#ANYWAY this snippet above is from is my constant WIP

[bzedan]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by @slusheeduck a bit ago but hooray memory and time aligned so!

I'm tagging @naryrising, @badgerette, @simply-sithel @forestofsprites, @samhausenn--if you feel so inclined you're all a mix of WIP types also!

Since it's Flash Fiction Feb I'm mostly poking around with that, and my AO3-destined fics are mostly, ah not quite there yet (we are not counting the one on the Alphasmart rn, that's like my Flinstones fic).

[ID: A screenshot of tabs in Visual Studio Code. They are named: Jonathan Gold.txt, unfilmed-episodes.txt, hallmark-hench.txt, Israel Hands was no fool. He knew that t... /end ID]

So here's a bit of original:

She told me that it was on the house and she thought I might like to try something new, calling it a “seasonal special.” I let it cool to a safer temperature while making inroads on my chowder. The pastry was sealed perfectly, no leaking gravy giving me a clue as to the contents.

When it felt safe to pick up, I did, gingerly, my fingers causing a cascade of buttery flakes onto the plate. I love empanadas or, more truly, any culture’s hand pies. That all humans have, at some point, decided to wrap their favourite starches around fillings for crunchy treats on the go is something beautiful to me. Eagerly, but carefully, I took a bite and was rewarded for my earlier patience by a filling that was hot but not the searing temperature of savoury lava. Like all hand pies it’s the second bite that really tells you what it’s all about. There was a rich oiliness of meat that surprised me, having become accustomed to the lighter textures of the type of fish found in local waters. It was paired with something dustily herbaceous, and I guessed it was a blend of the wild sage and mint that competed for what dirt they could wrest from the razor-sharp sea grass. But, other than that, this was very much a meat that relied on its own juices, salt, and time for flavour.

Looking into the empanada as I chewed, admiring the proportion of gravy to meat I saw it was the kind of dark flesh that chars almost purple-black, bordering a rich red. Despite the clear presence of those richly-tinted myoglobin proteins there was undeniably the flavour of the sea to it. I liked it very much and spent the rest of my meal alternating between my chowder and the pastry, ending up full enough that I grabbed a coffee to keep me from a post-meal nap.

In my satiated bliss I forgot to ask the server what the meat was from. As I walked past the sculpture park to my cottage with the green trim I resolved to remember to inquire on my next visit—and to possibly see what other seasonal specials were now available to me.

The coffee, sugary as it was, made with the small café’s dedication to its syrup collection, was enough to keep me going not only past my body’s desire for a siesta but into the parts of the night that are rightly the next day. When I finally let myself lay down, I was certain I’d see the sun rise but almost immediately slipped into dreams. And with them, I saw the creature for the first time.

There are things I can't tell you and things I won't tell you, for my safety and for yours, respectively. I'd thought myself inured to the gut-dropping realisation of how small humans are against the deep and the things that dwell there. As I've said, this coast and its waters were as much home to me as if I'd been raised there. Confronted with expanse beyond easy comprehension at the most I felt a momentary doubling as if a quick measure were being taken, a comparison. And, on realising that I was but a mote in the eye of the sea I moved on easily.

Thrown as I was into this apparent dream there was no subconscious preparation, and my reaction proved my confidence a liar. I've already described my initial and subsequent reactions to the beast and won't bore you with them again, but I do want to impress that even semi-prepared with a life familiar to the unknowable I was humbled. I woke with my alarm at my usual time feeling hollowed out, my mind unable to piece together what I'd seen.

[palimpsessed]

Thank you for the tag back @nick-eyre ! I am rabid for your Simon and Lady Ruth hug WIP 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 #Let Simon have a grandma who loves him 2021! I am also counting @stillmadaboutpetra ’s open tag because I always love seeing what you’re working on 🥰 And @sharing-a-room-with-an-open-fire tagged me a couple days ago! ❤️

I have no WIPs atm because I just posted two (and a half) art pieces and two fics this past weekend!! 🎉🎉🎉

Which means 1. I have to get my butt moving on the Art Remix. And 2. Shameless self promotion!!! (Nick said I could! 😌)

So here are some teasers from both of my new fics, which are still posting so I think they probably count anyway. And a reminder to go check out the AMAZING fics I got to make art for as part of COBB! Seriously, they’re both so good please go give them a read and some love if you haven’t!!!!

Strangers Like Me by @otherworldsivelivedin

Easy Come, Easy Go (M) by @krisrix

Here’s a little from one of the texting convos that @flammable-grimm-pitch and I improvised in real time over discord with her writing for Simon and me writing for Baz from our texting/tennis COBB, Sleeping with the Fishes (M). Definitely go check out the fantastic cover art @mae-berry made for us!

(Simon in bold and Baz in italics)

(18:40) I won’t report you.

(18:40) omfg baz THANK U

(18:40) this wont happen again

(18:40) But I don’t do favours, Snow.

(18:41) no yeah totally

(18:41) I expect you to do something for me in return.

(18:41) uh

(18:41) like wut?

(18:41) i was just kidding abotu the body thing btw so like

(18:41) if u need that kind of help id call dev or smthing

(18:42) I can dump my own bodies, thank you very much.

(18:42) haha right 😅

And ofc I have to include something from my pièce de résistance Chamber by Chamber (M). Part One is up now and Part Two will go live this Saturday, June 26! (I have shared so many snippets of this fic by now I can’t even remember what I have or haven’t teased 😅)

I roll my eyes. "What do you want me to say, then? You obviously think you already know everything."

"I don't," he says, quickly, but he sounds sincere. "I'm just worried about you, and I've seen you like this before. It's better than it used to be, and it's not constant. But lately, it's felt that way. If you're struggling, you need to talk about it. With me, or with your therapist, or with Bunce. Don't keep it all inside and buried down where you pretend it doesn't exist until you break."

"I'm not going to break," I insist, even though I don't quite succeed in getting the conviction behind my voice a statement like that needs to be believable.

"I don't want you to." His voice has gone a bit soft, and he's looking at me with those droopy dog eyes of his full of some kind of emotion.

I hereby tag, with no pressure whatsoever: everyone tagged above AND @adamarks @amphipodgirl @amywaterwings @angelsfalling16 @annabellelux @aristocratic-otter @arca9 @banjjakbanjjak @bazzybelle @bonappetart @caitybuglove23 @captain-aralias @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @cynopoe @dreamingkc @effing-numpties @fight-surrender @findingniamho @foolofabookwyrm @gampyre @hufflepunky @im-gettingby @laeve-leve @letraspal @twokisses @ninemagicks @phoxphyre @pipsqueakparker @scone-lover @seducing-a-vampire @snowybank @stardustasincocaine @subparselkie @super-duper-twelve @tea-brigade @theflyingpeach @thehoneyedhufflepuff @unseelieseelie @urban-sith @vampire-named-gampire @vkelleyart @wetheformidables @wunder-kin @xivz

[streetlightsky]

*tries to physically restrain myself from asking literally all of them* 1, 3, 8, 10, 18, 19, 22 <3

ohhh, this post got long, whoops. but literally this is why i rejoined tumblr again. thanks for the ask, lovely! 💖

fic ask game

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what's it about, how's progress, what do you love most about it?

i have two (~and a half) wips lined up. the one i intend to finish and post next is a 5+1 fic. sebchal, of course; set in the normal racing world with a twist! finished the first section and am almost done with the second. i'm currently in my post fic writing hiatus, though, so progress has been halted a bit. what i love most about it, though, is writing a trope i always wanted to but never got the chance to really flesh out with any past fandoms/ships. even better, i get to write this trope literally six different ways with the 5+1 format, so i'm excited to get these unique but similar ideas out there. no spoilers, sorry!

the other wip is a longish au i started last year, but it needs a lot of work and might be a series, so i've put it on the back burner. but i love the idea of this one--again, writing another trope i've never gotten to publish before. i guess you could say my favorite part of writing these is shoving sebchal into different situations/scenarios/aus to see if their original dynamic will sink or swim and then building an entire fic around those that pass that mental test of mine.

3. What is that one scene that you've always wanted to write but can't be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

THERE'S A LOT. a lot of scenes that just exist in my head without the benefit of an actual storyline; a lot of ideas from my 'fics i'll never write' tag that come to me in that moment but probably won't be much more; outtakes from my posted works or even former ideas that i thought i would write but were abandoned; etc.

there's a slightly nsfw scene for a sebchal model!au that i will never write where seb is doing an obligatory photoshoot for a team sponsor and model!charles just happens to crash it, and after, model!charles drives seb to his italian villa or whatever and they get to third base outside on a balcony, 😉.

then, there were two extended epilogues to roots on the rooftop that i ended up abandoning. the first was going to be sebchal house hunting in monaco for a new place together, and they tour some swanky new place, and the bathroom lights are on the floor again, but there's a rooftop, and seb kind of just shrugs when charles asks if he likes it because it doesn't matter to him as long as they're together. and then the second one would be them together in switzerland. i had this written:

He had followed Seb to Switzerland like an idiot. But it was okay. It was quiet and hilly and a two-hour flight away from his mother and brothers, but there was Seb, and that was what made it home.

basically a reiteration of the first epilogue in a different locale and the reverse of the rest of the fic, which essentially takes place in monaco aside from the racing. (also a reverse of postcards as that one took place in switzerland and then the very last epilogue was in monaco.)

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

mostly, yes. i am picky with what i write because i have to be able to envision the ship's dynamic in that situation in order for me to even consider it, and that generally applies to what i like to read. that being said, there are some aus i can enjoy if done right--coffee shop au, apocalypse au, others i can't think of right now--but am unlikely to write because i have no talent in that department. there's a fanfic trope tier list i saw online; i might do it and post for fun.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

long and full of editing. some kind of outline will crop up anywhere between 0-75% of the writing being done. but really, it's just constant editing--editing the current section while i'm writing it; editing the former sections when i need to remember what was set up and the tone; editing after the whole fic has been written; editing right before i hit post on ao3. a lot of random research too throughout the process. i don't know, this is not very descriptive, but i could probably write an entire post on the process and use like one of my recent fics as an example.

18. Do any of your stories have alternate versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterizations?) Tell us about them.

i intended for miss you (most at christmas time), nothing else that i will need (this christmas), and in my heart (is a christmas tree farm) to be exactly that: three alternate versions of one story, which was charles' anxiety of losing seb after the 2020 season. it wasn't done very well, but that was the original inspiration. i think this question might serve better for my current wips, but i don't want to give anything away... but yes. the answer is definitely yes, 😜.

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favorite verb, something you describe 'too often,' trope you can't get enough of?

i feel like in my recent works, you can almost always find any variation of "But that was okay." i don't know why, but i like it, and it usually works well for the tone. (it's literally in that snippet i posted above, LOL.) i also really like to describe heartbeats and utilize that rhythm to try and heighten the emotion in a scene of particular significance.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

uh... how old are we talking? there are a handful of works that are 5+ years old posted on ao3 that i'm not interested in reading again because i feel rather embarrassed about the writing and actual story. but there are some gems over the past few years that i reread every once in a long while and think, 'yeah, this was great, brings me right back into the feels.'

[kylermalloy]

Silent Comedy (TO) and Hostage (TO)? 😄

Hello dear! Thank you for the ask!!! 💙

Silent Comedy is what I’ve been calling the modern AU where the Mikaelsons are a foster family. Mikael and Esther started fostering children after their own daughter died, though they never recovered from the loss. Mikael drinks heavily.

Klaus and Elijah are half brothers (although neither of them ever acknowledge the half part) who were taken away from their birth mother after their youngest brother died. They bounced around foster homes for years before Esther scooped them up. In this AU, Klaus is deaf and speaks mostly with his hands (hence the “silent” in “silent comedy”)

Finn, Kol, and Rebekah aren’t biologically related to them, but they all see each other as family. (Mostly family. To quote The Umbrella Academy: “If you have to use the word ‘technically’...”)

Mikael isn’t particularly fond of any of the kids, but he harbors a particular ire for Klaus and his silence.

This was originally a one-shot, but I kept developing new ideas in my mind. For instance, what happens when Elijah turns 18 and he can move out with Klaus? (It’s only in this part of the fic that the actual words to Silent Comedy start to have anything to do with the story lol.) How do they fare, living all on their own? (Hint: not well.) How does Klaus form adolescent and adult relationships, having grown up isolated due to disability and disenfranchisement? (Hint: not well.) What is he willing to do for validation? How do his relationships with his siblings develop through adolescence, with no concept of normalcy or boundaries? How does he deal with the effects of Mikael’s abuse? (Hint: NOT WELL.) How might he react to a classmate accusing him of getting her pregnant? (I am screaming at this point. Help me. This was supposed to be a one-shot. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE-SHOT.)

Anyway, have a snippet!

Elijah doesn't remember much about his real mother. He only had four years with her, only has the vague, blurry memories of a child from his first home.

Her name was Cassie, he knows that. He remembers her short dark hair, the constant bags under her eyes, her slim figure, unhealthily thin even when pregnant with his little brothers.

He and Niklaus had different fathers, neither of whom they could have actually called that. Their mother raised them alone—until the accident. This is the sharpest memory Elijah has of their mother: the day they lost her.

The day she called 911, holding her pregnant belly and groaning in pain. The day they learned that their littlest brother had died before he was even born. The day the men had come to her hospital room, asking her lots of questions about how much she worked, how long she left her boys alone, how often they ate, what pills she was taking.

The day ended with Elijah sitting on a bench at Child Protective Services, the overhead lights blindingly bright, a plastic bag of clothes beside him. His legs dangled above the floor while he clutched his baby brother, barely a year old, to his chest.

Elijah doesn't think he's ever quite let go of Niklaus after that.

Listen, you are in luck, because I couldn’t decide which snippet to post. So here’s another one:

Rebekah came to them as barely more than a baby, with angelic curls and a swath of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She cried often, long stretches of screaming sobs that flushed her cheeks an angry red—leaving Mikael in a foul, irritable mood.

Niklaus was often the one to hold her through her episodes. Her piercing screams didn’t bother him, and having just started school, he needed the comfort as much as she.

Hostage is literally just an excuse for Klelijah h/c. That’s all there is to the fic. In their human years, teenage Klaus and Elijah are kidnapped and tortured by some enemies of Mikael. They spend days on end in states of pain and uncertainty, with only each other for solace. (And for torture, given their captors quickly figure out hurting one of them hurts the other just as deeply)

Snippet:

“The sons of Mikael.”

The tall one, Njal, knelt to survey them. There was a hunger in his eyes that made Elijah uneasy. “These two, they’re good. Not even grown.” He forced Elijah’s chin upward, studying his face. “This one, just barely. Perhaps.”

Elijah felt his lips twist in disgust. He jerked away from Njal’s hand and spat at the man’s craggy face.

The man backhanded him across the face in response. Elijah’s sight exploded into dark stars. He tasted blood.

“‘Lijah!” Niklaus’s cry was strangled. He reacted viscerally to pain, even if it was not his own.

Ask me about my WIPs!