3: what work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?
i think i'll go with my first post of the year, inheritance. i started the year off in a pretty bad place and as a result i wasn't doing much writing. so i take a lot of pride in the fact that i got back into it and i actually liked what i produced in doing so!
6: favourite title you used
that's got to be holy meowtrimony for sure. i was very happy with that one haha
12: how many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?
a lot, but i don't know how many i'm actually going to work on next year. right now i'd say there are about a dozen i'd like to complete, but who knows when that will happen :p
i answered this one here but at the risk of overindulging my own vanity, i will answer it again with something else LOL. i like my sentence structure! i did a lot of work on it, on finding ways to utilize sentence length and punctuation to impart tone more subliminally and i do really think it's paid off. of course, it's something i should still be consciously working on way more often than i am, but lately i've been trying to get back into the swing of writing after a long time where i just wasn't doing it, so i'm focussing more on the "have fun" part :')
19: give a hint/teaser about something you’re writing without any context or explanation!
there are...so many options, and i am very bad at subtly. so here is something stupid ooc from the crack fic du jour. one of the best character expansion tidbits x2 gave us was leia sending alvin pepes and i choose to extrapolate that to everyone. leia is a menace and i adore her. she is a day-one discord nitro subscriber strictly for emoji crimes for sure
Stunned, Jude scrolled down to see his friends’ reactions, ranging from shocked frog to Is that a joke…? from Ludger to Who knew the old fart had it in him? from Alvin. The only person whose response was conspicuous in its absence was Rowen’s; the man was far too technologically literate to leave something like this on read. Jude happened to know that he was more glued to his GHS than even Leia was to hers, and Leia had practically invented the secret art of speaking exclusively through text message emotes.
The crash echoed throughout the ranch house, high pitched and loud, and sending a spike of panic down Julia's back. A dull clang followed immediately afterwards as her grip on the spoon slacked, and it clattered to the floor as she turned and bolted out of the kitchen. A frantic call to Elena to watch the stove as Julia took the stairs two at a time.
Now, standing in front of the bedroom door, did she finally try to force her body to calm down some. Rein in the rising panic, force a few deep breaths before turning the handle. It was probably fine. They are probably fine. And barging in on them all keyed up wouldn't help anything.
The hinges squeaked as Julia gently pushed the door open, eyes adjusting to the dim light and taking in the room. What remained of the bedside lamp was shattered into pieces on the floor. The shade had knocked off during its fall, and was laying across the room right next to -
"¡Mierda! Valya!"
There, backed up into the furthest corner of the room, curled into themself was Valya. Knees to their chest, head in their knees, hands gripping at the back of their head. Visibly shaking. And if Julia had to wager a guess, probably bleeding from newly opened wounds.
She didn't miss the way they flinched and tensed at her voice. Forcing her to remember that they're still scared of her sometimes. Terrified of her presence to the point of having trouble being in the same room when they're shaken. It was hard to take in. She just wanted to help, be there for them, and hold them until they felt better. But that didn't always work for them back then, and now it was even further out of the question.
Julia slowly backs out the room and doubles back to the bathroom down the hall. Retrieve the first aid kit from the cupboard, and more painfully slow steps back into the bedroom. Quiet and carful, not her forte, but she'll try her best for Valya.
She can't pretend it doesn't hurt. That seeing the fear in their eyes when they wake up from a nightmare and shakily ask her to step out doesn't feel like the Catastrofeind's blade twisting in her gut all over again. But seeing them like this, she couldn't walk out and wait for them to calm down, reopened injuries or not.
It's an impatient waiting game. Creeping closer and crouching down to their level, shifting to drop down to sit on the floor after a beat. More comfortable for the long game. "Hey," Valya twitches at the sound of Julia's voice, head pushing further down between their knees and not indicating much of anything helpful. "You know, you're supposed to let me know if you want to get out of bed," she gestures to the glass littering the floor, "and that is one way to do it, but you know, just shouting or texting would have been fine." The only response to the joke is Julia's own half chuckle to kill the silence.
It would be so much easier to just go up to them and pull them into a tight hug. To not have to worry about somehow making everything worse just by her being here.
"We've had a lot of good times here," just keep talking, that she could do and hope that it'd work. "Remember when I leaned on the old fence and broke it?" The rickety old posts had collapsed under the added weight, sending Julia crashing down with it. The noise — and subsequent cursing — had spooked half the livestock, who then proceeded to flee through the new opening. "How many hours were we trying to herd everything back home?" She laughs and slides herself forward, inching closer little by little. "Chickens can run faster than I thought."
Julia fidgets with the ports on her hands, scratching where synth skin met metal. Two slides forward and one back again as Valya's arms tense. "Or that time you had to be taught how to eat eggs," the laughter isn't forced this time. She can still see the look on their face as they confidently bit into the fully raw egg. She's sure she hasn't seen them eat one since actually.
"There's always Firecracker. He missed you." Valya was always nervous around the horses. And when the gelding bucked them off, they started holding a personal grudge against him. "Only you would hold a decades long fued with a horse." She got them to ride Valere while they were here recovering from the car crash that broke their legs. It was nice to be able to share that with them. If only they trusted her that much now.
She was almost right in front of them now. They still weren't responding, but they didn't seem to be reacting any worse either. "We danced together the first time here," Julia taps on the floor, the living room is right beneath them. "You were better than I thought you'd be, much better. I didn't say it then, but I kept stepping on your foot because of how surprised I was." It was a clumsy slow dance with the music drowned out by Valya's cursing, but it was still special. They'd never let her touch them for that long before.
Julia is beside them now, close enough to easily reach out and touch them. She pulls her hand back as quickly as she reaches out. They don't like that.
The motion must have caught Valya's attention, their head jolts up and wide, panicked eyes lock onto Julia's. Their breaths quicken, and their nails dig deep grooves into their palms. Their entire body is visibly tensed, coiled tight and threatening to snap.
Julia doesn't move, fighting her own want to reach out and grab them, almost shaking with the effort. It would be so easy to lean in and close the gap, pull them into a tight hug, and just hold them. Sit there with them and make it all better.
"Hey there," she speaks softly, quiet and careful not to startle them further. "It's just me, Valya," Julia swallows the shake to her own voice, "I'm not going to hurt you."
Time passes agonizingly slowly. Julia doesn't look away, sitting there with her hands on her knees, first aid kit nestled in her lap. Eventually, Valya's eyes soften in recognition, dilated pupils slowly returning to normal as their ragged breathing begins to steady.
Once the tears begin falling down their face, does Julia finally reach out and pull them in. Rubbing their back and holding them tighter and tighter and their body shuddlers and shakes.
"You promised you wouldn't leave." Valya's words come out stuttered, staggering in-between breaths, as they try to keep up with themself.
Julia mumbles into their ear, "I just went down to make lunch? You were still asleep." They hadn't been waking until past noon most days. It was still early, and she thought they'd appreciate the food. Besides, she couldn't stay with them after nightmares half the time anyway. She assumed it was fine.
She can feel Valya's nails digging into her back, gripping her with considerable force. "You said you wouldn't leave and I woke up and you weren't there and I didn't know where I was and -" They cut their own increasingly panicked rambling off, burying their face into Julia's neck. "Fuck. I'm. I'm sorry. I shouldn't." They sigh, "this must be exhausting."
"A little," Julia whispers, leaning down to kiss Valya's temple. "But all the best things are." She pulls away enough to grab the first aid kit, holding it up to show Valya. "Can I touch you?"
They nod and allow Julia to shift back and peel off their sweat slicked shirt. "Did you burn the food?" Valya winches as she begins to clean up the tears in their side.
"Of course not," Julia huffs, "mamá has it under control." It won't take long to get them cleaned up, at least enough to do for now, and get them up off the floor and settled somewhere again. More thorough mending can wait a bit.
"Good," Valya leans back and stares up at the ceiling as Julia works, not wanting to watch. "Her cookings better."
Julia just rolls her eyes and smiles. Their attitude certainly isn't suffering, but it would be more concerning if they didn't quip at her. "Good, maybe you'll actually eat then," it's easy to pretend nothing is wrong and throw the banter back at them. "There, good as," Julia smirks, "well, not new, but definitely only lightly used."
Valya looks back down and jabs a finger at her arm, "fuck off and take me downstairs, I'm starving." Julia kisses them again, and pulls them up to their feet, wrapping an arm around them for support. "And get me a shirt, I'm not walking around like this."
Julia begins walking them back over to the bed, avoiding the mess on the floor. "Demading." She stops and helps them into a new sweater anyway, pulling it down over their head and letting them do the rest themself.
"Sorry about the mess," Valya mumbles as they pull the hoodie down and smooth out the torso. The lamp looked old, it was probably an antique or something. Hopefully, not some heirloom.
"It's fine, thing was ancient." Julia helps them back up and guides them towards the door. "It's a sign to redecorate."
Valya pauses and allows Julia to pick them up. She's insisted it was the easiest way to get them down the stairs, and they're still too tired to really protest. "Thanks for putting up with me. Love you."
keltena replied to your post: I keep giving myself a headache reading on my...
Please, Tez, share with us your spider evidence.
The count filled one glass, but in the other he only poured a few drops of the ruby-colored liquid. The bottle was covered with spiders' webs, and all the other signs which indicate the age of wine more truly than do wrinkles on a man's face.
At this point in the narrative, the Count has only just come to Paris a few days before. His steward purchased a house for him on the fanciest street in town and set about redecorating the place to match his tastes. The Count is not shy about the fact that he thinks he’s smarter and cooler than everyone, but even if he wasn’t That Guy his whole plan necessitates a carefully-managed artificial persona that hinges on conspicuous displays of wealth; to get as much access to his targets as he needs, he has to become a fixture of Paris society overnight, and that requires him to attract a lot of attention without losing his mystique. Everything he does has to paint him as a man of eccentric, obtrusive, but unimpeachable style, so that people will keep wanting to be around him to see what he does next: he has to constantly be breaking out expensive and amazing things no one has seen before.
Which brings us to the dilemma: old wine is a status symbol. There is absolutely no reason not to clean cobwebs off a bottle of wine on its way up from the wine cellar except to show off that it’s been sitting in place long enough for there to be cobwebs. Hell, there’s no other reason not to clean your damn wine cellar to prevent there from being cobwebs in the first place. The cobwebs are themselves posturing.
But the Count moved in like a week ago. Can you seriously see this dude trusting the previous owner of his house’s taste in wine? This micromanaging perfectionist jackass would have sent his staff scouring all of France for the nicest and most expensive booze they could locate, because that’s crucial to the image he needs to project.
But if he just bought it, the bottles wouldn’t have cobwebs on it no matter how old they were, and as discussed, this is clearly also unacceptable.
And thus, the only logical conclusion: the Count of Monte Cristo bought all the best wine in Paris, and then, because the effect would not be complete without it being covered in cobwebs, bought a bunch of spiders.
keltena replied to your post “I was all set to finally sit down and read The Count of Monte Cristo,...”
So, given that you're stuck inside for a while with no copy of the book to keep you occupied except this cruel reminder of your enemies' betrayal... Any ideas for how you'll pass the time?
If the last week or so is representative, stress-cooking, stress-cleaning, being irritated at the weather, and stress not-working on my various WIPS.
Nowhere near as good for starring in an adventure novel as becoming an expert at everything and learning the location of secret treasure.
I usually start very easy usually with an idea for the story first. For example: Josner came from teh idea of of “i want a story with a good guy who is usually a bad creature” thus he is a hellhound. But he’s had various rewrties over time. His host I began differently with The design first, i was inpsired by steampunk aesthetic. And I worked from there with him. And the story built up around Gabriel, and Josner fell in, as did my other characters. I really dont’ settle on a final design until i’ve decided all else.
15) Oc thats difficult to draw/write/rp. Draw: Gabriel. He is a biracial man with beautiful textured hair. I struggle drawing his hair and doing it justice the way I want.
Write: Johnathan I struggle writing goodboy characters. He is so good, not like goody to shoes, but he is definatly more “good” than “bad.”
RP: Gabriel is a struggle to rp bc he isn’t gabriel, he’s uaully josner and so idk how to rp gabriel.
“Royalty are spooky demons” is deeply self-indulgent and I love it dearly and I really need to write something substantial for it
RH/Stay Night, because Fate/ is a really fun sandbox to play in
Star Wars AU, because it lets me make my favorite horrifying dysfunctional relationship even more horrifying and dysfunctional
Daemon AU because look, man, I just really like daemon AUs
AU where everyone is in a DnD group and poor stressed-out first-time DM Stocke is trying so hard to get them to go ONE DAMN SESSION without him having to desperately retcon everything to prevent a TPK
