cain-e-brookman

[cain-e-brookman]

the book mines holding my w2's hostage is going to be my villain origin story

[cain-e-brookman]

Dialogue Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @spideronthesun !

Rules: show off some dialogue!

Tagging: all of you. anyone reading this. you're it. tag me if you do it, so i can read it!!

I shared the last bit of this in the five lines post i was tagged in the other day, but have some context

Uthyr blanched. “What about me?” “Well, what’s wrong with you?” “Excuse me?” “Everyone’s got something. I like to get mine out of the way.” Alma lifted her bowl back onto her lap, stirred her dinner before taking half a bite, then planted her spoon back into it. “I’m an orphan turned lay sister turned Priestess. And I’m not even the worst story I’ve found. Come on now, out with it.” Ah, so it wasn’t normal. Uthyr met her gaze with exhausted indignation. “There’s nothing ‘wrong with me.’” “But there is,” Alma said, sounding almost offended. “There’s no shame in it. We’re all broken somehow. The Honorable Sister said to live in peace with yourself you have to see things as they are, then meet them where they’re at.” “It’s possible,” Uthyr stated, “to do that, and not share it with strangers.” Alma rolled her eyes. Such a juvenile thing. “Come on then, I told you mine. Out with it. Dead family? Social isolation? Unrequited love?” Uthyr hated that of all of those, the last one hurt the most. He shook his head, put his empty bowl next to Alma’s hip, and pulled his pack onto his lap, pointedly turning away from her. “Goodnight, Alma.” “Which one was right?” “Goodnight, Alma.” “Wait, what are we doing with the leftovers?”  Uthyr pulled his hair cloth from his pack. “You’re going to go and bury it out in the woods.” “I am?” “So we don’t attract bears.” “Bears?” “Goodnight, Alma!”

[cain-e-brookman]

Dialogue Tag Game

Thank you for tagging me, lovely @mrbexwrites (x)!

Rules: show off some dialogue!

Tagging: @orphanheirs @cain-e-brookman @concerningwolves @alintalzin @satohqbanana & anyone else who wants to do it!

“I once celebrated mine twice!” Feliksas said, licking the chocolate off his fingers. “Pops made a mistake while placing a cake order.” Robertas laughed. “We had stomach aches for days after attempting to finish two large cakes in a single day. Who thought that it was a good idea?” “We all did!” Adamas said, sneaking a raspberry off the top of the cake, and popping it in his mouth. Medeina fought her grin. “But I have everything I ever wanted, let’s make a wish together! I will count from one to three!” She leaned over to blow out the candles and turned her eyes up to look at the closest people flanking her on both sides. “Ready?”

[cain-e-brookman]

[cain-e-brookman]

Writing Share Tag

Thanks @orphanheirs!

have the scene right before Uthyr leaves on his grand quest. Crucius being stiff and royal is my fave

The sound of his door’s creaking hinges brought Uthyr back to the present. Crucius strode half inside before he’d managed to turn, bringing behind him both the sweet smell the breeze caught off the trees and a bundle of Uthyr’s clothes under his arm.

“I know it’s futile, but I do have to insist on asking you to knock.”

Crucius paused, his brow furrowing. “Still? I’ve just seen you naked, what else is there to surprise me?”

“I will turn you into a toad,” Uthyr threatened through his teeth. “And not even a pretty toad.”

“You can’t. Aeriessa and Raschic are the only of the gods that can change life. And they’re the only of the gods who won’t answer you.” 

“At my rage, I will make them answer me.”

Crucius waved a dismissive hand, pulling a face. He placed the bundle onto Uthyr's bed. “Watch your hubris. You know how the Trickster likes to abuse such things.”

Uthyr ignored him. Crucius once again wore his own clothes, though these far nicer than anything Uthyr thought him in possession of. He now realized he’d never seen Crucius on the day he left for the coast. Usually said they said goodbyes the night before. Now Uthyr got a shape of why. Crucius said his father wasn’t noble-born, but evidently he did enjoy the riches of one who had been. Crucius’ shirt was of a sheer, flowing material that billowed around his arms, his pants a tan suede, tucked into a pair of strong leather boots. Around his torso, an embroidered corset of the brightest green. In his ear, his golden spider hung, but the brands on the backs of his hands hid under delicate white gloves. Shortening the length of his hair were braids that criss-crossed around his head before they tumbled free in a cascade of loose golden curls. A leather mask hid the left side of his face, this one embossed with filigrees of what looked like feathers.

At Crucius’ hip hung the rapier Uthyr’d seen at his house. Crucius rested his wrist on the hilt. Seeing him this way was jarring. Cold. Royal. Stiff. Crucius never particularly stood opposite those, but to see it in context brought into relief how little Uthyr really knew about him.

“I’ll worry about the Trickster once I figure out if I must curtsy to you,” Uthyr said, his tone flat. “Have I been living next to a lost prince all these years?”

“I promise you, the only thing royal about me is my self-importance,” Crucius said, his tone cold. “If I wander into town in my usual garb, I’m certain my father will have to take to the bed for the fit I’ll send him into.”

“Does he know?” Uthyr asked. “That you live out here? Where does he think you go in the cold months?”

Crucius didn’t answer immediately. “He knows I’m somewhere in this forest. He and Sparrow send letters to the town north of here.”

“Ah,” Uthyr said. He didn’t know why that hurt his feelings. “I always wondered how you had coin to pay for things like letters and books with no employment. I suppose having riches in the family helps.”

“I have employment,” Crucius stated, offended. “My coin is my coin. Father would never let me starve, but he hasn’t supported me since I was old enough to support myself.”

Uthyr leveled a skeptical look at him. “And what exactly do you do?”

“What do you mean what do I do? You saw it in my house.”

They stared at each other, Crucius’ eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“You truly don’t know what I do.”

“You make tea,” Uthyr said, irritably. “And read books. I assume you occasionally sleep. Though, I suppose not well enough to be paid for it.”

Crucius laughed. “Don’t be rude.”

Another long silence.

“Translations, Uthyr,” Crucius said. “I work for a businesswoman in Crescaeya. I’m sent documents with half a payment. I translate them, send them back and then receive the other half of my pay.”

“There’s truly enough need in Crescaeya to send for translations this far south? It’d be faster to swim to Alilux. Against the channel.”

“Who said the documents are in Lucian?”

“What language do you translate, then?”

“Depends on the document.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

Crucius thought about that. “Only speak? Or read in as well?”

“Gods.”

“I know Bhréchin Handsign, too. Does that count as speaking?”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

Crucius’ smile was soft, out of place on his lips. Something wistful veiled his gaze. Gently he said: “Please be safe.”

Uthyr sobered. “I will. You too.”

“I came by to give you this,” Crucius said, breaking eye contact and handing off a small drawstring bag made of emerald green velvet. “If you ever need passage, if anyone blocks your path forward and you can't sway them to move, use this. I promise they won‘t fail to get out of your way.”

“What is it?” Uthyr asked. Before he could open the bag, Crucius pressed it deeper into his palm, his other hand cupping the bottom of Uthyr's.

“It comes with a price,” Crucius said, his voice so hard, it could mortar gravel. “Do not take it out until you have use of it. Don’t use it unless you absolutely must. I will answer no questions about it. I know it’s much to ask, but please trust me.”

“I—” Uthyr didn’t know what to say. “I trust you.”

Crucius nodded, his jaw working. “They won’t answer to me, but I’ll pray to the gods to keep you safe. Never lose sight of your virtues. Never forget who you serve. Stand strong.

“And farewell,” Crucius added at the end. He leaned forward, pressed a kiss upon Uthyr’s brow, then released his hands and left the hut without turning back. Uthyr stood stunned, the skin where Crucius’ lips touched feeling colder for the loss.

“Farewell,” Uthyr whispered in his friend’s wake, once he’d recalled how to breathe. The bag in his hands was heavy, heavier than he thought it ought to be. His hut was empty. Would be emptier still when he left. A lump formed in his throat.

Stand strong.

-------

Alright and I'm tagging: @mx-ryder (get WIP motivated IDIOT (complementary)) @spideronthesun @seastarblue @illarian-rambling

[cain-e-brookman]

Writing Share Tag

Ty @armentas !!

Since I wrote some of a scene the other day, I thought I'd share it here. Finally putting some interaction between Tristan and the demon down on paper. I'm not crazy happy with the scene rn, but I'm very much still trying to figure out the demon's personality and their dynamic.

*Warning here that I describe dead bodies in this scene.*

The cold bit painfully into Tristan's skin. Every so often the wind whipped up a gust and lashed his cheek as good as any switch. His cloak hung loosely over his shoulders and open in front, leaving his sparsely clad core exposed. He only wore a waistcoat and shirtsleeves with breeches, all of thin material unsuitable for winter on a fair day, let alone one so unspeakably frigid as this. His soft boots of thin leather sunk into the thick snow beneath him, letting some of the icy snow in through the side lacing. It was already melting in the insulated heat between the upper of his boot and his ankle and seeping, painfully stinging ice water, through his stockings. His lips were numb and his fingers, sticking out of tattered fingerless gloves, were throbbing. Hunger gnawed in his stomach, but that was a sensation he'd gotten used to. He tried to focus on what was a few yards ahead, under a copse of barren trees.

Through the white snow that still swept through the air between him and it, he was able to make it out at last: a carriage, lodged in a snow drift. More snow was being swept over it by the moment. The carriage was open, and smudges of faded color--lumps--limbs--people were seated in it.

"Well!" the demon said, and strode towards it through the snow drifts with a grace and ease quite impossible. Tristan lurched after it, trying to walk atop the snow and crunching through it up to his knee, or even his hip, with every other step so that by the time he reached the demon it had been standing still in front of the carriage for some time. The demon had one hand on the side of the carriage, leaning on it jauntily, with its other hand on its hip. "How do you like that?" it asked in a bemused accent.

Now Tristan saw.

Everyone in the carriage was dead.

It was a whole family. There was a father, mother, young girl, and infant. The ruffles of the mother's fichu collar and the ribbons of the daughter's bonnet still fluttered in the wind. The rest of them was frozen. Still, terribly still. They were hunched together under a large blanket. Their arms were still locked about one another for warmth. All of their eyes were open, except for the mother's. Frost crystallized on their eyelashes. Their lips were blue. Their skin was as white as the snow itself. Their noses were pink, and the skin about their eyes looked bruised and sunken in. But otherwise they looked as if they had just a moment ago stopped shivering. The mother clutched the baby to her breast, and its own separate blanket swaddled it. But the small bundle was as still and silent as the rest.

The gnawing feeling in Tristan's stomach turned inside-about.

"All froze on their way home from a winter frolic," the demon mused casually. It flicked some snow into the face of the father. Tristan half expected him to flinch. Tristan was finally able to tear his eyes away from the family and again look at the demon. It was smiling. "Nature still is victor over man from time to time, even in this Age!"

The demon began to wander about to the back of the carriage, surveying the corpses as if they made up a sculptural grouping. "Though fools they were to travel in this storm, in this retired region." The demon continued rounding the carriage till it got to the side door, opened it, and leapt inside. It plucked the father's top hat off his head and placed it on its own, not bothering to shake off the snow gathered on its brim. Then it crossed the floor of the carriage, jostling the blanket loose from the corpses as it did so, and untied the bonnet from the girl's head.

It turned to Tristan, holding the bonnet by its ribbons so that Tristan could see. "What think you, puppy?" It stepped aside a bit to also shew the now bare-headed girl. "It suited her. And she's about your coloring." It was true, the girl had dark hair and brows and was about his age. Tristan did not move. His legs were becoming numb. "I do not much favor the trimming." he said. The cold-it must have been the cold--made it difficult to speak. His lips felt like two dumb foreign lumps colliding in front of his teeth. His stomach lurched again.

The demon's smile spread into a grin. It snapped its finger and the trimming was gone. Then it exited the carriage and strode to Tristan, plopping the bonnet on his head and tying the ribbon under Tristan's chin so tight it almost felt choking. "I did not take you for one who would dress plainly, but there you are if it will stop your complaining."

Tristan looked out from under the narrow brim of the bonnet, which now centered his vision straight on the girl it belonged to. A shiver went down Tristan's spine which had nothing to do with the cold.

"Do you watch me now." the demon announced, and walked again up to the carriage. It stepped up the side step, leaned over some, and gestured its hand directly in front of the mother's face. The gesture was not unlike that one would use to lift one section of a Venetian blind.

The effects were immediate.

The mother's eyes snapped open, tiny ice crystals shooting off of the broken seal. The corpse clumsily straightened by tipping its top half backwards stiffly. The mouth ripped open, much much too wide, so that the jaw audibly snapped, and a hideous dry scream erupted out of it. Its grip loosened on the infant as each of its fingers cracked open, and the baby tumbled down with a thump like a sack of flour.

Tristan found his legs again capable of motion and he sprinted behind a large thistle bush blanketed with snow, where thus obscured he vomited up whatever meager contents his stomach had.

-----

I realize now I forgot about the horses..where are the horses?? I guess I'm still too modern-pilled and imagined this was somehow a self-propelling carriage when I wrote this. I guess the horses would have froze to death too in this situation..?

ANYWAY, tagging: @tragedycoded, @finchmomentwrites,

@spideronthesun, @cain-e-brookman, @the-inkwell-variable, and

@leahnardo-da-veggie!

[cain-e-brookman]

First Line Tag

I was tagged by @spideronthesun! Thanks again!

Rules: post the first line of your WIP, the first line you worked on today, or any other "first line"!

I'll be tagging @satohqbanana @seastarblue and @sunset-a-story

I'll be posting the very first line that appears in my wip; one that has been the opening line since the very first iteration.

If Uthyr had known the end of the world would make his hydrangeas wilt, he would have been prepared a week ago for what was coming.

[cain-e-brookman]

Five Lines

Tagged by lovely @spideronthesun! (x) Thanks so much for tagging me!

Rules: post a line from your WIP that follows the prompt

Tagginggggg @illarian-rambling @topazadine @dearunreliablenarrator aaaaand @eternalwritingstudent do if you'd like!

Your lines are: A line about the weather. A line about your mc's hair. A line about the room they're in. A line about food. A line about fire.

-----

A line about the summer:

He’d been watching the life cycle of the spotted frogs since spawning, greeting the first signs of legs on the pollywogs. When they were fully grown, he’d take a summer night by the water to listen to their first song. His father once told him the completion of change held a beautiful type of magic. The kind that inspired light and courage in even the most fragile of hearts. Uthyr hoped to capture some of that magic for himself.

A line about dancing:

“The Mages struck them down. This much is true. Usurped the world and reclaimed where they stood. Used the magic they’d gained from their gods so that the people who once toiled the lands could dance across them. The force of those of us who defied my sister was strong, but was not enough. You know this story. How did it end?”

A line about your characters taking a leap of faith:

It was a ring. A signet ring, more specifically. Though it was heavy, it wasn’t terribly big. A fit for a slim finger, but designed to be seen. Uthyr desperately wished to take a deeper look at it, but instead thrust it out at the guard haughtily. He reminded himself that an honest man knew who he was serving. Uthyr didn’t need the guard to know he didn’t know the name of the house he was claiming. Or that he had no idea a moment ago it was a house signet he was invoking. “I just told you,” said the younger guard, “the king himself couldn’t—is that bloodstone.”

A line about love:

The warmth of the sun, the light of moons, and later—much later—the legends of the stars would share space with the ice and lightning of the sky. They would give those bound to the ground something to bask in. To love under. All for the grace of Laeses the Weaver. All for the love he had. Such an ordinary thing, Uthyr thought, to connect it all together.

A scary line:

The creature choked. Gagged. Retched. Black like ink, black like tar, fell from his mouth in stuttered streams. His face contorted, so far from human the memory of human shocked out of Uthyr’s mind. Sharp fangs and spiking bones jutted from his face. His arms—which had already been too long for his body with too many joints—grew longer. What were not eyes burned a color so fierce and indescribable, Uthyr couldn’t meet their glare. The creature shook: a marionette clattering on its strings. With the rattling of his bones, the world rattled with him. The Other cracked, fell apart like a too-dry cake, the holes where it’d been coughed up the same black from the creature’s mouth pooling around Uthyr’s feet. It burned. Cold, but it burned.

I know most of these are more than "lines" but what are you, a cop? Move along.

Also I decided to be serious, but alternate goof for the scary line under the cut

“Wait, what are we doing with the leftovers?”  Uthyr pulled his hair cloth from his pack. “You’re going to go and bury it out in the woods.” “I am?” “So we don’t attract bears.” “Bears?” “Goodnight, Alma!”

[cain-e-brookman]

First Line Tag

Been tagged by @peach-the-gospel! Thank you very much!

Rules: post the first line of your WIP, the first line you worked on today, or any other "first line"!

Tagging: @armentas @orphanheirs @satohqbanana @cain-e-brookman @melpomene-grey & anyone else who wants to do it!

Got a bit busy today. I worked on a couple of chapters today. So, I am just going to post the first line I worked on today!

Adamas wondered how tonight had gone so wrong. Everything was his fault.

[cain-e-brookman]

Five Lines

Tagged by lovely @mrbexwrites (x)! Thank you so much for tagging me!

Rules: post a line from your WIP that follows the prompt

Passing the torch onto @satohqbanana @armentas @orphanheirs @alintalzin @cain-e-brookman & anyone else who wants to do it!

Your lines are:

A line about the summer A line about dancing A line about your characters taking a leap of faith A line about love A scary line

A line about the sky

Adamas was still out. As the night slowly settled in, the first stars flickered in the darkening sky. He walked down to the building where the abandoned restaurant, encompassed by a few houses, stood along the middle of the street.

A line about the temperature

Edvardas tromped down the tatty steps of the stone road. Only stopping for a moment when he perceived the voices of Danielius and Vasare. His brother’s feet swung back and forth. The sun scorched his scalp where the teenage boy’s fair hair parted. The two were laughing at each other. Vasare bared her teeth and made a ribbit sound at Edvardas, but he turned his back on them and flipped the bird on their neighbor. Cussing her out under his breath, Edvardas hopped on the bike and rode away.

A line about shoes

Danielius hurried to her bedroom before he had finished untying his shoes.

A line about food

Robertas gestured with a hand over the basket full of muffins wrapped up in a peach-colored ribbon. “Do you like cherry? I put some in, but now I wish I’d added more chocolate.” Medeina wiped her hands on the towel and went to the counter. “No, no, it’s all wonderful! I love cherries, thank you.” She grabbed one muffin from the basket, her heart growing. “Oh, they smell amazing! You are Edva, right?”

A line about the night

Edvardas had been driving around the city all night, the city lights were starting to feel like they were burning into his eyes. He rested his head against the steering wheel, weary.

[cain-e-brookman]

On Friendship.

[cain-e-brookman]

glimpse into my beautiful imaginary world where arthropods are really big and we domesticated them

edit: people are starting to say some "my worst nightmare" or "eeeww no that one is yucky and scary" comments on this like they do on any bug post and id like to say. it's fine if you don't like bugs it's fine if you're scared of bugs but don't put that on MY post clearly talking about how much i like them and how cute i think they are. you can make your own damn post about how much you hate wasps or spiders or whatever. i'm blocking people who make these kinds of comments.

[cain-e-brookman]

and just when you think you’re at your absolute lowest a blonde motherfucker comes along and makes everything so much worse

[cain-e-brookman]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thanks so much @spideronthesun for the tag!

Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote, then tag seven people.

Wrote about 2k yesterday and they are very rough so...

The creatures didn’t understand fear. Didn’t understand death. Hardly could process life. Whatever it was that befell the Other, was beyond any language they had. He couldn’t protect us. He couldn’t protect her.  Then our home left.

And so I'll tagggggg: @topazadine @seastarblue @illarian-rambling @eternalwritingstudent @dearunreliablenarrator

@leahnardo-da-veggie and @satohqbanana

[cain-e-brookman]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thank you for tagging me, dear @melpomene-grey !

Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote, then tag seven people.

I spent my whole Sunday editing and going through the pages, so this is the from the chapter I last worked on:

“So, what are we going to do?” Nikolas reiterated his concerns. “After all, everyone has to be content with whatever we decide together.”   Everyone stared at Edvardas. The tension was palpable, adding a burden to his shoulders. Edvardas wrapped his arms around Adamas and Danielius, drawing them in closer, and then invited the rest of the brothers in for a group hug. The five of them held each other tightly, as if they had been in a shipwreck. “I am only doing this for you, since you’re a lot more important to me than you will ever know.”

Tagging: @aalinaaaaaa @mrbexwrites @satohqbanana @alintalzin @cain-e-brookman

@concerningwolves @angelfevr

[cain-e-brookman]

Alright, so I finished my current read, (which I will not be counting on this challenge since I read most of it in 2024,) so I'm going to be starting @batmanisagatewaydrug's 2025 Book Bingo.

First up is for the 'In the Aughts' square, and I'm choosing Octavia Butler's Fledgling.

I've wanted to read more Butler since Wild Seed, and I got this two years ago to read on vacation, (along with Giovanni's Room by Baldwin, which I did finish,) and didn't get to. Now that I've freed myself from the Book Mines and reading no longer feels like work, it's time to pick this up again. I'll update this post with a review after I'm done!

[cain-e-brookman]

Music fans reblog this with an album you consider “your” album… one that is part of your personality, one that means a lot to you, or just one you really like… Mine is The Perfect Shade of Green by Skittish :>