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come in from the cold

@iamamythologicalcreature

It takes a lot of effort to find balance without benefit of solid ground. // Jodotha // She/Her // Tragic writer with a sob story // I also draw things // HIGHLY ENTHUSIASTIC FANGIRL (you have been warned) // Current escapist obsession: Snowbaz (Simon Snow Trilogy) // Occasionally NSFW // Accepting messages from real people // and DMs on Discord from mutual server buddies
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Pitch Manor Progress (which is sort of like Six Sentence Sunday but also not)

It's still Sunday for five more minutes, here. SO....

Okay, I haven't written anything on the Haunting of Simon Snow in awhile. But I have been working on my floor plan for Pitch Manor, which is more than tangentially related to the potential progress of that fic. And today's a rough one for me, so I'm going to post about it like it's progress so I might feel a tad better. Ahem.

OKAY. SO. I've been working on a floor plan for Pitch Manor for... pretty much forever and a day. I ran into trouble when I was writing chapter 2 of Haunting and Simon (Construction Worker!Simon) began to describe the house. I realized... I had no idea what he was describing.

(Warning, there is a long winded geeky ramble ahead. It's just how I do things. Ahem.)

What was supposed to be a quick "let's find a floor plan that I can just copy with some minor adjustments" project has since turned into my special interest project. As a history nerd, that means a lot of research, looking at dozens of floor plans for other houses ranging in origination from the 16th century to the 20th (and probably a few older than even that, since a ton of religious buildings were repurposed into estates. Think Downton *Abbey*.)

But this past week, I feel I've really pushed through a lot of the issues I kept running into. (I've ridiculously been trying to make it as true to the descriptions in Carry On as possible, and something that fits the purposes of my fic, which of course I have envisioned in many, sometimes incompatible, ways.) I've had to make some "this or that, you can't have both" choices, but I'm finally happy with the basic shape and layout.

Whew.

Just for funsies, here's a cross section snippet of my floor plan WIP. It's pretty messy still, but I'm still excited LOL

And (finally), instead of six sentences, I will instead offer you all six tidbits of information about Pitch Manor, as I've envisioned it:

  1. There are four (4!) different sitting rooms. Because the aristocracy just loved their sitting rooms. (Parlor, Withdrawing room, Drawing room, and Reception/Receiving room.)
  2. There is a ballroom. Try and stop me.
  3. The original manor house was built in the 17th century, and has been refurbished and updated a few times.
  4. The most extensive refurbishment happened in the 19th century, which is how it gained its current stylings. (Baz is a freaking troll and I love him for it. The most popular architectural style in the Victorian era was "Gothic Revival." "It's not Gothic; it's Victorian." Hah.)
  5. Some rooms were added on during the Victorian refurbishment, including a Smoking room. They were very popular at that time.
  6. The largest room in the house isn't the ballroom. It's the library. (It's two stories. Try and stop me.)

(I do hope to release the floorplans into the fandom wild after they're complete, in case anyone else wants to make use of them.)

I want to ramble more. But it's almost midnight. Sooo.... Gratitude and hellos under the cut!

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A collaboration for the @carryon-reverse-bang fest!

Status: 1/many chapters // 5.5k so far

Rating: Mature

Summary:

Simon never expected to take a job repairing fire damage at Pitch Manor. First off, his old schoolmate Dev Pitch never liked him. And there's the small matter of it being an empty, recently-abandoned mansion in the middle of the Hampshire dead spot. But the money's good. The fridge is stocked. There's cell reception. It's fine. Except, he's starting to think maybe those stories about Pitch Manor being haunted are more than just rumours. There’s a particular portrait, too, that’s caught his eye. Some stuffed-up tosser with the most pretentious name imaginable. It keeps… Well. It keeps changing. (But that’s not possible. Right?)

Gushing and additional info below the cut!

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Six Sentence Sunday Climbs Out the Window

Hello all! Thank you for the tags today, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and @youarenevertooold! And thank you to everyone who has tagged me in the past couple of weeks. I'm woefully behind on reading WIPs-Day posts, so I really appreciate the tagging. It's the only way I'll find them when I'm finally able to read. So please keep tagging me, even if I'm slow to respond. I may have taken on a bit much this month. >.> Anyhoo, on to some WIP sentences! This will be my last teaser before posting the actual Chapter 1 of the @carryon-reverse-bang fic at the end of the month (Oh God it still needs a title...). I've never tried to tease a single chapter for so long lol. Soooo I'm giving you a little slice of Chapter 2, today. Right at the beginning, though! So really no spoilers. Simon's POV continues:

After another quick inspection of the fire damage, I look back to the window. On impulse I check the latch on the window. At first it sticks, but I manage to persuade it open with my usual flare for diplomacy. I breathe in deeply as fresh, green-scented air wafts in, and push the window all the way open. I rest a hip against the sill and lean out a bit, looking around. There’s a wide overhang just under me, and above me… I can’t quite see. (Or maybe I just want the excuse.) I grin a little as I climb out the window onto the slate roof, being careful to test the shingles before each step. Everything’s solid, though. Whoever had this room before it was closed off was one lucky git. I can only imagine having something like this just outside my bedroom window. It nearly makes up for all the gargoyles. Nah, it completely makes up for them.

Simon knows how to make use of a good excuse. And how to sneak out of bedroom windows. (Did we really ever doubt that would be part of his skillset? Nah.) Tags and hello's under the cut!

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Six Sentence Sunday in a Pitch Pinch

(I have a headache. It's my excuse for that title.) But I am in a bit of a pinch, because of said headache. So quick thanks to @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and @youarenevertooold for the tags today, and on to my snippet from my @carryon-reverse-bang project. Unedited, not canon compliance checked, and without context. Basically, this is my "I'm not gonna miss another Sunday, dammit" contribution. Ahem.

Simon's POV. Behold:

“Mr. Snow,” he said, and I swear he managed to make “Mr. Snow” sound like some sort of veiled insult. “Just tell me the number. We’ll pay it. I’d like to get off the phone.” “O-Okay,” I said, because what else could I say to something like that? “I’ll email you an estimate.” (I copied that line from my boss. He says it’s a good stalling tactic.) I’m glad I stalled, because after I told Penny, she told her mum, and Professor Bunce called me next. Turns out she’s a bit of a shark. I think she’s still off about the fact that I didn’t want any of the Mage’s money. And, apparently, she has no problem taking that out on the Pitch family coffers. Which is how I got here. Getting paid an obscenely large amount of money to do a job I’m not even sure I’m qualified for, inside a haunted mansion, within a dead spot, in Hampshire. Merlin.

Tags under the cut!

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Six Sentence Sunday Goes to Pitch Manor

Hello all! Thank you for the tags @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @cutestkilla, @shrekgogurt, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @artsyunderstudy. I love getting tagged so I don't accidentally miss anything of what you lovely peeps are working on. (Sometimes I can't scroll the feed, so please tag me on your WIP posts if you aren't already!)

Every day, I do my vision therapy exercises (admittedly fewer than I'm probably meant to do, but I have save some eyesight for writing and drawing, right?) and (I hesitate to put this in writing) I think I'm starting to see a difference. My eyes still tire out way too easily, but my necessary recovery time is getting shorter! Hopefully I don't ruin that today by being over-ambitious, but I just love Sundays and Wednesdays on Tumblr XD

I'm still plugging away at my CORB project, and still loving it. I have a tendency to over-write, so future me is going to love it a little less when it comes time to edit, but I'll (probably) survive it. Anyhoo, last time I kept it mysterious and just offered a fun little random bit. This time, I'm going to tease just an itty bitty bit of actual plot.

I continue to enjoy writing in Simon's POV:

When I turn around to leave, I notice the fireplace in a way I hadn’t, before. It’s grand (of course), with more gargoyles carved into the mantle (can’t have too many of those), and a finish that somehow gleams even through a coat of ash and dust. It’s huge, too. (How cold does it get in Hampshire that they need to be able to roast a pig in one of the bedrooms?) It isn’t the size or gargoyles that actually caught my attention, though - it’s the discoloration of the wallpaper just over the mantle. It’s obvious a picture used to hang there. Hung there for a good long while. Maybe it was damaged in the fire? No, no surrounding damage, so I doubt it. Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. It’s just so obvious, now that I’ve seen it. Being aware of the missing piece makes the room feel…I don’t know…Unbalanced? Maybe… unfinished. No, not unfinished. This blank spot on the wall is not part of my job. Right?

(Yup. Gargoyles. Now what could Simon be up to in a room with tons of gargoyles in it? XD)

Tags/hellos/no pressure encouragement for today or any other below the cut!

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Six Sentence Sunday (with a new look)

Hello all! Hey look at that, a new banner. Must mean a new project. XD (Don't worry, I'm not abandoning Baz and poor voiceless Simon, I'm just getting into CORB!)

Thank you @artsyunderstudy, @alleycat0306, @youarenevertooold, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @cutestkilla, @shrekgogurt, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, and @rimeswithpurple for the tags - I look forward to seeing what you're all up to!

This week's clip is context free, to keep the mystery alive for the @carryon-reverse-bang project I'm working on with a friend of mine. I'm really excited about it, though, and I will tell you that it skirts the line between full AU and canon divergence.

I've decided to flip things about this week, so since all of my snippets thus far have been angsty Baz POV, I'm offering up a little light Simon POV. Enjoy!

Near jump out of my skin when my mobile rings. It’s Penny. Hell’s bells, I was supposed to call her. “You didn’t call me,” she says as a greeting. “You were supposed to call me from the train station.” Crowley, she sounds like her mum. “I know, I’m sorry,” I say, mostly to get it out of the way. “But the train was late and there was this bloke in a three piece waiting to drive me.” “So you’re there? What’s it like?” (I signed an NDA before I came here, but she'll push it to the limit, which she knows way better than me, as she went over the contract before she let me so much as touch a pen.) (She’s studying to be a solicitor and wants to take on magickal law. That’s either brilliant or scary. Both, probably.) “It’s… um. Dark.”

(NDA's are for normals and people who don't have a Penelope in their back pocket.)

Tags and hello's below the cut!

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Six Sentences Sunday! On Monday! Or Sunday still if you're in Hawaii.

Note to self: Do not try to write and do a WIP post on Tumblr in the same night. It won't happen. (Sigh.)

Thank you @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @katmiscellanious, @shrekgogurt, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, and @rimeswithpurple for the tags today! I'm looking forward to reading/seeing what everyone is working on! Also thank you to everyone who's tagged me since my last Sunday post. Even when I can't post, I love tags - they help make sure I see the posts I really want to see.

I'm still (slowly) plugging away at my "Embrace the Silence" WIP. (Which has a dozen titles, depending on what song I'm listening to at the given moment.) Basics: Canon divergence fic exploring the ramifications of Baz successfully stealing Simon's voice in fifth year.

Side note: I got to see the touring company of Hamilton on Friday, and this whole setup gives me serious A. Burr/A. Ham vibes. But I could be projecting XD

13 whole sentences because it's gotta cover two whole weeks most likely. >.> (Fiona is driving Baz back to Watford. Reluctantly. As is her way.)

“It’s enemy territory,” she said after a minute, ignoring a stop sign, and forgoing the use of her turn signal. “The Mage had you kidnapped by numpties. Morgana only knows what he could try next, and you’re stuck in a bloody masochistic haze of self-destruction.” She wasn't entirely wrong, on either point. The Mage truly does resent my continued existence. It’s his right. The one thing, perhaps, we both agree on. “What if I’m simply keeping my enemies close,” I said, doing my best to stretch my leg out in the cramped backseat. “And how exactly did you determine the Mage’s culpability in my kidnapping?” She shrugged, meeting my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “Why wouldn’t it be him. He’s capable of anything.” So are we.

I promise/hope really hard my fic won't be all angst, all the time. Levity happens when I'm able to spend time writing, getting into character, writing daily - things I'm not quite able to do yet. (Probably because I'm on Tumblr and Discord too much. It's basically the trolley problem on a less life-threatening scale.) So for now, it's angst, relatively pure and uncut.

Tags under the cut!

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Six Sentence Sunday! Is a Thing! That I am apparently doing!

I made a header graphic and everything, so I guess I'm committed now. (Well, that and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe tagged me on Wednesday and it made me happy, so...)

I’ve been playing around with a few fanfic ideas since sometime in June, but an idea I had last week has really kept my interest. (I even have notes, and planned scenes, which is shocking for a pantser like me.)

It will regrettably be slow going, due to my unreliable vision (you can read about that here if you’re interested). TLDR: I haven’t been able to really write in the last three years due to a head injury, and I am beyond rusty. But I have to get back to writing, because I’m a writer.

Premise: “What if Baz had succeeded in capturing Simon’s voice in fifth year?” (No idea if this has been done before, but I’m going to run with it…)

Here’s a bit of Baz’s inner dialog as he considers his dastardly deeds. Not six sentences exactly, but I don't think anyone's truly counting.

I made promises to myself. That I’d stop expecting to see him when I entered our (my) room. I’d become accustomed to never seeing him, or hearing his voice, or watching him toss and turn at night, wishing… No, I was never brave enough to truly make that wish, was I. I promised myself the fulfillment of other wishes - all the wishes he so easily thwarted, simply by existing. In fifth year, all I could admit to myself was that Simon Snow was making me miserable. The reality I’d refused to accept then was simple: he’d become everything to me. And I’d despised him for it.

(Tags under the cut)

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