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nerdcactus.bsky.social
C Alexandra
@nerdcactus.bsky.social
560 followers 330 following 1.3K posts
I'm a #writer of the three Gs: gods, ghosts, and (usually magical) girls.

She/Her. Neurodivergent. Ace. Unapologetically leftist. I even write with my left hand.

Say nice things about Detroit!

#writingcommunity #amwriting #writesky
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nerdcactus.bsky.social
Had to go with 'delayed' since the whole 'this whole thing is going to end in a ritualistic mass murder if we don't hurry' vibe didn't really allow for much procrastination. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
The Wainwrights only lived two blocks over, which had provided its joys as well as its grievances. Encouraging the neighborhood children to focus their Devil’s Night antics on the white house with the sculptures made of leaves was a treat, as was lobbing insincere sympathy at Mr. Wainwright the next day as they took a purposeful walk into town. The weekly noise nuisance complaints during the remodel had become fodder for Phoebe’s compost heap or Beren’s art projects. And then there were the Yule decorations. Cass’ one true love, her wife excepting, was turning the house into a Winter Wonderland every year and always—with the aid of her gift for divination—finding just the right addition to outdo the latest Wainwright surprise. A dramatic reading of Edith’s yearly screed on certain persons ‘making a mockery of the holy season’ was a Christmas Eve tradition, complete with egg nog and more pie than a mathematics convention. It was a beautiful house, Beren had to admit, especially since it reminded her of the dramatic Victorians she’d loved back in Detroit. And like everything Edith did, it was manicured to within an inch of its life. Beren was tempted to stomp across the grass just to see if hounds came rushing at her. Taking a deep breath to center herself, Beren rang the doorbell, half hoping some harried housemaid would open it and tell her the Wainwrights had gone on a long-delayed vacation and, no, she didn’t know when they would be back. What she didn’t expect was Edith herself, splotches of paint on her cheek, hair unbound and wild, a smock of psychedelic florals tossed over her clothes with haphazard carelessness. And were those jeans? In all Beren’s years of knowing her, Edith had never once worn pants. Beren would have bet on the woman thinking of women’s trousers as the root of licentiousness and the doom of America, but here she was dressed like an extra out of Hair. And that was definitely Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Uh, hi, Edith.”
January 28, 2026 at 9:05 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
In which Beren makes the god of divine ecstasy sad. At least until he realizes he's sad and is then delighted by her ability to make him sad. Which gives Beren a headache. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
“I’m used to being distrusted. But I didn’t expect it from you.” “From me?” Beren couldn’t bear his sadness. Guilt tore at her insides, punishing her for a sin she didn’t even realize she’d committed. “Why not me?” Frustration tugged at Dionysus. Beren could see it in the tension he held in his shoulders, in the sharp line of his jaw. She couldn’t keep up with the dizzying variety of his emotions, his reactions. He was everything all the time, dancing between them so rapidly and so deeply, she might go mad trying to keep up. It was all she could do to numb herself, to hold her head upright and focus on the things her limited mind could comprehend. The way the sun bounced off his curls, gold on black. The cool breeze brushing across the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Or was that just a reaction to Dionysus suddenly squeezing her hands, flesh like marble, unyielding and adamantine. He could break her if he wanted. Crush her like limestone if he squeezed too hard. How could he not understand? How could he not realize how dangerous he was? “You are one of mine.”
January 26, 2026 at 7:11 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
Heading into the den of the raging ghost of a mining baron who thinks your ancestor robbed him? Definitely not as scary as Florida in August. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
Rage hung in the air like the scent of old blood. It melted into listless curtains, once vibrant designs dull and faded, their life seemingly drained. Will struggled to breathe, the weight of it threatening to suffocate her. All she wanted to do was to turn heel and run, to burst through the front door and let the wild sunshine set her free. Every step forward into the depths of the mansion, even with the tinkling reminder of Jacob’s protective effort singing in her ears, sent terrified shivers into places she didn’t know had the proper nerve endings for that sort of thing. “Anyone else got the raging willies right now or is it just me?” she dared to whisper, not willing to stop and look at the others as if doing so would allow Abraham to rush them. Because, her mind snarked, it was definitely sight keeping the ghost from attacking. “This place is like Florida in August, all sticky and… aggressive.” “Have any of you seen that movie ‘Come and See’? The one about Belarus in World War Two?” Jacob gripped a bottle of holy water in his fist, squeezing hard enough Will thought it might explode. “I have.” Anna’s voice trembled, a sign of discomfort Will knew she loathed admitting to. “The bog scene. Desperation on film. Right?” "Yeah."
January 19, 2026 at 6:01 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
In this #WIPSnips, I give you the inciting incident! A group of respectability-obsessed biddies pissing off the local coven of extremely powerful witches. #writingcommunity #writesky
Beren eyed the cakes. No one had made a move to touch them. “So why are those there? I know it’s not the greenhouse, so what is it?” Emma winced and shook her head, grabbing her braid and reflexively unwinding and rewinding it. Phoebe stared at her clasped hands with too much fervor, deliberately passing the buck to Cass, who muttered to herself as she grabbed the day’s paper and shoved it across the table. “You didn’t have time to read the Gazette then?” “No. I barely had time to eat today.” Beren pushed Emma back into her seat before the woman decided to go full June Cleaver. “Just… what did they do?” The others’ answering expressions of pained grievance ranged from sad to enraged, and realization thunked into place. “Oh lord. Charlie’s interview was in the paper today. What happened? What did Letty do?” She grabbed the paper and flipped it to the arts section. The new season was all set to begin, which was something of a triumph after months of carefully plotted sabotage that could never quite be pinpointed except in aggregate. The Grundys had obviously been building to something, determined to punish Charlie for having the gall to head up the city’s biggest money maker. It only took a few moments of reading for Beren to see what their latest salvo was. “Those— How dare they?” Her hands trembled, a dry sirocco rage stripping her control. “They deadnamed her!” “Hence the cakes. We want to be prepared when she gets home.”
January 9, 2026 at 8:03 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
The meme from Facebook about tagging where someone can request to be removed from a photo because they're in it and they don't like it.
January 9, 2026 at 7:54 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
8. People have told me my imagination works in weird and interesting ways. I always shrug and say I just put two bits of history and/or myth together, but I don't always accept compliments well. I like my planning and research skills most of all. #FantasyIndiesJanuary #writingcommunity #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 8 is Your writing strengths.
January 8, 2026 at 11:16 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
7. I, alas, do not have a first line for anything Getaera-related. Just some character studies and worldbuilding scenes. But the project I'm editing has this:

Somewhere in the room, a leaky faucet drummed out a headache in three quarter time.

#FantasyIndiesJanuary #writingcommunity #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 7 is First line of your WIP.
January 8, 2026 at 12:00 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
Beren being suave AF. In her defense, Alex is modeled on Manny Jacinto, and I have been reliably informed by many a lady-type that he is prime sweeping material. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
Alex lifted her chin and kissed her, lingering over her lips as though memorizing the feel of them against his. “Please get through this alright. I know you’re powerful, and I trust the others to do their work implicitly, but this isn’t something I can patch with some gauze and an IV tube. Just… please come back. I need to sweep you off your feet the way I’ve wanted to for years.” A few fumbling interjections lumbered over Beren’s tongue as she struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t sound completely lame. She settled for reaching over and bopping Alex’s nose. “I’m the witch. If anything, I should be doing the sweeping. You know, because of the brooms and stuff.” Seeing his face twist as he held back laughter, Beren yanked her thyrsus from him and thew her shoulders back, hoping to recapture some dignity. “Shut up. I’m not good at the romantic stuff.” “You just handle the god problem, and I’ll take care of the rest.” Alex tucked an errant lock of hair behind Beren’s ears. He kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand before walking to the Jeep and sliding in. “Go on and do your thing, Priestess of Dionysus. But after this, you’re going to have to get used to someone else taking care of you for once.”
January 7, 2026 at 10:34 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
6. As someone who absolutely cannot stand to be touched while sleeping, I think there should be too many beds. All the beds. Beds for all the people, their pets, and the bags. Beds for my horses!

In all seriousness, friends to STILL FRIENDS. I need more friendships. #FantasyIndiesJanuary #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 6 is tropes you'd like to see more often.
January 7, 2026 at 3:42 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
5. I'm a sit at the cafe with headphone on kind of writer, but I do my best work with an external pressure. Give me a competition or a deadline, and I'll write anytime, anywhere. Otherwise? I need the sound of aerating milk to get in the right space. #FantasyIndiesJanuary #writingcommunity #writesky
Prompts for the Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 5 is Writing Habits.
January 6, 2026 at 3:37 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
I guess it's time to start diving into my Beta questionnaires and edit this one again. Been putting it off for a while. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
“He’s one of Abraham’s spies. Always slipping him little tidbits. It’s why none of us talk about anything important around him.” “He’s a pernicious little creature.” Clara crossed herself and looked up as if enjoining the heavens to excuse her. She had been cleaning her implements and finished by sticking them in a bucket near the fire. Will admired her neatness. It made Clara the most effective medical service out here. “Forgive me for speaking ill of anyone, but he is. Although his master is worse.” “What’s that, then?” Jeb asked. “Abraham Whittaker. Owns the land and the mining interests around these parts. Been bleeding everyone dry for ‘improvements’.” Eli fiddled with his cuff before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Now, I won’t deny the rail’s been good for the towns it chooses and deadly for the one it don’t, but it seems to me that the man’s already gotten rich enough off the backs of everyone here. How are people meant to improve their own lots if he’s taking everything to improve his? Because don’t you doubt it, he’s the one’ll see the benefits from the rail. None of those folks down in town. Him.” Isaiah grunted in understanding. “We’ve seen that before, ain’t we, Jeb?” At the other man’s nod, he lowered the poultice and blinked his eye open. He had dark skin, no doubt deepened by weeks and months in the saddle, as close to true black as Will had ever seen in person before. And he was easily the handsomest of the three cowboys, with amber eyes and cheekbones that would make the fashion industry swoon. “Lots of places doing similar to interest the rail barons. Bleeding the folk dry to bribe them into bringing the train to their town.”
January 5, 2026 at 7:44 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
4. As far as Rei know, all she wants is to finish this out and fulfill her bargain with Thadis. No more working for the god of the dead, able to just live her life in complete anonymity with nothing and no one to concern herself with.

Of course, she's wrong. #FantasyIndiesJanuary #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 4 is MC's goals
January 5, 2026 at 1:43 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
2. I am going back to school this year. I've been saving up for a Master's for 15 years now (which is very much an indictment on the cost of education in this country), and I finally have enough. My hope is to never have to work retail again. Ever. #FantasyIndiesJanuary #writingcommunity #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 2 is Free Friday or what are you looking forward to this year.
January 3, 2026 at 3:57 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
1. Hello! I'm C, fantasy writer. I'm going back to school for a master's in Archival administration this year, which is exciting. Nothing like research and preservation to inspire stories! History is behind most of my WIPs, inc Getaera, which is my WIP for this month. #FantasyIndiesJanuary #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies January writing game. Day 1 is Introduce Yourself & WIP.
January 2, 2026 at 3:02 AM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
Whew. December's been a hell of a ride. I hope everyone's holiday season was delightful and the New Year is better than the old one. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
Not so much as a shared smile of determination marked their parting. They simply split, Anna and Jacob walking up the stairs while Will headed with Ashley toward the back of the house. Every step brought its ominous silence closer, enveloping her in an almost deafening roar. If she closed her eyes, she thought she’d be able to see the stillness splashed on the darkness of her lids. Bile creeped along the back of her throat, escaping the confines of her churning stomach and its roiling anxiety. Still, she reasoned, if she kept putting her feet forward one at a time, she would end up where she needed to be. And then it would be too late to run. “Abraham Whittaker.” Was that her voice? It was American, so it couldn’t be Ashley. And it was too loud to be the others, who were already on the top floor judging by the fading thud of their footsteps. She glanced over at Ashley, but nothing on his face suggested a disembodied speaker. It had to have been her. But it sounded so sure, so bold. There was no way. Will cleared her throat. “Abraham Whittaker.” It had been her. Somehow, she’d managed to sound like she didn’t want to chew her fingers off. “We’ve come to talk to you about the silver. Like I promised I would.”
December 31, 2025 at 6:28 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
A post about a request. It's good Beren is so stubborn because resisting the god of primal urges (who is also very hot) isn't easy, especially when he's trying to break you. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
“There is joy in revelation. And if you are going to protect him, he should know the truth.” “And what is the truth?” Beren asked, stepping forward to close the space between her and Dionysus. The smell of him was intoxicating, and she worried she’d made a mistake. She squared her shoulders before the scent took her resolve, thrusting her chin forward. “What are you here for?” “To bring you freedom.” Dionysus did not blink, and his gaze remained steady as it met Beren’s. She wasn’t sure if he could lie—certainly, he was not the god of lies—but if he was being dishonest, she couldn’t see it. “The freedom you requested, might I add.” Beren felt herself faltering, falling under his influence. She wanted to like him. She wanted to take off with him and leave the world behind, damn the consequences. She wanted to— She pinched herself. This was why he was dangerous. Even when he wasn’t doing anything, he could seduce her. She needed to know what he wanted. What he would demand in return for his help. Because gods like him never did anything without expecting recompense. “Then tell me, god of wine, what is it you expect from us? What is your payment?” Dionysus leaned in until Beren could feel the warmth of his skin and the eddying waves of his power buffeting against her. “Revelry.”
December 18, 2025 at 7:23 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
Between getting trapped in Chicago and work being an absolute nightmare, this past week has been... something. How's everyone else?

I didn't have clay so I went with terra cotta. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
Ivy had somehow, in the last hour, claimed an entire city block. Beren slowed as she approached Lake St and gawked at the vines spreading like tentacles along the façade of the Wainwright’s antique shop. It clung to the windows, throwing the store into shadow, reminding Beren of the stripes Edith had slapped onto her husband’s family portrait. She rode up to the door, but the ivy had claimed it entirely, slithering like verdigris snakes over the handle, the hinges, and frame. “Shit.” It wasn’t only the ivy that had exploded, either. Every plant in Glaucaster had taken on a mind of its own. Some, like the sunflowers that were months early, loomed like sentinels above her, worshiping their eponymous lord. Others crowded the sidewalks, choking crack and edge alike, a profusion wild and without meaning, reclaiming the town for nature. Subjugating civilization once more. Beren supposed she should be glad they weren’t actively reaching for her. The last thing anyone needed was pod people roaming the streets. What struck Beren as even more odd was the way everyone else on the streets reacted. No one registered any shock. Some didn’t even seem to notice. Most glided amongst the plants like they belonged there, like the town was the real imposition. One man lay in a field of lavender that had broken from its terra cotta prison and colonized a patch of what had been mulch. Another plucked a dandelion the size of a fist and blew the seeds to the wind, watching entranced as they floated away on haphazard flows. Not a single face she could see showed even an inkling of concern. It wasn’t simply a lack of worry, but the very refusal of its existence, the abandonment of incumbrance. A complete refutation of the world’s burdens.
December 17, 2025 at 7:48 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
I have exactly one use of the word 'pipe' in all my WIPs, so here we go. Apparently, none of my characters smoke or play woodwinds. Might have to change that. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
An explosion of pipes and drums surrounded her, and a strange, hollow roar like a stone whipping through the air. Ancient instruments played with no knowledge but the pull of their worship, strange and savage to her ears. She stepped further into the clearing, a steady figure among the hedonistic abandon of the revelers. Wine flowed like rivers and loose tongues chanted words unknown to those who spoke them. There was an urgency to their movements, an edge to their voices, that wasn’t there before. It drove some to leap over the flames, others to run into the forests screaming their worship to the stars. Beren’s grip tightened on her staff, feeling the spell. It wasn’t time yet, it whispered. But soon. Soon.
December 10, 2025 at 7:09 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
I may not watch Hallmark movies, but even I am very aware of the tropes. And Alex is basically the epitome of the handsome, small town guy... if he were played by Manny Jacinto.(Has there ever been an East Asian male lead on one of those?) #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
“She looked… different,” Alex commented as he watched the woman walk down the street, the steaming mug cupped in his hands making him look like the owner of the local candy cane factory at threat from the big city outsider. “Like she got an injection of mojo juice.” Beren glanced up at him and hugged herself to keep from tracing sigils over his skin. Threads of power glowed in her mind’s eye, showing her the path of the spellwork. Strength and protection, looping, cording knots of energy in black and cobalt following the lines of his muscles. A gift not to guard but to allow him guardianship of others, to express the protector within. And the color would do wonders for his eyes. Shaking her head to clear it, Beren carefully grounded the extra energy and shoved her urges aside. “Tattoos give a lot of people confidence. Well, maybe not the tattoo itself, but the idea that they finally got one. So maybe she feels like she got an injection of mojo juice.” “Or maybe you really do cast spells on people with your work.”
December 4, 2025 at 6:27 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
3. This one is more vibes-based than the actual word. I had the word, but it was way too spoilery to use. The truth of Beren's past is kind of integral. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
“No one doubts who you are Em, despite who you were.” “Funny.” Emma’s chuckle held no mirth, and she turned her exhausted features to Beren, the icy blue of her gaze highlighted by the milk pale skin of her cheeks. “According to you, we’re all what we once were, and the selves we construct are just masks to hide behind. You forget, I know you better than anyone else here. I know what you’ve been running from. Why you’ve been terrified to move forward.” Beren stepped back involuntarily, the reality of Emma’s words hitting her chest like a blow. “I—” She turned and stared out the window again. Dionysus had taken his people back to the forests, further into the dense wood where the hills rolled up toward the skies and the rivers rolled downward. He would be collecting her the next day when the sky lost the last of its light and the fires glowed orange through the canopy. “I need to be the strong one. You know that. Not because there’s no one else to do it, but because it reminds me every day that I can be strong. But giving in, letting someone else—even a god, maybe especially a god—have that control over me…” Emma waved for Beren to stop. “It isn’t weakness that gets people abused. And we’re not at fault for what our abusers did to us.” She said it like an affirmation, as if they hadn’t had this conversation a thousand times between them. “No. But I’m at fault for staying.”
December 3, 2025 at 7:18 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
Now that the insanity that is Nov is over, I hope I get to do this one more! #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky
. “Things belong in their place!” “Like you belong behind Albert?” Beren stood and pointed at the door, dropping the pillow as she did. Edith reached down and replaced it on the couch seemingly without realizing. Some part of her was still rational, then. “Is that where he is, Edith?” Edith shrugged and shut down, refusing to acknowledge Beren any further. She wound herself in and froze, the fierce angles of her face setting into a mask of disdain. Beren fought the urge to curse the woman and walked to the door with more exasperation than apprehension, using her anger to fuel her steps. “Mr. Wainwright? Are you down here?” Beren switched on the light at the top of the stairs and listened. There was no reply, just damp silence. The Wainwright’s basement was untouched from its inception, all masonry and must. Beren used her sleeve to cover her nose and started down the stairs. “Mr. Wainwright?” He was lying on an ancient couch, more moth bite than cloth, sagged into the far corner of the space. His face was pale, but not, so far as Beren could see, the blue-tinged hue of death. Fighting the urge to cross herself—an Orthodox upbringing never quite left a person, no matter how many years separated them from the church—Beren scanned for an egress window in case Edith decided to turn this into a horror film.
December 1, 2025 at 7:18 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
30. Having never marketed before but certainly having found myself marketed to, genuine enthusiasm works wonders. Emphasis on genuine. Especially with something as personal as a novel or other craft, the human behind the product is super important. #Bookvember #writingcommunity #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies November writing game. Day 30 is Marketing tips.
November 30, 2025 at 6:39 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
28. Me? Collect things? *nervous laughter* No... *closes front door to house and locks it* Not at all. There's nothing to see here. Over there! Look at that man behind the curtain! (It's books. I have more book than shelf. I am OK with this.) #FantasyIndiesNovember #writingcommunity #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies November writing game. Day 28 is Free Friday or do you collect anything?
November 28, 2025 at 4:25 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
28. Color me very surprised I actually had this one. Not the most evocative of snippets, but it works. #WIPSnips
Emma piled a couple of sandwiches on a plate, then placed a slice of cake on top. “It’ll make you feel better.” “Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes to get everything started.” Beren took a bite of the cake to prove Emma’s gesture was appreciated before tromping up the stairs to the attic. She liked living at the top of the house, where the breezes were cooler and she didn’t have to listen to the people above her. The roof lines were wonky, zigzagging from just inches above her head to almost double her height, and she’d had to settle for the smallest bathroom in the house, but it was just what she needed. And it meant she got the whole floor to herself, with no one likely to barge in or wake her in the morning. Only Charlie had the same privilege, and she’d taken the basement—finished and renovated in an Alphonse Mucha dream, all curves and delicate features—for the pleasure. For herself, Beren preferred dark wood and moody walls, decorated like a time traveling art thief’s lair.
November 28, 2025 at 4:16 PM
nerdcactus.bsky.social
27. I'm grateful I live where I live b/c there are places in this country that genuinely suck. I'm grateful I'm not broke as shit. I have a job I don't loathe. A partner who loves and supports me. Kids with four legs and not two. Doctors who listen. Stuff like that. #FantasyIndiesNovember #writesky
Prompts for Fantasy Indies November writing game. Day 27 is What are you thankful for?
November 27, 2025 at 10:37 PM