#a lil snippet of the rough draft i currently have

[whatlovelybones-if]

detective kaufmann finishes their cigarette with one last drawn-out drag. they let the embers brush against the edges of their fingers, singeing the almost-healed scabs of burnt skin. for all it’s worth, they don’t react to the pain; instead, they just drop the cigarette and crush it beneath their shoes.

running their fingers through their light blonde-hair, the detective turns to the constable who is watching them a little warily. hiding behind that wariness, however, was a hint of respect for this tall, young detective in their white button-up and an overcoat.

“any additional information i should know about the crime scene we just examined?” the green-eyed detective asks, their tone losing its usual playfulness.

the constable hesitated before taking out a plastic bag with a piece of paper inside. “just this. it was found in the front pocket of the victim’s polo shirt. the people who got the parcel confirmed that they don’t recognise the man or the handwriting.”

the detective opens the bag and carefully fishes the paper out with their gloved hands. aside from noticing that it must have been a post-it note from the colour and type of paper, there was nothing extraordinary about it.

they turn it over. even though detective kaufmann knew that the note wasn’t intended for them, it still makes their hackles rise in slight alarm. they purse their lips as their suspicious gaze falls on the people who received the ‘package’.

the detective always trusted their instincts and this time, their gut told them that something was amiss here; there was something that these people weren’t being honest about. because written in blood-red ink, there were four chilling, yet puzzling words:

are you afraid yet?

[bri-sonat]

lil snippet from a bri WIP!

i know that it has been like... a few months since i posted a fic. there's a perfectly good explanation for it but it's a bit too personal to share here for my comfort. but!! here i am to make it up to you all with a little snippet from a current WIP that i started working on in march. i hope it will act as a peace offering even if it's only a rough draft so far. if you wish to read it, it's under the cut!

When you stopped in front of the table, you could finally see her face. Her face. Many things were told about Bri the [REDACTED], but none of the stories mentioned her immense beauty. She was incredibly handsome, her disheveled blonde hair framing her intense blue eyes as they raked you up and down. And her lips. Good Gods, her lips. The small, accented scar on her upper lip scrunched as she smirked, and you wondered how she had been bestowed such a stunning ‘flaw.’

She was a vision, there was no other way to put it and you could spend so many hours just staring at her. There would not be enough time to take in her entirety, but your lifetime would have to suffice. 

Eventually, your gaze wandered to her hands. Her hands. They looked so strong, and her fingers were so long. Small, long, and deep, scars were visible on most of her fingers, her palms, and the backs of her hands, surely from learning to master dagger fidgeting and sword fighting.

The hand that had previously been playing with a dagger had stopped, and the noise of sharp metal being stabbed into wood ripped you out of your observation. 

[lizardkingeliot]

Hello friends it's Wednesday and I need serotonin so who wants another lil teaser from chapter 4 of a place for you to love me? I hate that it's been more than 2 months since my last update and I PROMISE I'm still working on this nearly every day it's just... life has been a lot lately. Like... A Lot. Like 2023 is actively trying to kick my ass on a daily basis A Lot. But I am currently working on the final scene in this chapter and I'm hopeful if nothing else I'll have the rough draft completed this month. I truly hope you're all still here for this when I finally get around to posting, and in the meantime pls enjoy this horny lil snippet lol. 💖

—

Like turning the dial on an old tinny radio, Julia’s voice faded into a squeal of white noise and static. Because Eliot was suddenly emerging from the water, and Quentin only had eyes for him. No thoughts, no brain, just—watching, utterly breathless. The sight of him there like a gleaming jewel plucked from the crown of a king.

He was shirtless, wearing little olive green swim shorts that were perfectly cut to flatter every part of his body. Every single part—god. His thighs, his hips, the glorious full bulge of his dick. His hair soft and dripping sea water, his curls all tumbling and wild. His eyes on Quentin, long legs working, propelling him nearer, nearer—

“Hey,” Eliot said, suddenly there. Going down to his knees in the sand in front of Quentin, pressing between the V of his legs.

“Hey—” The sound of Quentin’s voice was swallowed in a kiss at once. Eliot’s hands on his face, in his hair. Jesus fuck. Their bodies melding together until Quentin was falling onto his back in the sand. 

Oh.

[fistfulofgammarays]

for the writing ask, would 1 and 3 be alright? also, lil off topic but when you say a fistful of gamma rays do you mean like a dose of gamma straight to the fist or like, a nice lil bouquet of the wavy bois?

It's definitely the bouquet option. A tasteful arrangement of waveforms.

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

Passcode is most of what I'm working on. (I'm picking away at some other stuff, but this is probably going to wind up being a long answer.) It's going pretty well - I'm in the process of doing structural edits to the second mini-arc of it, after which I'll rough draft the next arc and do a round of fine edits on the next chapter to be posted. It's going to be way longer than I originally planned, but at this point that's no surprise.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't think a lot about this premise (prompt was "telepathic bond") before I picked it up, but I'm having a lot of fun with it. It imposes a set of pretty severe technical considerations - there are parts where it has to be obvious to the reader that some kind of out-of-the-ordinary communication is occurring without it being obvious to the characters. And once that's out in the open, it has to persist in the story and have a quantifiable effect on the way those characters communicate without it being impenetrable to the reader. Additionally, it effectively removes a standard element of my toolbox, which is to leave emotions implicit rather than explicit whenever possible.

It also definitely sets this story on a wildly AU course whose ramifications I still haven't completely figured out (although I know the endpoint for this particular installation).

So it's a fun challenge that makes me think a lot about the technical aspects of writing and I really enjoy that. On a more gut level, this is also the extremely self-indulgent Pidge and Keith as partners-in-crime-and-other-bad-ideas fic that I really want to read personally.

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)

Have this dialog snippet from something I hope to write someday, but realistically not for a really long time. It's post-canon and likely AU, and requires a lot of set-up that I haven't thought about hard enough. Pidge and Keith here are both considerably older.

“Zethrid’s got it.” His voice turns away from the mic, becomes more distant. “Hey, careful with them - they’re little.”

Pidge snorts. “You’re little to Zethrid.”

“Pidge, everyone’s little to Zethrid.”

There is a thumping noise in the background, and faintly, “Boss, shut up before I break you.”

“She calls you boss?” Pidge says incredulously.

“She doesn’t mean it,” Keith grumbles.

[lizardkingeliot]

Hello and happy Wednesday! Who wants another lil snippet from chapter six of a litany of dreams? I told myself I wasn’t going to tease anything else from this chapter because I really do not want to spoil anything but I simply cannot help myself lmao. Also this snippet isn’t very spoilery so it barely counts, right? :P

I’m currently 12k into writing this one and I wish I could say the rough draft is almost finished but... lol. This is going to be a long chapter. Prooooobably the longest chapter of this sequel thus far. I’m still trying to convince myself I won’t be crossing the 20k mark but... oof. There is just so much that needs to happen in this one that I might not be able to control it...

Anyway! Enjoy this not very spoilery ~130 word tease. 🥰

—

“There,” Eliot said, his voice the softest rumble pushing up from his throat. Hands slipping down around the sides of Quentin’s neck on their way to his shoulders. “How’s that?”

Quentin watched as his reflection in the mirror flushed a bruising shade of scarlet. “It’s…” He let his eyes slip shut at once, swallowing his world in dark. For a moment, allowing himself to forget the festering wound where his heart should have gone. “Good…”

Rhythm of his chest rising and falling like waves on the ocean. Eliot’s arms wrapped Quentin up tight in a searing embrace. His nose dragging along the top of Quentin’s head, following the swoop of his hair, breathing him in. “I have to go back down, okay?” He gave Quentin’s arm the gentlest squeeze. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

[lizardkingeliot]

Hello WIP Wednesday! I am once again here to share a lil snippet from chapter four of a litany of dreams. I finished the rough draft of this chapter on Monday and am currently doing my first round of edits. I’m hoping to have this one posted within the next two weeks, so send all of the good editing vibes my way pls. <3

—

Quentin shivered under his jacket, eyes heavy-lidded and lingering half in dreams. His brain was still back in his bed. In Eliot’s bed. Under the covers with Eliot’s heat pouring into his skin. Yet here he found himself instead—breakfast sandwich wrapped in milky wax paper clutched tight in one hand. The bench where he slumped pushing its chill up under the denim of his jeans.

The whole campus was lazy with that Saturday morning feeling. Soft warble of birdsong in some faraway tree. Dewdrops quivering on blades of deep green grass. Honestly, Quentin had no idea why he’d even agreed to get out of bed. “I have no idea why I even agreed to get out of bed,” he said, heady scent of Eliot clinging to his hair, his hands, the collar of his shirt. “Remind me what we’re doing again.”

“We,” Julia said, taking a bite out of her sandwich and speaking around it, “are having breakfast.”

“Jules—” Quentin pinched his brows at her intensely. “You know what I mean.”

Julia shrugged, eying her sandwich, wax paper crinkle filling the gaps of her silence. “Come on,” she said. “It’s almost like being back in undergrad.” Chewing, swallowing, nudging Quentin in the shoulder. “Freezing our tits off to eat shit food in the quad when we’d both rather be sleeping and/or getting dicked down instead.” She took a massive bite and smiled around it. “Avoiding talking about Eliot…”

[lizardkingeliot]

Happy Wednesday! I’m here with another lil snippet from chapter five of a litany of dreams. I currently have the rough draft of this one at the 11k mark and I’m hoping to have it in edits by next week so pls send all of the good writing vibes my way lmao. <3

—

“So is it true?”Alice cast her gaze down onto the cups of her small pale hands. “You and Eliot broke up?”

At once—Quentin’s body went stiff as a board. The cigarette tumbling from between the V of his fingers. Shooting off sparks and sputtering smoke. A spray of ash and cinder from the tip as the cherry crumbled. The world’s saddest firework flaring its death all over the pavement. “Did Eliot—” Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Quentin nearly choked with the effort. “Did Eliot say we—”

“Eliot didn’t say anything.” Alice’s gaze jumped to Quentin, her dim eyes fluttery and soft. Open in a way she’d never been with him before, like suddenly she’d lifted a curtain. “You know how people talk.”

It was like exhaling underwater—the little fit of air that pushed itself from Quentin’s lungs. “I know people are completely full of—” He shook his head. Eying the final gasping breaths of smoke from the cigarette’s withering cinders. “It’s not true. We would never—” Blinking once, twice, three times. Eyes damp—swallowing it down and down and—“Is it true about you and Penny?”

Straining morning sunlight painting everything in shocks of gold—Alice’s face, her hair, the shriveling palms of her hands—Quentin watched as her expression twisted. “I don’t know what’s true about me and Penny anymore.”