update

Jun. 15th, 2016 10:33 pm
thatrcooper: (charlie and will)
Look, I, uh, am supposed to be doing this promotion stuff right now. There's a lot to promote. However, to be perfectly honest, with all the crying/raging/feeling sick to my stomach I've been doing all week, I don't have the energy to do it well or without feeling tacky as shit.

But, at the same time, what I've been doing for the past few days is talk about stories and discuss online comics and analyze every single moment of books/pairings/series I love with other people, and... the distraction helps. Or maybe that's how some writers and book nerds and daydreamers deal with horrible things.

I mean, I was shouting at and then blocking assholes online for a while there. And then crying with friends, and just... yeah. But for some of us, fantasy is a weird coping mechanism. Making up headcanons about characters who aren't mine, and being silly stupid in love with all of them, and imagining how their stories might play out is just... so oddly comforting.

So to make my publisher happy, and also maybe for anyone who wants to know, or just likes fantasy romance as a distraction, I'm just going to list some promotional stuff today. Not-quite Arthur style.


This weekend (June 17-19) Dreamspinner is offering three of my titles (Dancing Lessons, Play It Again Charlie, and Wicklow's Odyssey) for 99 cents (each? I think?) on the new Dreamspinner website. (Of those, Wicklow's Odyssey is the one I like to make up headcanons about the most. Idk why. But Charlie and Will have so many AU versions of them)

Next week, A Dandelion for Tulip comes out. I got my paperbacks in the mail today. I'd completely forgotten about them. So, June 24th, all the fluffy, yearning boy-meets-fairy you can stand. Book Six in the Being(s) in Love series.

Speaking of, Dreamspinner just today accepted what will be Book Seven. Treasure for Treasure. Yes. That is the one involving the sugarbaby dragon. :)

I wrote a short story/novella and will self publish it soon. I'm just waiting on a cover, and then a bit more free time so I can format it. Hottie Scotty and Mr. Porter will probably go on sale on Smashwords and Amazon for a short amount of time, and then just Amazon for a while.

What else? (All this stuff happens at once) Oh, the Beings series is going to be translated into French, apparently. That's cool.

I will be messing about on my Tumblr for the weekend after Tulip comes out, as usual, if people want to join/bug me. :)

And oh. I am doing a blog tour (Which, now that I've done it, I'm not sure I would do it again. It's like speed dating in author bio form, and I am much too awkward for things like that.) But, here are the dates for my posts. Some of the sites might do reviews as well? I'm not really sure how it all works.

June 17 - MM Good Book Reviews
June 23 - Alpha Book Reviews
June 24 - Divine Magazine
June 26 - Love Bytes
June 28 - The Novel Approach
June 30 - Long and Short Reviews


Yes, I did a different post for each one. And no, they probably don't make much sense. Especially toward the end. But there are some excerpts and me musing about fairies and shine and why I write the Beings, and things like that.


So I hope everyone is safe, and can find something somewhere to give them comfort. if it's my cheese, that's awesome, but if it isn't, I get that too.

And now I leave you with the cover, because these sweet, romantic fools are so not my usual dorks at all.

thatrcooper: (sleepy holly by holly_ita)
Hey, everyone who hasn't yet seen my nerdy posts on Tumblr or Facebook, guess what? I've got a release date for Little Wolf. It's due out May 8.

Then at the end of this month I started editing Kazimir. Well, the collection of shorts, tentatively titled, The Firebird and Other Stories. (Also, hopefully, starting Tulip shortly before then. Oh Tulip. He has *presence*. Other fairies look out!)

Little Wolf (Nathaniel moons. Tim looks like a pissy, half-starved little thing, which is exactly what he is, really.)

Anyway, just a quick update. (And oh yes. I moved. Now it's the recovery. Sigh.) If you follow me on Tumblr, you got a cute, sort of porny, not really porny, kind of snippet with Will and Charlie the other day. Which is another reason to follow me there, if you needed one. I get why people don't. I mean, Tumblr is... Tumblr. But just putting it out there. Also if anyone ever wants to ask me anything, there are ways. Goodreads has a section (though my notifications only go through sometimes). There's my LJ. My Tumblr askbox. My Facebook. The link on the Dreamspinner author arcade. If you ever feel like contacting me, feel free, just keep in mind I am regular person with no secretary, so responses might take me a while, if I even see them. :):):)

More later. I am tired at the moment. Have an excerpt:

read more )
thatrcooper: (charlie and will)
If this doesn't make sense, it's because I wrote it will sick and very tired and avoiding real work, and because Coffeebuddha basically mind-zapped me with the idea of Will and Charlie/fake boyfriends/cheesy Christmas fluff.

So here. An Alternate Universe Will and Charlie, in which maybe Charlie was having a better pain day when he first encountered Will and wasn't as grumpy, and was accidentally charming, and Will is a smitten kitten, so when Charlie asks if he's willing to go to a Christmas party with him to get his sisters off his back, Will jumps at the chance.

Or, the simpler title: Forget the Mistletoe

stupid smitten kitten )


“You don’t have to do this. Really.” Charlie’s voice was low and careful and far too close for Will to prevent a shiver. Will glanced up at him and had to fight a sigh at how serious he was. A grown man, no matter how fine, should not be so earnest while wearing a green sweater with a reindeer on it. The reindeer had a light-up nose; Charlie ought to look ridiculous. But the collared shirt he wore underneath made him a hot professor suffering through an embarrassing Christmas gift, which was exactly what he was. The sweater was a gift from one of his sisters and Charlie Howard, it seemed, would never dream of telling her it was awful.

Charlie would do a lot to keep from hurting the people he cared about. Will should have been alarmed at how warm that made him, but at this point, he was far past flushing when around Charlie and deep into racing heart territory.

He took a breath to steady himself. “Be your fake date to get your sisters to get your sisters off your back? Or be seen with someone in that sweater?” He smiled as he said it, so Charlie would know he was teasing.

A line appeared between Charlie’s eyes, but then it eased away as Charlie gently, but pointedly, poked the Santa hat Will was wearing. Will wrinkled his nose and reached up to return the hat to its jaunty angle. “I look adorable, I’ll have you know,” he huffed, but had to glance away at the unbearably fond look Charlie gave him. His heart felt like it was being squeezed when Charlie did that, and then somehow Will forgot what he was saying or what to do with his hands. He settled for looping one arm around Charlie’s, and blithely ignoring Charlie’s shock. They were fake dating after all. That meant Will got to touch. He had thought about this.

He’d thought about it all week in fact, ever since Charlie had asked, embarrassed and apologetic for inconveniencing Will. He had seemed to think Will had some other plans. Maybe he had. But those plans could be broken for this. Will had been crushing hard on Grayson’s neighbor since the summer when Will had been apartment-sitting and knocked one of Grayson’s plants off his balcony, and an incredibly handsome, if cranky, man with a cane had stopped to yell at him about safety but then helped him clean it up and repot the poor plant.

It had taken an entire summer of languishing on the balcony like Tallulah Bankhead and talking about Charlie nonstop with his friends for Will’s sister to declare Will was smitten. Will had to agree. When Grayson had returned and Will had no reason to stalk, er, see Charlie again, it had been awful. Even friending Charlie on Facebook meant nothing because Charlie didn’t use social media for anything other than liking his sisters’ posts once in a while. Then Grayson had decided to go away around the holidays and Will had jumped at the chance to stay at his place again. And Charlie had smiled to see him and it had been exactly like it had been the first time, except now it was colder on the balcony so Charlie brought him coffee and sugary seasonal lattes, and then… this.

“My sisters--” Charlie kept trying to warn him off. They were on his sister’s porch already. Will was lit beguilingly by a thousand soft Christmas lights and ready to pretend-boyfriend his heart out. Nothing was going to shake him now.

“Pft. Listen, Cinderella, we are doing this, and it’s going to be great, forget your ugly stepsisters.” Will took his chance to snuggle closer and push the doorbell so Charlie couldn’t change his mind. Though the thought made him pause. “Unless, you think they won’t believe it… because we’re so different?” Charlie could make that blank cop face all he wanted, he knew what Will was talking about. He’d thought it too when he’d first met Will. He might still think it. Charlie was a respectable professor after all, and Will was a colorist with no permanent address. Will could pine all he wanted, but someone like Charlie wasn’t normally the kind to bring someone like Will home to the family.

Except here they were. He had no idea what Charlie was thinking.

“They aren’t ugly stepsisters,” Charlie insisted, like the good brother he was. It may have been all the red lights in the strands wrapped around the porch, but it looked like Charlie’s cheeks grew darker. “They’ll believe that I like you.” He cleared his throat. “But they can be difficult,” he added quickly, and straightened when the door opened.

A smaller, curvier version of him opened the door. She was also in a terrible sweater—red, with a drunk-looking felt Santa on it, and she grimaced knowingly when she saw Will glance at it. “Ann,” she explained, apparently to Charlie, because then she began to say something in a stream of Spanish as she took the bottle of wine Charlie offered and pulled Charlie into a hug. The Spanish still caught Will off-guard. He could barely speak the one language so of course Charlie was fluent in two. At least two.

But he missed it when it was gone, because then Charlie’s sister turned to get a better look at him. Every inch of Will suddenly felt like an aging twink in the Santa hat. He shouldn’t have worn it. He wasn’t Eartha Kitt. He should have worn some boring red sweater and flattened his hair. He shouldn’t be touching her brother. Charlie’s last boyfriend—real boyfriend—had probably worn a suit and tie and come off as masculine as the most repressed gay boy in the world.

He focused on the sister, who had indeed noticed how Will was leaning on her brother. She narrowed her eyes.

Charlie said, “Missy,” in a stern voice that went right to Will’s dick and took his arm from Will’s in order to slide it around Will’s back. Will turned to him with an expression he knew was adoring. He couldn’t help himself.

The meaner version of Charlie, or, as Will should probably be thinking of her, Missy, closed her mouth and then smiled. “Will, it’s good to finally meet you.”

The ‘finally” got Will’s attention, but he didn’t get a chance to ask. Charlie put his hand at the small of his back in a show of support that Will didn’t know what to do with, and Will stuttered in thanking her for inviting him.

“Come on in.” Again, Missy directed this at Charlie, but when she glanced at her brother, her face tightened. A moment later she was smiling widely at Will and holding the door for him. Charlie stopped to hug her in the doorway and exchange a few more words in quiet English, something about Ann—the sister Will was learning to fear.

But then Charlie was back at Will’s shoulder and guiding him to a closet by the foyer.

“Okay?” Whispered against Will’s ear as Charlie removed his coat for him, it was like the gentlest, best torture.

Will let Charlie hang their coats in his sister’s closet and then swooned dramatically against him. “My hero!” He almost laughed when Charlie caught him, but then he remembered Charlie hadn’t brought his cane and eased off enough to let Charlie stand. He was completely unprepared for Charlie wrapping his arms around him to steady him.

“Oh.” Will murmured and forgot trying to be decent. He leaned into Charlie even more. “Okay. Yes.” Every breath was full of Charlie’s aftershave, which was probably something simple but expensive and Will loved it. He lifted his head and nearly forgot Missy entirely at Charlie’s questioning look. “What?” Will blinked a few times, mostly to clear his head. He kept his voice down and his tone innocent. “I’m your boyfriend. That means I get to put my hands all over you.”

Yeah, okay, that didn’t sound at all like Will had been dreaming of doing just that or anything. He would have been more embarrassed about it if Charlie hadn’t stared at him in blank surprise. His shock was only there for a moment before it was gone, and then Charlie swallowed. “Because that’s what boyfriends do,” he agreed, but in a funny voice.

“Well, yeah.” Will was about to roll his eyes, because he hadn’t ever had a boyfriend, but he knew that much, until he thought of why Charlie might be so surprised at being touched in public. Charlie hadn’t said much about the pretty jerk on that coffee mug, but Will had gotten the gist. Now he got a little more. So what if the guy had money or manners or a nice suit, he hadn’t been kind to someone who only wanted to take care of people.

Next time Charlie invited him over for coffee—actual coffee, sadly—Will was going to shatter that thing. For now Will was going to be the best boyfriend Charlie had ever had.

Since Charlie wasn’t complaining, Will let Charlie hold him up and looped his arms around Charlie’s neck. Charlie had said his sisters didn’t have a problem with him being gay, so this had better be okay. “Hmm, you are the best way to warm up from the cold,” he told Charlie, loud enough for nosy Miss Missy to hear. Then, when Charlie’s mouth went startled and soft, Will twisted to look at her. “I can’t help myself where Charlie is concerned. Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry. Well, he was sorry if Charlie was uncomfortable, but to be honest, Charlie didn’t seem uncomfortable as much as confused. Will wished his fingers weren’t so cold, because when he stroked Charlie’s hair—too long and in need of another trim Will would be happy to provide—Charlie shivered.

Missy studied Will with her eyebrows drawn, then her brother for another second before she put a hand to her face. “I’ll just--” she waved in another direction. “Everyone else is in the living room.” Then she left.

“So we’re doing this.” How Charlie could still sound surprised that Will was down for pretend boyfriend time with him was beyond Will, although for the first time he was starting to get his suspicions.

Will hadn’t moved out of his arms. He really ought to feel guilty about that. Really. He was going to try, at least. Charlie dropped his arms, but kept one hand at Will’s back. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Yes, sir,” Will purred, because that was the kind of order he liked getting, and because Charlie definitely blushed for it. His chiding glance at Will was even better. Will petted his hair one last time and sighed. This was going to be hard to give up. “Anything else, Charlie? Should I ease up on the PDAs or act a little less twinky?”

He wasn’t going to lie; he about melted when Charlie pushed the fluffy white brim of his hat up in a gesture Bogart couldn’t have done better. Charlie smiled at him, a happy smile that made no sense with his eyes so dark and sad. “You’re perfect,” Charlie told him, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Will took that as his cue to turn with him and head into the lion’s den—living room. He stepped away only to nearly trip when Charlie stayed at his shoulder, one hand light but steady at his back. Will’s heart was a trip hammer in his ears.

“Oh,” Will said out loud again, and wondered if having a real boyfriend was as dangerous as having a fake one.




The thing about adult Christmas parties—real adults, not Will’s friends—was that while they served alcohol, they also served other things besides drinks. After making the rounds with Charlie at his back introducing Will in a voice that made Will burn, Will had ended up against the wall, next to a table full of Christmas goodies.

Will had eaten dinner, honestly, a whole half of a pack of grocery store California rolls leftover from lunch, but he had never seen so many frosted sugar cookies in his entire life. Snowmen and trees and stars like something out of a magazine, glossy bright frosting that was calling to him. He sipped his spiked eggnog, low calorie, according to the third sister, Katia, and stared longingly at gingerbread men. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a gingerbread man, and that said nothing for the trays of nuts and candies and the actual, honest-to-god gingerbread house in the middle of the table.

Charlie wasn’t far away. Someone whose name Will didn’t remember had called him over, so after a questioning look at Will and Will’s nod, Charlie had gone. He was still and not quite tense in the middle of the room. These were his sister’s friends from what Will understood. Or Missy’s husband’s friends. It was a little unclear. Katia, the youngest sister, had left her newest boyfriend in order to disappear into the kitchen with the other two. Somehow, Will didn’t think it was paranoid to assume they were discussing him. Charlie had said his sisters could be difficult, but Will wondered if he’d expected this level of reaction to the simple idea of Charlie dating someone.

Or maybe it was the idea of Charlie dating Will, with his silly hat and silly hair and tight black shirt threaded with sparkles.

It couldn’t be the hat anyway; he wasn’t the only person wearing a Santa hat, and a joker had brought in a sprig of mistletoe earlier as well. Not to mention that the people not drinking the spiked eggnog were drinking some kind of rum punch. Charlie was the sole person Will knew of who hadn’t taken a single sip of alcohol. He was drinking soda.

Will glanced at the cookies again, then across the room at the table filled with more nutritious and less fattening fare; meatballs and rolls and little taco things and some kind of dip. If he was going to eat, he should stick to that. Real food. Like the adult he could pretend to be. Like Charlie’s last boyfriend, the one who had obviously been very different from Will, the one who hadn’t held Charlie enough or fawned over him or confessed to his wide-eyed sisters that he’d fallen hard for Charlie from the instant Charlie had first frowned at him.

Charlie had gone so very still to hear that, though that had been nothing to how tense he’d gotten when Katia had added, “I can see that. You light up just talking about him.”

She had seemed surprised by that. Which, what kind of bitch couldn’t see how awesome her brother was? Charlie answered her calls no matter what he was doing, and she had the nerve to doubt someone would want him?

It was no good. Will picked up a sweetly decorated snowman and snuck a nibble.

“You can just eat them, you know,” Charlie’s voice in his ear made him choke. Everyone turned for a moment to stare at him and Will glared up to let Charlie know that was his fault. Charlie immediately took the cookie from him. “Sorry. Here.” He put down his cup of soda in order to hand Will his eggnog.

Like that, Will was done being annoyed with him. He obediently sipped then licked a drop from his lip when Charlie took the cup away. For a moment, Charlie seemed arrested. Then he let out a breath and lowered his head.

“Are you bored?” Charlie spoke just above a whisper. “Parties aren’t really my thing, but you must… you go to a lot.”

“Bored?” Will coughed and leaned in to indicate he’d like more eggnog please. He didn’t think Charlie even noticed how he lifted Will’s cup so Will could have another drink, not until Will licked his mouth again. Then Charlie was suddenly very still. “No, I’m not bored,” Will told him truthfully. “Although I’m not sure what your sisters make of me.”

“If they say anything to you, tell me,” Charlie rumbled.

Will made a happy sound and darted out his tongue once more, although he couldn’t have cared less about the taste of nutmeg.

“My big, strong boyfriend gonna do something about it?” Will teased, and momentarily could not breathe for the hungry expression on Charlie’s face. Then Charlie turned to look at the others in the room.

“Your boyfriend,” Charlie said after a long pause, a strain in the words, “was wondering why you’ve been staring at the table of cookies for an hour. Did you eat dinner?”

“I…” Will considered his answer carefully. He knew from experience that Charlie wasn’t great about lies, in that he tended to see right through them, but also disapproved of them. He hadn’t even lied to his sisters yet, Will had noticed. Charlie hadn’t actually said Will was his boyfriend. Instead he’d kept up with the light touches at Will’s back, and one at his shoulder. In addition to lies, Charlie was also not good about the times Will forgot to take care of himself. Will hummed and equivocated. “I ate a small dinner,” he explained at last.

Charlie immediately held out the snowman cookie. He probably meant for Will to take it. Will knew that. The eggnog in Will’s system, however, decided to push Will forward and to have him duck his head to take a bite from the offered snowman. A small sound from the other side of the table made him think that one or all of the sisters had seen that. Charlie’s cheeks were darkening with color. Will couldn’t make himself feel bad about it, although he didn’t think this was kind of thing boyfriends did. At least, not in front of family.

But he chewed and swallowed, and felt a tremor run through him when Charlie used his thumb to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth. Then Charlie offered the rest of the cookie.

Will had a figure to think of, but he took a nibble, like a good boy. Like the best boy. Like the kind of boy Charlie could take home and keep, if he wanted.

“Will.” Charlie’s voice made his chest tight, but when Charlie tipped his cup for him, Will took another drink. He thought distantly that this was obviously not pretend, not for him, and Charlie knew that and was probably curious about all the things Will had hinted at before, what he was into in bed. But a distant worry didn’t compare to Charlie gently dusting crumbs from his mouth or breaking off a piece of gingerbread for him when the snowman was gone.

“Your sisters are going to think I’m using you for sex,” Will confessed breathlessly, but whined softly until Charlie fed him another piece of gingerbread.

“They aren’t the only ones watching,” Charlie answered. Will had no idea what to make of Charlie’s frown for that, but finally pulled back and wiped at his mouth. His lips were buzzing too much for the small amount of booze he’d had.

“Good.” Will was one more cookie from giving no fucks. Charlie shot him a curious look and Will tried a shrug. “They don’t like it when you touch me. Your sisters, I mean. Have they never seen anyone want you, or is it because… is it because it’s me?”

Charlie’s eyebrows went up, then down. “I spoiled them when they were little. They’re used to having my undivided attention. Instead I’ve spent all evening with you.”

Will barely, barely bit back a comment about how Charlie wasn’t their father, but considering that two minutes ago he’d been about half a second from calling Charlie ‘daddy’, he thought it best to say nothing. He bobbed his head to the quiet Christmas music in the background, Mariah Carey of course, and finished his drink in an effort to make him forget Charlie touching his mouth.

The world seemed to tilt. Will put one hand on the table and the other on Charlie. Charlie turned back to him. “Oh,” Will announced for the third time at least that night, and curled against Charlie’s side in what was becoming a habit. “Your sisters got me a little tipsy.”

“Very probably.” Charlie seemed to curl around him too, and speak every word into Will’s ear, like he was telling very warm secrets. He put down Will’s empty cup for him. “I should have warned you. Their drinks only look innocent.”

“It’s cool.” Will buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, almost at his neck, and took a deep breath. “I forgive you, because we’re boyfriends.”

“You say that like you like it,” Charlie observed, almost stopping Will’s heart. “But you said before that you’d never had a boyf…” Charlie trailed off. “That idiot is back and his mistletoe is missing.”

Will didn’t understand why that information was important, but raised his head anyway. Oh yeah, the sisters were giving him polite stares that were also glares if you happened to know they hated you. Well, except for the other one. Ann, she of the tacky sweaters and horrid pillow making. She was outright glaring. Will blinked at her, aware he was now flushed and probably looked as tipsy as he was. He pulled down his Santa hat, although it was starting to get hot.

“Are they onto us?” he asked in total confusion, even more lost when Charlie’s unhappy frown disappeared. Charlie curved his lips in a slow smile and tipped Will’s hat back up.

“Stop doing that,” Charlie instructed gently.

Will nodded. “Yes, Charlie,” he agreed, though then he scowled. “I can wear my hat however I want. But it’s hot now. But if I take it off, I’ll have hat hair.” Charlie’s smile got even better, or worse. He was so fucking charming when he wasn’t trying to be. Will waved at him. “This is because you’re sober. I’m going to have to get you drunk later.”

“When we’re home, Will.” Charlie did not seem to object to the idea.

“Are you going to take me home, Charlie?” Will wondered in the faintest whisper. Playing Charlie’s boyfriend must have gone to his head. Charlie had had plenty of chances to fuck Will and hadn’t yet, to Will’s regret. He sighed before Charlie could answer. “Well,” he said after a while, “should I fawn over you some more to get them used to idea of a boyfriend who adores your everything, or do you think that is really what’s upsetting them?”

“I…” Charlie took a heavy breath. “What do you mean?”

Will squinted at him. “Don’t be dense. They aren’t used to someone who’s actually competition for your attention, but they’ve met your last boyfriend. That guy,” Mark, but Will wasn’t going to say his name, “wasn’t like this with you. They don’t know what this means.”

Charlie had gone impassive and thoughtful again. He was thinking something over, or worrying. Will would never have guessed when he met Charlie that Charlie hid so much behind his blank expressions.

“Hey,” Will called softly, and nudged him until those brown eyes were focused solely on him. “Sooner or later they were going to have to accept that you would settle down. I mean, you’re you. No way is anyone with sense going to let you get away. Let them deal with it. If, uh, if you think they can.”

“It’s… not that.” Charlie worked his jaw, then leaned down so speak the words at the shell of Will’s ear. “Katia took the mistletoe. I think they’re going to try to get us under it.”

“God, I hope so,” Will exhaled without thinking, aching and warm in the moments before Charlie inched back to stare at him. “I mean….” Will ended that there, because he had no idea what he meant except that he didn’t care if it was a test from the sisters to see if he loved Charlie, he’d kiss Charlie right now if Charlie wanted. He wondered if that was on his face, if he was lit up for Charlie the way they had said. “Eggnog,” he tried to explain it away in case he was and Charlie’s silence meant he was uncomfortable.

Charlie angled his head up to glance around the room then returned his focus to Will. He slid his palm along Will’s jaw. Will made a low sound of surprise that turned to a small, heady moan when Charlie brushed his mouth over his.

Charlie immediately pulled back. “I’m sorry.” He apologized as though Will wasn’t blinking at him in shocked need and wetting his lips. “Eggnog,” Charlie echoed Will’s earlier excuse, then cleared his throat. “Missy is signaling that she needs help in the kitchen. I won’t be long.” He looked flushed and uncomfortable and took off before Will could think of a damn thing to say.

Like how Charlie hadn’t had any eggnog, or how Will had been all but asking him for a kiss, how that one had been too short.

Will wasn’t drunk, but he was confused, and getting more so by the minute. He didn’t doubt Missy needed her brother’s help for something—those women always seemed to need their brother’s help—he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be separated from Charlie’s side right now.

Will took a step, then jumped without any grace at all when Ann appeared in front of him.

Ann crossed her arms and swept a look from Will’s shoes to the top of his Santa hat. Will switched on the smile he used on unpleasant brides. “Ann. We didn’t really get to talk before.”

Charlie had prevented it, in fact, now that Will thought about it.

“So you’re what my brother has been hiding from us.” Ann made a grumbling sound, not unlike the one Sam made when he wanted Charlie to scratch behind his ears.

“Hiding me?” Will raised his eyebrows. “I’m not his dirty little secret. Not that I’d mind.” That was a lie. He’d sleep with Charlie this very second if he asked, but the right to be with him in front of his family was something Will was going to miss after tonight. No one had ever brought Will home.

Ann did not seem amused, or to care very much that Will had been doing his best to make a good impression. “Did you not want to meet us?”

“Well, I’ve never met a guy’s family before. And Charlie was really worried you all wouldn’t like me. Which apparently was a good instinct since you hate me.” He snorted when Ann opened her mouth. “Girl, please. You guys have gone out of your way to question everything or make me feel so uncomfortable that Charlie hasn’t felt safe leaving my side for a second.”

“You think that’s why he’s--” Ann closed her mouth with a snap.

“Someday he’s going to bring someone he really cares about to meet you, and I hope you guys are kinder to him than you’ve been to me, because let me tell you something about your brother,” Will stepped into Ann’s space to hiss the words, “he’s the sweetest, softest marshmallow under that hot, grouchy exterior, and he’s practically dying of loneliness. If he meets someone good for him, really good for him, not like me,” Will wasn’t choking, nope, not at all, “if he meets that guy, that guy he gets to care for and protect and be crazy about….” Will cleared his throat. “If he finds someone like that and you and your sisters scare him off just because you want Charlie to spend all his time on you, well, I will… I will do something drastic. Okay, I have no idea what because violence isn’t really my area, but something!”

He was breathing hard when he finished.

Ann let her arms fall, then crossed them again. She bit her lip. “You look back at him,” she said, then narrowed her eyes. “You’re in love with my brother and you don’t care that anyone can see it.”

Will bumped the table with his hip. Love was different from smitten, so very different. Nonetheless he put his hands to his cheeks and glanced away. “You act like that’s weird,” he answered at last. “Anyway, he doesn’t seem to see it, so it doesn’t matter if I have… If I have feelings. Like that.”

“My brother isn’t stupid.” If Ann was offended again, Will wasn’t in the mood to handle it. He rolled his eyes before looking at her, but then stopped because she was shaking her head. “He’s been hovering over you like he thought we were going to eat you. But it’s not that.”

Will disagreed but didn’t get to say so. Ann took Charlie’s abandoned soda and took a drink, then made a face, probably when she realized it was non-alcoholic. “I have no idea what you mean,” Will admitted, and Ann slammed the cup of soda on the table.

“When that son of a bitch was with him, you wouldn’t even have known they were dating. He wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t even take his hand. I thought my brother liked it that way, but now I see him with you.” Ann waved at Will, her posture and expression both incredibly uncomfortable. “How he is with other people is how he should be all the time. And he never was. Never got to be, I think now. Then you let him. You encourage him.” Her frown wasn’t happy but somehow Will didn’t feel like it was aimed at him this time.

Will lowered his hands then slowly turned from her to Charlie, who was by the kitchen. Charlie was looking sternly down at Katia, who had the sprig of bagged mistletoe in one hand and wasn’t concealing it very well.

He was going to be a gentleman and insist Katia not force Will to kiss him. Charlie was going to be a gentleman if it killed him, because he was an idiot, and assumed no one would want to kiss him, least of all in public. It’s like he didn’t know Will at all.

Tipsy off eggnog or not, Will pushed past Ann and the straight couple blocking his path. He stopped in front of Charlie and grabbed hold of handfuls of reindeer sweater before Charlie had finished turning to look at him. “Forget the mistletoe,” Will panted, and pulled Charlie down to press their mouths together.

Will’s lips were parted, his breathing heavy before the first incredible second of contact and the puff of Charlie’s startled exclamation. He wanted to beg, murmur, “Charlie, please,” as shivers shot down his spine and electricity burned through him wherever they touched, but he couldn’t pull away. He pressed forward softly, mouth open, inviting, and clutched at Charlie’s stupid, sexy sweater when Charlie finally slid a hand to the side of his face to hold him still and kiss him back.

Gently. Charlie kissed gently and Will should not been so surprised, so charmed by it that he groaned and tilted his chin up for more, only to feel Charlie’s teeth nipping at his lower lip and the firm pressure of Charlie’s hand at his back, keeping him against Charlie’s body. Will pushed his hands up to tangle them in Charlie’s hair and cling to his shoulders. He thought he was begging after all, hiccoughing nearly silent, hitching sounds into Charlie’s mouth, words he couldn’t form.

Then someone coughed roughly, a few times, and someone who wasn’t Will called Charlie’s name.

Charlie raised his head, not far, too far. Will was so hot and confused. He didn’t look at the rest of the room, not with Charlie staring at him with stunned heat. “Oh,” Will whispered. His knees were weak. If he hadn’t been holding onto Charlie, he had a feeling his hands would have been trembling.

Charlie ran the backs of his fingers across Will’s cheek and someone, possibly Katia, gasped.

“Forget the mistletoe?” Charlie repeated, very serious for a man who couldn’t catch his breath.

“Take me home, Charlie,” Will returned, just as serious.

Charlie didn’t take his eyes off Will, but he gave a small twitch. “Everyone can hear you.”

“Duh.” Will had never gone to college, and was no kind of boyfriend, even pretend, for a professor. The smile his reply brought out of Charlie though, was the kind of beautiful sight that people wrote songs about.

Yeah, Will could admit it, to himself anyway. He was all kinds of in love with Charlie Howard. Charlie smiled at him and Will had probably lit up like the tree in the corner. He was going to be the boyfriend Charlie’s sisters never forgot, even if the boyfriend part wasn’t real.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him. Will could tell he wasn’t sure how much of this was acting. Will wrapped his hand around Charlie’s and pulled it down between them. He kept their fingers twined together. Holding hands, of all things, made him so hot he could have burst out of his skin.

All at once, Charlie’s sisters began talking. Some of it was English, some of it wasn’t. Will found he didn’t care about that anymore either. They were upset, and Charlie stared at Will for another second anyway. “I have to say our goodbyes,” Charlie said finally, rough-voiced and quiet.

“So say them.” Will was as bad as Ann said. He did encourage this. And instead of ignoring him, Charlie wiped the smile from his face and turned to his sisters to say goodnight to each of them.

Will nodded along, tightening his grip on Charlie’s hand through each startled stare and pleading protest. The other guests probably didn’t know what to make of them, but what were the odds Will would see those people again? The three that mattered were fluttering around their brother for another few minutes, and then growing silent and hugging him with expressions that could only be described as pouts.

Ann followed them back down to the foyer and stood watching as Charlie helped Will into his coat. When they were done, before her brother could say another word, she announced, “I’ll package up some of the cookies and bring them for you tomorrow.” She spoke to Charlie, but her gaze was steady on Will.

He couldn’t decide if it was friendly or not, and didn’t think he cared until he was outside and Ann was closing the door behind them.

“They aren’t that bad.” Will surprised himself with the pronouncement. “I mean, all together they are a little much, and talk about not afraid to speak their minds… But you know, one on one, they weren’t….” Okay, he couldn’t quite lie. “Ann was all right, in the end.”

“Yeah?” Charlie didn’t move. A line came and went between his eyes. He didn’t reach out to take Will’s hand and now that they were out in the cold, away from their audience, Will didn’t have the balls to try to take his again. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead. He regretted it when the line returned between Charlie’s eyes. Charlie was going to get wrinkles and it was going to be Will’s fault.

“They love you a lot.” Will added diplomatically, then looked around at the dark street, the bare trees, all those Christmas lights that almost made him wish he lived in a proper suburban neighborhood. Almost. This was as close to playing house as he was ever going to get anyway.

“Thank you for doing this.” Charlie kept his attention on Will. “You didn’t have to.”

He’d already said that at least a dozen times. Will gave him a little eye roll, only to end up glancing out into the street again when staring at Charlie made it hard to breathe. His heart thundered against his ribcage.

“I wanted to do it.” Will wrinkled his nose, because he didn’t regret it, but he hadn’t expected to feel this strongly when it was over. “I’m glad I did it. I wish….” His face was getting cold and yet he was making no move to head toward Charlie’s car. “In old movies this would have been hilarious. Well, if it was a sixties sex comedy we would have been an ongoing gay joke that Middle America wasn’t supposed to get. But, you know, if this was Christmas in Connecticut or something you would have realized by now that the pretense was just that.” He sighed wistfully. “Are you still taking me home?”

“You want to?” Charlie didn’t keep the surprise out of his tone.

Will exhaled roughly, then threw his hands into the air. “Damn it, Charlie. Don’t pretend you can’t see it when your sisters saw it plain as day!”

He shook his head in frustration, then stilled when Charlie reached out to tug Will’s hat down over the tips of his ears. Charlie seemed focused on his hand as he tipped the brim up off Will’s forehead and swept a few stray hairs out of his eyes.

Charlie was killing him. Will whimpered and closed his eyes when Charlie touched his cheek. “Please keep touching me.” Will had no shame and no dignity. “Nobody touches me like that, except you, Charlie.” Will licked his mouth, the lips that had gone cold because Charlie hadn’t kissed him again the second they were alone.

Charlie pressed his thumb to Will’s bottom lip and Will opened his eyes. Charlie was sad and dark-eyed. “Will, you had a lot of eggnog.”

“If I’m dizzy, it’s not from eggnog.” Will took hold of Charlie’s wrist to keep his hand where it was. “I’ve been dizzy since you rescued Grayson’s plant for me. How can everybody see that but you, you big dope?”

“But you’re….” Charlie left that unfinished and stared at Will. He was all warm surprise again. “You aren’t drunk?”

“Tipsy, Charlie, is not drunk. I’ve had more to drink on a slow Wednesday.” Which wasn’t an argument that strengthened his case. Will drew in a long breath. “Is that so hard to imagine? You… like that… with me?”

“It’s hard to believe you’d want me,” Charlie responded without hesitation, and swept his thumb across Will’s lip like he couldn’t help himself.

Charlie’s honesty knocked the wind out of him.

Will was going to find that ex and tear him a new one. “That’s… are you joking?” Will wheezed. “Is that why you never--?” This wasn’t the time to remember how desperately he’d been flirting with Charlie and whatever Charlie had convinced himself Will meant by it. “But you invited me here.”

“And you accepted.” Charlie regarded Will with a puzzled air. “You didn’t even think about it. You said yes, even though I was asking you to--” Charlie stopped and the soft Christmas lights didn’t the hide the realization taking over his expression. “You were excited.”

“Merry Christmas to me,” Will told him fiercely, so Charlie could finally grasp what a stupid smitten kitten Will really was.

“I didn’t want to read into it.” For a professor, Charlie was pretty dumb. Will had waited for him on that balcony in the rain. Which, admittedly, had led to Charlie taking Will instead and drying him off and making him soup, and Will curled up on Charlie’s couch.

Then he’d fallen asleep there and Charlie had gone to sleep in his own bed. Will was going to scream. But later, much later.

He tugged Charlie’s hand closer, bringing Charlie closer in the process, and met Charlie’s gaze as he flicked his tongue against the tip of Charlie’s thumb. Charlie brought his other hand up to cup Will’s cheek.

“Will,” he rasped when Will licked his thumb again before taking it into his mouth. “Will.” His voice was the stuff of Will’s fantasies. “Will, we are on my sister’s porch.”

Honestly, Will couldn’t tell if that was a warning or a dare. He was absolutely willing to blow Charlie underneath a canopy of Christmas lights. This was something Charlie needed to realize. Will wanted him exactly that fucking much.

He pulled his mouth away long enough for Charlie to slide his hand under his chin and urge his head up. Will met his stare. “If you want me to stop, Charlie, tell me to stop.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to keep going or for Charlie to give him an order.

Charlie stroked his cheek, then his jaw, his fingers slipping back toward Will’s mouth. But when Will darted out his tongue for another taste, Charlie made a rough noise.

“Will, stop,” he growled, and appeared startled when Will did. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to argue something, then closed it again. He skated his fingers over Will’s mouth and blinked in astonishment when Will whined. He took a cautious step forward, almost tense. “At least,” Charlie swallowed, “at least until we’re home.”

Will lifted his head. He couldn’t stop his smile. “Oh right.” He’d almost forgotten the best part. “You’re taking me home with you.”

“Yes.” Charlie’s growly, confident voice warmed Will up even faster than the hand he snuck underneath the reindeer sweater. But Charlie wasn’t moving.

Will peeked up at him, and spoke loudly to be heard over his pounding heart. “Because that’s what boyfriends do?” he asked, hopeful and pathetic, and felt like the real Santa Claus at the way Charlie smiled for him, brighter than any of the lights around them.

The End
thatrcooper: (charlie and will)
Look! I remembered to post a reminder!

I still haven't heard back from the auction people (??) but I'm going to assume it's all going as planned.


October 11, there will be a silent auction with all sorts of things from various authors, with all benefits going to the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance.


Here is a link to the auction's Facebook page. Authors, Bloggers, and Readers Raise Awareness


I am will be offering to either a) write a series of letters or emails (at least two) between any two of my characters (your choice) OR you can get another short story set in the alternate universe version of Play It Again, Charlie in which Charlie is the reluctant host of an online cooking show and Will is a fan. (You can find that here). (and um, okay so a friend and I have a whole thing about the first time Charlie mentions Will on the show... and also a show Will hosts with Jeanine, in which he imbibes a bit and maaaybe says things he shouldn't, and then worries about what Charlie will think when he sees it. Ahem.)

Hopefully it all goes well and everything gets bid on and donations are huge.

In the meantime, here is the last prompt fill I promised to post. The *other* Will/Charlie AU, in which the prompt was "meet at a masquerade ball"



tale as old as time )
thatrcooper: (charlie and will)
Well, maybe.

There is going to be a silent auction for the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance on October 11. The event (which once again will be happening on October 11 from 11am to 11pm CDT) will feature many donations from m/m authors for everyone to bid on.

Totally for a good cause, and you get stuff out of it too. Yay!

I, maybe, perhaps, will be auctioning off something as well. Though it's kind of a weird thing (because hey, I would just sign a book and donate that to auction, but who would bid on that and also international shipping is ouch to my budget). I just signed up so I don't know if my auction offer will be okay.

But if you're interested, I offered to either a) write a series of letters or emails (at least two) between any two of my characters (your choice) OR you can get another short story set in the alternate universe version of Play It Again, Charlie in which Charlie is the reluctant host of an online cooking show and Will is a fan.

Ah, but Rispa, you say, frowning in confusion, what universe is this? We've never seen this universe.

To which, I say, right. Well, here it is. Part of a Tumblr prompt I did a while ago in an attempt to wake up my brain. So read, enjoy, and hopefully, maybe, give a little to a good cause to get more of it.


.....

Less with Bread )



Will juggled the six pricey chocolate bars in his hands and the bottle of wine he was still debating, and stared down at the barrels of cheese in dismay. He’d promised Dani he’d bring something good to the surprise birthday party-slash-potluck tonight, but between work and life he’d forgotten to even try to plan until today. The expensive grocery store probably wasn’t the best place to get ideas either. He had no idea what half this stuff was for, or best paired with, or what nutritional yeast even was.

He was going to end up bringing a pizza, like always. It felt especially wrong since he had genuinely tried this time. He had scoured through episodes of Less with Bread, searching for something that wouldn’t be too difficult, and hadn’t come up with anything that he thought he could make with confidence.

There was nothing he could make, period. He knew that. Yet something about Charlie Howard’s measured, calm voice tricked Will into thinking he would succeed, just this once. And then Will wound up with burnt cakes and separated sauces and undercooked potatoes. Will’s inability to cook even the most basic food was almost legendary. Why his sister had ever thought an internet cooking show would help him was a mystery, unless of course, she’d sent Will the link to the first episode because of the host.

Charlie Howard had certainly set Will’s bells to ringing. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him, with his square jaw and dark eyes and serious expression. He was handsome, with strong shoulders and height and strands of gray in his black hair, but his appeal went deeper than that. Will wouldn’t have sat through a cooking show just for a good-looking host; he knew that for a fact because he’d tried. Charlie was different. For one thing, he shot the smaller videos in a tiny apartment and the longer ones in this huge, gleaming kitchen in his grandmother’s house. For another, his family was often in the videos with him, and when he cooked for them his whole demeanor changed. He was never rude, or angry, or loud, like some other chefs Will had seen, but the line of concentration between his eyes vanished when his family was near. And though he never let them help him, keeping them always at a safe distance from the knives and flames and boiling water, he asked what they preferred and smiled when they answered, and his smile… his smile was, well, there were entire chats on his website devoted to that warm, careful smile.

Will had been sprung after episode one and by the second video—because of course he’d watched them all, his stomach growling and his heart pounding—he’d been cruising the show’s website for information on the host. He wanted to know why Charlie limped, bad enough sometimes to require a cane or for Charlie to sit down for the entire show. He wanted to know why Charlie had a last name like Howard and spoke English, but then fell into fluent Spanish whenever he cooked with certain members of his family. And, yes, okay he’d wanted to know if Charlie was queer, if he was single, if he wouldn’t freak out if Will messaged him through the website, or if he would think Will was going to stalk him like Kathy Bates.

All Sorrows Are Less With Bread, which was the inspiration for the show’s title, was also the name of the website, where they explained that Charlie had started out making the videos at a friend’s request, to give him something to do when he’d been recovering from an injury. That’s why the show tended to focus on simple, filling meals that could be reheated or frozen, but also on the kind of guilty pleasure, fattening foods designed to tempt someone with no interest in food into eating. The show, and Charlie, were pretty honest on that subject, although Charlie never referred to his own injury beyond the blurb on the site.

This being the SF Bay Area, the show also tended to blur all sorts of cuisines together. Will thought that was called fusion, in foodie circles. Occasionally a local chef came on to make something new. Once, notably, a therapist had come on with Charlie and talked about self-care while Charlie had made quiche and kept his gaze on his hands as he worked. Other than that, only members of the Howard family had guest-starred. Never a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or anyone else. Not even for Valentine’s Day, which was when Charlie had talked about cheese and let his sister talk about wine.

Will tried to recall the names of any of those cheeses and then gave a dejected sigh and took a step toward the next display. He bumped into something that he realized was a person a second too late and turned quickly, which made his basket swing around and hit the person again. This time of day the place was packed with stressed soccer moms, all yoga pants and loud cell phone conversations, giving Will side-eyes for his hair and tight shirt, the hint of glitter. But he spun around to apologize anyway since it was his fault, then stopped dead.

He blinked.

Very slowly, he tilted his head back and then licked his lips. Not to be sexy, but because his mouth legitimately went dry at one glimpse of the man in front of him. His stomach seemed to tighten and then flip, all while going cool, which he didn’t understand, because his everything else was burning up.

“I was just thinking about you,” he exhaled in amazement and then immediately froze to stare up in embarrassment. Charlie Howard stared back, mouth open before that familiar line began to form between his eyes.

His eyes, which were a deep brown in person and close up, were focused on Will as if he was as surprised to see Will in this store at the moment as all the moms were. He was wearing a white, button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons open, just like he wore on the show. His skin was darker than it seemed on the videos, like he’d gotten some sun, and Will could see the chest hair he’d only glimpsed before.

He took a long, deep breath, inhaling cheese and cologne and garlic.

“Oh my god,” Will said after countless seconds of internal squirming and getting lost in Charlie Howard’s eyes. He recalled what he had just said. “Oh my god. I meant, I watch your shows. And I was wondering what you would do in my situation. Not that I don’t also think about you in the way you are probably thinking.”

Will closed his mouth, very deliberately, when Charlie Howard’s stunning brown eyes went wide.


“I really never intended to be that kind of fan,” Will explained himself, hoping his soft tone would keep things calm. Instead, Charlie blinked and then his expression went as stern as it did on the show when his little niece had started to reach for a hot pan. Will’s palms went damp. It was the first time in his life his palms had ever gone damp for someone. He didn’t think Charlie would be interested in hearing that, however, even if Will was kind of fascinated. “It’s just, in person you are even hotter than you are in the videos.”

He had no idea what was wrong with him. Will was a talker, but his talking was usually a lot smoother than this. In fact, most of the time it didn’t matter what he said. Men took one look at him and wanted him. They never listened to what he was saying. But Charlie Howard wasn’t saying a word and maybe that was why Will was suddenly panicking. His online crush wasn’t only in front of him; he was listening.

“You know that scene in Singing in the Rain where Debbie Reynolds is totally cool with Gene Kelly until she recognizes him as her screen idol, and then she doesn’t really know what to do at first? Yeah. I kind of feel like that right now.” Will made himself breathe again. While he did, Charlie’s frown didn’t lesson, although he did skip a glance down to Will’s sleeveless t-shirt with the faded Debbie Harry picture on it. “I wasn’t expecting it would be this bad. Not that I was expecting to meet you ever. I’m not a stalker—except in the normal way that everyone follows everyone on Facebook. But I’ve seen all your videos. I’m… well, clearly, I’m a big fan.”

“But you don’t know what to buy?” Charlie spoke at last. His voice was gravely and hesitant, not like what it was on the videos. But then, on the videos he knew what he was doing, and he didn’t have Will acting like a psycho. Still, of all the things he could have said, or done, like tell Will to get lost, or flee in the opposite direction, he’d asked a question.

Will shrugged, although his shame was completely obvious. “I can’t actually cook. Like, at all. It’s the one part of adulting that continues to escape me.” He saw Charlie mouth the word, “Adulting?” but he didn’t interrupt. Will felt a fraction calmer. “My sister sent me links to your videos in the vain hope I could learn to make toast. I’ve watched them all, some of them more than once, and well, those chocolate pancakes you made for your niece? Those almost came out okay, except for how they didn’t look like yours and the first five were crisp at the edges. I ended up just licking the batter and eating the bananas later.”

Charlie’s scowl grew more intense. “There’s raw egg in that batter.” The gravel left his voice but it was no less serious. Will swallowed, although his mouth and throat were still dry. Charlie studied him and then continued in the same stern daddy tone that had earned him a legion of gay fans. “You shouldn’t eat raw egg. You could get sick.”

He appeared to be genuinely concerned that Will had once eaten raw batter. Will wanted to blow him more than he’d ever wanted to blow anyone in his life. He made a noise, a frustrated little squeak that would have had his friends laughing at him, and then shook his head. “The risk of salmonella is slight. I looked it up.” He nearly lost his voice in the face of that unwavering disapproval. “But, uh, it tasted good, anyway. So thanks.”

No one, not one of the men who had ever pursued Will, would have even noticed that Will had eaten raw egg. Of course, Will would never have cooked for any of them. None of them had been worth it.

Charlie Howard inclined his head as though there were no more serious topic to discuss than Will’s cooking habits and safety. “Tell me you haven’t been doing the same with uncooked chicken.”

“Gross.” Will wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t gotten brave enough yet to attempt anything with meat. But, yes, of course I wash my hands. I am pretty strict about disinfectant in general, you have no idea. Should see my work kit—I do hair—and my tools are disinfected on the regular, trust me.”

He didn’t think he imagined Charlie’s relieved sigh, and though he waited, Charlie didn’t have anything to say about Will doing hair for a living. Will perked up. It occurred to him that this was hardly the usual conversation Charlie probably had with his fans, but whatever. Will was going to think about these few minutes for months. He was going to make the most of them.

“All right, no more eating the batter,” he promised, although Charlie hadn’t asked him to. A strange look crossed Charlie’s face. Will watched the flush darken the skin of his face and his neck.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Are you using fresh herbs or dried?” The moment the question was out of his mouth, he froze, then coughed and stared down at the cheese as if the cheese had misplaced his potato peeler.

Will angled his head to the side. “You said dried herbs were perfectly acceptable for someone on a budget, or for someone too emotionally or physically exhausted to seek out the fresh version. You just have to adjust the amounts because the flavor is different.”

Charlie’s gaze met his. His frown slowly eased away. “Yes, I did,” he agreed, so low and approving that a shiver went down Will’s spine, as if Will had been a very good boy.

But that couldn’t have been how Charlie meant it, before he tossed his head and asked a different question. “If your friends know you can’t cook, why ask you to?”

“I volunteered.” Will sighed for what couldn’t be, but explained further. “Sometimes watching you makes me ambitious.” He offered Charlie a playful grin, then realized they were blocking this part of the cheese section. He shifted to the side but Charlie stayed where he was. He was leaning against one of the cheese barrels and Will wondered guiltily if Charlie was in pain.

“No cane today?” he blurted. Charlie usually had the cane on the bad days, but maybe he’d only run into the store to get a few things and Will was making everything worse. Then he thought he probably wasn’t supposed to mention the cane, because Charlie stopped moving and glanced away. “I hope I’m not making things worse, if you are having a bad day. I wouldn’t want that,” Will added quickly.

“You really have watched every episode.” Charlie looked back at him after what felt like far too long.
Will smiled in relief. “Of course. Don’t all your fans?”

“Yes. But.” Charlie took a hand from his own shopping basket, and Will belatedly noticed that he had a white-knuckled grip on the handle, and that there was nothing inside but bread and two apples. “I don’t know.” Charlie waved a hand in a confused gesture. “My friend handles all the comments and things, unless it’s a chat. I don’t… I wasn’t meant to do all this, so I don’t understand a lot of things.”

That was likely true enough. Charlie had never attended any cooking school or worked in a restaurant. He’d been a cop of all things, and then suffered the injury that had forced him to retire. According to the site, he’d always cooked for and with his family, and his friend had recorded him cooking and posted it as a way to distract him during a low point.

“What don’t you understand? Having fans?” It was Will’s turn to frown. “Of course you do. You’re hot, and you make good food, and the way you teach is…” Will blushed like he hadn’t in years. Charlie probably wasn’t interested in being anyone’s daddy, but even if he was, it wasn’t something to discuss in the cheese aisle.

“Hot?” Charlie stared at him with an adorably surprised expression. Then he scowled and shook his head. “Having fans at all takes me by surprise. And you don’t… seem like you would find my show interesting.”

“Oh.” That hurt. It hurt a lot more than it should have. Will ran a hand through his artfully messy hair and lowered his head.

“I don’t meet most of the followers face to face, and I’ve never pictured them like you,” Charlie went on.

Just what Will needed, someone else refusing to take him seriously because he dressed like this, or talked old movies like some clichéd queen, or was unashamedly proud of being the bottom that he was. He made himself look up. “What’s wrong with me?” he demanded, still more hurt than furious, though the anger would come later.

“Nothing.” Charlie regarded Will without blinking, as utterly serious as he was about homemade tortillas and mole and stirring the melted butter and sugar for fudge so it wouldn’t burn. He seemed confused that Will would even ask that question. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Will bumped into a display then spun around to fix it, all the while on fire with a blush. His hands were shaking. This was also new. He didn’t think it was nerves and it was clearly stronger than a mere crush. “Oh,” he repeated himself, although in a much warmer, softer tone than before. In any other situation he would have been looking up coyly, but he couldn’t manage it now. “Well,” he mumbled in the direction of Charlie’s shoulder. “Well, you have quite the gay following, just so you know. Lots of guys I know have crushes on you. If ever want to get to know your fans, they would eat you up, and your dishes too.” He risked a glance up in time to catch the blank shock on Charlie’s face. The smile just took over Will’s face. This man was real. “Your friend didn’t pass on those messages?”

“She did.” Charlie spoke faintly. “I thought she was kidding.”

“Don’t worry.” Will almost patted him. “I don’t think any of them have any immediate plans to make you their daddy.” Well, aside from Will, but there was no need to say that at the moment. Anyway, at the word ‘daddy’, Charlie looked right at Will, and Will was aware that his feelings were probably all over his face.

“You aren’t kidding,” Charlie declared, with certainty. Because right, he used to be a cop and was probably good at spotting lies.

Will gave him a helpless shrug. Charlie went even more still, except for his gaze, which traveled slowly over Will from head to toe. Then, unbelievably, Charlie looked down at himself with an expression of deep confusion, as if he could not comprehend this development. His free hand passed over his hip, on his bad side, and then Will understood.

“I am absolutely not kidding,” Will told him, voice unaccountably husky. Even if he didn’t have a chance here, there was no way he could leave without letting Charlie know exactly how attractive he was. “It isn’t just that you’re hot. It’s how you are with the food, with your family. God, you care for them and you feed them and you barely remember to feed yourself, and they don’t even notice. I just want to make you sit down. I’d feed you myself.” Will wanted to press himself to Charlie Howard’s every stunned inch. “And then how you praise people. The way you gently walk us through everything. Who wouldn’t--” Will abruptly recalled the way Charlie had frozen when one of his sisters mentioned his ex during a video. “Trust me,” he said instead. “There’s a legion of men out there ready to bring you home.”

A soccer mom gave Will the most arch look he had ever received in his life as she passed them, as if she didn’t care about if they rubbed their dicks together, but could they do it somewhere else out of her way? He heard her complaining to someone on her phone about people standing in front of the Pecorino.

He focused on Charlie, thinking that he’d probably said too much. He was going to blame it on being starstruck, even if that wasn’t the case. “I am one of them. Clearly,” Will added after too long of a pause. “This is probably time for a graceful exit.”

“You haven’t picked out anything,” Charlie observed, then cleared his throat again. “You should make something easy. Something you can take there with minimal fuss, and then prep in someone’s home. What kind of gathering is it? I could… I could shop with you.”

Will put a chocolate-filled hand to his chest. “Be still my beating heart,” he murmured in disbelief. “You want to help me? Even after I went all crazy fan on you?”

“You didn’t--” Charlie shut his mouth and took a breath before he met Will’s amazed stare. “Just because you promise to avoid batter doesn’t mean you’re safe with anything else. Have you sharpened your knives recently? Dull knives are how accidents happen.”

It was a lot to take in, until it wasn’t, and Will got it. He bit his bottom lip to keep from purring out an appreciative, “Oh, daddy.” He let himself grin, his forgotten flirting skills returning with a vengeance. He leaned in closer and smiled even wider when Charlie let him do it. “You’ll take care of me?”

Even embarrassed, Charlie managed to give Will’s wine and chocolates a significant look. “Someone should.”

Will nearly dropped everything to the floor. “Will.” He blanked on everything else for a moment. Charlie’s gaze was hot, hotter than it had ever seemed in the videos, before he hid it all away again. But it was too late now. Will had seen it in that one shy, careful glance. He finished introducing himself. “My name is Will. Will Stewart.”

Charlie raised a hand, as though for half a moment he’d thought about touching Will’s face. Then he blinked and frowned and appeared as stern as a blushing man could. “Charlie Howard,” he said gruffly, as if Will didn’t already know. He was wonderful. “How about enchiladas?” Charlie asked seriously. Of course he was serious. Will had forgotten about food, and Dani, and the rest of the world, and still, Charlie was serious about helping him. Will was going to marry him. “Would enchiladas be okay?” Charlie continued, oblivious to this for the moment. “We could make vegetarian, if you prefer that?”

“Charlie Howard, I am almost swooning at the thought of you in my apartment,” Will told him, using the same earnest, matter-of-fact tone that Charlie had. “But I don’t think I can make those.”

“I can.” Charlie seemed to surprise himself with the speed of the offer. “I mean, I can show you. If you’d like.”

This time, Will did purr. “Yes, Charlie. I’d like that a lot.”





And I will let you know if my auction offer is accepted. :)
thatrcooper: (pye pye pyewacket by rani)
Audiobook has arrived! The one for A Boy and His Dragon has, I mean. A Boy and His Dragon at Audible (Confession: I get the giggly squeals when I try to listen to my own words being read out loud. I am blushing right now.)

In other news, it occurs to me that those not into the geeky online things might not realize what AUs are. I write a lot of AUs of my own characters, usually in unedited little snippets to amuse the people who follow me on Tumblr. For example, I posted a short Bakery AU of Ray and Cal from Some Kind of Magic for Kristi P for Valentine's Day. An AU is a story set in an alternate universe from the one in which the original story is set. I tend to still consider AUs Original, in a sense, (because change one fact about a character and you change the character) but it's not really a point I'd argue because mostly AUs are supposed to be fun. :) Though to make it even more confusing, sometimes I just label them "crackfic"... which they basically are. A cracky, nutty version of a story you already know.

I mention this now because every once in a while I will read a comment from someone very confused or someone will remind me that not everyone is a giant geek like me and so people don't always speak my language. If anyone ever doesn't know what the hell I'm talking about, feel free to ask me so I convert you to a giant geek too.

Anyway! AUs. I love my characters and I love variations of them because it's interesting to see how a slightly different background can entirely change the way a story would go. I tend to write fuzzy little AUs just to make me smile but if you want to know more about them, may I suggest Wikipedia? (Obvious caveat that Wikipedia is Wikipedia and always open for debate and editing.)

(Oh my though, modern AU of My Man Godric in which Godric is the head of security for a rich, old, noble family and Bertie is the public scapegrace, always in the tabloids, usually caught staring adoringly at Godric. It's really quite embarrassing. And I still think about that AU of Play It Again, Charlie in which Will gets to know Charlie while he's still recovering in the hospital. I think about that one when I need some angst.)

I forgot my point. I guess, just... look at these idiots.

Ray the baking werewolf and Cal the besotted customer


This was originally an unedited Tumblr post. Original notes have been left in.

(I bet he makes savory pies and quiches filled with ham and croissants rich with butter. I bet someone else normally makes all the sweet, delicate things, like someone else normally works the counter. But one day Penn, who runs the register and does their books, has to go do some family thing with her mother and since it's a slow day she tells Ray he has to come out to help customers if anyone rings the bell.)

He was right in the middle of preparing the beef for some spicy mini beef pies, done Louisiana style, when someone rang the bell and it didn't put him in the best mood. He only had so much time to get some prepared for their lunch rush. He'd ask Murphy to go deal with the customer but Murphy had a special order of lemon tarts to complete. Someone had ordered them at the last minute. Ray was not fond of people who made huge, demanding orders at the last minute. Penn tried to remind him that business was business, but some customers needed a basic understanding that their bakery was not a McDonald's. Things took time, even with the occasional magical assistance.

In his nose was an irritating mix of lemon and onion which did not improve his mood as he pushed through the bat-wing swinging doors that led to the main room. He knew there was a frown on his face but he couldn't be bothered to care.

What did make him pause was the reaction from the fairy waiting by the counter.

"Oh, a face like that should not be scowling so," the fairy remarked, tilting his head back to study Ray with wide, swirling eyes of brown and purple and green. The colors made Ray think of Mardi Gras, and King's Cake, and frosting.

Ray didn't usually care for frosting but for a moment he licked his lips at the imagined taste of sugar. Then the fairy spoke again. "Then again the frown suits you. You're a were, aren't you? Maybe fierce is exactly how you should look." The fairy was not subtle in looking Ray over, but then they never were.

"Can I help you?" It came out a lot crankier than it should have. Penn would have had something to say about that if she'd heard it. Ray shrugged it off and didn't apologize or explain his frown. The fairy would forget about it in a few minutes anyway once he got some sugar.

He was actually pretty low-key for a fairy, with much smaller wings than usual, as if he was part human. He even had a shirt on, unbuttoned to reveal a bare chest glowing with health and sparkles, but still a shirt.

Ray headed over to the pastry counter after a moment's hesitation. The fairy wasn't going to want anything savory and he probably wouldn't want a whole cake, but a box filled with individual pastries was always a fairy favorite.

"So you're finally out here." The fairy's gaze darted to Ray's apron, coated in flour as well as hints of blood from the meat. "Oh, Ray," he realized out loud and then stopped. He twirled his wrist and looked slightly guilty as he explained. "Penn talks about you."

"She does?" It was not what Ray meant to say at all but he fought off a blush and stared back at his winged admirer as impassively as he could. The fairy--half-fairy, smiled at him. It was possibly the kindest smile Ray had ever seen.

"Penn is wonderful," the fairy offered with that same beaming smile. Ray thought Penn was wonderful too. She had never once scoffed at a werewolf living in a city and working as a baker. He loved Penn. He had no idea why he'd frown harder to hear that the fairy liked her too.

"She thinks the world of you, you know." The fairy leaned forward, putting his slender hands gracefully along the top of the glass case, sending glitter raining down the lace doily underneath the display of cupcakes that Penn kept out to tempt the lunch crowd. Ray realized his hands were also on the glass counter but couldn't remember having moved forward. Yet there he was, the glitter almost close enough to touch him.

He could hear Murphy swearing at his crust in the kitchen but the sound seemed far away, drowned out by his own heart in his eyes and the rapid, hummingbird beat of the fairy's heart right in front of him. He inhaled, noting a new scent, like fresh caramel and cinnamon, overlaid with a desire that somehow surprised him despite the fact that this was a fairy, and fairies were, well, given to showing desire openly and often.

"You talk about me?" Ray could not believe himself. He didn't know what had come over him. If anything he was known for not talking. Now he was asking stupid questions in a hoarse voice and he felt hot, hotter than usual, hotter than the kitchen at its busiest.

The fairy danced from foot to foot as he nodded. "I asked her and she was only too happy to talk about you."

Ray blinked. His head was swimming. His vision seemed to sharpen on the increasingly bright cloud of glitter around the fairy. He thought the fairy's mouth was the most beautiful mouth he'd ever seen. He considered whether, being half-human, the fairy might like one of his pies, or at least a croissant. Ray would fill it with dark chocolate and dip it in cream if the fairy would prefer it that way. Ray would feed it to him himself, anything to keep him smiling and happy.

He shook his head but the scent only got stronger, like crisp meringue and caramelized pears.
"You see," the fairy began again, leaning in and staring at Ray as though Ray was one of the bon bons on the shelves below, "I catch a glimpse of you from time to time, and you and your frowns are the shiniest thing I have ever seen. But you never come out. Not once. Not ever. And then Penn said--"
"Yes?" Ray was growling and too distracted to be embarrassed about it.

"Penn said she'd make you come out. As a favor to me. And to you. She said, 'The wolf needs to indulge his sweet tooth' and grinned and told me to come in today."

"And you remembered?" Ray couldn't keep the surprise out of his tone.

The fairy's smile was only a little saddened by his rudeness. "When it comes to what matters, Ray, fairies remember everything."

"And I matter?" Ray took another long breath. Hope was sweet and light like powdered sugar. He didn't know what that meant.

The fairy danced in front of him again, though wriggled might have been a better word. "You matter so much I put on clothes," he offered, wrinkling his nose in a way that made Ray feel even warmer.

"I wouldn't have asked you to do that," he murmured, only to hitch his shoulders at the fairy's delighted laugh.

"I knew I would like you, Ray." It wasn't something Ray should argue with. Weres also tended to like or dislike others immediately, although based more on scent than any "shininess".

"You don't know me," he argued anyway, inhaling so much want/want/want that he pulled at his apron. He wanted to lean closer so he did, forgetting lemon and onion in order to breathe in blackberry jam and spiced peaches and rosewater. There was a sweat too, human scent, man scent, and the combination made him flush. The fairy smelled like the best things in the world.

"That's easy enough to fix, isn't it?" The fairy stuck out his hand. "I'm Cal.

His hand was warm. His glitter was like being sprinkled with chocolate dust. And he smiled when Ray brought his wrist up to his mouth.

...


Still fierce Ray, but not nearly so, er, dickish about fairies uptight because he isn't a cop and doesn't have all those pressures on him. I imagine they were almost kissing by the end of that encounter and on a date/screwing shortly afterward. Maybe they make it through one date first. Then everyone at the bakery has to deal with Ray, ridiculously in love and Mated. Aw.

To sum up, I am weird. I write weird little things. People can always write me and ask me what the hell I'm doing if it's too weird. :) Also, SHINY NEW AUDIOBOOK!

(Also, apologies if this really is obvious to you. I just noticed several comments from confused people recently and didn't want them to continue being confused.) :):):)
thatrcooper: (stephen by aixsponsa)
I never know what to say in these blog posts. Sure, if you want fannish squeeing and random pictures of food and porn there's always my Tumblr, but an author-y blog posts people are supposed to be more author-y, have things to say about writing or the world in general that aren't just notices about upcoming release dates, all that. Only honestly I know next to nothing about the publishing world, and I feel like everything else comes out in my stories anyway. What does that leave? Just the updates. *sigh* But, you know, they are exciting to me and exciting things are fun to share.

First things first, everyone knows I posted a free short story, right? Well, I did. It features a slightly cracky (a lot cracky) fairy tale version of two characters who have been TORMENTING ME FOR OVER A YEAR NOW.

Ahem. I suppose that is something to talk about. Some stories are like that. You know exactly what is going on and you're compelled to write them as quickly as you can get the words out and you remain obsessed with them even once you are done. Wicklow and Rhoades were like that for me. But other stories are just a big mess. They keep growing and nothing ends up as you originally planned until you finally make yourself finish after many stops and starts and then suddenly it's exactly how you wanted it. But different. Will and Charlie were more like that. Er, Nathaniel and Tim are apparently like that as well. They insisted on writing themselves and that is always a struggle.

And can I tell you how much I regret giving werewolves quick healing powers and a fast refractory period? And how much I regret writing a sexual frustrated, *incredibly* confused young werewolf? Because I have spent hours upon hours upon hours writing porn and I'm not done yet! At least they have kind of reached an understanding, the two of them. Soon Tim might even understand what cuddles are.

(He needs lessons. Wicklow, now, you could give Wickow cuddle lessons and he'd still stare at you like you're crazy... So, I write characters with space and touching issues. So I write characters with issues. Ah well. That isn't news.)

Hmm. Updates. So. Wicklow and Rhoades were accepted (yaaaaaaay!) Preliminary title: Wicklow's Odyssey. That might change. Expect Civil War Steampunk sometime in July or early August.

Meanwhile, I was sent notices that audiobooks are going to happen for both, "A Boy and His Dragon" and "Play It Again, Charlie." I even got to listen to some samples. That was thrilling! And anxiety-inducing. And strange. And fantastic. And I don't generally listen to audiobooks so I hope those turn out okay. I will let you guys know what they are coming out.

I continue to write Tim and Nathaniel (working title(s): Little Wolf. Or The Alpha of Wolf's Paw. Or What Wolves Do. Or... something chess related. Because when you think werewolves, you think, chess.) Getting closer to the end. Woo hoo! I still don't know what to do about my short Beings stories. I want to write a few more and put them all together, but then again I don't know if Dreamspinner would want that. I'm such a weird writer.

And um, oh hey. Conventions and things. Fun? Something people in more than a hang around the comic book booths kind of way? What kind of conventions do people go to where they want to interact with authors? *Do* they want to interact with authors? (Or m/m authors for that matter?) What's that like? I have only ever gone to one convention and it was a very large one and very expensive and well... I did not enjoy it much despite my nerdiness. So I am trying to see the appeal. They aren't something you can explore on a whim when you are on a budget.

Depends on what you want to get out of them I suppose. y/y? y/n?
thatrcooper: (paris by cunningcroft)
I promised better links once I had covers. To what? Some might ask. Well to a pair of steampunk stories I wrote a while ago that didn't know what to do with, so I put them up on Smashwords.

And I Am Happy

My steampunk Alternate Universe story for Will and Charlie from Play It Again, Charlie

Description: Will is a terrible valet. Until he came to the house of war hero and respected MP Charles Howard, he was more of a rich man's convenience than a valet. No one predicts he will keep the position for long but Charles Howard is not at all what Will expects. A reserved, insecure man who hides his pain from the public, Charlie--as Will secretly thinks of him--believes that no one, especially his pretty valet, would want him. Will longs to convince him otherwise but even if Charlie were the type to dally with a servant, Will is a valet, a man, with a scandalous past, and Charlie is a famous figure.

In a late Victorian England where cars exist, if only for the rich, and telephones are a symbol of wealth, a progressive spirit has led to the appearance of acceptance. But though certain laws have been repealed it doesn't mean people's attitudes have changed or that class differences don't still exist. Will is content to serve his gentleman with no expectations of anything more. He only wants his master to be happy. Will makes Charlie smile but master and servant is all they can ever be, or is it?

Price: FREE. Everyone's favorite word! But if you like it and are curious about this Peter and Sebastian that Will mentions, then skip on over to


With Everything I Have


Description: Sebastian has a problem. He's in love with his best friend Peter and has been since their schooldays when they were outcasts together. His pining is so obvious that all of London knows, even his frustrated mother who just wants him to be happy. The only person who doesn't know is Peter. An abusive childhood with a controlling father left Peter emotionally detached and socially anxious and now he mostly hides himself away in his house where he designs the unique, fast cars that are status symbols among the town's elite. People would kill to own a single one of Peter's cars. Sebastian owns four. The meaning in that is obvious to everyone but Peter.

In a late Victorian England where cars exist, even though they aren't exactly comfortable, and computers allow the shy to avoid human contact , a progressive spirit has led to a begrudging acceptance of the sexuality of certain members of society. The sodomy laws have been repealed so that two men might spend the rest of their lives together, but that is no guarantee of happiness. Peter risks his neck driving at dangerous speeds for fun but sees passion as something to be frightened of. Sebastian has been struggling to get Peter to realize his own feelings for years but he is starting to worry that it may never happen. Peter seems to want no part of the future that Sebastian is offering him, on the surface at least. But a future without Sebastian might be something that not even a mind like Peter's can imagine.

Price: $1.99 But um, there's feelings! And smut! And suspenders... which... okay thanks to Selenographics and Wicklow, I have kind of a kink for now. hmmm Peter and Sebastian need some more smut. Maybe I will commentfic that with Selenographics when I get bored.
thatrcooper: (pye pye pyewacket by rani)
Oh, Rhoades, you sly, sexy scoundrel!

I just want people to read my steampunk thing with Wicklow and Rhoades so that they can lust over the other characters like I do right now!!! Whyyyyy? I need my pain and love for them to be shared by others!

I mean honestly, when you accidentally make every character in your story crazy hot in different ways and you imagine all their epic loves but at the same time, just picturing all the monkey sex fanfic that I hope some of you are inspired to write, well... good luck keeping your chonies on. (If that sentence made no sense, remember I am extremely tired.)

Of course, even if Dreamspinner wants the thing (so far I have heard nothing. Not even a reply to report receipt) it will be forever until it comes out. Forever, I say! And yeah okay that depends on people also reading the thing and then liking the thing. That part might be tricky. Sigh. Hmmm I'm probably going to have to fic them all myself, and no one will have the slightest idea what I am talking about. Sadface.

Before I get too upset about my eternal dorkiness, I should explain a few other things.

See, I wrote this Wicklow and Rhoades steampunk saga as a short story for Dreamspinner's steampunk anthology. Only my reader was like... "No, this needs to be longer. I need to know all about these two delightful muffins." (Only she's British, so those might not have been her exact words.) So it ended up much longer. But meanwhile, because I was trying to get a feel for steampunk, I wrote two other short stories.

The first was a steampunk Play It Again, Charlie AU, with Will the terrible valet and Charlie as his gentleman. The second was a story set in that same world about two other characters. I didn't know what to do with them, so I put them up on Smashwords. You can check them out if you like. One of them is even free! They don't have covers yet. Next week probably. R. Cooper on Smashwords. Proper links when I have proper covers. :)

Also I was going to do an "all the proceeds from the sales of this story go to charity" thing for the holidays (because I live in the US and our government cut foodstamps and other aid programs because our government is full of assholes) but I wouldn't even get the money from Smashwords until after the holidays, so instead I am just going to give to my local foodbanks some food and money. I encourage everyone to do the same. Seriously. Just drop something off in the donation bins in your grocery store or look up a local foodbank online. :):):)


This is more random than even my usual ramblings. I've been very busy, okay? My brain is little fried.
thatrcooper: (pye pye pyewacket by rani)
Some things:

Plainapple doodled some Cal and Ray Ray for me.

Ray is nicely glowering and annoyed. Anyone that sexually frustrated is bound to be.


Also hey, just for funsies (and practice) I wrote a sort of-steampunk/Victorian but historically inaccurate AU for Will and Charlie. Lots of angst and feelings and master/servant vibes. I don't know how long I am going to leave it up, so read soon if the mood strikes you.

And I Am Happy

Gah. I have written three steampunk shorts for myself now, and I don't think any of them really even count as steampunk. One probably needs to be longer. Bah! Humbug! Back to Firebirds!
thatrcooper: (perv by kittie)
Getting back into writing can be difficult, so I tried to do a little something and ended up with two steampunk/not really steampunk stories. One of them is basically an alternate universe Will and Charlie. I'm not sure what to do with them. They aren't very good, at least, not from what I can tell, but I am kind of fond of them. It's very discouraging though, to see all that effort just sitting there in two random, blah stories. But hey, at least they got me kind of excited about werewolves again.

In other story type news, I put Ideas of Sin (oh dear, that old thing) up on Smashwords. If you are hankering for some French corsair with daddy issues captures bookish but fine English piece of ass, then that is where you should go. Also featuring 17th century stuff and religious debate and booty (pirate sex pun!) and very bad things and lots more sex. Six people have bought it so far, which tickles me to no end for some reason. SIX BRAVE SOULS. (I am so sorry. I wrote it years ago. But there's porn!)

Also, to the people who follow me on Tumblr or read these posts on Goodreads, you know I have no idea how I am supposed to act in these spaces, so you get this. You're welcome. ;)

Have some steampunk-ish valet-ness starring a slightly different Will and slightly different Charlie:

Read more... )
thatrcooper: (stephen by aixsponsa)
A couple of things. (Oh hey anyone new who might be reading this. Hey! I just met you, this is crazy, but here's my number...)

First things first, LOOKIT IT'S A BOOK!!!! )

I know it's expensive and a big purchase and maybe I'm no one's favorite author, but OMG! It's a book! I'm having a moment. I'm getting all verklempt!


In other news it's Dreamspinner's Fifth Anniversary, so they are having sales all month, but I guess they are surprise! bonus extra special sales and other deals and treats that you have to watch their FB or Twitter feed to find out about. Just letting people know. Sales! Sales are always good.


In *other* other news, I seriously might be no one's favorite author (as far as I can tell anyway) but screw it, I'm going to go ahead with my charity thing. What I am most likely going to do is set up a post with a starting bid price (something low, like $5) and offer to write a new story of at least 5000 words based on a prompt from the person with the highest bid (if I have a bidder. If not I might write something anyway, but charity would get no money. Boo). I am still considering the details, but the charity will most likely be for this place or someplace like it The San Francisco Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Community Center. But again, I'm still working out the details... with myself really, and my schedule and moods. (Damn moods!)

Anyway, BOOK! It's pretty to hold I must say. Now back to work for me... or sleep. I might sleep now. Work tomorrow.
thatrcooper: (natalie wood natalie wood by teh gandu)
Holy shit, release day.

I mean, not that it matters in the grand scheme of life or anything. Just that I am all nervous and fluttery about it and I still have to go to work and be all normal and calm and shit. :(

No fun. I will imagine Chandler/Kent sex while there maybe. Just for funsies. Then maybe work on original plotting stuff like a good girl.

Meanwhile, just a reminder for anyone who feels they need an epilogue that one does in fact exist. And it's free! (You just have to suffer my bad Spanish).

Somebody Named Will


So much love to everyone today. Especially Claire and Paulina and Daphne and Dreamsparkle, for keeping me on target. :)
thatrcooper: (natalie wood natalie wood by teh gandu)
I can't help myself. That nervous energy has to go somewhere.

I'm feeling fine and you?

Does anyone do this like Irene Dunne? We need a new version of her.

(I just post these things out of love... and to shame dlasta for not having seen them yet).

Judy Holliday in Born Yesterday The "dumb" blonde done to perfection.

The Lady Eve Don't think Will wouldn't do this. (Until the end anyway, when he wouldn't be able to stop smiling)

Okay, I will stop now. :):):)
thatrcooper: (natalie wood natalie wood by teh gandu)
Rather low energy at the moment, which I am going to blame on not having any writing projects and working on a synopsis, which always sucks (trust me, any non-writers out there, it's an irritating experience). But really, this is definitely one of those times where I'm torn between living as a hermit and wanting someone to come take me out for a night of debauchery to make me forget all this. ...Hermit still sounds slightly more appealing. Poop.

ANYWAY. Charity thing. I was thinking old school bidding for new original short stories unless people are dying for snippets in a particular universe(???), not that I expect to make much in either case, but you know, a dollar for charity is a dollar for charity.

ANOTHER ANYWAY. We are ten days away from Play It Again, Charlie coming out, so I thought I'd spam you all with some classic movie goodness. Why? Well once you know Will this will make sense. Also Barbara Stanwyck, motherfuckers. Barbara Stanwyck.

teaching a pretty man the meaning of yum yum

With bonus Cary Grant!

Gay all of the sudden!

(Yeeeeeah can you tell my type and/or what kind of stories I like from those or what? hahaha)

Profile

thatrcooper: (Default)
thatrcooper

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 27th, 2017 02:44 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios