Cupid Bow Mouth

Only in Certain Light
Fandom: The Irregulars (Netflix)
Rating: PG
Summary: Sisters in mid-winter dealing with growing up. Bea and Jessie and the ghost of Alice Cook between them. pre-series, pre-canon.



“The great mother whom we call Innana gave a gift to woman that is not known among men,
and this is the secret of blood.” – Anita Diamant, The Red Tent




It started with blood.

Of course it started with blood.

It was never going to be anything else and they both realized it the moment Jess woke screaming, blood pooled in her drawers and staining the sheets.

Bea reached out and Jessie jerked back, dragged up her skirts and thrust her hand between her thighs. Her hand came back tipped in blood and she sobbed. This was the landscape where mothers reigned, but there was no mother here. Alice Cook was a memory, thin and fragile and nearly all made up.

Read on A03

1. I always thought that if I could only make "x" amount of money then I would be set. Here I am at my goal, and I'm still broke as a joke. WTH, universe!

2. I am editing and revising the novel and I admit that looking at my beta notes makes me overwhelmed and discouraged. How the heck do I get through this? Any tips on how to manage beta notes? There's a lot of really good stuff in them, but I'm kind of defeated looking at them. :(

I hope everyone is well ... this is petty shit.

Today was otherwise awesome. Kick ass yoga practice started the day -- I am all kinds of sore and stretched out through the hips, and I got to do a table read via Zoom of the play Arcadia with awesome peeps. It was the most fun!

Edited to add: “Writing a novel seems to me like swimming across a giant body of water. The shoreline on the other side is often hazy, and even when I make a lot of fast and furious strokes forward, the end still seems far away. That’s okay—it’s a normal part of the process. All I can do is keep swimming, keep writing, and try not to focus on how much farther I still need to go.” - Dallas Woodburn

Why is this like my SOUL right now?!

I look back at fic that I've written and sometimes it is a wonder that I ever managed to write things that are not bad.

Where did that come from? Where did it go?

How do I get back to it?

Hope you are well. Hoping things are bright whereever you are.

Stay safe.

Wash your hands and look both ways before you cross the street.

Inspiration is such a subjective, unexpected, surprising thing. Ephemeral in its genesis and almost impossible to track in its totality. We can recall pieces of the elements that come together to inspire a work, but I don't think that we ever remember all of them.

Last night, right on the cusp of sleep, a light bulb went off and I found myself, not unusually, scrambling for a scrap of paper and a pen to scrawl out the opening of a CDTH fic. Since I finished the book, a scene has been continually turning over in my head, but I wasn't sure what the story was or how to get there. I jotted down notes and quotes and song lyrics. Listened to Bear (my Spotify playlist for the fantasy of all things love related) a couple of times and didn't really come up with much. I tried forcing the write and … nada. So, I closed my laptop. Got ready for bed. Snuggled down, closed my eyes, and WHAM!

The opening paragraphs and who knows why it decided to coalesce at that moment in time, all the desperate searching for inspiration melded together.

Maybe it was because I was relaxed?

Possibly.

I wasn't expecting it and it was all whatever cause I had other things to worry about. Namely getting enough sleep before work this morning and it was already nearly 11:30 and my alarm goes off at 4.

Whatever it was, It gave me a solid opening. Something to work from.

Who even knows why ...

Been on hiatus from the MS while beta notes come rolling in. I picked well and got lots of great feedback to work from on the next edit. My general sense is that I overcorrected from a previous draft, so the ending is getting rolled back (among other things). On the upside, it's ever closer to being actually readable!

It makes me giddy, excited, and exhausted cause there's still plenty of work ahead. :)

Title: The Girl of Your Dreams
Fandom: Man of Steel
Rating: R
Notes: So, you know how in the comics, Faora is a murderous man hating psychopath? Yeah, this is glancing off that story … Plus, there was that one scene in the desert. Col Hardy's eyes widening when Faora came down the gangplank all suited and booted and clearly a girl. It was all aggressive attraction, Hardy being all "I AM A GUY, and in charge" and Faora, well, we all know Faora is a psychopath. post-movie AU: what would life be like if they both survived the Phantom Drive collision. Takes for granted some Phantom Zone mechanics.
Summary: Trust me, I just wanna see you bleed. This is not a romance. Faora-Ul is both all of Nathan Hardy's favorite sci-fi soldier queens and also like none of them at all. He is the thing she likes to hurt to make herself feel better.




“A good death is its own reward.”

Only Nathan doesn’t die despite Faora killing him every night. He regrets the taunt as he drowns from the inside, Faora standing over him, his breather hanging limp in her hand and her sky-light eyes narrowed in the suggestion of a smile. He regrets his temper and the misogyny, and that damn stare down in the desert. Equal parts who does this bitch think she is and fuck, she’s too hot to be the bad guy.

Nathan lets his eyes roll back, panting around the fluid in his lungs. He pictures her as she had been then, striding down the dropship’s gangplank, smaller than he had imagined, and obviously girl shaped -- breasts and waist enhanced by the curve of the armor.

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When you're so deep in edits that you really just don't want to do it anymore cause you're sick of looking at it and no matter what you do it never sounds any better ....

UGH!

The first real, complete draft of the MS is done. The book itself is a shambly mess of parts that aren't totally cohesive at this point, but it's a start. I'm happy and excited about that.

It's undergoing a developmental edit with my writing bud, lettered, shout out!! Currently, it's wallowing somewhere around 83K words which is an astonishing number considering that my average has always been in the 1K to 2k zone.

I'm afraid of the notes that will come back .... cause ... mess.

Also, it is very weird not to be writing on Wednesday and Sunday. Like I can do everything else, anything else, but I'm still currently feeling compelled.

So, the end of the world continues apace. Pre-teens are pre-teens and we learn some interesting things about the Virals.

Also, and unrelated .... I acknowledge that I’m an episode, about to be two episodes behind on Roswell, New Mexico. Work is a little cray. Hopefully, I’ll rectify this miss soon.

On with episode six!

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I am writing a book. It is nearly done. The ending is giving me fits and I dread editing the whole thing. I also love that this is something that I am doing because writing is a terrible joy. Speaking of Joy .. lettered has been my writing partner and crit buddy and she is the best.

I still kind of hate my MS, and I'd almost rather be writing fanfic.

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