Hellooooo out there! I'm alive! It's been so long since I posted that I decided to make it even longer and wait to post until I had snippets from every WIP. That way y'all know they aren't abandoned! I'm still writing them, literally all of them. So here you go, happy WIPWednesday :)
Thank you to those of you who still tag me in spite of my long disappearance (no numpties involved, I swear): @martsonmars, @nausikaaa, @thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16, @artsyunderstudy,
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@monbons, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather,
From my 2023 COTTA, Snow Fox:
I’d tried to protect Penny, Shepard and Baz from this life. I’d tried to protect Penny’s home. And the Bunce’s. And I ended up failing all of them.
This thought gnaws at me for the next several weeks. Even if Baz and Penny and Shep have fallen into camp life with a will, that doesn’t override my guilt. At least the Bunces escaped. Shep rode back into camp the day after the rescue, covered in road dust and smiling with his whole face. He didn’t even need to speak the good news.
From Stars, Flowers, and Children:
I linger in the shadows of the doorway and watch Baz’s glee over his hot bath.
It makes me happy that he’s happy. But I also feel odd and trembly in my gut. I’m not used to feeling odd when I look at Baz. I look at him all the time. But when he stripped to his skin to get into the bath, I couldn’t help but notice how much his body had changed from the first time I saw him.
From my COBB with @cutestkilla: The Rat and the River
Pippa nods, her eyes downcast. I sigh, my better angel winning its internal battle. I rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, right where Baz’s hand had been before he rushed off to examine the rodent blood. “It’s likely not going to be an issue, dear,” I assure her. I don’t elaborate; she knows the odds as well as I. I can see her struggle and finally manage to draw together the shreds of her composure.
“Right,” she whispers. And then repeats it, a little louder. “Right. Well, there’s half a dozen more species in there to sample. I’d best get back to work”.
I’m apparently now the fifth Beatle of this group, invited along anywhere they go. .But if I’m part of the band, I’m George Martin rather than Pete Best. I’ve started putting out feelers with my contacts back home, hoping to secure some gigs for Simon and his team in my home country. Given Dev and Niall’s reactions on seeing him the first time, I know he probably already has a following there. If I can get them work in London, I can take Simon home with me when my summer of freedom is over.
I haven’t told him any of this, of course. I’ve got no idea if he’d even be willing to leave California. But I’ve got to try. My summer vacation is up in less than a month and I can’t bear the idea of leaving without him.
From You & I Will Always Be Unfinished Business, my COBB with @rimeswithpurple
“Baz!” I say, too loudly.
One side of his mouth quirks up. “Is this how you and Bunce always solve mysteries?” he asks. “If so, I’ve severely overestimated you.”
“Yes—I mean no—I mean we were. Working—on your case. This morning.” Holy hell, can my brain even put together a complete sentence?
I have the good sense to slow down once I’ve hit the front doors to Mummer’s house. I can’t afford to be seen running at my full vampire speed. Even if…even if Snow does turn me in, it won’t be for being a vampire.
I’m clothed, but I still feel disgusting. So I set off for the locker room at a perfectly normal jog. I’ll shower there, and then…well, then everything else depends on Simon, doesn’t it?
I realize I’m maundering to avoid looking at the crumpled heap on the bed that is my best friend. I’m not used to seeing him like this–Simon always felt like he had to be strong for all of us. He’d cry, sure. But his tears were generally tears of rage and frustration. Before the last few days, I don’t think I’d ever seen Simon lost to despair.
While I’ve loitered in the doorway, Baz has made his way to the bed and is now sitting by Simon, one hand on my best friend’s hip.
From CORB #1, Baby Mine with @argumentativeantitheticalg
I lead the way to the room we’ll be sharing, deliberately clearing my mind of any thoughts about how earlier, Snow almost…it looked like he was going to…kiss me? But it can’t be. I must have imagined it. Maybe I’d had sauce from dinner on my face and he was going to wipe it off…
When we enter the room, I gather my pajamas and head into the ensuite without a word. Once the door shuts behind me, I turn to the ancient, yellowed mirror above the sink.
From CORB #2: The Stoves Come On At Night, with @ebbpettier
I keep feeling eyes on me. The sensation wakes me up nearly every day. There’s never anyone there, but there’s always a wet spot in my doorway. The first time, I found the wet spot by slipping in it and landing on my arse in the puddle. Thereafter, I check with my bare toes before stepping across the threshold of my door.
Keeping Penny’s advice in mind, I devote my next day off to checking the roof for leaks. I find nothing.
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