Out of Context! What happened in your story the last you worked on it?

Anjan’s step-brother Sanev plans on cooking for him and Tessalyn. Sanev is terrible at cooking because understanding recipes and cooking measurements. He has been getting lessons to get better at cooking, but his failure to understand how to cook comes from being a rich kid and unable to understand things beyond what he is used to.

Even Sanev knows his cooking is awful and assures that he has gotten better with the lessons.


Sanev brought random foods that aren’t made for whatever dish he is trying to make.

The meats and vegetables are suspicious and odd looking to both him and Anjan.


Lucian is taking Avery for a tour of the shops that are older than him in London. (He is 216, the businesses are mostly over 300 years old.) Last left off with a spicy scene of them smoking in James J. Fox’s cigar lounge.

And I’m like, damn these characters work well together.

And this was a scene written for my husband’s enjoyment.

Safe snippit:

Lucian’s pressure on her back was a warmth she knew she would miss, but it wasn’t the sole focus of her existence, not with the way this building was laid out. If the warmth and masculinity of the shop itself was like being wrapped in a velvet robe, the lounge was like an entire bedroom of a high end brothel. They chose two leather chairs with a small table between them, where Lucian placed her hat box.

Avery took what would be called the Pirate’s position by most her coworkers—back mostly to a wall. She didn’t do this to protect herself. After all, she was sitting with the living dead, and was secure enough in herself, as it was. It was to take in the view.

She took out both cigars from their sealed pouch, handing one to him, and fiddling with hers by placing the cap end in her mouth.

Lucian pulled out a simple cutter and long matchsticks, then picked up his to snip the tip with a deep v.

“What, no lighter?” Avery knew this would goad him, being around amateur aficionados at work. “I’ve never lit one with a punk before.”

Lucian paused a second before placing the cigar in his mouth, then set it down. He gestured with his hand. “Give it here, you heathen.”

She readily handed over her own. “When did this become a religious experience?”

Not only did Lucian glare at her as he snipped the now damp cap, but a few nearby men looked up at her comment and had much the same expression. Not that Avery cared if she came across like she was ignorant of smoking culture… well, smoking anything beyond cigarettes and vapes. They would sniff as patricianally as any lord.



Ok, for reference, this is THE freaking Hatchard’s that is THE book store in all of the Regency Romances, and I brought in Mary Wollenscraft (original in "Women’s Rights) and Mary Shelly (her daughter, Frankenstein’s author) into this snippet. I’m going to trim it down, I suspect, but this is 1st draft.

The elder Mary is brought up in many of the “bookworm wallflower” stories about marrying Dukes and whatnot, for reference.

over 1400 words

Hatchard’s was a short walk from where they spent the night. This was the quintessential book store of London, and all the memorable bits of many love stories gossiped over by avid readers, but Avery wasn’t sure of it making as grand an impression on her as some of the other shops. The black-trimmed entrance, the cement facade sandwiched between two red-bricked buildings? She wondered at how many floors would be an homage to the bound covers. It was a little fear that kept her from stepping in, and becoming a part of this particular piece of history. “Has it been here from the start?”

“No…” Lucian wasn’t looking at the store. Her reprimand over his confusing behavior stung, and a part of him realized that he could be better storing how she looked at London’s history like he intended. It was all to remind him of who she was, in the bleak future he was more accustomed to. “It moved a few buildings over right before I was born.”

Avery smirked at the way that would be taken by any other passerby, before being distracted by the fact that they were back by Fortnam and Mason—Hatchard’s neighbor. They had approached it from the opposite end of the street, this time. Perhaps if she lived here, she’d spend all her time in a very tiny area of the city, and never be tired of it.

Lucian moved his arm up behind her, as a guide. He loved the way his palm braced her back, with that silly hat on her head. She had made the right choice because the damned thing made him want to claim her as his, very publicly. “Look up, before we go in. That’s the Royal Warrant.”

A decorative work of a crown as large as the doorway was anchored to the facade, above the black. Next to the door was a gold scroll-work frame with a list of events displayed next to windows displaying books and framed commentary. It looked like a Librarian made a love letter of her collection.

Inside the entrance, the floor was a light gray tile, and the walls were white. Black book shelves lined available wallspace by the door, jackets of hardbacks facing the public. Little tabs of tightly spaced descriptions were below each book. Cards were just beyond that as was a display of fine pens and their bags and wrap. As this was the ground floor, it was set up for the casual perusal of the shop. The further back, the shelving broke into the chaos of any bookstore. Some books were spine out, others on display with their little notes, leaving every inch of the space very hard to take in at only a glance. The saving grace? Each of these shelves were titled with what should be in that case. A good number of the shelves also had the bottom two shelves tilted, so no one had to squat down to read titles, just glance down, read them easily. Despite this bump-out, the path through the books were only a modest bedroom wide, allowing for tables to display various novels, as the ground floor transitioned into a light gray patterned carpet.

“Wait, are the fireplaces real?” Avery asked Lucian as he rubbed her back in front of the first one they found.

“Well, they obviously aren’t in use anymore, but a bookstore that couldn’t keep it’s guests warm in winter wouldn’t sell books. So, some were certainly in use when I was a child, but as to how many of them are real, but converted to these displays, I’m not sure. Trying to keep the soot off the books would have been a trial, I’m sure. One of the many reasons dust-covers and gilding were invented.”

The bottom half-dozen steps or so curved off to the sides, with a short landing that must have been the staging of quite a few first awkward meetings that weren’t meant to be, as it was three directions in one small space—almost an altar to the wall. And below it? More steps going down, in tandem.

How many times had a man stopped a woman on these stairs to return a dropped handkerchief? How many times had men watched women walk up the stairs for a top-down view of the more heavenly displays?

Avery hadn’t thought of stairs as titillating before, but then she realized that Lucien had lived it, and that put a little wild grin on her face. One day, she’d ask him about it, but not today, not with so much shop to go.

“There’s a little green lift towards the back.”

“So, they’ve done a ton of remodeling…”

“Yes, well, I don’t know how old theirs is, but there were a few lifts in my 80s, and believe me, I’ve been grateful.”

“I can see that.”

Lucian softly hissed in amusement, trying not to laugh. “I am not that soft, and you know it.”

“Mmm…” was the only response she gave because he was the one distracting her from the books. She glanced back by the register to complete the circuit: first and modern editions ran back towards the door, by the cashier’s.

The basement, after it’s grand stairs, was much the same layout as the main floor. Down in a natural alcove had shelves in their natural wood, not the black, but the cut of the shelves was the same as the well-lacquered ones. Biographys and travel lived int his lower world.

The first floor, where the fiction and it’s criticism was, had both black and brown shelves, as well. 2nd was children and cookery. Right across from the flight to the 3rd was the Potter books. Winnie the Pooh, Peter Rabbit, Paddington started the London Blue alcove, opening up into the younger reader’s section. The 3rd was considered the top floor, covering art, gardening, and fashion, the great picture books of the adult world.

“Did you come here with your wife, Lucian?” Avery asked on their way back down the stairs—which Lucian didn’t let her head down first.

“No. I was sent here for her.” Lucian kept an even and sedate pace down the stairs, as was his habit… “She feared that the fireplaces were too close to people and that the steps were an obstacle for dresses. I suspect Gwenneth would have adored pants, if she could ever get used to them.”

“Was she always worried about such things?”

“Stairs?” Lucian waited as they made the 2nd floor’s landing. “Only narrow winding ones, and tiny rooms with fires too close if she was in anything more than a chemise. I never understood her trust in me, with how she feared fire.”

As soon as they set foot on the ground floor, he looked at Avery. “If you could have one thing from here, what would it be?”

“I like the idea of at least ordering a book by Mary Wollenscraft from Hatchard’s.”

“I didn’t really think you’d be into that sort of thing?” Lucian winced, not knowing where this would take them.

Not that Lucian knew what Avery’s politics would cover, there wasn’t many woman, even staunch feminists who would deeply study the roots of the women’s movement. The younger generations always worried him when they sounded like a flock of seagulls, only talking about their contemporaries…and Mary? She was a decade older than he was, and one of those women who honestly dominated conversations when men weren’t ready for them.

But the darker seam was who her daughter was, and one of two books that condemned him to being exposed as the living dead, time and time again. Did Avery know? He’d not say a thing, to avoid that abuse.

It would be safer if she thought he flinched because he hated Wollenscraft’s works.

“Well, not normally, as I live my life like a man, working the same jobs as men do, living alone, supporting myself.” Avery shook her head at his weird reaction. It was much better than trying to have such conversations with guys her own age, especially those who couldn’t support themselves, though, so she went on. “But Hatchard’s and Mary are iconic in period pieces, and I think it’s fitting.”

“They may not have it in shop, but I’m sure they have access to her works.” The habits of a lifetime, Lucian offered his arm for her last few steps. “We should be able to order it at the entrance and have them ship it to your home.”


some lines i think are funny out of context

“What is wrong with you?”

“People with working inner ears and sight don’t fall down the stairs that often, just so you know.”

“Angel! It’s been years!”
“Nine! I could’ve had a baby.”
“Could you have?”


She doubts her mom who she thought was dead.


more, because i want to.

“I cannae believe this is your favourite movie.”
“It’s a good movie.”
“It made you paranoid for years.”

“Are aliens real?”
“Are aliens real?”
“I’m sworn to secrecy!”

“Glad you think my forehead’s sexy. Does your boyfriend know you’re into worry wrinkles?”

anyways the last thing that happened was Death got doxxed, oops. look at me, integrating modern problems into my novels.


Crow and Skye take a brief detour through the living realm together.


A planned or unplanned detour?

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Very unplanned lol. Skye just kinda accidentally falls in and Crow has to go and (begrudgingly) haul her out.


lol XD

Good luck to him :stuck_out_tongue:

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“Should we be worried about the storm?” Jay asked. “I’ve seen some blizzards in my time but that one looks fucking massive!

“I checked the forecast,” Dan said. “The snow part of the blizzard won’t reach us for a few hours.”

“Can we really call it a ‘blizzard’ if there’s no snow?” Nikki asked. “Kinda defeats the—”

“Guys,” Leo interrupted. “Focus. If they get through us—”

A chorus of “We know, Leo.” cut him off.

“I still think we should’ve bought Queenie,” Jay sighed. “She’s good at causing distractions.”

“Yes,” Dan muttered, “by killing everyone.”

“Because that’s such a terrible idea right now.”

“They don’t know what they’re doing, Jay.”

The Fae snorted. “Yeah, and when has that ever bothered us?”


Yup, they have their priorities straight

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Anjan came back to being the new Sovereign’s “imperial fixer” and tackle the duties of handling the members of her court’s issues and getting paid.

The first chapter ends with Sovereign Solanna telling Anjan how she wants him to seek out who is trying to usurp and which of the Grand Dynasties are hiding something. She knows that everyone, including herself are wearing masks to hide their intentions.

The last sentence has Anjan sitting on the couch to sleep after peeling his own mask off…


Uhhhh this conversation happened at a pivotal plot point:

"Amneris, I know you’re listening. If they get through, don’t do anything stupid. The priority is protecting Methuselah. Do not – I repeat – do not turn this into one of your revenge-driven incidents that end with a mass amount of collateral damage.”

A gasp came over the radio. “Daniel!” Amneris cried in mock-offence. “I would never, never, do such an atrocious thing!” Silence. “None of you are buying that, huh?”

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I’m picking up post-fight with 2 monsters mostly behaving with the female MC…

Bernard’s grin was more shark-like than Avery remembered it being.

Avery turned around to glance back at Lucian, and although he wasn’t looking at them, simply laying out in the back seat, his eyes were a whirl of the void. “You two really feed off each other, don’t you.”

“When you look out into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.” Both men basically said it in unison. Bernard was the one who bothered to explain, “Nietzsche. He meant it philosophically, that hard questions without answers mock humanity’s existence, but for many of us, the human we present is a joke. It’s not real and there is an empty bottomless pit of need on the other side of that.”

“You look younger, as a monster.”

“I do because I much rather present myself as harmless because, as Lucian’s shown you, when we let go, it gets…messy.”

“So, the dead start looking alike?”

“You know what Uncanny Valley is?”

“Usually, its for pre-historic man meeting close-relation species and being freaked out because it’s a Sapien-eats-Neaderthal-eats-Sapien world.” Avery murmered. “Am I right?”

“It’s possible, but with things Like Brittleshorts in my back seat and I looking odd when we’ve gone too far, well, I’d say that it exists because we’ve always had the dead with us.”


They went to the spirit realm, so their hearts don’t beat now.


My full name is Maxwell Rivera
I am nearly thirty.
I used to have a buzzcut, but now my hair is shaved.
I used to be strong, but now I am fat.
I used to be ripped, but now I look pudgy
It is true I suffer from heartburn since discovering cheeto sauce in steak sandwiches.
It is true I do not suffer hard stools.



Imagine asking someone how they got such a nice tan only to be told that that’s their natural skin tone.


I meant to say it earlier, but this is so you.


Why is it so me? :wink:

Alicia should make Max exercise. Whip his ass and bully him into shape again.