Word of the Day Challenge

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

audition
noun | aw-DISH-un


Definition

: An audition is a short performance to show the talents of someone (such as an actor or a musician) who is being considered for a role in a play, a position in an orchestra, etc.


Weekly Theme

Thriller


Did You Know?

Today, audition most often refers to an artistic performance, but that wasn’t always the case. Audition has roots in the Latin verb audīre meaning “to hear,” and was first used in the late 16th century to refer to the power or sense of hearing. Audīre is also the root of such hearing-related words in English as audible (“capable of being heard”), audience (which first meant “the act or state of hearing”), and the combining form audio-, which appears in various words relating to sound. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the noun audition began being used for an entertainer’s trial performance. And the verb audition, meaning “to test or try out in an audition,” didn’t appear on the English language stage until the mid-20th century.

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

encroach
verb | in-KROHCH


Definition

: To encroach is to gradually move or go into an area that is beyond the usual or desired limits, or to gradually take or begin to use or affect something that belongs to, or is being used by, someone else. Encroach is often followed by on or upon.


Weekly Theme

Thriller


Did You Know?

The history behind encroach is likely to hook you in. The word comes from the Middle English verb encrochen, which means "to get or seize." The Anglo-French predecessor of encrochen is encrocher, which was formed by combining the prefix en- ("in") with the noun croche ("hook"). Croche is also an ancestor of our word crochet; that word first referred to a crochet hook or to the needlework done with it. Encroach carries the meaning of "intrude," both in terms of privilege and property. The word can also hop over legal barriers to describe a general advancement beyond desirable or normal limits (such as a hurricane that encroaches on the mainland).

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

disputatious
adjective | dis-pyuh-TAY-shus


Definition

: Disputatious is a formal word used to describe someone who often disagrees and argues with other people (in other words, someone inclined to dispute). It can also describe something marked or characterized by arguments or controversies, or something that provokes debate or controversy.


Weekly Theme

Thriller


Did You Know?

Quarrelsome, contentious, polemical—the English language sure loves a multisyllabic word to describe your tetchier types, and who are we to argue? Disputatious is another lengthy adjective applied to people who like to start arguments or find something to disagree about, and it can be used to characterize situations and issues as well. For example, court trials are disputatious; that is, they are marked by the action of disputing. And an issue or matter is disputatious if it provokes controversy. However, if a matter, such as an assertion made by someone, is open to question rather than downright controversial, it’s merely disputable. In any case, there’s no arguing that disputatious, dispute, and disputable have diverged somewhat in meaning from their Latin source: the verb dispurare means simply "to discuss."

[Mtpersson]

Words: 30-01-25 - Audition; 01-02-25 - Disputatious

The text came in at 9:47 PM on a Wednesday, which, as far as Mia was concerned, was the universal hour for bad decisions and impulse purchases. She was curled up on the couch, halfway through her second glass of wine, with Ellie snuggled beside her, their legs comfortably tangled together.

Unknown Number: I can't stop thinking about the way
you looked it that red dress. Call me reckless, but
I'd like to see it on my floor.

Mia choked on her sip, wine almost shooting out of her nose. Ellie, ever the curious cat, tilted her head with a lazy smile.

"What's so funny?"

Mia held up her phone, waggling her brows. "I think I've been flirted with. By accident."

Ellie snatched the phone, reading the message. Her smile grew. "Oh, it's too good to ignore. You have to reply."

Mia hesitated. "But what if it's some poor soul trying to text their girlfriend?"

"Then we'll make their night interesting," Ellie said with a mischievous grin.

Fueled by wine and Ellie's encouragement, Mia typed.

Mia: I'd love to oblige, but my girlfriend might not
appreciate me shedding my dress for strangers. However,
she's sitting right here, and she's intrigued.

It took less than a minute for the reply to ping back.

Unknown Number: Wait. You're not Ava?

Mia: Definitely not Ava. I'm Mia. This is Ellie.
We come as a set.

Ellie snorted, nearly spilling her own wine. "Bold. I like it."

Another message popped up, faster this time. 

Unknown Number: Well, Mia and Ellie, I must have copied
down the wrong number, but now I'm curious. Are you always
this fun, or have you been drinking on a school night?

Mia exchanged a look with Ellie, both grinning now. 

Mia: A little bit of both. And what about you, 
mysterious texter? Is reckless texting your thing,
or are you branching out?

A pause. Then:

Unknown Number: Let's call it an experiment in
serendipity. I'm Riley, by the way. Not as smooth
as I hoped, but hey, here we are.

Ellie leaned over, tapping Mia's phone with a pointed look. "Ask for a FaceTime. I need to see who we're dealing with."

Mia obliged, fingers flying across the screen.

Mia: Care to prove you're not a middle-aged
man named Bob? FaceTime us. We need to
verify.

A moment later, Mia's phone vibrated with an incoming FaceTime call. Mia and Ellie scrambled to sit upright, wine glasses hastily set aside as Mia answered.

The screen lit up with Riley's face. Not Bob. Definitely not Bob. A stunning woman with dark curls, sharp cheekbones, and a lazy smirk that spelled trouble.

"Well, you're not Bob," Ellie said, grinning.

Riley chuckled, the sound warm and easy. "Glad to confirm. Though Bob might be offended somewhere out there."

Mia leaned closer to the screen. "You have such a 'I could ruin your life in the best way' look. Is that part of the package, or does it cost extra?"

Riley's eyes sparkled. "No extra fees, but the charm package does include unexpected adventures. Consider it a freebie with my audition."

Ellie burst out laughing. "Did she just call this an audition? I love her."

Mia giggled. "Should we adopt her?"

Ellie tilted her head thoughtfully. "Or proposition her."

Mia's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Are we seriously considering...?"

Ellie leaned in closer, her lips brushing Mia's ear as she whispered. "What's life without a little fun."

Mia grinned wickedly and said aloud, "Ellie suggests a threesome. She's usually the sensible one, so I think you've bewitched us."

Riley's brows shot up, and then she laughed, a genuine delighted sound. "I was aiming for charm, but if bewitching gets me extra credit, I'll take it. Full disclosure, though...I move about a lot for work. I'm currently in Lakeview."

Ellie's eyes lip up. "Oh? Well, that definitely ups the ante. We're in Lakeview."

Mia chuckled. "So, you're saying this accidental text could turn into an accidental meeting?"

Riley grinned. "I'm saying, if you're up for a spontaneous adventure, I know a great late-night café with terrible coffee and excellent private booths. And if you're feeling disputatious, we can argue over who's got the better taste in pastries."

Mia glanced at Ellie, whose face mirrored her own excitement. "You free in thirty?"

"I'll be there in twenty," Riley replied with a wink.

[Mtpersson]

Words: 01-01-25 - Rejuvenate

Chloe didn't mean to watch her neighbour as often as she did. But Gabi had a way of making even the most mundane things - like watering a sad little fern - seem fascinating. Maybe it was the way her oversized hoodie swallowed her frame, or how her glasses slipped down her nose every time she laughed, which was often and always too loud.

Today, Gabi caught her.

Chloe froze mid-sip of her lukewarm coffee, eyes wide over the rim of her mug. But Gabi just grinned, lifted her hand, and waved like this wasn't the most embarrassing moment of Chloe's life.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at Chloe's door.

Gabi stood there with two mismatched mugs, one chipped at the rim. "Thought you might like some company," she said, like they'd been friends forever instead of casual window acquaintances.

They sat on Chloe's couch, knees brushing, the silence filled with the soft hum of the city outside. Gabi's laughter was warmer up close, her presence easy and bright.

Chloe didn't realise how much she need this kind of company - simple, unforced, real. A small moment that managed to rejuvenate something inside her she'd almost forgotten was there.

[Mtpersson]

Word: 02-01-25 - Potpourri

The apartment still smelled like her - lavender, cedarwood, and that faint citrus note she loved but never remembered the name of. Emma sat on the floor beside the coffee table, fingers absently sifting through a chipped ceramic bowl filled with stale potpourri, brittle leaves crumbling under her touch.

She should've thrown it out weeks ago. Like the sweater draped over the back of the chair, the toothbrush still by the sink, the dog-eared paperback left open on the bedside table - its spine bent where she'd paused mid-chapter, as if she'd meant to come back.

But Emma didn't.

She couldn't.

Outside, the city moved on. People walked their dogs, caught buses, kissed each other goodbye like time wasn't cruel, like absence wasn't a weight pressing into the hollow of your chest.

Emma picked up her phone, thumb hovering over old messages - I'm home...Don't forget your scarf...Love you. Simple words, now relics.

In the silence, she whispered, "I miss you."

The words didn't echo. They just hung there, small and fragile, like the brittle petals in her hand.

[Mtpersson]

Word: 03-01-25 - Addlepated

The club was too loud. Too crowded. Too much.

Sasha hated this kind of scene - bodies grinding, lights strobing, and the sour scent of spilled drinks and mistakes waiting to happen - but she'd let her friends drag her out anyway. Something about "living a little," as if she wasn't perfectly content with her quiet apartment, her overwatered plants, and her questionable collection of plush toys.

She was nursing a flat gin and tonic when she saw her.

Across the room, framed by neon lights and the hazy swirl of smoke machines, there she was - dark hair tucked behind one ear, laughing at something her friend said. She glanced up, eyes sweeping lazily over the crowd until they landed on Sasha.

And stayed.

Sasha's heart did this ridiculous thing, a stutter-step like it forgot how to beat properly. Which was absurd. She didn't get flustered. She didn't do the whole locked-eyes-across-a-crowded-room cliché. But here she was, addlepated as hell because some stranger with sharp cheekbones and a crooked smile looked at her like she mattered.

The girl tilted her head, amused, as if she could read Sasha's inner monologue from twenty feet away.

And instead of wondering what if, she decided to find out.

[Mtpersson]

Word: 04-01-25 - Fulminate

The gym was nearly empty this late at night - just the way Dani liked it. Fewer distractions. No waiting around for equipment. No need to block out the grunts of overenthusiastic weightlifters.

And no excuses for the way her attention kept drifting.

It wasn't her fault. Not really.

Verity was right there, stretching in front of the mirrors, her long, toned body on full display in those sinfully tight leggings and a sports bra that only helped in showing just how hot she was.

Dani tried to focus, gripping the barbell tighter, shifting under its weight, but her brain refused to cooperate. Because Verity knew exactly what she was doing. The way she arched her back just a little too much. The way she held her stretch a second longer than necessary, flashing that wicked smirk at Dani in the mirror.

"You're distracted," Verity teased, voice honey-smooth, not even turning around.

Dani exhaled sharply, lowering the bar back into the rack. "And whose fault is that?"

Verity finally turned, all slow confidence, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow. "Yours," she said simply, stepping closer. "If you stopped looking like you were about to fulminate, maybe you'd be able to finish your set."

Dani huffed out a laugh, tension curling low in her stomach. "Oh yeah? And if you didn't stretch like that, maybe I'd have a fighting chance."

Verity's eyes flicked down, tracing the line of Dani's tank top, the rise and fall of her chest. She stepped into Dani's space, close enough that Dani could feel the warmth radiating off her.

"Maybe I like distracting you," Verity murmured, fingers brushing against Dani's wrist - just barely, just enough to make her breath hitch.

And that was it.

Dani's hand shot out, grabbing Verity's hip, twisting her until her back hit the nearest wall. Verity barely had time to gasp before Dani's mouth was on hers, all heat and frustration and hours of built-up tension snapping like a wire pulled too tight.

Verity groaned into the kiss, her hands sliding over sweat-damp skin, nails digging just enough to make Dani shudder. The kiss deepened and Verity groaned against her lips, her fingers tangling in Dani's hair, pulling her closer, like there was any space left between them to begin with.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Verity grinned up at her. "Guess I won that round."

Dani smirked, thumb tracing the waistband of Verity's leggings. "Sweetheart, we're just getting started."

[Mtpersson]

Word: 05-01-25 - Cerulean

Amber traced the rim of her coffee mug, the ceramic warm beneath her fingers. The tiny café on the corner of Maple and 5th was nearly empty, quiet save for the dim hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Across from her, Leila sat, dark curls spilling out over her shoulders, her rich brown skin glowing under the lights.
Amber swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

"So," Leila began, her voice softer than usual, eyes flicking from Amber's face to the mug in front of her. "This is weird, right?"

Amber laughed, short and breathless. "A little."

They'd been friends for years - comfortable, easy, uncomplicated. Until last week. Until that kiss outside Amber's apartment.

Leila cleared her throat, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on the table. "I wasn't...I didn't plan that."

"I know," Amber replied, her heart thudding loud enough she was sure Leila could hear. "But I'm glad you did."

Leila's gaze snapped to hers, dark eyes searching. "You are?"

Amber nodded, a slow smile creeping across her face. "I'm terrified...but yeah."

Leila's laugh was a soft exhale, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. She reached across the table, tentative, fingers brushing against Amber's hand. The touch was small, insignificant to anyone else, but it sent warmth blooming through Amber's chest.

Outside, the sky was fading to a deep cerulean streaked with the last light of day.

"We don't have to figure it all out today," Leila whispered.

Amber turned her hand over, lacing their fingers together. "No," she agreed, her voice steady for the first time that afternoon. "But this? This feels like a good start."

[Mtpersson]

Word: 06-01-25 - Tome

The front door creaked open with the subtle grace of a wrecking ball.

Aria stumbled in, her keys jangling like a triumphant battle cry as she kicked off one heel - just one - before realising the other was still stubbornly attached to her foot. She leaned heavily against the wall, giggling to herself, her dark curls glowing faintly under the faint light flickering through the hallway window.

"Shhh," she whispered to no one in particular, before giggling again.

From the couch, Sam squinted, her book forgotten in her lap. "Aria? What are you doing?"

Aria's head shot up, eyes wide like she'd been caught in the middle of an elaborate heist. "Oh my God, Samantha Jane! Shhh! I live here!"

"Yes, babe. You do." Sam stood, her blonde hair tousled from where she'd been lying on the couch, and padded over in her worn-out sweatpants. She stopped in front of Aria, crossing her arms, fighting back a smile. "You're drunk."

Aria grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "I had...margaritas. Many. Like...at least three. Or five. Numbers are hard."

Sam chuckled, sliding an arm around Aria's waist. "Come on, party girl. Let's get you out of these death traps." She crouched slightly, tugging off the stubborn heel with a victorious flourish.

Aria sighed dramatically, collapsing onto Sam's shoulder. "You're the best. Like, in the whole universe."

Sam rolled her eyes fondly. "Sure, sure. Let's get you some water."

It wasn't until Aria was watching Sam walk toward her with a glass half-filled with water that she noticed that not only was Sam in her bedtime clothes, but there was a soft throw blanket draped over the couch. The only light that illuminated the room was from the small lamp on the tale next to the couch, casting the pair of them in a warm glow, and there was an open tome placed on the arm of the couch. She looked at Sam, noticing the glasses perched crookedly on top of her head and her tired eyes.

"Were you staying up to wait for me?" she mumbled, her grin softening into something quieter, more fragile, as her heart flip-flopped.

"I thought you'd be home earlier, so when you weren't..."

“You were worried about me,” Aria cut in, her voice thick with drunken wonder, like it was the most delightful realisation she’d ever had.

“I was mildly concerned,” Sam corrected, though it didn’t come out nearly as firm as she’d intended.


Aria’s grin widened, lazy and pleased. “I’ll take it.”

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

presage
verb | PRESS-ij


Definition

: To presage something is to give or be a sign that it will happen in the future. Presage is a formal synonym of foreshadow, foretell, and predict.


Weekly Theme

Thriller


Did You Know?

Although sages, being known for their great wisdom, are sometimes believed to possess the ability to predict the future, there is no connection between the noun sage and the verb presage, which means—as you’ve likely foreseen—“to foretell or predict.” While sage comes from the Latin verb sapere (“to be wise”), presage comes instead from a different Latin source: the adjective praesagus, a combination of the prefix prae and sagus, meaning “prophetic.” Presage entered English first as a noun referring to an omen, that is, something that foreshadows or portends a future event. A couple of centuries later it was joined by the verb, which is used for the action of foreshadowing, as in “the current economic slowdown could presage another recession,” and may apply to suggesting a coming event or indicating its likelihood.

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

sarcophagus
noun | sahr-KAH-fuh-gus


Definition

: Sarcophagus refers to a coffin, and specifically a stone coffin.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

Body-eating coffins might sound like something out of a horror film, but flesh-eating stone? The latter plays a role in the etymology of sarcophagus; it is the literal translation of líthos sarkóphagos, the Greek phrase that underlies the English term. The phrase traveled through Latin between Greek and English, taking on the form lapis sarcophagus before being shortened to sarcophagus. It's not clear whether the ancient Romans believed that a certain type of limestone from the region around Troy would dissolve flesh (and thus was desirable for making coffins); that assertion came from Roman scholar Pliny the Elder, but he also reported such phenomena as dog-headed people and elephants who wrote Greek. Regardless, there is no doubt that the ancient Greek word for the limestone traces back to a combination of sárx, meaning "flesh," and a derivative of phagein, a verb meaning "to eat."

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

zaftig
adjective | ZAHF-tig


Definition

: Someone described as zaftig has a full, rounded figure, or in other words is pleasingly plump.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

Zaftig has been in use in English—mainly in the United States—since the 1920s; a couple of the earliest known uses are found in Variety magazine, in reviews of burlesque dancers. The word comes from the Yiddish zaftik, meaning "juicy" or "succulent," which in turn comes from zaft, meaning "juice" or "sap." If this word is new to you and you would like to take it out for a spin, please be advised that even though most dictionaries define it as implying attractiveness, people to whom it might apply may not appreciate its use.

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

canard
noun | kuh-NARD


Definition

: Canard refers to a false report or story, or to a belief or rumor that isn't true. It can also refer to a kind of airplane as well as to a kind of small airfoil.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

In 16th-century France, vendre des canards à moitié was a colorful way of saying "to fool" or "to cheat." The French phrase means, literally, "to half-sell ducks." No one now knows just what was meant by "to half-sell"; the saying was probably based on some story widely known at the time, but the details have not survived. Lost stories aside, the expression led to the use of canard, the French word for "duck," to refer to a hoax or fabrication. English speakers adopted this canard in the mid-1800s. The aeronautical sense of canard, used from the early days of flying, comes from the stubby duck-like appearance of the aircraft.

[Mtpersson]

Word: Presage; Theme: Thriller

The night air clung to Olivia's skin, thick and humid despite the late hour. The city had long since quieted, but the silence felt unnatural, weighted. A presage of something unseen lurking in the shadows. 

She forced a steady breath, adjusting her grip on the key between her fingers as she crossed the dimly lit parking garage. The echo of her own footsteps ricocheted off the concrete walls, making it impossible to tell if she was truly alone. She'd parked closer to the stairwell on purpose - fewer blind spots, an easy escape if she needed it. 

But then she heard it. 

A whisper of movement. Not loud, not obvious. Jut enough. 

Olivia's muscles tensed. She didn't turn immediately. Years of instinct told her that was the mistake amateurs made. Instead, she slowed, fumbled with her purse like she hadn't noticed anything at all. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but her hands remained steady. 

Then, a reflection - a sliver of movement in the side mirror of the car beside hers. 

She turned sharply, stepping back, ready. 

A man stood at the far end of the garage, half-shrouded in shadow. Not moving. Not speaking. 

Watching. 

The presage of danger she'd felt only moments ago now took form in the shape of him. 

A calculated inhale. A slow exhale. She couldn't afford panic. 

She slid her key into the car door, keeping her gaze locked on him in the reflection. 

And then, as if sensing her plan, he smiled. 

Not a smirk. Not a snear. 

Something worse. 

Deliberate. Knowing. A silent promise that he was exactly where he wanted to b. 

And so was she. 

Olivia's pulse kicked into overdrive. She yanked the door open, but before she could slip inside, the overhead light flickered and died. 

Darkness swallowed the garage whole. 

And the only sound that followed was the measured echo of approaching footsteps. 

[Mtpersson]

Word: Sarcophagus; Theme: Thriller

The room was bathed in red. 

Not the rich, velvety kind that whispered of luxury, but something harsher. Unforgiving. The low emergency lighting flickered along the edges of the walls, the crimson glow turning the dust in the air into something tangible, thick enough to choke on. 

Cora's pulse hammered in her throat as she stepped forward, her boots scraping against the stone floor. The museum had been silent when she entered - too silent - but now she swore she could hear something beneath the hum of the dying lights. A whisper. A breath. 

She didn't look at the body behind her. Not yet. Not when the sarcophagus in front of her had been forced open. 

The hieroglyphs along its edges were smeared with something dark - rusty brown in the dimness but unmistakably red. Fresh. The lid had been shoved aside, resting at an unnatural angle, like fingers had clawed their way out from within. 

Cora tightened her grip on the flashlight, resisting the urge to run. She'd seen bodies before, but not like this. Not ones contorted in the shape of a scream, faces frozen in agony. 

Not ones that looked like they had been drained. 

A gust of air brushed past her ear - soft, deliberate. 

Behind her the body shifted. 

Cora turned, slow and careful, heart slamming against her ribs as she raised the beam of light. 

The corpse had moved. 

Or worse -

It had never been dead to begin with. 

[Mtpersson]

Word: Beleaguer

Maya and Jordan were wrapped in a fortress of mismatched blankets, their legs tangled together on the tiny dorm bed, half-watching Parks and Rec and half-pretending they didn't have midterms looming. The glow from Jordan's laptop cast a soft light, the perfect cosy ambiance - until it wasn't.

From the other side of the paper-thin wall came the unmistakable sounds of enthusiastic coupling: moaning, laughter, and something that sound disgustingly wet and squelchy.

Jordan froze mid-sip of her hot chocolate. "Oh no. Not again."

Maya groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. "I swear they exist solely to beleaguer me."

Jordan snorted. "Beleaguer? Really? You okay, Shakespeare?"

Maya peeked out, deadpan. "I was going to say plague, but I figured I'd dial it back. Clearly, that was a mistake."

The rhythmic creaking next door grew louder, punctuated by an over-the-top, breathy exclamation. "OH YES!"

Jordan nearly choked. "Okay, that was...aggressive."

Maya sat up, eyes narrowing like a general plotting a strategy for battle. "You know what? No. Absolutely not. We are not going to put up with this. It's war."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "War?"

 "Yes. A battle for dormitory auditory dominance. If they want to be dramatic, we can be extra dramatic."

Jordan grinned, already on board. "What's the plan, General?"

“Simple. We out-moan them.”

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

ad-lib
verb | AD-LIB


Definition

: To ad-lib something, such as a performance or part of a performance, is to improvise it—that is, to make up words or music instead of saying, singing, or playing something that has been planned.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

Let’s play a word game—just fill in a word of your choosing within the brackets in the following sentence, according to the category in italics: The word ad-lib comes from [language] and was first [past-tense verb] as a [part of speech] in the [ordinal number] century. If you jotted down “Latin,” “used,” “adverb,” and “eighteenth” you would be correct; ad-lib comes from Latin and was first used as an adverb in the eighteenth century. However, as the word game allows players to fill in whatever words they choose in accordance with their wishes, there were no wrong answers, a fact which also points toward the meaning of the verb ad-lib, which is a shortening of the Latin phrase ad libitum, meaning “in accordance with one’s wishes.” To ad-lib is to improvise, to go off-script, to say (or sing, or play on an instrument) whatever comes into your head in lieu of, or in spite of, a script or score. While ad-libbing may seem like a risky venture, some of the most famous lines in movie history were ad-libbed, from “Here’s looking at you, kid” to “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” Isn’t that [adjective]?

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

malapropism
noun | MAL-uh-prah-piz-um


Definition

: A malapropism is an amusing error that occurs when a person mistakenly uses a word that sounds like another word but that has a very different meaning.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

Mrs. Malaprop, a character in Richard Sheridan's 1775 play The Rivals, was known for her verbal blunders. "He is the very pine-apple of politeness," she exclaimed, complimenting a courteous young man. Thinking of the geography of contiguous countries, she spoke of the "geometry" of "contagious countries," and she hoped that her daughter might "reprehend" the true meaning of what she was saying. She regretted that her "affluence" over her niece was small. The word malapropism comes from this blundering character's name, which Sheridan took from the French term mal à propos, meaning "inappropriate."

[Mtpersson]

Word: Zaftig; Theme: Pirates/Age of Sailing

The HMS Tempest cut through the restless waves, its hull groaning like an old man roused too early from slumber. The ship had a soul, Isabella was sure of it - the way its timbers creaked in protest, the way its sails billowed with more attitude than obedience. It was stubborn, spirited. Much like the woman who now leaned against the gunwale beside her. 

The sea wind had no decorum, and it toyed mercilessly with Lieutenant Harrow's dark curls, freeing them from their pins as though conspiring to strip away the last vestiges of their military severity. Isabella should not have been watching them so intently, but there was little else aboard worth admiring as much as Harrow's sharp profile and the way the moonlight kissed the pale stretch of her throat. 

"I know what you're about to say," Harrow murmured, their voice low but sure. 

Isabella smirked. "Do you?"

"You think it scandalous that a woman wears this uniform." Harrow - Evelyn - shifted, and her heavy greatcoat swayed, revealing the slight curve of her hip, the solidity of her stance. The ship swayed too, as if listening. 

Isabella tilted her head, pretending to consider it. "No," she said after a moment, her voice teasing, but softer than she meant it to be. "I think it scandalous that a woman looks so well in it."

Evelyn turned, and their eyes met, the air between them charged like the storm clouds threatening the horizon. It was impossible to see Evelyn Harrow in uniform and not think of battle and defiance. Yet, beneath all of that, there was something else - something softer. A woman who had perhaps never been told that she was something more than her duty. 

Evelyn scoffed, but a smirk curled the edge of her lips. "You ought to mind your tongue, Miss Fairchild, lest the crew believe you've taken a fancy to their officer."

"And if I have?" Isabella leaned a fraction closer, the salt air thick between them. She was aware of the audacity of her words, but audacity had always been her closest friend. "Would you see me keelhauled for the crime?"

Evelyn's throat bobbled with a swallow, and for the first time since Isabella had stepped foot aboard the Tempest, she saw something unguarded in her. 

“Hardly,” Evelyn murmured. Her gaze flickered down, lingering a beat too long over the swell of Isabella’s figure, the way her gown—far less severe than Evelyn’s uniform—clung to zaftig curves that no amount of corsetry could diminish. "Though I might require further investigation into the matter."

A gust of wind pushed against Isabella's back, pressing her closer to Evelyn, and she swore the shit - this living, breathing thing beneath them - sighed in approval. 

Isabella exhaled slowly, tilting her chin up. "I shall submit to your authority, Lieutenant," she said, "but be warned -" She let her lips quirk into a smirk. "I've been told I'm quite the tempest myself."

Evelyn huffed out a quiet laugh, and Isabella felt it more than heard it. 

Then, as if the ship had lost patience with their restraint, a sudden lurch sent them forward - too close now, Evelyn's chest pressing into Isabella's. Evelyn was solid, firm, but undeniably warm, and Isabella, for all her practiced charm, was momentarily struck silent. 

She caught the brief flicker of uncertainty in Evelyn's eyes, just before a teasing glimpse overtook it. 

"A tempest, indeed," Evelyn murmured, stepping back just enough that the loss of contact felt deliberate. "But I've been sailing through storms for years, Miss Fairchild."

Isabella's smile widened. Oh, but what fun it would be to watch her weather this one. 

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

finesse
verb | fuh-NESS


Definition

: To finesse something is to bring it about, direct it, or manage it by skillful maneuvering.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

The noun finesse originally referred to the “fineness” or delicacy of something’s texture, structure, or workmanship. It later came to be applied to the delicacy of someone’s skill in handling tricky situations before gaining a sense specific to taking tricks in cards. In games such as bridge or whist, finesse refers to a particular stratagem that involves the clever withholding of a winning card. Although the verb finesse is now most often used in situations where a person handles something in a skillful or clever way, its oldest sense emerged at the gaming tables—to finesse in bridge or whist is simply to make a finesse.

[Mtpersson]

Word: Excursion

Lara adjusted her grip on the ledge, fingers raw from the relentless scrape of weathered limestone. The wind rushed off the Aegean, blowing through the cavern's mouth, stirring the scent of salt and earth. Below, jagged rocks jutted out of a black abyss, ready to claim her if she miscalculated.

But she never miscalculated.

With a sharp inhale, she leapt, her body slicing through the air before her hands caught the opposing ledge. Her muscles trembled, but she pulled herself up, boots scuffing against ancient stone.

The entrance to the lost temple of Helios loomed before her, half-buried by time, its once magnificent columns now broken monoliths against the Grecian sky. And there, above the towering bronze doors, the carving she had risked everything to find.

A Phoenix, wings unfurled in defiance, its body ablaze in an eternal cycle of destruction and rebirth. Not just a myth. Not just a metaphor. Ths was real.

She reached out, her fingertips tracing the delicate etchings of fire curling around the bird's body. A symbol of renewal. A warning. A key.

A crackle of static in her earpiece. Zip's voice came through, laced with impatience.

"You sure about this, Croft? Last time you ignored an inscription, ou nearly got crushed by a Minotaur."

Lara smirked. "That was Crete. And, to be fair, it wasn't a Minotaur."

"Right. Just a guy who'd been dead for two thousands years and still had enough left in him to try and kill you."

She ignored him, pressing a hand against the ancient mechanism. The temple groaned, dust billowing as unseen gears lurched to life for the first time in centuries. The Phoenix's eyes, once dark, flickered with an unnatural glow.

Lara exhaled sharpy. "I think I just woke it up."

A deep rumbling, like a beast stirring in its sleep, echoed from the darkness beyond the doors. And then - the first flicker of fire.

Zip's voice crackled again. "Tell me this little excursion of yours doesn't involve another fire trap."

Lara smirked, rolling her shoulders. "Wouldn't be any fun if it didn't."

[Mtpersson]

Word: Canard

"You're joking."

Ben crossed his arms, watching as Lila leaned against the kitchen counter, one sock-clad foot crossed over the other, looking smug as hell. She always looked smug when she had an idea - especially one that would drive him up the damn wall.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she asked, sipping her coffee.

That was a loaded question. She looked like trouble - like every bad decision he'd ever made wrapped in a tank top that barely reached her waist and a pair of sleep shorts that should be illegal. He swore she did it on purpose.

"You want us to start an OnlyFans." It wasn't a question, because she'd already stated it like a foregone conclusion.

She grinned. "We'd make a killing."

Ben exhaled through his noes, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "You realise that's usually for -"

"I know what it's for," she interrupted, setting her coffee down with a deliberate click. "I'm just saying, we already live together. You're hot -"

"Lila."

"- I'm hot," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "We could do something tasteful. Suggestive, not explicit. Like, teasing content."

His brain short-circuited for a second. "You want me to tease you on the internet?"

Her lips twitched, the gleam in her eyes downright dangerous. "I wouldn't say it like that. But...yeah, pretty much."

Jesus. He was too old for this. And she was too damn young, with her reckless ideas and her absolute refusal to see the ways they could go sideways.

"This is a terrible idea," he muttered, but she only beamed at him, like she'd already won.

"That's what you said when I suggested we getting some plants to brighten the place up."

"You killed every plant within the week."

She waved a hand, dismissive. "Details."

Ben exhaled slowly, dragging his gaze over her face, her mouth stilled curved in that infuriating smirk.

"You do realise the second anyone finds out, there'll be rumours?"

"So?"

"So," he gritted, "I can already hear it now - 'Ben's shacking up with his much younger housemate, seduced her, now they're filming their sex life for money.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Like anyone would believe a ridiculous canard like that. Anyway, I'm the one seducing you."

Ben stilled.

Lila let the words hang in the air between them, her smirk deepening.

"You...you cannot just say things like that," he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

She shrugged. "I just did."

Then, just to twist the knife, she pushed up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his jaw before sauntering toward the hallway, coffee in hand.

"Think about it," she called over her shoulder.

[Mtpersson]

Word: Ad-lib

The mic crackled, and for a moment, Riley thought about bailing. Just dropping the thing, making up some excuse, and slinking off-stage before anyone could stop her. But then she saw Gianna in the front row, arms crossed, that half-smirk on her lips that said, Show me what you’ve got.

So, she took a breath, tapped the mic twice, and dove in.

“I was gonna prepare something, but uh…” She chuckled, scratching the back of her neck. “Turns out, I work best under pressure. So, let’s ad-lib this, huh?”

A few chuckles from the crowd. A few expectant faces. And Gianna, cocking a brow, daring her forward.

Riley exhaled. “I could stand here and tell you all how much I love this woman. How she drives me insane with her lists and her labels and her ridiculous party planning. How she somehow manages to be the most put-together person I’ve ever met and still leaves all the cabinet doors open every single time she makes coffee.”

A ripple of laughter.

“But mostly, I just want to say—I love you. And if I have to stand up here and embarrass myself just to prove it? Well.” She shrugged. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”

[Britwitch]

Today's Word of the Day is....

ecstatic
adjective | ek-STAT-ik


Definition

: Someone described as ecstatic is very happy or excited; the person feels or shows ecstasy—that is, rapturous delight.


Weekly Theme

Pirates / Age of Sailing


Did You Know?

If you feel like “a hot air balloon that could go to space” or, perhaps, “like a room without a roof,” you might—with all due respect to Pharrell Williams—be not just happy but ecstatic. In other words: euphoric, over the moon, positively brimming with joy or excitement. Ecstatic has been used in English since the late 1500s, arriving (via Medieval Latin) from the Greek adjective ekstatikós meaning, among other things “out of one’s senses.” Ekstatikós, in turn, was formed in part from eksta-, the stem of such verbs as existánai, “to displace or confound,” and exístasthai “to be astonished or lose consciousness.” That seems an appropriate history for a word that can describe someone who is nearly out of their mind with intense emotion. Eksta-, it should be noted, also contributed to the Greek noun ékstasis, meaning “astonishment” or “trance,” which led to ecstasy (the English word, of course, not the universal feeling).