#junk journal pockets

[luvermore]

a couple of recent journals in my pocket size moleskine

[mothlymade]

not my usual post stuff but I've been seeing these pen and gear note books used as junk journals and I wanted to try :)

I'm actually super happy with the cover

[wastelandwild]

The story of Curly Locks.

[lucky-draws]

arts and crafts sunday: finished making my journal 👍

[bakedtarot]

it's got pockets.

[mascrapping]

Junk Journaling

Embrace the Chaos: The Art of Junk Journaling Unveiled In the realm of creative expression, one form that stands out for its eclectic charm is junk journaling. But what exactly is junk journaling? At its core, it’s a delightful and freeing approach to journaling that involves repurposing various items and ephemera to create a unique and personalized chronicle. Let’s explore this artistic journey…

[shootwithheart]

The start of my ocean themed junk journal.

I'll be adding a ring binder to it and filling it with ocean collages and trinkets. 🌊❤️

[freakassfemme]

chronically offline abby headcannons ✧˖*°

she is coping so well and thriving. i said i could fix her and i did

heyyyy so this is sort of kind of low-key a little bit of a continuation on beloved butch abby, the premise of the au and personality is the same. i got a request asking for more and i was thinking about this anyways and thought they worked well together

♫ above the chinese restaurant (laufey)

ೃ༄ abby is (unfortunately) a retired soldier, she's got a kid to look after, she runs a cafe downtown and she's got two dogs. all at like, 22. did we really think she has the time to go online for anything more than 🔍 thirty minute dinner recipes your vegan teenager isn't going to kill you over

ೃ༄ just kidding. she doesn't mind lev trying out new things lol. he is her whole fucking world, she's more than happy to spend time with him cooking something he remembers from home, giving each other grossed out faces when they fuck up the tofu again, and giving up and going to target 15 minutes before close to piece together some random junk food.

Manny will come over and cook with them sometimes, and that's always a fun time. he's got abby drunk before nine and she's just a laughing mess.

ೃ༄ she just loves being around Manny in general. they meet up for lunch a lot, go on runs together in the morning, work on each other's trucks, etc.,

now that she's living a normal life, she's able to take a serious Spanish class, and he's very supportive about it.

ೃ༄ definitely takes the dogs into the cafe with her. whenever someone complains about the pandora radio she puts on, she blames it on the dogs.

yeah she uses pandora until someone teaches her what Spotify is

ೃ༄ she's such a planner. she's got a huge chalkboard in the kitchen for the week and the month with both of their schedules drawn on it down to the hour if needed. hers is written in orange and lev's is written in green.

only watches tv once a week, and it's for a designated show that's so laid back, like the great British baking show.

"do you want to watch this show?" "no it's not Sunday"

ೃ༄ she's definitely the type to limit screen time, and lev himself isn't like partial to brain rot, but sometimes he says something that has her turning around like what did you just say eyes wide and everything

lev tells her to touch grass one day and she goes on a hike

ೃ༄ her favorite evening activities are taking the dogs on a sunset walk with lev, and then when lev's gone up to his room for the night, she will pack him like a little bento-type lunch. she'll cozy up in her lazy boy by the fireplace with Alice at her feet and journal away, sometimes until she falls asleep.

she's got BUCKETS of journals. it started in therapy after her dad passed, as like a coping mechanism to at least attempt to correct her thought processes, and it's always stuck. it's always made her feel like she's putting herself in order again.

after therapy, i feel like abby spent a lot of time thinking about religion. she never really found anything that clicks, but she reads a lot about buddhism and really appreciates the perspective.

ೃ༄ definitely has a weird phone setup going on. she's either got a really old like iPhone 7 with maybe 6 apps on it or one of those CAT flip phones lol. can you imagine flip phone selfies from her

ೃ༄ writes her grocery lists on a little piece of yellow paper that she'll tuck into her front pocket. carries specifically one of those bic ballpoint pens, has like 5 year old reusable grocery bags and a keychain for her Aldi quarter that she thinks is so clever and fun.

she definitely uses one of her favorite coins from her collection as her Aldi quarter.

ೃ༄ gets the paper delivered to her house. she prefers to read it that way, but she pays for lev to get a digital subscription to his kindle or something

ೃ༄ keeps her dads beat up, decaying quilt as a topper for her bed. she folds it up neatly every night and sets it in a rocking chair in the corner of her room, just to preserve it a little longer.

ೃ༄ knows how to get throughout almost the entire west coast without a map or gps or anything

ೃ༄ reading is HUGE in her house. lev's reading log was NEVER forged not once. she spent a whole summer building ceiling to floor bookshelves with a gorgeous trim and a mahogany stain. she loves to swing by the used bookstore after work every once in a while, the one where she can get a book for 25 cents or a big bag of them for two bucks.

every birthday, lev gives her a bag of books, and he always puts one in that he loves but isn't sure she will like. it's usually not her style, but she likes learning more about his interests and she thinks they're always very sweet books.

always secretly surprises lev with little books with transmasc characters or about real trans people. she will just leave them on his desk in their shared office or something with a little sticky note with a heart on it

ೃ༄ makes friends with the lanky manager of the record store with a weird fucked up tattoo when she's looking for more cassettes for her beat up truck.

"dude, you're the only person who has looked through this crate in like, six months. you can just take what you want."

"holy shit, really? it's the only thing i can play in my truck besides the radio."

"jesus, that's kind of funny. yeah, anytime you want, you can use my shit to make your little mixtapes. if I'm not here, just tell them Ellie said so."

ೃ༄ is definitely an active member of her local library, not only for reading material, but to check out music, and she loves to participate in the chess and book clubs.

really loves board games in general.

ೃ༄ I feel like abby loves Birkenstocks, but the clogs. she has a pair of sandals for the summer, but in my heart I know she's a clog girly.

ೃ༄ very simple, very minimalist wardrobe. I feel like she exclusively sticks to Levi's for jeans, and then she has like 8 black tee shirts and some thrifted sweatshirts and tee shirts.

would very much adore though if her girlfriend crocheted her a hat or a scarf or something <3

ೃ༄ speaking of girlfriends, I feel like abby really goes for opposites attract. she's so mild in appearance, that she loves someone that's a little over the top. maybe a little frilly, or adds odd little details to their outfits. she loves funky hairstyles and creativity in women.

ೃ༄ she loves making her own coffee. working at the cafe wasn't just convenience for her, abby loves the slowness of it. she loves packing the espresso, she loves checking on her sourdough every morning, she loved crafting her own tea blends. she definitely has a beat up metal French press, but she probably invests in her own espresso machine to keep at home too.

ೃ༄ i feel like eventually abby would coach for a sports team at lev's school. maybe he joined gymnastics or like, made the soccer team, and abby's packing-coolers-full-for-the-team and carpooling and excessive volunteering eventually takes her to leading after school drills and a best coach ever mug for the middle school boys soccer team lol.

this OR she becomes one of the most active parents any GSA has ever known to mankind

joins the pta

ೃ༄ is SO sentimental. has photos of people she loves all over the walls of her house, keeps tickets from movies and cuts out bits from the newspaper to keep in a little shoebox under her bed. she keeps her dad's medical journals and research on a special shelf above the fireplace.

her little flip hone has a blurry picture of her and Manny in the background

ೃ༄ Abby texts and types like this. She is a very formal typist. She will become very confused if someone texts her in lowercase or without punctuation.

[see-arcane]

With a total of 1,176 votes tallied, the preferred plushie poll winner with 28.8% of votes is…

What a close one! Jonathan came in with 27.7%, the mysterious Mr. Morse with 24.9% and, delicious irony of ironies, London Dracula with 18.9%. Rest in pieces. Now, what does all this mean going forward?

First, just to reconfirm: I will absolutely be looking into the costs for having more than one plushie character produced at a time. For all that Mina has the top spot if it comes down to a solo run, Nobody Wants to Separate the Gothic Horror Soulmates, even as wee little plushies. It hurts my heart to think of. Mina and Jonathan deserve to sit side by side on everyone’s pillow. Just as Quinn Morse deserves to haunt the pillow next to theirs while casually throttling and carving London Dracula into pieces. For enrichment.

But beyond that, some other key things:

How is this getting done?

Sadly, I was not a cool enough kid for Makeship to greenlight a collaboration with me. Tragique. But while I was sitting around waiting for them to get back to me, I had time to browse around for other options. During that sniffing around I dug up a couple of promising manufacturers—one of which has some really neat options for not only plush toys, but all sorts of bric-a-brac like stationery, shirts, bags, cups, et cetera—and I plan to reach out to them for quotes to start with. Nothing really gets to move forward until I can nail down prices and the amount of X plushies to be made.

I am more than a little hesitant to tell anyone MAKE ME 1000+ PLUSHIES, PLEASE, THE TUMBLR POLL SAID THEY’RE GOOD FOR IT. These aren’t as simple as print/make-on-demand products, so I need to be careful estimating the amount of folks ready and willing to drop money on the little guys. But I will keep everyone updated on the numbers regardless!

Sooo is this a crowdfunding thing or an investment or what?

Don’t know yet. I am still between jobs at the moment—reminder to check out my Ko-Fi if you want to drop me a buck or commission some art!—but if this is something I can safely drop some of my own money in with the guarantee that it will let me do better than break even, I’ll do what I can out of pocket. However, if the cost of making something of good quality turns out too steep, I’ll start looking into stuff like Kickstarter and Backerkit and so on. I want to be sure I’m not gutting anybody’s wallet to pull this off and I want to be double-sure that what we’re paying for isn’t some flimsy throwaway junk. We are all here on the same Dracula book club starving artist site, so It Has to Be Worth It and not a money-sink for anyone.

Got it. Any other info to spare?

For the plushies specifically, this is when I’ll start:

Polishing up the current four designs into cleaner illustrations with different angles to provide for mockup samples with whoever I pick to manufacture with. If I get stuck on something—(which is likely)—I may throw up another poll to bug everyone about palettes and fashion choices. I have a few more designs I haven’t dropped yet for Epilogue Harkers, a non-Bloofer Lucy, and keychains that I’d love to share too!

Eyeballing materials. I’m already picturing a very close-cut cloth for the build and clothes, but I need to decide on filling too. Stiff overstuffing to hold a pose versus softer/lighter plush for floppy cuddleability. 

Poking at other character roughs, ala the Suitor Squad, the Weird Sisters, Van Helsing, Renfield, and Baby Quincey. And if all of those go well…

…maybe some designs for other favorites in the public domain playground. (Looks meaningfully at Clarimonde, Carmilla, Victor Frankenstein and the Creature, the King in Yellow, too many others.) ((But that’s all far-future stuff at the moment.))

Cool! But you also mentioned something about other merch?

I did.

Because goddamn do I want some Dracula-themed stationery. Journals! Memo pads! Pens! Every day we don’t have these things with the Harkers’ mark upon them is a victory for the forces of Count Dracula’s document-destroying evil. Likewise for shirts, totes, mugs, keychains, face masks and other things that could use some novel-flavored goodies. Hell, I’ll probably even get on with making stuff for The Vampyres to link on my website too. Because I am. Maybe behind on that. By several months.

Anyway.

I’ve got to start working on some designs for those too while the plushie process is progressing. Pray that my carpals don’t get tunneled.

Nice! Sounds like your plate is pretty full. So that’s it, right?

:)

Arcane?

:3c

Arcane. I need you to tell me this is all you’re working on.

>:}

Arcane.

Please stand by.

I have a little treat brewing for the Dracula Dailiers and @re-dracula folks in honor of a very special day for our good friend Jonathan Harker.

[withacapitalp]

Countdown Pt 3

Part One Part Two

Tw: Slight suicidal ideation and general grieving

--------------------------------------

They only carry a couple things with them on the run. 

Surviving the apocalypse isn’t pretty, and it’s easier to make a quick escape if they’re always traveling light. Essentials only, with a few sentimental items so they don’t completely lose their minds. 

Nancy had her journals, Max had her skateboard (even if she couldn’t use it right now), Will brought a pack of colored pencils, and Steve was pretty sure Hopper had somehow saved a half a pack of smokes. 

And Steve….Steve has a shoebox. 

It’s an old thing, held together with duct tape and decorated with sharpie doodles. Wayne had given it to him right before he left town, along with the necklace that Steve kept around his neck every moment of every day. 

He’s never let any of them look in it. They think he’s insane, but they’re not the ones with zeroed out timers.

This shoebox is all he has left of his soulmate. 

What’s inside would seem like junk to most people. A handful of rocks of varying size, shapes, and colors. A leather cuff with spikes that Steve had immediately put around his timer wrist to hide it from view. A matchbook from a gay bar in Indianapolis, a Spalding bouncy ball. Some hand-sewn patches with logos he didn’t recognize, three different mini figures, a dozen faded beautiful photographs, and a single mixtape. 

Only Robin knew about the mixtape. He had only told her in case they needed a song for him. That mixtape was the only thing in the world that had the song that could save his life. 

But the most important thing in that box was the letters. 

He read one every night. He had promised himself he wouldn’t read more than one. It was routine. When it was his turn to be on watch and the rest of their family was sound asleep, Steve would open his shoebox, pull out a letter, and read it. 

The first one is probably his favorite. It was written in dark red marker on yellow construction paper, the edges ripped and torn with age. The marker bled through the back of the paper where the child who wrote the letter had pressed down too hard, and Steve could imagine the way his fingers must have stained from the ink. Blood red. The same way his fingers were stained when he died. 

7/4/1971 

TWO SULMAYT,

HI.

I AM EDDIE MUNSON. I AM FIVE YEARS OLD. I LIKE TRUKS. YU SHUD LIKE THEM TO. WE CAN WATCH THE BIG TRUKS! 

WHAT IS YUR NAMY? 

BIE

LUV EDDIE

P. S. I HAD A NANA FOR BRIKFEST. YUM. 

There was a picture of two giant monster trucks under the words, and a tiny thing Steve assumed was a banana under the postscript. Steve keeps that one tucked in his jacket pocket, just in case he ever loses his bag or his precious shoebox. 

He keeps the first in his side pocket, and keeps the last one in the breast pocket right above his heart

6/13/1986

Hi Love,

The first one says ‘Two Sulmayt’ but every one after that starts with ‘Hi Love’. 

Steve can’t help wondering if Eddie would have eventually called him ‘Love’ if they had gotten more time. 

Well, if you’re reading this, then I guess my plan to be the one that lived really didn’t work out. Damn, that sucks. Probably a little bit more for you than for me. 

I don't know how you dealt with knowing we only had five days, but I thought it was kinda fucked. Like damn, really? Five? The universe sure has a funny sense of humor, doesn’t it, Love? Or maybe it just hates me. That is also a very real possibility. 

Maybe. But if the universe hated Eddie, then it must hate Steve more for making him continue to live. For giving him other people to love, people to care about, people to force him to not give up. 

Anyways this is how I dealt with it. If you only get five days to have me, I’m going to make sure you know me. Or know who I was at least. One letter a month for the last 12 years, and a bunch of random one off ones from when I was little. Before I lived with Wayne it was kind of catch as catch can with paper and stuff, and I was also like seven, so how many letters do you really want from a seven year old who still can’t spell ‘Difficulty’?

I know how to now, by the way. Mrs. D, Mrs. I, yada yada. Do you ever wonder why all those women are married? I think that’s stupid. Forced conformity, even in our nursery rhymes. 

That joke always made Steve laugh. He’s read this letter so many times it’s starting to come apart at the creases, but it still made him pause and chuckle. 

Anyways. This is yours. Eleven letters a year for twelve years is one hundred and thirty two. Adding in the ones from before, it’s probably around a hundred and fifty. It’s not the same as having me around, but if you spread them out, you might get thirteen years or so before you have to start rereading them. 

Or read them all in one sitting. Do whatever you want. 

Steve had counted. It was one hundred and forty one. He read one new one a night, because every single day they survived seemed like a miracle right now. 

He only had seventy three more left. 

Not like I can stop you, haha. 

That’s probably not as funny to you as I want it to be. Sorry, Love. 

It wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. Steve wanted Eddie here, wanted him to tell him to wait. He wanted Eddie to write him more letters. 

Oh, I also included a bunch of stuff I thought was too cool to lose, and a mixtape with songs that I wrote for my band. I thought you might want to get to hear my voice. It’s probably stupid, but you don’t have to listen to them if you don’t want to. 

Steve listened to it. They had been forced to scrounge up new batteries for his walkman three times because it kept dying. 

Everything in this box is yours, Wayne has strict instructions to give it to you. And, anything of mine Wayne doesn’t want is for you too.

Wow. A whole trust fund of trailer park trash. Some people leave their soulmates huge inheritances. I left you rocks and pictures and a shit ton of letters. Aren’t you lucky, Love? 

He was lucky. He had seventy three more letters. Seventy three more reasons to survive another day. 

After that…Steve wasn’t sure if he would be lucky anymore. 

Now if you’re good at math- which I hope you are, because I’m terrible at it- then you might be saying to yourself ‘Is my soulmate an idiot? Does he not know there’s twelve months in a year?’ 

No. I’m actually incredibly smart, even though my grades don’t really show it. I rewrite this top of the box letter every year on my birthday, and then I burn the last one. It’s a fun, extremely morbid, tradition. 

I’m 20 today, Love. I wonder how old you are a lot. I hope you’re close to my age at least. Maybe you’re like fifty years older than me, and I meet you when you’re on your deathbed, and that’s why we only have five days. 

They had only gotten five days because Steve hadn’t just taken Eddie and run. He should have just told Eddie to go as far from Hawkins as possible the second he realized. Fuck the rest of the world, fuck stopping the apocalypse. The best part of Steve was already dead. 

Two whole decades, but somehow I’m still in high school. I failed. Again. I wrote a lot about it in my letter last month, so I’m not going to talk about it again. Suffice to say I’m pretty bummed. I mean, c’mon, even Steve Harrington managed to graduate last year, and that guy barely even went to class during senior year. 

That part of the letter always made his stomach turn. He hated the reminder of all the wasted time, the little nudge that always told him it was his fault they barely had any time. 

If he had only looked up. 

Oh, well. This one is it. ‘86 baby! I’d say I want this to be the year I meet you, but I really want to graduate, so maybe hold off for just one more year? Stay wherever you are for just twelve more months, Love, just to be safe. Then I can put a picture of me flipping off my principal in this box for you. I’ll add my diploma in too, just to prove to you I did it. 

Eddie wasn’t going to get a diploma. 

If you wait a year, I’ll give you twelve more letters. So just wait one more year. By then, I think I’ll know what to say to make this better. I’ll know what to do to fill the gap I know you’re going to have. I’ll have something to say that will fix all this. I say that every year, and I never do, but hey, ‘86. 

Nothing anyone said would fix this. Nothing Eddie could write would fill the hole left in Steve’s soul. Nothing. 

I’m sorry. 

I say that every year too. 

Steve didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want letters. He didn’t want a hard to hear voice on a single mixtape. 

He wanted Eddie. 

Well. Happy birthday to me. One more year without meeting you. Eleven more letters. You better be doing something just as nice for me in case it's you that bites it, or I’m bringing your ass back just to kill you again. 

Steve didn’t care if Eddie killed him. Eddie could reappear right now and immediately shoot Steve and he would die happy. He just wanted one more minute. Just a little more time. 

…Wait just a little bit longer. I’ll have better words next year. 

Can you do that for me, Love?

P.S. You should read the first letter I wrote to you, just to appreciate how eloquent and charming I am in this one. 

Eddie called him ‘Love’. Eddie asked him to wait. Eddie wanted to have the right words. He wanted to live long enough to save Steve from his own broken heart.

Steve wishes he had waited.  

[13thmooncraft]

Vintage Garden Journal!

Check my shop tomorrow afternoon for this super cute vintage junk journal! It has plenty of writing/sketching space as well as tons of pockets and goodies tucked away for you to enjoy!

Here’s a quick flip through 👀👀👀

[wastelandwild]

Whimisical and mystical vibes. I love pockets.

[violet-hearth]

Magical Note Keeping ...

Happy Friday! 

Today I wanted to take a step back and talk about information keeping, i.e. grimoires and journals. This will be a mostly beginner focussed post, however if you are a regular practitioner who has been feeling stuck or stagnant, I hope this can give you a little motivation to find new ways to view your practice. 

Magic is a personal and experimental practice. Information keeping - whether this be general witchcraft knowledge or the specifics spells you are doing is an important practice to keep. If you do not keep records, how will you know what has worked and what hasn’t? 

NOTE: I do not practise Wicca and therefore do not feel comfortable talking about the practice of a ‘book of shadows’ but use whatever terminology and definitions feel most comfortable to you 

A grimoire is generally understood as being a journal or spell book documenting your magical “workings, musings, inspirations, and ideas” (Queering Your Craft). It is a solely personal record that can be customised to how you work best - whether this is through several themed notebooks, using apps like notion to create a wiki-style database, or through keeping an ‘everything journal’ that is a combination of information, spellwork, and journaling.

Regardless of what you call it I highly recommend keeping a research notebook or journal where you can record your thoughts, notes and reflections on the books you are reading.

I personally use a combination of a 46 pocket notebook where I journal, take notes, keep my shopping lists, write about spells, and record my tarot and carromancy readings, as well as other more specialised notebooks and digital note taking apps. You can personalise your system of information keeping however you like, but if you feel stuck here are some formats and ideas to try out: 

Junk journaling or scrapbooking: create collages for manifestations, paste in printed and handwritten spells, utilise art magic 

Create a ‘cook book’ of spells, recipes, and your favourite dishes for a more kitchen and hearth notebook 

Work in a sketchbook and create a more visual notebook whether this is similar to the junk journal or through sketching and painting plants and step by step recipe comics 

Use a binder or folder to keep all your note and spells organised 

Use notion or obsidian to create a ‘wiki’ of all your information and spell tracking 

Create a reference book of associations, spells, and rituals

Record your walks in a nature journal (this can be for both rural and urban), take note of plants in the pavement, trees, birds, animals, people, the weather

A Note from ‘Queer Your Craft’ by Cassandra Snow:

“Queer community has always been drawn to personal accounts and the written word, and these can be a fantastically witchy way to own and tell your own story as you move through it. Sure, you can decorate it to look more queer or personal and include explicity queer stories and spells, and I recommend all of those things. It's also worth noting that recording your own triumphs and pitfalls and chronicling your own journey towards liberation (not to mention that of any movements you're a part of) is a badass move all its own.”

In my personal practice and experience, art and writing are powerful tools of expression whilst also a way of reflecting on and healing from things of our past. As Juliet Diaz notes in ‘The Altar Within’ (which I would HIGHLY recommend!):

“Reflection is a powerful tool. From scanning your day to addressing lingering things, reflection helps us understand our lives and the lives of those around us. If we don’t reflect, our minds will try to make sense of life in their own way, causing more noise in our heads.” 

Juliet Diaz recommends setting time aside each day to unwind, make yourself a cult of tea, and spend 10-15 minutes a day with your journal. When we come to witchcraft from the perspective of being from minority groups and poverty, we carry a lot of shame, worry, and stress. Journaling often helps us process this. The goal isn’t to live the ‘love and light’ new age mindset (in fact I urge you to avoid it entirely) but to be self aware, and to be reflective of our feelings and our practice. 

Whilst Juliet Diaz recommends stream of consciousness to help you clear your mind, if you wish for more formalised reflections techniques I suggest Gibbs Reflective Cycle to help you look back on past experiences. I find having a structure useful on days when I am overwhelmed or processing larger events and can be used for spell work, rituals, or your everyday journaling. 

Journaling and record keeping are both important parts of developing a magical practice. They aren’t required, but can be helpful tools to keep things in order. No matter what format (if any) you use to keep track of your craft, take a deep breath and remember it doesn’t have to be perfect. Be kind to yourself and use whatever tools are comfortable to you. 

Sources:

Queering Your Craft by Cassandra Snow 

Sacred Sex: The Magick and Path of the Divine Erotic by Gabriela Herstik

The Altar Within by Juliet Diaz 

Witchery by Juliet Diaz

[youtube video] Putting the "Craft" in Witchcraft with Marshall Witch of Southern Light by The Witch of Wonderlust 

[youtube video] ROCK your Grimoire! Sacred If You Make It So: BOS Love [Tour],Tips & Prompts by Molly Roberts

[adelaidedrubman]

wip wednesday....... LOSERS’ edition.

(that’s every day with my characters but) i decided to kick off wip wednesday, and use it as an excuse to belatedly post the sentences written for the losers of the wip poll from a while back. in part because i lost the post with who wanted to be tagged in the losers post yeah. so, decided to share as a wip day buffet to the usual suspects instead (on that note, this is always a no pressure tag with no expectation you have to read in order to tag me back, but an extra bonus no pressure disclaimer please nobody feel obligated to read every excerpt even if you want to read one.) 

sending tags TO my beloveds @henbased @florbelles @unholymilf @belorage @socially-awkward-skeleton @corvosattano @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @roofgeese @shallow-gravy @derelictheretic @strangefable @8bitpizzacoupons @stacispratt @orionlancasterr @v0idbuggy @jackiesarch @nuclearstorms @strafethesesinners @firstaidspray @clicheantagonist @simplegenius042 @miyabilicious @ladyofedens-blog @nightbloodbix @poetikat @voidika @ishwaris @confidentandgood @ri-a-rose @cassietrn @wrathfulrook @schoute @bluemojave @afarcryfrommymain @trench-rot @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @roberthouses @indorilnerevarine (+ open invitation + psa i am moving to an opt-in tag list soon so if you would like to keep/start being tagged please like or comment here.)

without further ado, the wips that just couldn’t rise to meet the #HANKSWEEP. these are in descending order of number of votes, so longer excerpts towards the top. credit to @derelictheretic for the text dividers i used here to break it up + make it visually easier to read your excerpt of choice.

HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER: 8 VOTES. the john/jestiny fake dating post getting dumped by their respective polycules au. here’s 8 sentences i wrote for chapter three following the poll, which i’m hoping to be able to post in full sometime this week.

“You crashed my boat.” “No shit!” she spat back, butting her forehead against his. “You shouldn’t have been fucking distracting me!” His brow twitched, his body tensing further. “You crashed. My. Boat!” “And did you get some kinda fuckin’ head injury during it or something?!” she barked. “The boat crashed —” “You crashed —” “— you have sufficiently fuckin’ established that.” She shoved her hand harder against his collarbone, digging her nails into the mass of his shoulder. “So how about instead of sitting around goin’ off like a broken record you get the fuck off me and help me shove this thing back into the water? I’ll even give you the honor of driving the piece of junk back to the marina, since you have such a minnow up your ass about me doing it.”

FIELD NOTES: 8 VOTES. working title for jenna’s canon, set pre-reaping. i’ve had trouble getting this one started beyond stray excerpts because i want to format it in a style that’s new for me, epistolary storytelling through research notes, emails, etc. mixed with traditional narration. on that note, i played fast and loose with tallying the sentences here due to the first part being in segmented shorthand, so it’s technically over count.

8:14 PM - Luggage Inventory, Convent Living Quarters. -Small but visible damage to zipper on inner pocket of main suitcase. Bending of teeth bent at approx. two inches from base. Zips with minimal effort, contents of pocket accounted for.  -Approx. 10ml fluid missing from water bottle clipped to handle, visual estimate. Check for leaks/transfer remaining fluid for lab analysis to be added to agenda.  -Slight tears to lining at  A gentle series of knocks drew Jenna from her journal, eyes settling on the peeling eggshell white paint and warped wood of the exterior door opposite the foot of her bunk. She flicked her eyes to the open doorway at her left to confirm that none of the women in the adjoining cabin appeared to have intentions of crossing the invisible barrier of privacy given to her as a ‘special guest’ with a ‘room all to herself’ and answering the knock themselves before climbing down from her bed to cross the short length of the room.  She left the journal open with cover flat atop the mattress and pen tucked into its gutter. It would just as easily read as an accounting of damage done by the airline on the flight over, were John to keep up the established pattern of indirect but relentless restless prying.  Jenna admonished herself for the intellectual laziness of making assumptions as she peered through the crack in the door she opened, finding it wasn’t John who stood there at all.  “I just wanted to see that you were settling in alright,” Faith greeted with a soft smile, dropping the hand that had knocked to fold into the one hovering at her waist, lacing the fingers together with palms pointed towards the ground.  She seemed careful not to touch the frame of the door, to do anything to tangibly intrude into Jenna’s space, but rocked forward on the balls of her feet to lean just past the threshold,  in subtle elicitation of an invitation to enter.

INFERNO: 3 VOTES. a simple lil role reversal au, baptist!jestiny/deputy!john.

He was sure if there were any onlookers watching as he stepped gently and deliberately along the slick mud of the riverbank to weave himself into the throngs of faithful, they would think he looked less like a Deputy County Attorney approaching a potential key witness, and more like a moth drawn to a flame.  All the better, he thought. He knew how to carefully craft a misleading image, too. 

AMERICA’S SWEETHEART: 3 VOTES. i never really planned to write anything in this verse or make it a cohesive story, but if i were going to i would want to do it exclusively through the pov of people just trying to do their job being forced to interact with johnjess. so here’s me playing with that, and with trying to use present tense for something besides the opossum fic. also i did lines instead of sentences because there were lots of short ones oops.

“They were national news. Were,” Penelope corrects with a hiss of derision. “When they were tried. I’m not driving four hours to Hope County every time the court has to deny the habeas corpus petition of the month! I mean, for the love of god, Stuart — I was a Peabody nominee.”  He shrugs as he folds in the temples of his glasses, carefully placing them on the desk beside his tea. “Was,” he grants flatly. “A nominee. You didn’t win.”  The stiff leather of his chair creaks in complaint beneath his shifting weight as he pauses a beat, tacking on, “The paper will be generous with reimbursing travel expenses, of course. There’s a new little resort that popped up at one of the marinas I’ve heard is actually quite nice. Has a spa and everything.”

MINE’S BIGGER: 2 VOTES. a verse vague john/jestiny silly little oneshot that is nsfw adjacent (excerpt fully sfw).

John swatted away the hand attempting to puncture the delicate silk lapel of his robe with the point of the badge, knocking the bronze star down to clatter against the hardwood.  “It doesn’t exactly require high-caliber deductive reasoning to see how desperately you’re trying to deflect right now,” he huffed, pulling up the neck of his robe with a protective grip.

JOIN ME IN THE SKY: 1 VOTE. a silly little john/jestiny airline crew au, john is a pilot and jestiny is a flight attendant. (ft. suffering crew members nick rye and mary may fairgrave.)

“What I’m doing is my duty as the Captain of this crew to see that its members are in line and following orders,” he bit out, shoving past Nick to take his place in front of the door to the absent flight attendant’s room. “Kindly see to it that you’re not the next subordinate in need of attention.”

…seriously? who the fuck was the one person who voted for wildfire? turn on your location i just wanna talk. but here. ““chapter 19””” or whatever

It had never been her particular habit, but as she watched billowing black smoke rise from the short, torn and twisted metal remnants of the frame of the silo with the heat from its explosion flaring hot on her cheeks, Jestiny thought she could understand now why some people enjoyed smoking after sex.