Slaps her hands over her mouth.

Oops.

I am almost (yay!) done with the monster fic. I'm working on the epilogue, have it almost done except for one final bit. Only problem is, I've backed myself into a corner wrt an emotional thread that has run through the last half of the whole story. I want to have some resolution, and it seems the only way out is smut.

Oh noes.

Ta da! final chapter/epilogue off to the beta reader! For something that is so much fun to read, smut is awfully annoying to write.

It's done! and just in case anyone cares - Domus Hadeum: Or, Where You Live. The House of Hades. "Where I live. Every minute of every day. I've never left. I was hoping to, after I killed Red John. Now I don't know how to leave. Misery loves company, Lisbon. And I'm going to make you live there, too." The Mentalist: Jane/Lisbon; rated M; 43,000 words; AU. At FFN [link] or AO3 [link]

And since I am fairly certain no one here is reading the damn thing I can complain here that none of my reviewers commented on the references to classical mythology throughout. It was all literary and junk. There were pomegranates, dammit.

t /silly whinge

I agree, I hate when no one comments on what I consider a really well-crafted scene or some nice choreography. Instead it's "Grate! Where's mor?!"

And alas, I spoke too soon. I DID get a comment on that aspect of the story - but it was "why are you so ignorant about ____ that I'm doing my thesis on, and by the way the Latin in the title isn't declined correctly". Thbbpt.

That's ok, now there's a kink meme, and I'm writing stuff for the all-too numerous handcuffs prompts - while at the same time not writing actual bondage into the smut. Seriously, three different prompts for the pairing specifically mentioning handcuffs.

I wrote this responding to the "Crack," challenge in GWW, but maybe it belongs here, more. Justified, 218 words... Raylan Givens and his partner Rachel pulled up in front of the deserted-looking farmhouse. “Refresh my fading memory…what’s this guy’s deal again?”

“You pick the strangest times to care about the paperwork.” Rachel mocked him just so she wouldn’t have to see Raylan messing with that damn hat for the millionth time. Dude knew he was pretty, and that the hat was perfect. Shoot.
“Now that your vanity is satisfied, Mr. Little’s original charge was two counts possession and one count intent to distribute.”

“Not to sound like a bad drug warrior or anything,” Raylan said, “But aside from thinking that pot plant would have to be bigger than my head to sentence him so tough and the idle sort of curiosity that inspires, l had a rough night last night, so my gut instinct is ‘Big whoop’

“Is that your official response?”

“Well, no, my official response would be double-spaced and have Latin I checked on Wikipedia. But that’s a general synopsis.”

“Wikipedia,” Rachel muttered.She checked the paperwork again. “But it’s not pot.”

“He joined half the county in providing freelance pain relief, huh?”

“No, it’s not oxy, either. It’s crack.”

“Huh.” Raylan seemed to be deep in thought. “What?”

“Do you think it would be cheaper to serve this warrant or buy that man a GPS?”

I am rereading my fic (and subsequent comments) in an effort to psyche myself up to get back to writing, and am discovering (yet again) what a crap writer I am as well as deleted comments.

At first I took this as a personal slight, but after some sleuthing, discovered that the poster had purged their journal. Or, I'm assuming the deletion of their account caused the deletion of the stories (archived on another journal?). Man, we were having a freaking conversation! I had enjoyed it!

I hate that I was never able to find my favorite H:LOTS fanfic authors and say, for instance, "Adena 1950" was brilliant...thanks."