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mushiewrites · 2 years

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Do you write for Punz or just the Dteam? If just the Dteam then could we get something with lee!Sapnap and ler!George ? Something with it being one of sapnaps first days in the UK and somehow george discovers he’s ticklish?

If you do write for Punz then switch!Punz and switch!Dream first time meeting IRL and they somehow discover each other is ticklish or they’re like streaming and doing a Q&A and one of them sees a question asking if either of them are ticklish and it leads to a tickle fight?

You don’t have to do either of these but if you wanna do either one that’s fine !!! /nf

Hello!! I love Punz sm. I've never written for him, but I'd love to try and start! This is absolutely a jumbled mess of thoughts, but I hope you like it anyway! 💞

(got a bit carried away and it's almost 1K words oops)

"Seriously?! You don't like coffee?!" Dream giggled as he watched the blonde boy next to him stare at him wide eyed and in disbelief of his distaste for everyone's favorite morning beverage.

"It's literally bean water, Punz, it's disgusting. The smell is horrendous." Dream scrunched his nose up just thinking about it. Punz let out a laugh and shook his head, looking away from Dream and back at the screen in front of them.

The two had met IRL and decided to do a surprise stream - they mostly were doing it as a means of having something to do, but also to watch Twitter freak out and flock to Twitch as the notification went out that Dream was live. So here they were, an hour into stream and having accomplished nothing on the hardcore minecraft world they randomly spawned into. It was mainly just something on the screen at this point for the chat to watch as they continued to ask questions.

"Are either of you ticklish?" Dreams ears went red as he heard Punz read the question out loud, suddenly feeling like his whole body somehow got more sensitive just from hearing the word. He chuckled, rolling his eyes and scrunching up his nose again, playing it off as being a silly question.

"What am I, a toddler? No, of course I'm not ticklish." Dream scoffed, refusing to look at Punz but sensing the other staring at him with his eyebrows raised. He heard Punz let out a little huff of a laugh beside him, looking back towards the computer and reading chat.

"Dream, it seems like everyone thinks you're lying," Punz laughed, turning to look back at Dream, who now had his arms crossed against his chest, pressing closely to his sides as much as he could. "Chat, I think I should test this, don't you?"

"No no no no-hoho, not necessary!" Dream couldn't help the stream of nervous giggles that bubbled up his throat as he watched Punz hold his hands up, reaching them towards his sides with wiggling fingers. Dream turned in his seat until he was facing Punz, grabbing his hands to stop him but still unable to look up into his eyes.

"Chat, Dream LITERALLY is a tomato right now, I wish you could see him. I think it's also important to point out he's also currently holding my hands still, and if that doesn't scream 'ticklish' then I don't know what does."

"No it doesn't, you're an idi-OT PUNZ NOHOHO!" Dream tried his hardest to keep his cool, but was unable to control himself when Punz suddenly broke his hands loose, grabbing at Dreams sides, tummy, and wherever else he was able to access from their current position.

"Oh chat, Dream is DEFINITELY ticklish! I don't even have to ask if you can hear, he's so LOUD." Punz giggled, continuing to walk his fingers along Dream's sides as the green eyed boy did his best to curl into a ball, unfortunately trapping the offending fingers against his tummy.

"OKAY OKAH-AY I AM TICKLI-ISH PLEASE PUNZ STAH-AHP!" he tried his best to straighten his back to allow Punz to remove his hands from his stomach, but squealed when Punz instead shot his hands down to squeeze along Dream's knees. He kicked his legs out, finally getting some momentum and flinging his chair back away from Punz.

He narrowed his eyes at Punz, who was busy laughing and reading out things that chat were saying about how adorable Dream was as he took in deep breaths. He took this as his opportunity to lunge forward, skittering his fingers against Punz's ribs. The reaction was something Dream was not expecting.

"NO-OHOHO DREAM PLE-EHEHEASE DON'T!"

Dream couldn't help but feel accomplished as Punz slid down his chair, his arms pressed down against Dreams hands, only further trapping them there. Dream continued to squeeze up and down Punz's ribs and sides, sometimes squeezing at his hips just to see them buck and hear Punz let out high pitched squeals.

"Not so funny, now is it, Punz?" Dream snickered, watching Punz try and squirm out of Dream's hold with no success. Punz had his head thrown back against the seat, eyes twisted shut as he tried to hide his face in his shoulder, embarrassed about how sensitive he was. Dream turned his attention back to chat, smiling as he read out comments to Punz to further tease him.

"Oh look, Punz, the chat are saying you DEFINITELY sound ticklish. Are you ticklish? I can't really tell." He watched as Punz squirmed harder, laughing louder and trying to block out Dream's voice and the flustering teases. Eventually, Dream took pity on him and let him slide down onto the floor, giggling as he flopped onto his back with his hand on his chest, taking deep breaths in between the giggles that escaped every now and then. Dream rolled his eyes fondly down at Punz, helping him up before bringing his attention back to the chat as Punz settled back into his seat, fixing his hair.

"Okay chat, you have somehow successfully created a tickle fight. Now you know your answer. Let's move on and never speak of this again."

#lee!dream #ler!punz #lee!punz #ler!dream #ficlet #this was.....so many words #kasey writes stuff #asks #thank u sm for the prompt i love both of these ideas sm #my stuff #mcyt tickle #mushie ficlets

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wander-wren · 10 months

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soooo.....just testing the waters, not sure what to do yet if anything, but pre-musk i was using twitter to attempt to promote my original fiction (i do that, btw, i'm not sure if i ever talked about it here), and now of course twitter is...twitter.

i took a break in november to return to tumblr instead and focus on fandom, which has been great, but i tried going back to twitter at the beginning of the month and it's...boring. aggressively curating my bubble so i don't fall into the pits of despair just makes it boring.

twitter is, unfortunately, a bit of an industry hub, but it's also dying and i'm no good at it, so i'm not exactly tempted to stay. i'm considering moving my original stuff to tumblr as well maybe?

i write primarily YA fantasy, sometimes scifi. my biggest project right now is Other Lost Things, a sort of Six of Crows-inspired story about a bunch of magical teenagers running from their various pasts who band together temporarily in order to get to safety. things go wrong (or right, depending on how you look at it) from there.

my main dilemma right now is that i can either make a new blog or sideblog for my writing and keep it separate from my main, and run the risk of it boring me/not going anywhere, or i can mix it into my main and risk annoying people who came for fandom things.

i'm still not sure if i even want to bring that work to tumblr, i'm not really a huge fan of being a writeblr, but i don't know what else to do with myself at this point. this writer thing is hard enough and now you want me to do my own marketing?? gross.

so, uh, thoughts? i'm not going to make a poll right now, just, if you made it to the end of this, consider letting me know if you'd vibe with hearing me talk about my other wips sometimes.

#wren wrambles #surprise i dont just do fanfic #idk what to tag this so i wont #six of crows-esque is really the best way to describe olt succinctly mostly bc soc WAS the main inspo but also its not a lot like soc now #aside from like broad strokes #its not even a heist yall. tho there is a prison break lmao. different circumstances #anywayyyyyyyyyyyy #fun fact if it helps #90% of my original stuff is lesbians. idk why all my fanfic is m/m and all my books are f/f but it shakes out that way #i will warn that the two mediums are VERY different for me. i know a lot of people publish their fic as actual books later but. not me.#theyre the same in some ways ofc bc its all Me #i have my favorite tropes and themes etc #but its also just. different. idk i should stop talking the difference is for another post entirely #i'm real nervous about this and idk why soo just lmk. what the vibe is

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anitabyars · 5 years

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Title: A Perfect Lie

Author: Lisa Renee Jones

Release Date: May 14, 2019

ABOUT A PERFECT LIE

Secrets. Lies. A man. There's always a man. And there's always a truth to be told.

I'm Hailey Anne Monroe. I’m twenty-eight years old. An artist, who found her muse on the canvas because I wasn’t allowed to have friends or even keep a journal. And yes, if you haven’t guessed by now, I’m that Hailey Anne Monroe, daughter to Thomas Frank Monroe, the man who was a half-percentage point from becoming President of the United States. If you were able to ask him, he’d probably tell you that I was the half point. But you can’t ask him, and he can’t tell you. He’s dead. They’re all dead and now I can speak.

BUY A PERFECT LIE

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EXCERPT

“Can I join you?” he asks, motioning to the table.

There’s interest in his eyes, the kind a man has for a woman, but who knows, maybe it’s real or maybe it’s not real. Maybe he knows who I am and sees a path to power and fame. The way Tobey wanted me for money and power, right up until the moment I’d called his number aka his agenda; thus, he has not called me since I left. Maybe Harvard will lie even better than Tobey did. Maybe Harvard will at least kiss better than he did, and the lies would taste like temptation rather than convenience. At least then, if I’m used, I’ll enjoy being used.

Whatever the case, it’s clear I might actually be angry with Tobey and that aside, the interest that Harvard has shown in me, must be controlled before my Denver sanctuary is destroyed. “You can join me,” I say, “but only because I’m trying to save the rest of the place from the attorney in the house.”

I am pleased when Harvard laughs, where Tobey would have scowled, proving that Harvard has a sense of humor, which is rare for those in my life. I’ve barely completed this thought when he moves forward and claims the seat next to me, not across from me, settling his briefcase on that chair instead. In the process, his leg brushes my leg and for the briefest of moments, I’m transported back to the place that I’m now trying to forget: to Austin, to Drew’s leg next to mine, his wink, and I do now what I did then. I jerk back. If Harvard notices he doesn’t react. “Since we haven’t been formally introduced,” he says, resting his naked hands on the table. “I’m Logan. Logan Casey.”

“Logan Casey,” I repeat trying to ground myself in the present, at least for now, but some part of me is still swimming in that memory, which naturally has me wondering if this man is a shark in the water around me. “Two first names,” I add. “Sounds like your parents fought over who got to pick your first name. Did they draw straws for which choice became your middle name?”

“You’re actually right on target,” he says, laughing again, and it’s a nice, masculine laugh, and oddly this thought feels familiar while Logan does not. “No one has ever guessed that,” he adds. “My mother won the name war. The women always win. Speaking of names. Do you have one?”

“Hailey Anne Pitt,” I say, “and in my house, my father won the name war.” Because in my father’s world, I add silently, the women don’t win the wars. At least, not that he knows, not in an obvious way. I’ve learned this well.

“Well then, Hailey Anne Pitt,” he says, “what’s a Stanford girl like you, doing in a place like this? You’re a long way from school.”

I’m smacked in the face with a lesson I’ve long ago learned and forgotten with this man; strangers do not always remain strangers and all offhanded remarks can come back to haunt you. “That was a joke,” I say, shutting the door connected to my real life, and a path that leads to my father. “I hate attorneys, remember?”

He narrows his eyes on me, and for no reason other than instinct, I believe he’s looking for a lie that he won’t find. I’m simply too well-taught from birth, too skilled at being more than one person to allow such a detection. Well that, and the fact that I really do hate attorneys, which is why I’ll be a good one.

“That was a joke?” he confirms.

“Yes,” I say. “Are you amused?”

“Yes, actually. I am. What does a lawyer-hating smart ass like yourself do for a living?”

“When not busy taunting those who went to law school,” I say. “I’m an aspiring artist.” Both honest answers, if you put a “was” in front of the “aspiring artist” which I’d thought that I’d come to terms with, but the knot in my stomach says I have not.

Logan motions toward the art room. “Your career explains why you ended up here.”

“I guess it does,” I say, as this place serves me well to reconnecting to the Pitt part of my life, which is a place I really need to be right now, for all kinds of reasons.

“Are you good?” Logan asks, as if he’s read my mind.

My father’s words answer him in my head. Art is useless unless you’re famous, he used to say often, because of course, it was inconceivable that I might be good enough to be famous. “Art is like movies and food,” I say, shoving aside that bad memory. “Good is subjective.” I don’t give him time to reply. I ping the conversation back toward him. “What kind of law do you practice?”

“Corporate,” he says, and this time he pings back to me. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“Yes,” I say simply. “Do you?”

“I bought a building a few years ago where I live and work which means this is my home turf, and why I know you’re new here.”

“I am,” I say and since he’s clearly going to ask for details, I quickly preempt with an on-the-fly story. Actually, it’s the suggested story, Rudolf included in my file. “I came here for a job, and my new boss owns a house he’s rented to me for dirt cheap.”

“And what does an artist do but create art for a living?”

“I’m working for a private art acquisitions firm. I now hunt for treasures for a living.” This lie is actually my dream job that I’ve never been allowed to entertain.

The horror flick loving waitress delivers my coffee and brownie. “Thank you,” I say, because every politician’s daughter has manners beaten into her.

“No problem,” she says, “but if you come to your senses and want a better version of that coffee, just shout.” She eyes Logan. “I already know you want a crappy tasting coffee, on endless pour and a chocolate chip cookie. Coming right up.”

“Thanks, Megan,” he says, giving her a wink that I don’t classify as flirtatious, just friendly, and Megan is gone.

“Obviously you’re a regular,” I comment, “and they even like you.”

“And they like me,” he confirms, “despite knowing I’m an attorney.

“Because you’re good looking and use it to your advantage.”

He arches a brow. “You think I’m good looking, do you?”

“Oh, come on,” I say, crinkling my nose. “Everyone thinks you’re good looking. I’m simply stating a fact. We use what we have and those of us that are smart, know what we have.” I move on from what is really quite inconsequential. “Why work here, not at home, or in the office?”

“I find I get a lot of work done with a cookie, coffee, and no access to streaming television,” he explains.

No one in my D.C. crowd would make an admission of being human and distractible. Some people in my situation might take comfort in that fact, but I don’t. Logan’s an attorney, and my gut, which I’ll confirm with research, says he’s a powerful one, the kind that radiates toward my father. Maybe that’s a coincidence and maybe it’s not. Maybe he’s testing how well I execute my cover story. The possibilities are many. Though in all fairness to Logan, perhaps I’d lean toward his innocence, if not for the laundry list of recent events such as Tobey being gay and the FBI agent, who is likely working for my father, that I slept with to prove I was a) still desirable and b) not a killer.

ABOUT LISA

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series.

In addition to the success of Lisa's INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is also the author of the bestselling WHITE LIES and LILAH LOVE series.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women's Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

CONNECT WITH LISA

Newsletter ➜ http://lisareneejones.com/newsletter-sign-up/

Bookbub ➜ http://bookbub.com/authors/lisa-renee-jones

Amazon ➜ https://amzn.to/2MoWosB

Twitter ➜ https://twitter.com/LisaReneeJones

Instagram ➜ http://instagram.com/lisareneejones

Goodreads ➜ https://www.goodreads.com/LisaReneeJones

My Review!

5 ⭐️

Riveting!!!

Wow! This is a riveting, suspenseful, mystery that is about greed, destiny, betrayal, secrets, lies, power, money and ambition. It’s about what some powerful people may do to get ahead. But is also the story of a young woman Hailey Anne Monroe whose father has political aspirations to become the President. A father who appears to be disdainful of rules, of laws and of ethics. Raised from infancy to be the perfect daughter, Hailey tells us her story, as she searches for answers, and finds out what she is truly made of. Written in past and present tense it takes you on her journey of what she says is the truth. But is it? Or could it be the perfect lie?

This story took me on a wild ride, making me question every single character and situation the whole way through. There were little hints along the way that built this story, so many little things that started to tick off this list of what was real and who was behind all of this. I spent most of the chapters mentally keeping track of all the big and small clues. My mind constantly racing trying to figure out where this was all leading next. Because we have learned that in politics and life that lies can and are avoided by the many versions of the truth.

Lisa Renee Jones did a phenomenal job crafting this story, and I was held captive until the end. I loved its fast pace and unexpected turns. So clear your schedule. Bring a snack. This will keep you reading late into the night. I couldn’t put it down. I highly recommend this story.

I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced reader copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

#lisa renee jones #the perfectlie #riveting narrative

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