I wish you all a merry Christmas and a happy Ocean Saga release <3

Now go listen to Epic: The Musical.

Six Sentence Sunday/Creative Proof of Life

Thanks for the tags, @alexalexinii, @shrekgogurt, and @that-disabled-princess!

This WIP post is basically a proof of life statement. I can't believe it's been over a month since I posted Chapter 1 of the Haunting of Simon Snow. I'm so overdue for chapter 2, BUT... instead I finished writing the rough draft. I've been attempting to outline, because when I rough a draft, I really rough it up. Ahem.

So I have been working on it, even if there is zero evidence on AO3 as of yet.

How about some sentences? I haven't sliced up chapters yet, so not sure if this is from chapter two or three, but here's a snippet of Simon on the phone with Penny expressing some smooshy sentiments:

I curl up on the couch a bit more, maneuvering myself so my wings aren’t crushed. “I went flying last night,” I confess then, in quiet tones. Like someone might hear me. “You— Oh, but… You can’t! What if someone sees you?” I can actually hear her biting her lip. She wants to spell my problems away, and she can’t. “But I can,” I say, smiling a bit more. “There’s no one around for acres. No one will even willingly drive here on account of the house being haunted. It’s empty. And I’m flying at night.” I say flying in the present tense and realize I fully intend to fly again tonight.

Penny huffs. Her specialty. “I don’t like it.” “I do,” I say easily, warming up to explaining, hoping she’ll understand. “It’s so freeing, Pen. Like the weight of the world can’t hold me down, anymore. I feel… It’s like… It’s like I’m closer to the stars. Like I’m close to stirring up the milky way.” I let out a sigh, my eyes closing as I drop my head back, indulging in that recent memory. “I don’t hate it as much, when I’m up there. You know?” There’s a few seconds of silence, and I open my eyes again. “Pen?” “Hate what?” she asks quietly.

(just in case you were worried I wouldn't be including angst...)

Bit more info on my progress (maybe some whinging) and tags and hellos below the cut!

Fun facts about my ineffecient writing process:

I spent more than one or two hours clearing asterisks from my rough draft this morning. (Because discord has trained me to do *this* when I write instead of this.) Because I'm trying to listen to my draft via screen readers, but it keeps sounding like "asterisk-impossible-star-fuck me" (that's my favorite one honestly, it's supposed to read "Impossible. Fuck me.") which is really annoying (more often than amusing). ANYWAY… what this has revealed to me is that I use "Fuck" a lot, as well as "So good." Ahem. Take from that what you will.

BTW, I'm sure there's an easier way to do that than manually. Please don't tell me for at least a few days, or I might lose it. I am but a mortal being, with a tattered heart and patience worn thin. (Or something.)

OKAY. It's been awhile since I did one of these posts. Time really flies. Gonna give this list my best shot, but as always, open to any who want to participate! (Also adding some new names in for the new year so this is sort of my "Gee I hope this is cool with you" super long tag list. If you'd rather not be tagged, just drop me a missive to that effect!)

@leithillustration @prettygoododds @rimeswithpurple @artsyunderstudy @blackberrysummerblog @hushed-chorus @nightimedreamersworld @best--dress @whatevertheweather @ileadacharmedlife @scribble-tier @imagineacoolusername @brilla-brilla-estrellita @alleycat0306 @angelsfalling16 @fatalfangirl @erzbethluna @tender-ministrations @anxious-m3ss @ebbpettier @bubble-gumhead @facewithoutheart @bazzybelle @theimpossibledemon @aristocratic-otter @mooncello @cutestkilla @annabellelux @ic3-que3n @j-nipper-95 @letraspal @messofthejess @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @supercutedinosaurs @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @bookish-bogwitch @martsonmars @orange-peony @mostlymaudlin @stardustasincocaine @confused-bi-queer

Lastly, quick note/question. Tumblr seems to be remiss in informing me when I've been tagged in other posts. Is this a common issue?

"Some Alpha you are, Patheitc!" Snippet

Pairing: Alpha!KiriBaku x Omega!Reader

Type: Angst, hurt, NSFW if you squint.

Word Count: Snippet - full parts soon

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and love for my work, little snippet here of something i've bee working on, almost finished and super excited to share with you all. My drafts are overflowing currently with all the fix's i've been writing, to stay up to date with everything or want to be tagged, I have a new taglist form follow the link below and it will bring you too it. Much love as always, Tiff <3

Summary: You and Bakugou knew one thing for certain, Kirishima was already in your clan. But with your heat approaching you belived it was time to say it outloud, little did you know Bakugou is a very jealous, insecure alpha and feels threatened...

Permanent Tag List: @jasmine2042003 @jazzylove @amypop122 @misssugarless @plutounderbridges @butterscotch-babie @backoftheletter @gojosslvt @himi-yuu @ebiharachan @black-rose-29

MHA Tag List: @hornehlittleweeblet2 @mystiqueewrites @belzeblitz @moonygeno413 @ace-the-side-character @unlogical-ella @moonseye @vaellee @corruptowlette @pasteldaze @24-7-multifandomsimp @yetoadet @ninetyeightrins @kirissluttypebble @elaineplayz @phantomalchemist @tigerd-draws @kunaigirlx44 @jujutaku @adventures-in-a-heartbeat @cmars59 @upinacloud @yourdragonsfire @uwiuwi @burningbluegalaxy @kirislilwhorewife @kuzusouda-and-terumaru-blog @kat-perdue @ebiharachan @lazyafgurl @bratty-fics @eraserheads-sleeping-bag

TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

“Katsuki, please you're not listening to me” tears stream down your face as you try to get your alpha to understand, yes bringing this up was the best thing to do but also probably not the greatest of timing with your heat coming so soon. 

“No, why should I listen to you, you want another alpha? I am listening y/n? Did I hear wrong?” he questioned you, staring deep into you 

“Well i–”

“Well what ‘mega? Fucking speak!” He shouted at you, pumping anger pheromones into your room. You froze, trying not to flinch at his pheromones because you knew it would hurt him deeply if you were scared. 

“You know what, no I'm not listening to this, I'm not good enough for you? Fine, i’ve a mission starting soon but I think I'll start it today.  your next heat coming up? Spend it alone” with that Katsuki walked out the door, slamming it behind him. You cried and cried, you knew going after him would be a mistake so you didn't. You just stood in your grief. This was not how it was supposed to go. You simply asked Bakugou if he would be open to adding another alpha to your pack, bringing in Kirishima. The only thing yous dont do together is sex? So what would be the harm, you loved Kirishima and you know Bakugou loved him too if he would just admit it. Kirishima spent many a night in your nest with the two of you, scenting each other after hard missions. Your omega called out to him, and you knew Kirishima felt the same about you both. 

Bakugou was right, your heat coming soon, and you were going to be alone for it. For the first time since you and Bakugou got together in UA, you were going to spend it alone and that terrified you. Your omega whined, and your chest felt tight. The tears still fell from your eyes and your lungs were screaming at you to take some deep breaths.

hiiiii hope you're having a good day!!

💥👀💖😈🎢 for the emoji asks, please!!

hi diana my mom who is actually also my child who i am adopting. ily i hope you're also having a grand day!!! thanks for these!!! 💖💖💖

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

AAAAHHH okay i'm putting this first so i can put the rest of the questions and answers under the cut okay. also since you've supported bad day wall so much (thank you for that, endlessly!!!), what i can say about part two is that it will cover summer and then the beginning(? so far?) of seventh year and it will have a happy ending because you and i deserve that and here's a small snippet (but again, pls, grain of salt and all that, because this is a rough draft):

—

"what happened?" james asks, concerned.

"do i look not okay?" lily asks back, not unpleasantly, just genuinely curious.

"kind of."

"how? like, in what way? because i really thought i was holding up fine."

"you're — sad contemplative."

"i have other kinds of contemplative?"

he sits beside her. "loads," he says. "you have judgey contemplative, confused contemplative, life crisis contemplative, nostalgic contemplative... all sorts."

"hmm, and you know all this because... ?"

"um, so i know when not to cross you," he says, like it's ridiculous that she doesn't know. "any wise man would."

that makes her chuckle.

"so what's up?" he nudges her lightly. "why are you sad contemplative?"

—

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

oh damn i'm a baby lol. no but — ok, so, i write for a living, among other things, and i do like my bosses/editors (we have the same writing styles and preferences and i like their work and respect them for their work ethic and command of the field and experience etc etc), so criticism/edits are a normal everyday thing by now they don't really faze me anymore. so i would say i'm okay with it generally. but when it comes to fanfic, which is my happy space and where i'm much more protective of the creative liberty it affords me (i mean, i write in lapslock for god's sake, that's like, not just an invitation for critics to take a piss, i understand it also tends to make readers not take me seriously), i am very selective about which critics and criticisms i make room for. like, i will read/listen to everything, i can't not if it's already there, but if we don't write about the same things in the same way to begin with, i will also just carry on. easily and unapologetically. not to say i don't consider critique and don't need it anymore, just that i've long been able to segregate the actually helpful ones from the ones that just. end up being noise. here's a post from inkskinned about this that i resonate with!

—

💖 What made you start writing?

stories? i don't even remember now. i was an imaginative child, i guess?? i do remember my first ever story, as in like handwritten on a pad lol, it was about this girl who pretended to be her sister because she liked her sister's boyfriend. i was nine??? idk where that came from?? i also was really fascinated with english as a language. i love good sentences. i would come across one from anywhere — a book, a news report, on energy drink packaging, from some executive's speech — and i would send them to my friends, because WAAA LOOK AT THIS SENTENCE AND HOW GOOD IT IS. WHO THINKS OF THIS. and i wanted to try making good sentences as well. so i'm still doing that lol. oh but jily fanfic — um, because of TLAT, i think. there were fics before that, but i think i really fell in love with them through that fic first, and then i fell into a deep pit of other well-written fics, both canon and AU, and found different versions of them and the whole friend group (still anchored to their canon characters/dynamics of course). then i started coming up with my own plotlines and i couldn't find them anywhere, so i started writing my own!

—

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

sirius's "dead by twenty-one" comment in bad day wall for sure :)

—

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

ah, time lapse. i wrote that feverishly for weeks in the summer of 2016 and then it died down and then it picked back up and until now it's still wild. the outline keeps changing as well.

for oneshots, the storm one was also kinda wild hahahaha

thank you so much ily!!! 💖💖💖

We've honestly been talking do much about the time travel au 🤧 but how much of all these asks would actually be in your narrative? What's your canon and what's more of snippets?

OHH yes yes yes, I've taken some of the asks as a way to continue on some plotholes. I've been so focused on answering anon questions that my draft for the 3rd chapter is just collecting dust.

I've considered Steve

I've considered Michael having a awesome rocking rock star voice

I've considered mama Adam baby fever

Michael x Adam endgame ig (unless I fail my exams)

I've considered Adam teasing Lucifer by using his charms to make Michael listen to him instead. Allat jazz

It's all so tiring, but the good kind of tiring. I've never been more grateful for everyone liking this AU.

Hello friends, long time no see! Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy @hushed-chorus @stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @forabeatofadrum @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @blackberrysummerblog @shrekgogurt @orange-peony @facewithoutheart

I will be bracingly honest and say that I've primarily been writing a very strange, extremely interesting OMGCP fic, it's the same holsom time loop I previously mentioned. Only now it's nearly 18k words. Truly I am befuddled at myself. How have I written this many words in two weeks? The initial 5k made sense, as I wrote it on a transatlantic flight. The rest... I would usually attribute that kind of production to poor decisions about sleep, but if anything I've been sleeping more than usual. Anyway! I'm going to put some sentences from that below the cut because I'm actually super into what I'm writing and maybe some of you will read it. Suffice it to say that there's going to be an orgy. 🤣🤷😈

I have also written some Simon's two mums, though it's dwarfed in proportion to the Holsom fic. So here's seven sentences of that (I felt you deserved the resolution of the beat).

"Seconded," one of the wizened women in the corner says, raising her hand as though at a Christie's auction.

"All in favour?"

"Now, wait a minute," says the compact, brown-skinned woman sitting next to Martin Bunce, as every member of the elderly set quickly raises their hand.

"All opposed?"

The woman raises her hand, as does Cadwallader. She says "Davy, this is an absurd…"

"Motion passes," he looks at the Dictaphone, "Fifteen to seven."

WOM politics! Truly the AU that keeps on giving me nuggets of lore to explore. (Though @petedavidsonscock has several times suggested that it may be just how I roll)

Holsom and tags below the cut.

I feel like maybe I should reveal what the twist in this time loop is, because it might be apparent in the snippets, but whatever, I'm not telling. You'll learn eventually. Anyway, uh, turns out it is VERY MUCH harder to write m/m romance/smut when it's not in first person. Knew it would be, still regularly surprises me. Have some pre-orgy banter.

"Let's do it tonight," Holster says. "Strike while the iron is hot."

"How are we…"

"Give me your phone and leave it to me, bro."

And listen, Justin is going to be a doctor, not a politician, so he doesn't see a problem giving his best bro his phone to spam text every girl whose number he's ever gotten to come have an orgy at the haus.

Holster spends the rest of the walk reading drafts of a "Come to our orgy" invite text to Ransom.

Tagging y'all for a Sunday funday or six sentence Sunday, whatever your heart desires. @thewholelemon @raenestee @cutestkilla @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @takitalks @yeonjunenby @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars @nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost  @chen-chen-chen-again-chen  @ionlydrinkhotwater @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl @valeffelees @j-nipper-95 @whogaveyoupermission @wellbelesbian @rimeswithpurple

To celebrate finishing the final draft of my Regulus/Harry/Draco fic, have another snippet. 22k and only took me 1 1/2 years to finish.

The dining room was just the beginning. Back in Regulus' good graces, Draco began a one man campaign to disrupt Harry's peace and quiet and carefully cultivated routine of doing nothing much at all.

He barged into the sitting room where Harry was laying on the sofa, restlessly flipping through channels on the telly without settling on anything. "Enough, Potter," he cried, "I can't take it anymore! It's one thing for you to live like this, but this is Regulus' house, and he deserves better."

Harry waved a hand, only half listening to Draco's dramatics. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm a no-good Gryffindor slob, I've heard your rants many times before. Did I leave my towel on the bathroom floor again?"

Draco threw his arms in the air. "Why am I even talking to you?"

"Beats me."

"Fine. Just do as you're told and no one'll get hurt." 

"Alright, Malfoy. Can I get back to my program now? I was in the middle of something." Which was a blatant lie, but what Draco didn't know he couldn't rant about.

The story is posted now: Sleeping With Ghosts

Tagging to share some WIP snippet if so desired: @starquestingfordrarry @epitomereally @oknowkiss @skeptiquewrites @thebooktopus @thehoneybeet @citrusses @kbrick

I was hoping you would reblog that fic ask game so I could ask you some questions!! #2 for 'se telefonando io potessi dirti addio, ti chiamerei' and 'Home is where your family is', and #11 for 'i hope you do believe me / i've given you my heart' :) and I'll ask you the same thing you asked me: an additional bonus question for any fic, for anything you'd like to say that wasn't covered here!

Oooh these are all fun questions!! Thank you so much!!

2. What scene did you first put down?

se telefonando io potessi dirti addio, ti chiamerei

Thank goodness I still had my notes for this one, because -- as embarrassing as that is -- I admittedly didn't remember! It turns out the very first thing I wrote down was the ending of Rose's conversation with Dorothy (the passage about "sneezing"). I don't think any one scene was put down all at the same time (except maybe for Sophia's voicemail message); I wrote down a series of thoughts / exchanges and then tried to find ways to connect them. :)

Home is where your family is

This one is easy! While the idea in general was sparked by thinking about Janet and Blanche's reconciliation, the actual first scene I wrote down was the one in which Blanche awakes from her nightmare and Dorothy consoles her. It came to me one night and hooked its talons in my brain until I put it to paper!

11. What do you like best about this fic?

i hope you do believe me / i've given you my heart

Oh, this is hard. I honestly love all of it with all my heart -- I had a great time writing it! Perhaps that's it -- the ease with which I wrote it? By this I don't mean it was easy (it wasn't! some passages laughed at me for so long!), but the fact that the main beats of the story and the general tone seemed to find their footing right from the start. At times I felt like I was listening to Blanche and Rose themselves reminisce about what happened, and it was such a fun feeling!

If I had to choose something specific -- it's got to be the final scene in the kitchen, when they discuss how to bring Dorothy into the mix. Their dynamic inevitably got a bit altered during the events of the fic (they were both going through a lot!), but that final scene gave me the chance to bring back some silliness and fun, and I love it so much for that. Blanche and Rose are the epitome of silly x silly for me (unless there's something serious going on, that is!), and I'm glad I got the chance to highlight that.

Right. For the bonus question...

9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

In the first draft of se telefonando, the final conversation between Blanche and Dorothy was going to be much more angry and openly confrontational. Blanche, in particular, was icily furious, and Dorothy ended up completely beaten down by the end of it. I still have a snippet from that original idea:

"You're tired of living in a house?" "Yeah. You see, they have an unfortunate tendency to empty out, after a while." "..." "..." "... Blanche, we --" "We really need to discuss it together, I agree, and we will! I'll bring it up to Sophia and Rose when I see them. Likely tomorrow." "But I--" "You haven't agreed yet? I know. I don't see what you're waiting for, honestly. Why would you want to keep paying the mortgage for this little place, when you've got the marvel that is Hollingsworth Manor to live in?" "..."

Ultimately I decided against this version for a number of reasons. While I think Blanche would turn to anger to deal with heartbreak (particularly in the situation described in the fic), having her lash out like that (being cold to Dorothy, talking over her, all the works) didn't fit right with her character (to me, at least) -- and I felt similarly for Dorothy's behaviour and reactions, too. It all seemed too honest, in a way -- and I really wanted to highlight the miscommunication and the refusal to talk openly about their feelings. I figured a more somber and hidden sadness would be more effective, and when I wrote it down it felt more in-character to me, so I kept the latter version (and had Blanche deal with her anger earlier on, in her monologue).

These were amazing questions, I had a great time answering them! Thank you so much for asking!!

Heyyyyy Simon,

I was wondering about 2, 4, 7, 17, 29 and 37 for the fic ask thingie (a lot of numbers as per usual, just answer the ones you want to answer) also, I only just realised you were doing them so I'm a little late

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!

Ohhhh, Sophia! Thank you so much for these! And no worries at all, I'm literally so late with answering all of these 💀 I wish you the best possible weekend 💜💜💜

I'm gonna skip the one's I've already answered :)

2: Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Idk if it counts because I am like... in the middle of writing it, but one thing I really love to read, with Wilmon especially, is the whole breaking-up-but-we-can't-let-each-other-go spiel. Does that have a catchy name? Idk, but I LOVE IT.

4: How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Well the fic ideas that are actually currently on and off being developped into actual writing are like... 3? Most of the others are either rough ideas, or just collections of scene drafts.

Okay listen, this is one of my more... out there ideas, because I do occasionally love a very messy and angsty story and this would be my attempt at doing something like that. To stick to the theme of the answer above, because this is like a lighter version of this beloved trope: I started this oneshot quite some time ago that is about a version of Wille and Simon that actually stayed broken up back when Wille told Simon that he gets that he's not in love with him anymore. But they end up meeting again after they finish school and essentially start hooking up again, because they can't quit each other. Lots of complicated feelings and resentment ensue. Lots of denial of feelings and attempts to get back at each other for past mistakes. Nobody asked for a snippet, but here I go:

Simon’s gotten into the habit of lying. Says he’ll have to be back in his apartment soon, says he can’t possibly stay overnight, that he needs to get up early for classes tomorrow. Says he can’t on weekends because that’s when Sara comes over. Or that Ayub comes to visit him. Or that he’ll have to take an extra shift at the café. Wilhelm never questions him, never really pushes, just adjusts his schedule somewhat and ends up parking his car down the alley from Simon’s apartment building on a Tuesday evening, Wednesday evening, any evening Simon hasn’t given an excuse for. It’s bitter-sweet. There’s something thrilling about the fact that the Crown Prince will roll up any time of the night just to get his fix of Simon, no matter the ridiculous restrictions Simon gives him. It feels good to be the one calling the shots for once. But the satisfaction never lasts.

7: Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Okay it just took me AGES to find something else that's not mostly dialogue or straight up porn to paste here:

Simon's skin feels so warm and welcoming, and Wilhelm's body feels like it's been shaped specifically to come to rest right here, his upper body snug against Simon’s and sharing his breath. Inhaling the warmth and the sweetness Wilhelm has come to associate with him, even after the short time they've been close in this way, this very physical way. Simon's cradling Wilhelm's head in his hands, Wilhelm has one of his on Simon's hip, and he’s tracing the dips and crevices of Simon with lazy but careful fingers, just like he did the morning after their first time. He wants to remember every bump and every curvature and he makes a silent pact with himself to do this every time, because he doesn’t ever want to forget a single thing about this body, this boy who’s lying here with him. His other hand is on Simon's neck, pulse point just beneath Wilhelm's thumb, and the barely noticeable rhythmic movement is strangely grounding to Wilhelm. Wilhelm feels himself breathing in and out, trying to match his breathing to the pulse, feels like there’s a strange kind of calmness radiating from the body below him, and he feels it slowly crawling into his as well.

This is from chapter 2 of You crave the Applause / Yet hate the Attention and while I do have my problems with it now, a few months later, I still just love love LOVE a soft intimacy moment. I love the idea of them just trying to take in every sensation and learn everything about each other, in and out. And well, so I wrote something like that.

I've already answered 17 & 29 and nothing more original to say about them :)

as for 37: talk about your current wips.

I also already did that, but I won't pass up a chance to do it MORE, hehe. Soooooo the one I'm trying to get done next is the sequel to Lavender Haze because... God, do I love my two crushing idiots from the club <3

I can't wait to put them in awkward situations, like when Rosh tries to enter her apartment, only to find that a strange, blonde woman won't let her. Or when Wille's finger slips while he's just trying to scroll through social media. Or when we don't only have one orange sweater type situation, but two (!) shirts involved.

Please ask me some fun fic writer asks <3

*taps microphone*

So......finished my first draft of the Slytherin Lily fic (currently tentatively titled i'll be fine, i'll be good). As a thank you to all of you who listen to my incessant rambling over it....I've decided to post an XL snippet in celebration before I get into the weeds editing.

So with that said...

I wish I could make this poll 48 hours, but alas... I'll probably post this snippet Monday, so if for some reason it closes before you vote, just leave a comment and I'll count your vote!

Sentences or Sketches or Something... Sunday

Hello strangers! It's been a long time since I last did a progress post of any kind - thank you everyone who's continued to tag me so I don't get left behind! And thanks to @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @blackberrysummerblog, @thewholelemon, @mooncello, @monbons, @prettygoododds, @shrekgogurt, and @youarenevertooold for tagging me, today. (I feel so loved! <3) I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone's up to.

It's still Sunday in my neck of the woods, though just barely. And yes, I've used my "sentences" banner, but... It's a bit more chaotic than that. Honestly, I wasn't sure about doing a post today because I'm a bit all over the place, but then I figured... eh, why not? I am all over the place LOL.

So here's your snippet from the collective efforts of Jo's creativity, lately, under the cut. (Because I ramble...)

On the Haunting of Simon Snow... I haven't forgotten about it! Nor is it abandoned. As I keep telling anyone who will listen, I have a rough draft, which basically amounts to an outline, meaning I have way too much figured out to just let the story fade away. XD I attempted to work on Chapter 2 earlier this month, and ran into some roadblocks - of the architectural variety.

So I've started to research manor houses and English estates like mad. I'm going to do the thing. I'm going to figure out Pitch Manor. Why? Because my brain won't let me gloss over paltry details such as the location of Simon in the grand scheme of the house, or how and where the roof attaches and where that tree is going to be. It's annoying, but I figure... This is a fun puzzle, too. One I hope to be able to share with the fandom at large once it's complete.

This little snippet is from an early design I've since scrapped (but you never know what might come around, again.)

"That's great, Jo, but how about some sentences?"

Okay. Ahem. Here's... some Simon sentences... that have just been scribbled out. *cough*

I sit there and listen to the man on the other side as he blathers on about extra fees associated with estate deliveries due to distance and blah blah bloody fucking blah. I wish he’d just say it. Just say 'this is the Pitch Manor tax.' No one ever does. But everyone charges it.

I HAVE WRITTEN SEE THERE'S PROOF.

Okay, moving on...

The other thing I'm working on is illustrations for @mooncello's beautiful fanfic, "Lost Boys." I just posted art from Chapter 1 here, and I'm working on art for Chapter 2, now. The story is stuffed to the gills with absolutely gorgeous imagery, so choosing what to illustrate is a challenge. Hopefully it all works out, and in the meantime, here are a couple doodles.

(I was telling Heath last night... this morning...? about how all illustrations start out as baby sketches XD These are the little babes in the creative nursery, basically. Also I have never posted baby sketches before and I'm kinda nervous about it. But. Well. >.> )

THERE YOU HAVE IT. A couple of my reasons for being so entirely absent from all other aspects of the fandom. (Also I got hit with the flu super hard, but doing better now!)

Tags for future wipsdays/hello's! @leithillustration, @artsyunderstudy (thank you for listening to me ramble about Pitch Manor), @erzbethluna, @nightimedreamersworld, @cutestkilla (thank you for also listening to me ramble about Pitch Manor sorry I'm reworking it again XD), @angelsfalling16, @fatalfangirl, @hushed-chorus (thank you for being my secret-garden-enabler XD), @rimeswithpurple, @best--dress, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @scribble-tier, @imagineacoolusername, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @alleycat0306, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @tender-ministrations, @katmiscellanious, @anxious-m3ss, @bubble-gumhead, @ebbpettier, @facewithoutheart, @bazzybelle, @theimpossibledemon, @aristocratic-otter, @ic3-que3n, @palimpsessed, @raenestee

Hi and happy new year 🌺🌺🌺

For the wip game:

I'm really intrigued to know more about these : 3,8 and 13 (sorry for being greedy 😅)

Please

happy new year anon!

not only do i love that you asked about more than one WIP (i am greedy with you), i loooove these choices because i just updated the work that is #3, so i'm knee deep in it emotionally. it's 'everything everywhere all at once', my money lender au! i have 5-10 drafts going at any time for this story because writing a new chapter helps me simplify the plot. then i have to write that down and cross reference against the clues i already published.

eeaao is very dear to my heart because it was my second foray into fanfic writing after more than a decade and my first multi chapter work. i get a unique thrill from reader engagement with it. finishing it is going to be a life accomplishment for me because of the amount of time i've spent on it (a year) and the very real plans i made in september to discontinue it. we're all good now though, with things finally falling into place for the remaining 1.5 chaps.

i'm posting a snippet from y's take on things which is his version of eeao, made unique by the context he brings to their interactions. i love this scene so much that i actually use it as a treat, telling myself i can publish it only if i finish the main work lmao. so i'm THRILLED you asked about it anon, thank you 🥰🥰

i will reply to the other WIPs in your asks shortly but for now, enjoy the snippet under the break.

after the breakup, yohan has wet dreams like never before. he dreams of gaon. of laying him on the bed with reverant hands and tying him to it so he can't leave. of ravishing him while gaon moans and cries and begs for more. of releasing gaon at the end, only for him to climb into yohan's lap greedy for kisses and with whispered promises that he'll never leave, that he'll stay by yohan's side no matter what. because he loves yohan.

the dreams are incomprehensible without a structured timeline or form. he cooks for gaon and feeds him with his hands in some. he binds gaon's wrists together under the younger man's besotted gaze in another. they drive down an endless road at night, gaon curled into the passenger seat, his forever companion. 

only once does yohan dream something so terrible that he does something unbelievably cruel in real life to offset the feeling and leads a man to believe his family is burning alive in their home to prove a point. and the thing he dreams of is raising a family with gaon. 

he wakes up thrashing, in sweat stippled sheets twisted around his waist and legs. stumbles out of bed and into clothes and away from a home saturated with gaon's presence. for two whole weeks after that, he avoids his house. isaac picks up on this strange energy within the first week, becomes downright meddlesome by the third. yohan rebuffs his well-intentioned efforts and throws himself into his work, into the hunt, the remaining stronghold of his life because it's where gaon cannot be found. 

or so he thinks. he's just wrapped up a successful negotiation that gives him significant editorial oversight over a prominent but heavily indebted news company, and is leaving the VIP section of the club when he sees him. gaon's on the lower floor, sound and strobing lights separating him from yohan. he's sitting on a bar stool, talking to another man. being propositioned, it's obvious. the man has his hands jammed in his pockets but has leaned close, eagerly making a point and staring at gaon with a desire yohan knows well. 

how could he not? gaon looks lovely, even though he's tied up in a suit while everyone around him is in clubbing clothes. he's swirling his drink one handedly and listening with his head cocked to the side, inviting but not reciprocating. 

from his vantage point on the upper floor, yohan catalogues all this in the brief look he allows himself. then he walks straight out of the bar and to his waiting car. he'd let gaon so could live his life. without yohan. ergo, with someone else. 

yohan's many things, but what he's not is unselfaware. so he doesn't bother berating himself in the time it takes to switch his attire for a different kind of hunting outfit, black sweats and a hoodie. 

gaon's place looks the same, yohan notes from where he's hidden by the shadows across the street. it's also dark. 

which doesn't mean anything, he tells himself with a faint tinge of desperation. gaon could've gone bar hopping. but yohan remembers the closed line of his body even as let the man come too close, how gaon's wrists were concealed by two layers when he bared his skin willingly for yohan. 

maybe yohan wasn't as self aware as he told himself.

this line of thought is immediately blown apart when gaon rounds the bend with his friend, cheeks flushed by alcohol and the cold. yohan crushes his cigarette under his sneaker and stares hungrily. gaon catches yoon soohyun when she stumbles -- a show, yohan thinks meanly, given how sturdy her boots are -- and pulls her into an affectionate one-armed hug, tugging her up the stairs and into his apartment. 

soohyun is my oldest and closest friend, yohan recalls as he watches the house. the bedroom light turns on. we're not romantically involved, nor have we ever been. 

platonic, yohan reminds himself. but a platonic friend could fill a sexual need just fine, albeit insufficiently. this is good, he decides. it means gaon's moving on. somewhat. and not with the stranger from the bar.

he's not fooling himself that the thought of gaon pushed up against his kitchen counter by someone else, for someone else to undo his tie inbetween laughing kisses and mess up his carefully styled hair, tug his shirt out of his trousers filled yohan with sick violence. it was the sex, but it was more than that. it was knowing how unselfconscious and uninhibited gaon was during sex. the experience opened him up in such a way that a part of him sunk into his surroundings, including the body of his lover. yohan felt it every time he left gaon, that gaon had deposited a piece of himself in yohan's hands, permanently changing them both in the process.

the lights in the bedroom go out. 

yohan swallows. 

a moment later, the living room lights turn on, a lithe frame passing near the windows before everything goes dark again. it means he hasn't moved on yet, yohan thinks, drawing his armor around himself again. but the hurt comes from deep within, a feeling breaking him apart like a tree root piercing concrete. 

yohan should've pushed him away earlier. before he got attached. he slinks into the alley and heads home, feeling worse than better.

and then one day, just as chaotically as gaon walked out of yohan's life, he walks back in.

also. idk if i've asked this before but i am Asking about falling stars 👀👀 please feed me

you did!! but it didn't have this title yet (and im also not sure of the title yet but i needed a name for the doc lmao)

so this started out as an idea of crowley and god having a conversation sometime after the final fifteen. here a very short snippet that's literally the first this i wrote for this (and yes it's inspired by a quote from a book ik):

“Would you live a lie?”

“Only if it makes me happy.”

“And does it?”

well i spend some sleepless nights thinking about this idea and it kinda developed into a semi plot that has a lot to do with pre-fall crowley (in no way was this the initial idea i think this is very funny lol) um well of course it has lots of angst in it and here's a lil snippet from something that will probably be the first chapter (very rough first draft tho):

“Hello, dear caller! You’ve reached A. Z. FELL & Co. Regrettably, I seem to have stepped away momentarily, but fret not, your inquiry is of utmost importance to me. Please do leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I shall endeavour to return your call posthaste. Thank you, and have a most splendid day!”

Crowley sighed. Clicked the end call button. Dialed the number again. 

It rang. 

Once. 

Twice. 

A third time. 

“Hello, dear caller! You’ve reached A. Z. FELL & Co. Regrettably, I seem to have stepped away momentarily, but fret not, your inquiry is of utmost importance to me. Please do leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I shall endeavour to return your call posthaste. Thank you, and have a most splendid day!”

He closed his eyes. It was ridiculous, really. He knew Aziraphale wasn't there, wasn't listening. But still, he couldn't resist the temptation to hear that voice, to pretend, if only for a moment, that things were different.

He dialled again. 

“Hello, dear caller!”

The tugging at his heart became almost unbearable. 

“You’ve reached A. Z. FELL & Co.”

The words felt like a hand closing around his throat.

“Regrettably, I seem to have stepped away momentarily, but fret not, your inquiry is of utmost importance to me.”

He couldn’t breathe. 

“Please do leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I shall endeavour to return your call posthaste.”

He couldn’t feel.

“Thank you, and have a most splendid day!”

Silence. His fingertips, robbed of sensation by the weight of his emotions, faltered in their attempt to end the call.

A beep. Then silence again, more deafening than any sound. It was too much, too painful to hear.

"Aziraphale," he finally choked out.

No answer. 

Crowley slumped against the wall, the reality of it all too heavy on his weary shoulders. He clenched his jaw, fighting against the lump in his throat as he struggled to regain his composure. With trembling fingers, he ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Hey i actually did a thing

So I've been obsessing over my wip At The Moon's Whim and Bellamy and so I decided to get some drafting done. Well, it's also Flash Fiction Friday! So I figure I'll submit a little snippet for this week! @flashfictionfridayofficial

This week's prompt is On The Edge. There's only one trigger warning for this one and that is a very abstract description of a near-death experience.

Bellamy wasn't in the business of lying to herself. Humanity, for centuries, had lied to itself regarding death. There was no preparing for death, no readying oneself. Any belief to the contrary was simply false, a pathetic attempt at making that step over the edge just a little less paralyzing. Bellamy wouldn't lie to herself. She wasn't ready. The edge between life and death was really quite fragile. It wasn't so much of a gaping precipice but a line in the sand. One that could never be uncrossed. Standing at that edge was disorienting, Bellamy found. Between the rain and the waves and the screaming wind, finding the edge wasn't supposed to be easy. Yet, Bellamy knew it to be familiar. She could find the line with her eyes shut if she so pleased. With every step towards death, the winds died down, the rain trickled slower, and the waves calmed. The voices around her hushed, and Bellamy struggled to listen as she walked towards the edge. They were saying something, the tone sounded so familiar. Was she missing something important? The voice, now just one, hiccupped, and Bellamy knew from the jolting in her chest that it wasn't what the voice was saying that was so important. It was who the voice belonged to. That voice, it shivered and strained against the winds whipping around Bellamy. Its timbre grew shrill and high before returning to a mumble. Bellamy stopped. If she stood still, if she stayed away from the edge, perhaps she could hear what the voice said. The voice fell to a whisper. She knew the woman the voice belonged to, a woman Bellamy had tried very hard to ignore. She took a step back. The winds howled, the waves pummeled the sand, but the voice grew clearer. "Bellamy!" And she opened her eyes. Bellamy hadn't recognized her eyes were even closed, but now that she could see, she understood the rain and the waves to be real, lashing at her skin. Had she stepped over that edge in the sand? This woman, she couldn't think of her name, smiled too beautifully to be real. An angel, her glittering, clever brown eyes welled over with tears. "Bell, Bellamy," she whispered, voice garbled with the sob held deep in her chest. "You can't leave me, Bell." Bellamy's hand moved on its own. Whatever strength she held in her weak body, she focused to lift her arm. Her fingertips brushed the woman's cheek, and she clasped at Bellamy's hand like a lifeline in the water. Her lips trembled as her sob pushed itself up. Her body hunched over Bellamy, shielding her from the weather. "Don't try to speak." The woman turned her cheek and pressed a kiss to Bellamy's palm. "Bellamy," she gasped her name like a desperate prayer, dancing across the lips of this otherworldly being. Spoken with such fervor, Bellamy could mistake her name for the divine.

I've had a story in my drafts for a really long time.

I have so many things to do for university, projects, exams and so on, and I don't have time to do anything else, but once the session has ended, I'll surely complete it! Do you remember this post?

The story I have is going to be the full plot of this concept! I have the first part ready, here's a snippet!

Link and Zelda had just found some ruins under the castle. Zelda suggested to investigate, as always. She really loved doing researches, being a scholar, and now that she was a teacher too, for all those kids, she was really, and seriously, happy. He often found himself thinking about their own possible future kids, but didn't tell her, they had just gotten together. When she asked him if they could share the house, he couldn't and of course wouldn't ever want to say no. Maybe it was a bit small for them, Zela needed a study room for all her stuff, and he surely needed more space for his weapons and shields. He should find a better one. Maybe he could ask Hudson and Rhodson. He had to have a trip to Tarrey once this research under the castle was finished! The walls were covered in murals, depicting various eras. People descending from the sky, people during what looked like a ceremony, a mural depicting a festivity and tiny beings, the first appearance of Ganondorf, the era of the shadows, and the era of the huge war. Where the walls didn't have murals, statues almost as tall as the ceiling decorated the rooms and corridors. They depicted a man with mustaches and a long tunic, and a woman with a dress and tattoos. They also found one different statue, too damaged to be recognizable, but it surely wasn't that man or that woman. Both Link and Zelda guessed it must have been destroyed on purpose by their ancestors. Maybe, it was the menace of their time, like Calamity Ganon for them.

A set of stairs and a really narrow corridor made them go even further down. They found themselves on a balcony thing in a room with a huge green light the shape of a hand, gripped in what looked like a really old dead body, skin and bones, but with long hair. Zelda wanted to take some photos, get a sample of hair from the body maybe to know how old it really was, and mostly she wanted to know if the hand was pure light magic or maybe it was physical too. Link told her it was dangerous, she didn't listen. He, while reaching for her, shouted the phrase again. "I SENSE DANGER! DON'T GO!" It was too late. The dead body was somehow revived, the light hand disappeared and... she was falling. He hadn't saved her, he had jumped off to the void in which his princess, scholar, other half, fell, and the hand appeared right behind him and brought him back to the surface. The Master Sword was broken, and he had lost an arm in the process thanks to what looked like an enhanced malice Zelda had called "gloom". Link woke up and found himself in what looked like a temple. It was just a room, a huge round room with tall walls. There was a pedestal there, that looked pretty much like the one for the Master Sword, but older. Though, there was nothing there, other than some torches around the pedestal. Feeling lost, he impulsively tried to wield the broken sword, but as soon as he looked at himself for the first time, he noticed he had only his underwear on, and his right arm was gone. Instead, he had what looked like a prosthesis, but filled with the same light magic of the hand. He tried to move it and it worked. It looked like an old sheikah tech but it wasn't even a bit rusty, and he could sense it was made to contain more power than what it actually had. What was that? Who did that? Who saved him and literally replaced his injured and hopeless arm with an old but new sheikah tech?

Suddenly, a voice sounding like an old man got his attention. He had seen spirits before, but this... he couldn't see anyone. The voice presented itself as Rauru, and Link knew he had read about someone named Rauru somewhere... right! Zelda said he was the first king of Hyrule! Rauru informed Link that place was once adored and praised by every population. There, the first hero, chosen by the goddess Hylia, had wielded the Goddess Sword for the first time, and forged her into the Master Sword, the sword that banishes evil. During the eras, the original temple, as well as another huge one, the Sealed Temple, got buried and later the temple of Time was built over them. Now, Link was in the Depths, under the Great Plateau. Rauru invited him to go out and look at the magnificence of the temple. A huge statue of the goddess, that, while not having any power source, emanated a celestial light, enough to see the building perfectly, and even clear a portion of ground around it. The Sealed Temple was in front of it, the light of the goddess temple illuminated it too. There was grass, there were flowers around both the temples, but where the light didn't reach, there were only cold stones and dirt. All around, in the distance, he could see gloom encrusted to tall stone and dirt walls that seemed to reach the top, the "ceiling". And probably monsters, but he wasn't in shape to fight. He wasn't still acquainted with the hand, and arm of course, and his only weapon was the decayed sword. As Link could see, there was no exit from there. The entrances to the depths, as he had had time to see before the research, were huge chasms covered in gloom, too high to be reached by anyone, and even if he did manage to reach them, the gloom would have killed him in few seconds. One of the chasms was about in the centre of the enclosed area.

Right there, standing on the floor, was a strange-looking smaller statue. This one, unlike the temples, was rusty and some pieces were clearly missing. The bottom of the statue looked kind of like a stand for something, but the subject was missing, and Rauru instructed Link to go find a stone bird. After finding the stone bird, he had to put it back on the stand. Link couldn't do anything but accept. The bird statue was restored, but still old and without any sign of power. Rauru's voice instructed him to find 3 stone tablets. they were once used by the very first hero to create beams of light, capable of breaking the cloud barrier and activate the statues. Now, their power had surely faded out, but maybe the power of the 3 of them combined could at least make him go back to the surface. Link finally had to fight some monsters with the broken sword and with what he could find around the area. It felt like the beginning of his first adventure, like if he was still unexperienced, goofy, and so damn tired. He had to do it. It was an enclosed space, but big enough to host one huge Goddes Statue Temple and the Sealed Temple, and a vast space around. Some enemies had decayed but still functional weapons, he stole them. The 3 tablets were found in different spots. When he found them all, Rauru told him to go put them in the Goddess Temple. A stone panel with a missing rectangular piece emerged from the ground. The tablets were put together and they fitted. Outside, a blue light beam had appeared right in the middle of the chasm, bathing the bird statue with holy light, it was now as good as new and ready to be used. A treasure chest appeared there, with his paraglider, sewed and taped with white and sky blue pieces of cloth and sewing threads. That style was surely from another culture.

Link couldn't imagine the power of that light beam was still strong enough to launch him right to the sky. With the help of his paraglider, he landed safely on a floating island. There, he saw the source of Rauru's voice. The first king's ghost was exactly like one of the statues he and Zelda had seen under the castle. The white mustache, the long orange vest, the wise face. He was now standing before him. He could see a huge palace on another island. Somehow, he knew he had to go there. Rauru nodded. That palace was once the home of a sky tribe that refused to go to the surface when Hylia told them to, and now it was a temple, to remember those who gave their life to protect the land and what's good, from the depths to the sky. Link had to go there, in that temple as old as the kingdom itself. Someone was waiting for him in there. Though, the sky islands weren't reachable with a simple jump, he had to build devices. Rauru informed him that the construct hand was in fact able to hold more power, and increase its abilities. It wasn't just a hand. The sheikah, with the help of the Hylians and some familiar robots, the scrappers or, as they renamed them, the constructs, had built devices infused with Hylia's holy power. They had no equals, because Hylia herself had given them her power time ago, in her mortal form. Only the sages could restore his new hand, as Hylia had transferred each facet of her powers to them, chosen by herself and the 3 goddesses. Rauru told Link he could restore one power, being the original sage of light, and moreover, her son.

WKFJSA your WIP Wednesday post is an absolute delight to read, thank you 😂😂😂 can I hear a bit more about #6 and perhaps persuade you to share a snippet if I ask very very nicely?

i'm glad to hear it! the thing i have really missed about being on tumblr is being fucking sillygoofy about my own fic. you have to be an adult in the comments, y'know, and there's only so much room in an author's note for Japes and Goofs when you have to make time to outline non-tag warnings and link song attributions and thank your prompter and/or beta and flash an In Tonight's Performance The Role Of X Will Be Played By card as necessary and—

anyway.

#6 was indeed begun in my evernote drafts while waiting for the Fall Out Boy concert to begin and slowly sinking under a dose of unprescribed downers. i think maybe Pat Stump and Pete Wentz are not good at writing, like, "music"—many of those melodic lines are 100% reliant on "i have the range, stamina, and lack of understanding of what constitutes healthful singing of 23-year-old Patrick Stump" in order to function—but some of their word salad lyrics do make great titles, and except to dream sweet of me was kind of a banger from first principles. but then i was like "oh maybe this is my chance to drop while you're orbiting, might i? a potential fic title i've been holding in reserve for a few years now." but THEN i was like "in the spirit of continuing to tick boxes on my nonexistent List Of Languages I've Used For A Fic Title, and also in the spirit of what actually happens in the fic, why not trína chéile, le chéile, claochlaithe?" vote now on your phones!

okay but what is the fic actually ABOUT. right. what the fic is actually ABOUT is, i believe @tickldpnk8 commented on suffer that hurt that they wanted to see Lucienne tell Dream about her "pleasant" "conversation" with Desire, and to know how that would go. for my part, i didn't want to end revisionsverse without at least one more tender moment between Dream and Luce, because as much as i joke about this being the "Dream talks to all the women in his life au," the Danny/Luce relationship is really the heart of the thing. i also wanted there to be some reciprocity for Luce's courage in suffer that hurt (and during the years of Morpheus' captivity).

something that i think is not super important to fandom at large, but which is very important to ME, is the acknowledgement of female characters of color's emotional labor—not just "wow! you are so girlboss and yass kween and Greta Gerwig Barbie, just like we always knew you were!" but like, "you were brave and strong and i know you didn't really have a choice, but it matters that you endured, let me help you hold that for a while. i see you and i love you." it's the seeing that matters the most to me. not the assumption that She's Always Got It In Her, not the unbroken fortitude, but the acknowledgement of the person underneath. and like, Luce has seen the person underneath all of Dream's competing positionalities so much in this series—has helped shape that person for the reader in a lot of very real ways—so i wanted to get Dream looking back at her, through his own eyes, and showing us the person he loves.

"okay but i'm asking what HAPPENS in the fic. what is the PLOT" THEY CUDDLE IN BED WHILE DREAM CASUALLY HAS A SERIES OF VIVID HALLUCINATIONS. THIS IS A NORMAL DATE NIGHT FOR THEM.

“Where are you now, love?” You are drifting weightless and silent through the soft-edged dreams of a floating cnidarian, the constant pulse-pulse-pulse of your meandering path through space the only defining line between your body, your mind, and the vast careless collective of the open ocean— —and you are stalking along at the side of one of the lesser nightmares as it pursues a child through an alien, twilit forest, tasting fear-sweat smeared over the flat violet plane of a teardrop-shaped leaf, marking the depth of footprints in the leaf-litter, listening for panting breath and for the impact of a small body against the ground as your quarry stumbles for the final time— —and you are stone, molten and white-hot, the burning heart at the core of a newly formed planet which dreams of cooling rains and columns of cloud and the first trembling breath of a living thing that might one day tread the ground of you, the world of you— “I am here with you.” “Well, I know that’s not true,” Lucienne says with a sleepy chuckle. “Or not entirely, anyway.”