#or cursed

I found train(ed) in my novel WIP “A Place to Return”:

Still... he takes a moment to read more recent entries instead of the script itself. Owen sounds so excited in them. He's been having so much fun figuring out how to hunt, how to refine his fishing techniques, how to use weapons so he can (shakily, according to his mentor) replicate the skills Leo had trained in before leaving home, how to use magic items. Every other sentence asks a new question, not only curious but also clearly eager to make it so that when they do swap back Leo returns to the best conditions possible.

I found trying in the same WIP, a little before the last excerpt:

"I can... ask her to transfer some money... if you need it?" Kelly is trying so hard to act like the responsible older brother. It's like he's standing there with a handful of sunset berries, dropping a few as he struggles to hand them over. Wait. Not that. On Earth it's an olive branch, isn't it? Like he's holding out an olive branch, whatever that looks like, and hoping his little brother will take the other end.

I found stressed in the script draft of my Sk8 the Infinity Matchablossom fic “Flipping a Switch”, in a scene where most of the Sk8 cast is having a meal at Joe’s restaurant:

Miya: (rolling his eyes): Give him a break, guys. He might be an idiot, but it's not like he controls how busy this place is.

Hiromi: He controls how many employees he has serving people!

Miya: Oh, so now you know what it takes to run a restaurant?

[Hiromi and Miya devolve into an argument about restaurants in general, completely ignoring their friends.]

Reki: Seriously, though, Joe, I was just messing with you. We came here to hang out, not to get you stressed.

Langa: I really am hungry, though.

Reki: Yeah. That's true. But Joe's got work to do, so...

Langa (only a little sad): Yeah.

Kojiro: Thanks, but I don't want to leave any customers hungry. Especially when they're my friends. Just let me get these last few people at the counter, and I'll take your order myself.

I didn’t find intricate in any particular WIP, but I did find it in some worldbuilding for a world in my story collection WIP “Love as Indicated”:

The year on Ait'kulith KIT 1B, in many countries, starts in May because that is the month when common Nightingales, known to have particularly complex/intricate mating songs, begin advertising for mates. Birds in general are seen as heralds of the Goddess of Fate, and nightingales in particular embody the importance of music in this world. Their mating season ends in late August, and so the first 4 months of the year are marked by their singing.

I didn’t find translate in any particular WIP, but I did find it in some worldbuilding about one of my magic systems, Soul Magic:

There are materials available for studying the basics of Soul Magic. These usually recount what other Soul Mages have found useful in the past, like materials that have worked well as vessels for spirits and techniques that have kept souls themselves from losing focus or misinterpreting a mage’s requests/orders. However, there are no materials to translate the language of the dead, which is at the core of Soul Magic itself. Souls speak in a way that simply cannot be translated unless you've learned directly, through sustained exposure to their language – especially from a young age. If you can't speak their language, then trial and error is your best chance to figure out how to communicate. Good luck.

I found front in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, in a scene containing a brief mention of blood:

"You can't even see what's right in front of your face! This is what you want!" Micah opens his eyes and immediately regrets his decision. The shadow walking towards him glimmers with magic and the reflective shine of liquid, only the barest semblance of a human being beneath a coat of blood. There's no trace of David here. He probably hasn't been talking to his actual brother at any point. Just this. It stomps its formless feet across the dirt and reaches out its arms until there's a squish against his chest and a pressure that pushes him toward the ground.

I found frame in an unfinished, untitled short story from back when I was trying to write a complete story every day back in February – about a guy asking a dragon for an insomnia cure:

He catches himself looking around at the source of that blue-green glow, surprised by the sheer size of some of the holo-screens that fill up every open space on every wall in the room. They're not all the exact same size, but a few of them take up so much space that he wonders how they hadn't blinded him the second he'd arrived. The largest screen sits across from the couch, stretching to the corners of its wall. The display itself is either frozen or paused on what looks like a still frame from a movie. The scene shows two people offering wound up circles of flowers and clovers to a third person under a tree in a meadow. Everyone's smiling. The one being offered flowers even looks like they might be laughing. If he could stop holding his breath and make the scene un-pause, he knows he'd hear words and sounds that would... that would... he's not exactly sure what they would do or how long he's been holding his breath, but nothing happens when he starts breathing again and he can't help feeling disappointed.

I found freeze in the second draft of my Danny Phantom fic "Lingering Scars":

She's probably feeling some of the same things he'd felt in that bathroom, watching the marks of his own emotional turmoil disappear and reappear as he'd transformed. Shell-shocked and horrified, realizing that the things they'd thought were simple paths from infliction to recovery are actually more winding trails with forks that lead to unwanted places. He doesn't let his clone linger in that space, turned around at the road behind her and letting its twisting maze overwhelm her. The first time you see it can be a paralyzing and heavy moment. It can freeze you in the most literal way -- even without ice powers.

I found free in my short story WIP "Kiyo":

"Sure thing," I get my own words out as steadily as I can manage. I'm not really sure what else to do, so I place my free hand over the vines on my wrist and gently pat them. "Thank you, too," I realize I'm still talking before I know what I'm trying to say, "I probably didn't do a good job keeping you healthy, but you've done a really good job at... I guess I never said it to you before, actually. Thank you for keeping me alive. That's what you've been doing these past few months, but I didn't say it until now. So. Thank you, Kiyo. You've helped me with so many things, just by being there. I'm grateful for that. I'm glad I got to know you."

I found friend in my novel WIP "To Be Honest":

"You went all quiet. Oh. Oh, did you see a friend and not want to be seen talking to your cousins in front of people you actually like?" Finn gasps, drawing the sound out so Micah can imagine them holding their palms dramatically over their mouth -- vivid enough to make even Micah roll his eyes at the phone involuntarily, "Micah! You're making friends in college? That's amazing!"