologising for how she is feeling. Now this is something I do, a lot. It’s also something I’m trying to stop doing. I started apologising for my emotions because I didn’t feel like I deserved to have them. I also started apologising because of a past relationship where I felt like everything I did, I had to apologise for.
I felt bad for feeling. I still stop myself from crying and feel bad when I do cry. But we shouldn’t. Apologise for actions, not emotions. Apologise if you hurt someone when you were sad or angry. But don’t apologise for feeling angry. We can’t control our emotions, but we can control our actions.
Also, stop telling kids to stop crying!! They cry for a reason, and a lot of the time, they are overwhelmed because things are confusing. Telling them to stop crying instead of trying to find out why they are crying, only causes them to feel shame. Which in turn, can cause anger. Just listen to a child.
Idk, I’m ranting a bit. I guess what I’m trying to say, is even now, I need to remember that it’s okay to cry, that it’s normal, and I don’t have to keep apologising for feelings I can’t control.
Alexander Fawn (Blood and Thunder - Kyle William Urban)
When his world is turned upside down and his parents taken from him, Alexander Fawn must flee his house and everything he has ever known with his younger sister Rosia.
Chased through woods by the police he narrowly escapes capture, but his sister, isn’t so lucky.
She tripped him up with a carefully grown vine and covers him with the plants on the wood’s floor until he is found by a mysterious group of outcasts. Together they work together to find his sister, but they find out there is much more to this story.
Armed with only the powers they were born with, the group do everything they can to discover the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But do they really know what they are getting themselves into, many have tried and failed, do they really stand a chance? Alexander doesn’t think so, but his main concern is finding his 9 year old sister, Rosia.
“You’re one strange and kind person Alexander Fawn.” Jathan smiled.
“I believe in you Alexander Fawn, even if you don’t.” The voice cried out after him.
