Friday, May 10, 2013

House of the Horde Info • Ch.24 Teaser

So, we've achieved something with House of the Horde. I know a lot of people are frustrated with me, but a lot more are very supportive and I just want to express how thankful I am. Truly. I can't say that enough. Thank you for being so understanding, for supporting this hobby and being good-hearted human beings. For the first time in my life, I'm going through issues with my health. I'm working on getting better, but it's been a struggle. It's not fatal, but it's constant. It affects the quality in which I live my life, and we only have one, so I'd like to live well.

Writing is my escape. So, when I'm not involved with family activities, that's how I enjoy spending my me time. So, I don't prolong the wait to be mean and say, "MUWAHAHAHAHAHA! WRITHE AND FESTERRRR!" I want to be done with this thing as much as you want me to be done with it, and the good news is it's almost complete! Most of the chapters were pre-written before I started writing again after my two year hiatus, but as I've gotten more into the story I learned pre-written doesn't mean anything if I have to edit before posting. Editing is important to me.

My mom tells me I'm a perfectionist, and yeah... I am. Anyway, I'm not sure if I've told everybody, or only mentioned it to a handful of people who've asked, (I have a horrible freaking memory), but there's only going to be about 30 chapters unless I can break it down into less than that (as I did with chapter 23).

Answering all the questions that remain is what I'm focusing on with each update. There are new questions that may rise, but I assure you, they are important to the completion of this journey and I'm confident that everything we've learned from this world will be solved at the end. I've said it before when I wrote Kingdom of Rust, and I'll say it again now. I don't write filler. Every single chapter has a purpose. Sometimes it will be subtle, and will exist within a conversation or action, or it will be a glaring revelation, but either way there is point.

Unlike this googly-eyed ham, which serves no purpose.

I'd like to give you a teaser for Chapter 24. It's my favorite so far because it's all been leading up to this one moment. This big, big thing everyone has always asked me about, but I couldn't answer because it's huge! This is but a small part. Unedited of course.

Chapter 24: Walls of Stone, Walls of Glass

I screamed as the tears swelled over my lower lid. I filled with anger and hatred.  

“Why are you doing this!?” I cried, clenching my fists and turning to stare at him. When he didn’t answer, I found the strength to stand from my crouched position on the floor. “Why?!” I swung my fist at him, hoping to connect with his jaw, but he caught it and pushed me away.

“What did they mean to you?” he asked then stroked his palm down his mouth and chin. By then, some of the blood had already begun to dry except the thick, wet drops which smeared, further staining his skin. “Hm? What did those girls mean to you?"

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

LEL Sequel • More of Ch. 1

I finally got Photoshop back on my computer, so I've been playing around with some stuff. Visuals inspire me to write, which is why I create them.

Also, I'm posting more of chapter one below. Don't worry, there's still more to read even though these two snippets have been posted. The first chapter is probably my favorite so far.

Lured. Trapped. Hunted. Saved. Accused of murder.
Bella Swan thought the nightmare ended when he died.

She thought wrong.

“You keep saying 'thing'. What do you mean?”

A monster was all she could say. She knew the type, knew which story he mimicked. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“I'll believe you. I just want to understand. I want to see it how you saw it.”

“No you won't. I know you've seen a lot of stuff, dad, but you've never seen this. You couldn't possibly imagine what's out there, and those who know are dead.”

“Bella, what are you talking about?”

She looked at her hands, still filthy with dirt and blood. The white dress woke her from the sleepy state, and she remember the look on his face when he'd presented the gown to her while they danced. She'd never forget the way his teeth became changed into knives, or the maddening black of his pupils as they dilated, nearly overwhelming the red, which she knew the reason for now. Of all the possible reasons for red eyes, her thoughts never permitted the supernatural explanation.

“Ever read Dracula?” she asked her father, picking the dirt from her nails.

“A million years ago when I was in high school. Why?”

“Think of that times twenty, and you still won't understand what I saw. He's a monster, dad.” Her tears began to perk. “Not the 'he's so horrible, he's a monster'. No. He's a real monster with teeth and red eyes.”


“He's always hungry. He's smart.”

“Bella, this is nonsense,” Charlie said lightly, interrupting.

“He ate Angela and Eric, killed Mike.”

“Bella, stop.”

“He hunted me, Chased me through the woods after giving me this dress!”

“Bella! Stop!” Charlie said, voice raised.

She heard him that time, registered his clipped tone and stopped talking.

He expelled his frustration and horror with a sigh. “What are you saying? You met Dracula in the woods?”

She shook her hanging head with a slight humor because she knew he wouldn't believe her. She even told him so! “He's real. I swear he is. I didn't imagine this.” She paused, wondering if the next words should be spoken. She said it to herself many times before, but speaking them was an entirely different story. “He's a vampire.”

Chief Swan ran his hands through his hair to the back of his neck. “Bella," he began, his voice rough and stern, the way it always was when he tried to make a point. He found her nervous eyes again. Once they had been full of wonder and beauty. Their endless dark knew no depths and he saw her mother then, and wondered if perhaps she was telling the truth. Bella never lied to him before, but she had been traumatized. Her imagination ran wild with explanations, so he firmed his arm after placing his elbow back on his knee and shook it at her with each word. "Vampires don't exist."

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Lions Eat Lambs Sequel

I had a title, then I didn't like it, so it's a work-in-progress (as-is the fic), but I thought I would post half of the un-edited first chapter for anyone interested. For the most part, it picks up where Lions Eat Lambs left off, just in a different setting. I won't begin posting until I've completed the entire thing, or at least the majority so I may update quickly for your convenience. I expect this to be around fifteen chapters. 

Lured. Trapped. Hunted. Saved. Accused of murder.
Bella Swan thought the nightmare ended when he died.

She thought wrong.

There was a moment of insecurity when she felt unsafe even though trapped within flesh-colored walls. She'd been separated from the world, regardless if she could reach her arm through the iron bars and twist her fingers in the air of freedom. Her father occupied a small space next to her cell. He'd been idle so long in the metal chair, he'd lost feeling in both legs no matter which way he sat. He'd allow a sigh and a shift every once in awhile, but his impatience could never be masked. Chief Swan had a face of truth, an honest man down to the very core of his workings and bones. He'd never been able to lie even though he'd tried before, which was why police work had done so well for him, why he excelled where others had failed because honesty was hard to come by in his line of work.

With her father's sigh, Bella allowed her head to rest on the flat pillow, lingering on the dark, clouded thoughts as they passed over. The strange scent of the sheets covering the thin mattress filled Bella’s lungs until it hurt. The sterile air seemed familiar, arousing fuzzy memories against the sharp and cold present. A hospital, yes. They smelled of clean sheets from a hospital, though “clean” was questionable. Sure, they'd been washed, but how thoroughly, and by whom? Did this person care for their job, or was it a chore? The simplest meaning changed the idea of clean.

It'd been so long since the questioning she could barely recall the details as though it weren't real. The images were unclear, and only pieces of them fit together, creating an odd dream-like puzzle. She was there. It had to be real. All of it.

The woods, the camp out, a long wall and the house.

And if those were real, so was he. Those soulless red eyes took the last drop of sanity clinging to her bones before she rolled on her side to face the wall then closed her eyes. If she didn't see the room, it didn't exist. If there was no room, there was no man. No man, no nightmare, no thoughts of what-if.

She kept her back to her father, masking the true nature of her position as tears streamed down her face at the sight of the wall. She understood she'd never see the true day again unless bound in shackles. No one would ever believe her story, and she thought perhaps she would tell it differently if given the chance. She wondered about Jessica's health, if she was okay at the hospital and what she told the men who'd interrogated her. Would they believe her, then, if she and Jessica told the same story or would they think it was made up before arriving in a Mercedes which didn't belong to them?

What would they find at the house? Emmett, or the monster?

The warm tear turned ice cold the further it slid along her skin. The air incredibly chilled and unforgivable in that tiny cell, she began to shake. She wished she had a blanket to cover up with.

Charlie rubbed his hands together. “They've been gone a long time," he said, then looked to his daughter, noticing the way her shoulders hunched and shivered. "Are you cold?”

She wiped the tears away with a few fingers then turned to see her father taking off his Kennesaw police jacket. It wasn't very heavy, but he carried it with him and wore it until he could no longer stand the hot, Georgia heat. That didn't keep him from keeping it in his car, though. Bella reckoned that jacket had seen just about everything from car accidents to homicides.

He slipped it through the cell bars. “Go on. Take it. I'm not cold.”

Bella sat on the edge of the cot, the cold metal stinging the back of her legs. “What if you get cold?”

“You need it more than I do.” He shook it at her once more, a gentle push for her to take it from his hand. She obliged and wrapped herself in the familiar scent. It reminded her of her dad's cruiser; the cloth seats, and fast food fries that had stayed under the seat for too long, then there was his aftershave at the collar. It stood out against everything else.

“Thanks,” she said, giving him a slight grin.

He nodded. Before he sat down once more, he pulled his chair closer to the cell. He pushed his fingers together and leaned forward on his knees. He’d wanted to talk to her, more than he’d ever admit. He wanted to know she was okay, that she’d be okay, but more importantly... “Bells?” He didn't continue until he caught her eyes. “What really happened out there?”

Wednesday, January 9, 2013


This post has been brought on by a series of events these past few days starting with the development of a non-lethal virus taking over my home. I swear, kids are those things that scientist grow bacteria in. Don't judge me. I can't think of the name. PETRI DISH. God. It took me two days to figure that out, and now that I think about it, I don't know why I didn't search for it in Google.

-.- grr.

Anyway, I've been thinking about my past three years in Twifandom, and how many awesome people I've met, and seen around these parts of the interwebs. Often times--okay, all the time--I feel I'm not good enough to be in the presence of such generous and amazing people. I still remember reading Wide Awake in my living room for the first time, not being able to make dinner because I was reading and fascinated with Edward and Bella being human. I still credit Danieller123 for pulling me away from the Twilight YouTube community and into fanfic. I never thought I had the patience to write, but I started typing away at the keyboard one day, creating my first AU.

That fic led into House of the Horde, which led to Lions Eat Lambs and eventually Kingdom of Rust, inspired by Sharon's Hansel and Gretel plot bunny. Writing opened up so many doors. It's given me patience and perspective and a new-found respect for the authors I always overlooked while growing up. I've never been well-read (and I'm still not), so I always did as little as possible regarding assignments in school. To be honest, I didn't realize how books could take a person into another world until Twilight, which is why it takes a while for me to get fics out.

I become immersed in characters and their possibilities until they reveal their path, then, I have to find the time to write. Tangent. My apologies. Not only for the brief veer off course, but because I don't read as much fanfic as I should, even though countless authors and readers have given me a try. It's not you, it's me. No, really. I'm a douche nozzle when it comes to these things, but it doesn't mean I think you suck. That can't be farther from the truth. My time spent interacting with you has been the highlight of my adult life (aside from my children and husband), and I know most would think that's sad, but I don't. Most of my "real life" friends have their own lives and routines which don't include me. I've found astounding comfort in knowing where to go if I need someone to talk to, or see people interacting about fic or whatever.

Thankfully, two of my besties have been Twihards, one of them is Luna Starfire (aka: Dementia). She's the most underrated author in this entire goddamn fandom. I wish I had her style because she's full charge at a certain angle and doesn't let up a single bit (unless she's not writing). Her prose is so unique, I'm grateful I understand it. She's carries zero reservations about herself, while I carry one-hundred percent about my "talent".

I don't feel I have a talent or gift. It's a tool to keep insanity at bay, to thwart off negativity in my personal circle which I've lived with my entire life. I still struggle. I feel I'm getting entirely off subject because this is about you. How happy I am to know you, and even more thrilled you've spoken to me or helped me over a hump. You've made me smile with your silliness and cry with your life experiences. If you've ever read one of my stories and rec'd it to someone else. If you've ever read my story and hated it, thank you for at least giving it a try. If you've ever left me a review, and I didn't have time to respond back, but you didn't care, thank you for understanding. You are awesome.

Most of all I want to thank you, not just for all these things, but for being, and not wanting to be, anyone else except yourself. :)


Wednesday, August 15, 2012

House of the Horde visual

I thought, what better way to get back into this story than make a new visual for it?

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

It often begins with how it ends.

Before I write a story, I know how it ends. I know the ending traits of all the characters, the status of the world. The scene plays out in my head like a movie would at its closing.

Kingdom of Rust was no different. However, when I published chapter thirteen, the original ending no longer worked for me. These characters changed, became more than I intended for them to be, I suppose. They've lived in my head for the six months, exuding the different possibilities of their fate. I had no choice but to exploit every, single one of them in search of happiness, not for them, but for myself. Could I write an ending true to the original, but still acceptable within our worlds, theirs and ours?

Yes. I finally can.

The end of the end is coming. It's about fucking time.
We were so wrong for each other; the farm girl who never saw anything, and the soldier who witnessed more than he ever wanted to see. 

Friday, January 20, 2012


All this talk of a fic that has swept a quarter of the Twi fan-fic community has me kinda down and confused.

Remember House of the Horde, that little fic I was writing but put on hold?

Well according to the talk, the fic in question (the popular one) has the same terrain that HotH has. I'm not talking about one or two elements, I'm talking about two or three sub-plots and a few character traits. I'm curious, now, if I should completely change the direction I was going with my fic because I don't want to the story to seem like a copy-cat of another.

While I generally want people to enjoy what I write, I write for myself first. I don't want to put out something that I'll be un-happy with later, but for the first time I'm questioning this. Do I change my original (but apparently not so original) plot/sub-plot to keep the "OMG SHE COPIED SO-AND-SO" at bay, or do I continue on like none of this ever happened?

I'm very unsure of what to do since I'm riding in unfamiliar territory.