Justine Lombardi
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jlombardi.bsky.social
Justine Lombardi
@jlombardi.bsky.social
1.2K followers 1K following 1.1K posts
Fantasy and horror author obsessed with weird myths, funky folklore, and arcane insults. 🏳️‍🌈 💖💜💙 Dyslexic and proud to be neurodiverse. I follow back fellow creatives. https://linktr.ee/authorjustine
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jlombardi.bsky.social
I'm taking a social media break see you later during the spooky season. 🍂🍁🎃👻
August 18, 2025 at 12:13 AM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Last night's walk.
Moon on sky over lake
August 12, 2025 at 9:38 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Emotion Puddles and Thought Threads

In a city ruled by dark magic, a street kid and a male prostitute work together to escape a siren serial killer.

Gangs of London X A Discovery of Witches

#QuestPit #W #F #H #A
Cityscapes
August 6, 2025 at 2:05 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwritingfrantasy #darkfantasy #horror
I'm going for the vibe here, no "trend" in my WIP. Italics denote telepathic communication from Thought Threads and Emotion Puddles 88/100K.
He squeezed Brigid and rubbed her back while she cried into his blood-stained shirt until she stepped away and wiped the snot and tears from her face with her sleeve. Sorry about your shirt. She rubbed her hoodie sleeve on his chest, which did absolutely nothing. Rain looked down at the salt-crusted, bloody, and now snot-slicked button-down. He shrugged. “Formerly white is in this season.”
August 3, 2025 at 12:56 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
A flashback from Thought Threads and Emotion Puddles. A homeless Rain meets his future madam and contemplates just how sideways his life has gone.
#amwritingfantasy #horror #darkfantasy #WIPSnips
"You'll die on the streets..."
Oddly, Rain had been contemplating the collapse of his life for the first real time in weeks as he shivered inside the doorway Topaz found him in. It wasn’t the knife wound from the john that had done it. The gash in his arm was shallow; it would heal eventually. The old scholar’s death had been the push. A guy with oily, gray hair and a scraggly beard, thin, with canyons etched across his face. Rain saw him at the Lower Harbor mission most days; the man had an education and used to discuss Ovid and Virgil. It’s not every day you meet someone who will debate the qualities of Metamorphoses in a soup kitchen line. Usually, people with a permanent crumb collection in their beards were looking for their next hit. Then one day, during January, he was just gone. And the next day and the day after that. Months later, word got around that garbage collectors had found him behind a dumpster curled inside a cardboard shelter, and all Rain could think was: that’s my future. A taunting darkness crept into his mind and repeated the same thing over and over. You’ll die on the streets, just like that old scholar.
July 30, 2025 at 4:31 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwritingfantasy #horror

This is the aftermath of Rain's madam Topaz casting a spell to chase off a client who intended to hurt him. She summoned demons called Gallu, which manifested as giant leeches and ate the client. During the conflict, Topaz was injured.
Rain hissed as they slowly lowered Topaz to the sofa, the movement stretching the broken skin on his back. He was shaking again. Topaz grasped her head like she had the worst migraine of all time, curling into a fetal position, blood trickling from her nose. “Mellon’s really dead,” he whispered. “We just committed a murder.” Cobalt rested her hand on Topaz’s head. “The gallu give back what you dish out,” she whispered. There was a quiver of fear in her voice and something else. Reverence? “Ordinary trash with, uh… questionable actions like us would just get a good scare. To get that reaction…” She shook her head. “We’re not trash.” “Sure, Raindrop, but we’re not exactly a bunch of charity workers, either.” She pulled her phone from her sweatpants. It went to Jordan’s voicemail.
July 28, 2025 at 1:08 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSips

I don't have "thrive" in my WIP, so I'm going for the vibe today. Nereus is thriving in his role as the bad guy. Rain, his latest captive, not so much. Rain is drugged, so he doesn't have much impulse control over what he says.
Rain replied with the first thing to come to his mind. “Is this your bad guy soliloquy, mermaid? What’s next, you’re going to tell me about all the fun you’ll have slicing me up?” Nereus laughed. “Do I look like Ariel to you? I’m a siren. Get your nomenclature correct.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. “Perhaps I am making a bit of a speech, but I seldom meet another part-bred with blood I haven’t seen before. You’re as rare as I am, and I intend to make this last. Peel away all the layers of your psyche, learn your secrets, turn you into my toy. When I’m done, you’ll take the blade to your flesh because it pleases me. Then I’ll drain off your life essence while drowning you below the waves. How’s that for a bad guy soliloquy?” Rain’s calm passed, and his mind became a storm.
July 25, 2025 at 1:04 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #AmWritingFantasy #DarkFantasy #Horror

I'm substituting "minor" for "girl."

Background: Brigid can sense who the serial killer is targeting in her neighborhood. That's why she's staring. Blissed-out is the in-world term for high, as the most popular drug is called Bliss.
Lunch at the sunny kitchen table was uneventful except for the creepy art girl. Rain had shifted to referring to Brigid as this because she would not stop staring at him. Whenever he glanced in the kid’s direction, she swiftly looked away, stirring her corn chowder. Still, the feeling of her green eyes boring into him with every bite of his Caesar salad always returned. It rapidly went from awkward to bothersome. Mike, who was so blissed-out that he wouldn’t stop chattering about his new deadlifting record, didn’t seem to notice, and if his sister did, she said nothing. Rain looked at the navy face of his watch, adjusting the leather band. They’d only been at this for twenty minutes. It felt like his ass had been in this wooden chair for hours.
July 23, 2025 at 1:11 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Me trying to ignore our society's sprint into dystopia. By marching into the woods and reading books.
Stack of books on a tree log.
July 22, 2025 at 6:28 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
A witch friend helps Rain find Brigid with a spell. #WIPSnip #amwritingfatnasy #darkfantasy #horror
“I got a hit!” Cobalt shouted. Rain jumped, forgetting about Oakley’s sudden enthusiasm for spying on the Lower Harbor Mission. Chanting again, Cobalt rested a finger next to the bowl and slowly dragged it across the old map in the direction the needle pointed. Her finger left behind a multicolored wake that Rain presumed only he could see. The shades next to her vibrated as the magic pulsed in the room. Two black crystals spun their points toward her finger. It rested between an old slaughterhouse and a stockyard. “There you are,” Cobalt said. “The last door she passed through was here.” “Wait, what? It’s not pointing at Brigid?” “I need blood for an exact location. This is just as good if she went through a door here. She’s still in the building.” It seemed to Rain there were a million ways around that, but he started with the most obvious. “What if she climbed out a window?”
July 22, 2025 at 12:46 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Rain meets Brigid. A little background, he has met a siren named Nereus who intends to seduce and kill him. Brigid can sense the siren's magic on Rain. Brigid is creating a 3D cheery blossom 🌸🍒 drawing on the sidewalk near Oakley's bar. 🍻
The girl didn’t look up. She did nothing to indicate she had heard him. Rain could try the front entrance, but that would involve a lot of banging and shouting to get Oakley or her bouncer brother Mike’s attention. This kid must know Oakley. The chalk drawing was the sort of thing she would absolutely hire an artist for, although the girl barely looked fourteen. He walked up to the girl, his shadow falling over her as he blocked the midday sunlight. Her green eyes met his. “Hi, I like your flowers. Are you a friend of Oakley’s?” The little artist fell backward onto her ass, her eyes as wide as the moon. Then, her face twisted up in a look that Rain would have found understandable if he had just dropped his pants and shit on her pretty flowers. With a shaking hand, she snatched up the chalk and scrambled back. “Are you okay?” “I think you just startled her,” Oakley said behind him. “She’s deaf.”
July 20, 2025 at 1:18 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwritingfantasy #darkfantasy #horror

Rain searches for 14-year-old Brigid, hoping to find her before the witches do.
This was the closest he had been since starting the search, which should inspire hope. Yet, cold sweat dripped down his back, and the shadows seemed to snicker. Even the streetlamps were off, casting a harsh light that offered no security. Dreadful things could happen just as easily in the light as they did in the darkness. It was just easier to see the awful. Rain could not stop the chronic loop in his mind. You’re too late.
July 19, 2025 at 12:21 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Sharing the working pitch for Thought Threads and Emotion Puddles because it has today's word.

In a city ruled by a magical crime syndicate, a street kid and a male prostitute work together to escape a siren serial killer but end up running afoul of his crime lord sister.

Nighthawks by E. Hopper
Nighthawks Painting by Edward Hopper Showing four people in a late-night cafe.
July 18, 2025 at 6:42 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnip #AmWritingFantasy #DarkFantasy #Horror

14-year-old, Brigid is trapped in a flooding coal vault, and trying to think of pleasant memories to calm herself and think clearly.
The nice caretaker once told Brigid how, when she was sad, she tried to “remember better times or think happy thoughts.” Brigid focused on her memories of Bran. Scratching his ears while his tail thumped on the floor. His sandpaper kisses on her cheek. Picking apples and playing fetch. His soft, curly fur and his pleasant doggy smell. When she was sad or sick, he would lie next to her until she was better. He was always warm and happy. Bran was a very good boy and a good friend.
July 16, 2025 at 12:32 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
One of the chapter epigraphs from Thought Threads and Emotion Puddles. #WIPSnips #AmWritingFantasy #darkfantasy #horror
As a child, I would hold my sister’s hand while waiting on the subway platform and peer into the tunnels. I believed creatures lay hidden in their depths, ready to pull the unsuspecting into the darkness. In some ways, I still do. -Sister Photini Tethys, Lower Harbor Mission, Threeharbor City
July 15, 2025 at 3:10 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Excerpt from a chapter titled "Rumble." This is part of the lead-up to the fight. Context: Rain walks through a narrow alley between a hotel and another building, unsure of what lies at the end. (The kind of hotel with hourly rates and no room service.) The hound and Arawn are the same character.
It was a parking lot; the entrance ran alongside an old brick warehouse opposite the hotel’s back entrance, with converted brick factories lining the sides. Construction equipment, including trucks, cranes, and bulldozers, filled the space, pressed together so tightly that it was a wonder workers could retrieve anything from storage for a job. The sign over the back door of the warehouse read “Samson Construction—Delivery Entrance.” The perfect spot for an ambush. Rain weaved between dump trucks and eyed the flop house’s setback delivery entrance. Behind him, the hound exited the alley. The machinery cast dense shadows over the pavement; it was as if the darkness between them had a velvety texture. Rain balled his hands into fists, and his muscles stiffened; he was like a compressed spring. The darkness shifted near the tracks of a crawler loader parked on the pavement; the jackals had set up an ambush. Arawn would probably put a bullet in his back and then deal with them.
July 14, 2025 at 6:17 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Another post about forgotten insults. Today's word is:

Fopdoodle.

N. V.
17th c.

Someone who wants to appear awesome but comes off as ridiculous.
Woman laughing at poet trying to impress her. Example of Fopdoodle. Someone who wants to appear awesome but is actually an overdressed nonsensical fool. Something a vain person does says or wears to seem cool, often shortened to "fop."
July 11, 2025 at 11:32 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwritingfantasy #horror #darkfantsy

Oddly, there are dozens of apparitions in my WIP, but I only use the word once.

For clarity, "the hound" and "Arawn" are the same character; he can morph into a giant dog.
The poltergeist cowboy swung a crowbar at the hound. Cobalt lay at the two combatants’ feet. Arawn narrowly dodged the apparition’s attack, pulled his enchanted pistol and fired. The bullet didn’t pass through the ghost. Instead, it lodged in his chest, spinning. The spirit froze in place. Cobalt’s colorful magic pulsed, forming an image of the heart and arteries visible through the cowboy’s fading body. Starting at the extremities, it pulled back, sucked into the bullet in his lung. The crowbar fell through his hand and to the ground with a clinking sound. He wailed, and then disappeared altogether. The bullet continued on, sparking as it hit a street lamp pole.
July 11, 2025 at 1:36 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
More video from my hiking/ screen avoidance vacation. Eight seconds of soothing forest sounds and boot crutches.
July 9, 2025 at 4:28 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSky #amwritingfantasy #horror #darkfantasy
From Thought Threads and Emotion Puddles 76/90k
“Sorry.” Rain wanted to say more, but the man had just lost a brother and was sure his mom would choose political practicality over them. There wasn’t anything he could do about that except recognize how much it sucked. “I made my choice, and I’d do it again.” A wan smile crossed Jordan’s lips. “Seeing you covered in blue flame facing a fucking sea demon…” He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “You standing there like a vengeful god. It was… beautiful.” Some god Rain made, considering his face was getting pounded about five minutes after that. If he were a god, Mike would still be alive. Jordan wouldn’t be hurt.
July 9, 2025 at 3:48 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSnip #amwritingfantasy #DarkFantasy #Horror
From Thought Threads and Emotion Puddles
Current progress 75/90k
Rain realizes he's dreaming.
She was close enough that Rain could smell her peach lotion. Her favorite scent. He gazed at Cobalt’s blue braids. But she changed her braids to purple, the same color as this potion. A potion he hadn’t taken in two years because he was sober, and all of this had already happened. “I’m dreaming.” Her mouth dropped, braids shifting from blue to violet. Cobalt’s striped PJs dripped off her like water, revealing a yellow tube top and dark blue jeans. “Oh, yeah… sorry. It’s easy to forget what you’re doing during a dream journey.” She and the witchy playgirls must be connecting their minds with a spell. The room melted. It started with the bar, which turned into a white and gray soup at their feet and disappeared. Behind his friend, the painting dripped down the wall and over the slumping mantel. The carpet and wooden floor drained away until they stood over a black void. “Cobalt?”
July 7, 2025 at 1:07 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
I've been hiking and avoiding screens for 5 days. Here's 8 seconds of soothing forest sounds.
July 7, 2025 at 1:28 AM
jlombardi.bsky.social
I was planning to just post out of fashion slang and insults from my novel research this summer but taking a break for my favorite Scottish insult.

Numpty
n.
21st c.
A stupid or foolish person sometimes one who also brags and spots BS. Politicians.
Image of Scottish cow. Numpty Scottish slang that deserves a wider distribution. Numpty may be a variant of numb skull or Humpty Dumpty.
June 29, 2025 at 5:25 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
#WIPSips #amwritingfantasy #darkfantasy #horror
Brigid steals her breakfast. She perceives the thoughts of others as threads floating through the air.
Brigid forced herself into the cross alley and the back of the fancy buildings, where the parking lots and delivery entrances were. She leaned against a parking lot lamp and eyed a white van with a logo that read “Anna’s Delectable Eats.” A young man was loading crates into the back, right on time for his regular morning deliveries. She tugged on his beige thought threads as they drifted toward her. Coffee first. He locked the van up, checked his watch, yawned, and headed inside. Brigid scanned the lot with her primary sense and sprinted for the van door. It took her seconds to pop the lock; inside were crates filled with individual breakfast boxes. Sweet! These things usually had nice stuff like fresh fruit and croissants. She might get lucky and snag one with a ham and cheese croissant. She grabbed two and an extra for Guitar Guy, hopped back out, shut the door, and casually walked down the parking lot just as the man stepped out with his coffee. He got in and sped off. She continued canvassing the area, looking for easy scores. She crossed into the next parking lot, and someone’s thought thread tangled with her mind.
June 29, 2025 at 1:00 PM
jlombardi.bsky.social
Continuing my summer of forgotten insults.

Foopdoodle
n. & v.
17th-19th Century

Someone who attempts to appear as awesome but is actually an overdressed, nonsensical fool. Something a vain person does, says, or wears to seem cool.

Modern equivalent: An attention whore.
The Rejected Poet by William Powell Frith, R. A. A woman laughs at a man trying to impress her.
June 28, 2025 at 6:39 PM