WIP Saturday cause fuck it, we ball

Hope ZaneWIP Wednesday

Caerlon is only nice if you think living in the bottom of a hollowed-out glass bottom boat is nice.

If you don’t ever want to go back. If you’re that kind of bitch.

Soldier is that kind of bitch.

She has a scar over her lip, right in the middle, splitting it like a cupid’s bow. Harlot has pretty, slivered silverfish scars crisscrossing all up and down her arms. Ghostly white—pale, like the moon.

Soldier’s scars are all ugly. She doesn’t have flesh that heals well. Her body is aggressive, scar tissue like an overachiever, knotted and red and welty as if daring the world to try to split it again.

Fairytale Shenanigans

Hope ZaneWriting

I was rereading some parts of Fairytale the other day, and I have three quick thoughts before I lose them:

  • For a while now I have wanted to write a harem AU of the Fairytale boys.
  • Also what if I wrote a silly little Kindergarten AU. Just think of Xiao Yu sharing his juicebox with Kiki.
  • A friend told me I should design a Charm lightstick, and that sounds extremely fun.

Thank you for everything, grandma.

Hope ZaneGeneral

I spent a lot of time with my family this weekend, and I went to my grandma’s funeral yesterday. I might have something to say about that… later.

I wrote a story about her, and it means a lot to me. I’m not quite sure if I feel like sharing it yet.

I’m kind of negotiating the balance between public and private life.

You probably didn’t know her, but my grandma was named Beverly, and I swear to god there was no one in this world like her. She could have talked the sky green. She was a little bit magic that way, she could talk to anyone about anything, make things possible that weren’t before, just by connection.

My dad is so much like her. He says I am, too.

I’d really like to be. I don’t think I am yet, but maybe I’m a baby bear growing into what it’ll one day be.

I feel like I have some big shoes to fill because the world seems smaller without her.

But all that’s for later. There are things I’d like to do, and be, and become, but today feels like a day for tender-hearted grieving, still. The words are coming slow. I am fully about to go get some McDonald’s about this as part of my campaign to be kind to myself as much as anyone else.

Take care of yourselves out there.