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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

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70 Encouragements/Tips For The Writer:

A/N: Rules don’t exist. These are real and personal and stem from a deteriorating, exhausted Writer who is here to tell you (and herself) that you are amazing and keep going. I hope you find some encouragement within.

Your mental health comes first and foremost.

Indulge and embrace your creative writing pieces when they come (and when they don’t). Especially when they don’t.

Suffering from Writer’s Block or fluctuating hyperfixation? Me too. So is your favorite author. Welcome to the Writer’s Block Party (all my uwus if you see the pun).

Did you spend five hours on this one segment, forget the last time you ate, develop chapped lips, dry eyes, and a stiff back (time to get up and move), bang your head on the wall, laugh, cry, fidget, take your ADHD meds, deviate to watch YouTube, have an epiphany, curse in frustration and wonder why the hell you do this to yourself? Congratulations, you’re a Writer.

Embrace all the not-so-glamorous sides of writing, and accept the fact they’re going to happen time over again.

When you say “just one more line” and it’s 2:00 AM, I’ll be here to remind you to “go to sleep” (because I’m also depriving myself lol).

Actually, sleeping helps your mind feel refreshed, and it’s good for your health. If you’re struggling with a particular segment, one of the best things you can do is just put a cap on it for the time being, put in a placeholder, and get some shut eye. I know you don’t want to. But you will feel so much better and have more clarity and energy to continue when you wake. Trust me.

More often than not, those words you “just didn’t write down fast enough and now forgot” end up revealing themselves to you later in a much more profound way. Give the words time to get ready. They’re just spiffing up before coming to visit. :)

Be proud of yourself and your prose. Writing is an amazing part of who you are.

That trope has been written 1000 times before? Make it 1001.

You’ve already written this scenario? Write it again.

You’ve just written a single sentence. Now sit back for moment and think: you just wrote something brand new, never before seen. Nobody out there will ever write that sentence or formulate those thoughts the exact same way. You are a unique, mind-blowing, awe-inspiring human being.

Bask in the excitement that comes with a completed piece. Reflect on what you learned throughout and celebrate the little victories.

Don’t be afraid to ask for feedback, but also understand that you might not always get it, and that is OK.

Please re-read your work. Be gentle with yourself. You had to write that very first piece to get to where you are now. Love the process.

Your personal writing success is not based off of kudos or likes or reblogs.

There is no right or wrong way to write.

There is no such thing as “good” writing.

Improvement is becoming of everyone so get comfy, strap in. The journey of a Writer is a lifelong one. Here’s to many more works ahead.

Don’t mourn the words you did or didn’t write. Celebrate the ones you will.

One day, you’ll read a piece that will blow you away—and it will be yours.

There is nothing “shameful” about reblogging your own writing works.

I promise you’ll find your “wow” piece—either in something you’ve already written, or something yet to come.

Baby. Please don’t write out of spite. You’re better than that.

You are just as valid/deserving as the next Writer. And you do belong.

If you feel sad/unworthy when sharing your works or interacting with others’, get to the root of why. Writing should be fun, rewarding, and relaxing. Not shameful, embarrassing, or a chore.

Writing (fanfiction, specifically) is labeled as “transformative works”. Self-explanatory, right? However, if you notice the transformative part begin to have a personal effect on you—a negative one—it’s time to take a step back.

Right now, I can name a single quality you possess: diligence. How do I know? Because you’re a Writer, and the two go hand-in-hand.

Got that single scene in your head but you haven’t completed or even began all the chapters preceding? Bruh. Jot that down right now. You don’t need 20k words beforehand.

Embrace your writing mood swings. The stray, sweet and condensed blurbie. The ideal, bridging drabble. The solid, substantial oneshot. The hefty, elaborate 10k word chapter. Appreciate everything in-between, and that you are capable of all of it.

Nobody remembers that extra word or typo or stray speech mark back all the way back in chapter 3. Tell the little monster in your head to go to hell.

You’re not a weirdo for making facial expressions and mulling through your dialogue aloud. You. Are. A. Writer.

It’s OK if the Readers can’t always see exactly what you envisioned in your head, or the full extent of the picture you painted. We all see colors differently.

Don’t be afraid to experiment with your writing.

In fact, challenge yourself to dabble into a new plot/trope/concept every day, even if only for a few minutes. You may discover you love writing it.

There’s no rush to finish/begin any written work. If you take your time, you will make your mark. You’re not falling behind or running late. Slow down and wait for it. :)

Three cheers for hiatus.

Listen to your body and mind, know your limits and when it’s time to take a break.

Actually take a break. :)

If you feel like you’re falling stagnant in creativity, looking to/revisiting other forms of creative media can help encourage the flow.

Ask for encouragement, and be at peace with asking.

Take shelter in fellow writers. Uplift each other always.

You are/will be someone’s favorite author. :)

You don’t have anything to prove. You have something to share.

Someone is thinking about your work right now.

Someone started a series because they drew inspiration from you.

Personal writing style can reflect a lot on the state of one’s mental health. Try to always be attentive to that of your own.

Self-validation must be cultivated early on or nothing will ever work.

Freestyle every once in a while. Write a snippet, timed, and go—without editing. Write the first thing that comes to mind and go from there. Do it all the way through the set time. When it stops, you’ll find yourself unable to. 3,800 words here we come. :)

Not everything needs an outline. :)

It is completely normal to write your story out of order.

Create guidelines for yourself. If they aren’t working, toss ‘em.

Word vomiting can help you feel better (it’s just how it sounds). By clearing all those jumbled thoughts and scattered concepts, you achieve a clearer objective. Try it sometime.

A rough draft is supposed to be rough.

Sometimes the words come to you quicker than others. Be patient. That is merely the construct of a Writer’s mind. You’re a beautiful enigma.

A sentence written is a story progressing.

Writing is an endurance sport. You must pace yourself and exercise it daily.

You are still a Writer even when the words aren’t on the actual page.

You’re not obligated to a writing/posting schedule.

As you progress in your journey and gain more awareness, don’t sacrifice your style. Those beginning works are what define you. Hold onto them and don’t ever let them go.

You’re the only one cringing—

Remember that sometimes words are elusive and you don’t always have control over them, and that is OK. Sometimes they write themselves. Sometimes your characters come to life and break out into dance across your page. Dance with them. You can wrangle them back when the music stops. :)

There is nothing condemning or embarrassing about asking for a beta. Allow someone to help carry the load.

Allow people to cheer you on—even if they don’t read your work.

It’s OK if your writing style isn’t someone else’s preference.

Be your biggest cheerleader. Sometimes you are all you have.

You don’t need anyone’s approval except your own.

You love that trope/concept/story you just wrote? That’s all that matters. The end.

You will never write good. You will write you. And that is good.

Above all else: remember to write for you.🤍

#writers #fanfiction writers #writing encouragement #writer appreciation #writer support #writer struggles #writing motivation #writers tips #for writers #omg am I struggling.#hope these help you beautiful people #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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Not to be a weirdo but the arrival was always my comfort fic, like if I didn’t know what to read or was stressed and just wanted something nice and easy (no offence to be caused just your writing is smooooth) funny and peaceful to read, this fic was that! Thankyou! Got me through nearly 2 years of university with the top grade in class and this fic likely had something to do with that, as I’d read it when my brain was too heavy and I needed to wind down!! Pls I must know more about the kiddos do you have any fun facts

THIS IS THE SWEETEST. I'm so glad you've found comfort in this fic. You have no idea how much that means to @snelbz and myself. We loved writing this little story, and the fact that you love it so much brings us so much joy!

And, nonnie, we would love to give you some fun facts.

- Luna loves to read, which she definitely picked up from her Aunt Nesta. Azriel is baffled by how many books she owns. His idea of reading is the comics in the newspaper, which Luna still makes come to their house, because she's fascinated with "vintage" things

- When Thorn was 3, Cassian got cursed out at the grocery store because Thorn gave a rude, elderly woman the middle finger.

- Bennett loves to write. He has piles of journals on his desk at home, and his Google Drive is filled with ideas and drafts. Feyre says it’s because he’s so romantic in nature, like his father, and his little drabbles have become quite popular with the ladies. He hopes to make a career as an author.

- During their freshman year, Olive and Lily got expelled for a week from school for switching places during midterms week. Olive was trying to take Lily’s biology exam for her, considering it’s her sister’s least favorite - and worst - subject. It involved frog dissection. Lily wasn’t having it. Olive couldn’t have been more excited.

- Layla was born in the backseat of Elain and Azriel’s car. They thought they had more time once labor began, because of how it went with Luna and Lannan, but Layla was wasting no time. She was ready to be out. So, she was born at one in the morning on the side of the interstate.

- When John was nine, he saw Cassian do a front flip off the dock and wanted to be just like him. So, naturally, he gave it a try and it ended with a trip to the hospital, eight stitches in his forehead, and Nesta not talking to Cassian for nearly a week for “breaking her baby”.

- In the sixth grade, Scarlett punched a boy in the face because he kissed her in the hallway. Cassian had never been so proud. The guidance counselor, however, was deeply unimpressed.

- Lannan is the ultimate middle child. He was used to spending time alone - not that he minded it too much. In middle school, he got really into art, and after some lessons from his Aunt Feyre, he started to thrive. After high school, he decided to become a tattoo artist. He also made it a goal to have more tattoos than his dad and uncles - a mission in which he succeeded. Aside from that, he loves to paint with watercolors.

#the arrival #the return #2nd gen #modern au #snacmc collab #nice anons

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punkpoemprose · 3 years

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December 12th- A Convenient Arrangement Part 4

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 5336 Words A/N: Brain-rot I tell you. Brain-rot. Yes I’m aware it would be easier to catch up writing or finishing the drabbles and oneshots I have in my drafts but I can literally only think about this AU anymore. I do have other ideas I really want to tackle though, so maybe I’ll try one of those next. We sure will see won’t we?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Anna had not been particularly pleased by the knock on her door before the rising of the sun. That was, of course, until she’d heard it open, and saw a somewhat familiar figure through her one open eye. They’d been married for just a little over a full day and a half, and already seeing him there, hearing his voice, brought her comfort.

“Anna,” he’d said quietly, “We’ll have to leave soon if we want to get back before dark. I think I’d like to show you some places on the way.”

So she’d dragged herself from bed, and now in the closest thing she owned to travel clothes, she sat at his side, watching the sun rise in his wagon. She’d offered to have the horse master prepare the royal carriage, but he’d shrugged at the idea. She could already tell that he was the sort of person who wouldn’t have others do for him, what he could do for himself.

She could appreciate that. She’d spent many years trying to dodge the staff when they’d wanted to bathe her or dress her or clean up her quarters for her. She’d given her poor governess a run for her money in her younger years, and now there was some special satisfaction she found in the tacking of her own horse or the styling of her own hair.

She wore it down today, in a pair of braids to make it almost proper. Being with her husband she supposed she should be allowed to wear it however she liked. She did feel a bit bad for the surge of annoyance she’d felt the day before when she’d watched him brushing his reindeer when she just spent time ruminating on her own insistence at doing things on her own. She was stubborn, and he seemed to be as well in many ways.

The odds of that causing problems were likely high, but she still liked their odds.

“What’s it like to live so far from the city?” she asked, just to break the quiet between them as they made their way along the road, few others traveling along as they did.

She wondered if Kristoff knew that normally she’d be accompanied by guards for any trip like this outside the walls of the castle’s gates. She wondered if he knew that he now should be afforded the same guards, and whether he knew that she’d intentionally had him exit a rear gate so as to not catch attention when they’d left.

The last thing she wanted on her first day left entirely alone with her husband was to have an entourage of guards a few feet behind them at most. She’d thought to leave a note in the servant’s quarters for Kai and Gerda, as well as one under her sister’s office door before they set out, at least so that no one would think she was kidnapped, but she was still uncertain as to whether they’d send a platoon out after her anyway.

“Simple,” he said, “Quiet. When I’m in camp with the other harvesters or in the market selling ice it’s so loud. But at home it’s peaceful. Sometimes someone who knows me well enough to know where my home is will stop by to visit, usually family or another harvester, but otherwise it’s just me and Sven and the forest.”

It sounded nice, she thought. To live out in nature and see untamed plants and animals each day. But the quiet aloneness was something that made her uncomfortable to think about. She’d spent too many years in solitude, quiet, alone. She couldn’t imagine wanting that.

But he was free to go where he liked, and he has family and he has friends.

His self-imposed solitude was different than her enforced one.

It’s better to have a choice.

His hands were on the reins, leading his reindeer off the well-traveled road and toward a smaller wooded path ahead. The city was shrinking behind them, and while she thought that it might be nice to get away for a short time, she also couldn’t help but fear what would come ahead for them. The forest was probably less dangerous than the conversations they might have now that they were well and truly alone, away from the ears and eyes of staff and dignitaries and citizens of her castle and kingdom.

She wished that he’d let a hand fall, so that she could grip it for comfort.

***

She was leaning into his side a bit as Sven climbed the familiar path up and into the mountain. Trees lined the dirt road and in some places, he felt the wagon’s wheels crunch over fallen branches and encroaching shrubs. Had he been alone, and had he had his hatchet he may have spent some time clearing the road. It was used by only a few during the summer months. There were others that lived in his section of the mountain, but they were mostly older and while they helped keep the path, it was a job he took mostly for himself.

Hermits have to stick together.

But he wasn’t a hermit, at least not anymore. She was warm at his side, and he enjoyed the contact. It was not a cold morning, the summer sun rising was already warming their surroundings, but the shade of the branches above was keeping it cool. They hadn’t been speaking for a while, and he wasn’t sure what to say. She’d been doing most of the talking, and he’d answered her when prompted. He’d told her about ice harvesting and the work it required, about his preferences for hands on work over more cerebral tasks despite doing well enough with them to keep himself and his ice business afloat.

She’d told him about growing up in the castle, being trained for duties she’d not been asked to fulfil when the gates had been closed, and how she wasn’t truly certain what was going to happen next. She’d mentioned that they’d be expected to make appearances, and that while they didn’t rule, they’d be prepared to do so in the event that Elsa could not.

“My sister has no interest in providing the kingdom with an heir,” she’d said, “The throne will be mine someday, whether I want it or not. People are going to want me to ensure someone will fill it after as well. Our kingdom is peaceful, the monarchy is well liked, but a power vacuum could be deadly nevertheless.”

It had been the last thing she’d said before the quiet had overtaken them. They’d spoken briefly of heirs and children on their wedding night, mostly to assure her that she’d never have to provide him with any, but he wasn’t sure now if it were something that she might have taken the wrong way. He tried to recall whether he’d qualified the statement with a willingness to someday have children if she wanted them, but he was uncertain.

“Do you want children?”

She was quiet, but she didn’t shift from his side. He took it as a good sign and let his hand drop from the reins, knowing that Sven knew the path ahead and that he could control him well enough with a single hand.

She took it, her fingers lacing through his as they both kept their eyes on the path ahead.

“I never thought about it much,” she said, “Well I thought about it sometimes, but not about whether I would want to or not. Princesses married, they had children, they raised future monarchs, and with Elsa being as she is… well I just always knew it would be my duty. I was very romantic as a child though, I liked to dream of weddings and things. I always thought I’d marry for love like my parents did.”

He squeezed her hand, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a choice.”

She looked at him then, he saw it out the corner of his eye and so he turned to her in return. Her eyes were rueful, her smile weak. “I’m sorry you didn’t either. I never asked… was there someone else that you…?”

“No.”

He thought maybe he answered too quick, especially when there was a spark of surprise in her eye. He couldn’t imagine why it would, he surely had to be blundering enough in his attempts at supporting her that she could tell he’d never been in a relationship before. But then again, she’d been alone for so long, and while he didn’t know much about her last relationship, he knew that she was also new to their situation if nothing else. Maybe she wasn’t sure of what being in a relationship was supposed to be like either.

“Sorry, I… no. I’ve never been interested in anyone before you.”

She flushed, her face going bright red. He wasn’t really sure what he’d said that elicited the response until she looked down at her feet and quietly replied.

“So you are interested? In me… that is?”

It was his turn to flush then. He looked away from her, toward the brush along the side of the path, taking note of the plants they passed, staring at trees and stones and anything but her. Because he was interested.

She’s beautiful.

She’s kind.

I’m not worthy of her.

She’s my wife.

“How could I not be Anna?”

***

The light breeze that swept its way across the small clearing buffeted the loose hairs around her face, tickling at her nose. Her sleep addled hands had done their best in braiding, but clearly she’d missed some pieces.

Kristoff’s hand was in hers again, helping her down from the wagon. It was a lucky thing too, her legs feeling like jelly with how long she’d been sitting.

She fell a bit, into his chest, and she didn’t mind at all when his other arm wrapped around her back, stabilizing her, holding her until she righted herself. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the various conversations they’d had on their way, but particularly the one where he’d told her that he was, in fact, interested in her.

It shouldn’t matter really. They were married after all. But the idea that her husband might have an interest in her beyond the title and duty to be wed, meant something. She was interested in him too.

He’s funny, and kind, and…

She had to tune out her own thoughts in order to quiet the commentary on his arms and chest and the attractiveness of his features. She lost the battle though, at least thinking about his strength, when she righted herself again and let her hand run down his chest.

“I hope you won’t be too disappointed,” he said, not dropping her hand as he led her toward one of the two buildings that filled the space. “It’s nothing fancy.”

She knew that she couldn’t possibly be disappointed. All she’d wanted from this trip was to get away from the castle for a bit, to get to know him a little better. She’d already been given that and more. His hand was in hers; he’d said that he was interested in her, and nothing had fallen apart around her yet.

The grass in the field around them was a bit taller than it was in the pasture where she rode her horse, but the ground was mostly level and easy to walk on. He’d already unhitched Sven who was munching on it happily. He wasn’t tied up, but stayed in the bounds of the space without difficulty.

The animal was smart. She could tell that he was either well trained, or had a bond with Kristoff that at least made him appear so. She wondered how old the reindeer was, and how long Kristoff had been his “best friend”.

She thought that maybe sometime the information would come up naturally. Or at least she hoped so. There were some mysteries she wanted him to answer for her naturally, rather than offer in response to her many questions.

The building was small, larger than the other that appeared to be a stable and storage space, but still smaller than even her smallest drawing room. It was built of logs, long, but thin compared to the trunks of the trees around her, and bare of bark. They were stacked high, perhaps ten feet, and appeared to be expertly aligned to create the walls. Into the face a few small windows were inset into the wood, and the roof, made of thick wooden shingles that were well aged with the sun and weather. A few appeared to be split, maybe as a result of the freezing and thawing of the winter’s snow and ice.

She’d seen winters split the flagstones in the garden path at the palace and supposed it might to do the same to shingles. She took note of the simplicity of the structure, just a rectangle of wood with the space broken only by the windows, the single front door, and the stone chimney that had been laid up the end.

Nothing about it was perfect. The logs that made up the walls were tightly laid together, and she had no doubt that it was weather tight, but the logs were cut to different lengths on the end, almost lined up, but not quite. The chimney had a slight lean to it, and the door and windows were not even close to centered on the buildings front. It had been made by eye, she could tell, and it was lovely.

She wanted to ask if he’d made it himself, but she felt as if she might be disappointed to learn if it hadn’t been. She was already imagining him, maybe a year or two younger, without a shirt and hauling the heavy supplies across the clearing himself.

She supposed his family must have helped. That’s what families did, or at least that was true to her memory of what having a full family was like. It was fuzzy around the edges, even with her parents death not having been long ago, because Elsa hadn’t really been part of the family since she was quite small.

When they made it to the front door, he opened it for her and helped her take the step up into the interior which was lit warmly by sunlight through the two windows that had been visible to her on the front of the building as well as another slightly larger one on the back. Small dust motes danced like fireflies in the light, and she realized rather quickly that it was a home of practicality rather than fashion. The main room was, less of a room and more a space. She saw a stove, a small fireplace, a table with a single chair, a chest, and a cot in the space with little else.

“It’s not fancy,” he reiterated, stepping into his home behind her, “Nothing like what you’re used to, but it’s mine.”

She thought for a moment about what it would be like to live there.

She’d want to hang curtains, maybe polish the stove a bit, and add a rug to the center of the floor, and maybe some hooks on the wall to hang jackets in the winter, but otherwise it was someplace she could, at least, imagine staying for a few nights.

She didn’t really think that she needed much. The amenities of the castle had always been nice, but she thought that she might be able to, perhaps, be happy without them. Running water was, however, one thing that she knew she’d miss if she were ever to live anywhere without it.

“It’s perfect,” she said, and she meant it, because it was his, and that’s all it needed to be.

***

He’d left her with express permission to do all the exploring and digging through his home that she liked. He had nothing to hide from her, and he supposed that it might make her happy to see his home and his things. He was getting to know her home, and while he supposed he wouldn’t be spending much time in his cabin anymore, he thought it only right for her to get to know his too. Her zeal after being given permission was something that surprised him, as if she had wanted to know if she could explore but had been too scared to ask.

I don’t want her to ever be afraid to ask something of me.

Still though, with her joy, there had been some visible sadness when he’d told her that he needed to leave for a short while. Normally he would ride Sven the moderate distance to the valley where his family lived, but instead he left the animal in Anna’s care, or perhaps he left Anna in his care. Sven was, for a very long time, the only living being other than his family that he trusted without a second thought. He was starting, even after such a short time, to put Anna in that category as well, and so he knew that he could trust the animal to keep her company or get her back to the city if need be, just as he also felt comfortable with leaving her to keep the creature from running off or getting tangled up in anything he shouldn’t.

She already seemed to like him, he’d noticed the way she’d scratched his head gently before they’d left in the morning, and somehow a small pile of carrots had appeared in the wagon while they were on the road. It may have been bribery on her part, though it was unnecessary. Sven in his own way, had already shown that he liked her too. It was another reason why he thought that being married to Anna might be something he would not only be able to bear, but to enjoy. Sven was an excellent judge of character.

When he reached the valley it appeared empty, void of everything but the occasional mushroom, tuft of grass, and bit of moss growing on the oddly placed stones in the space. He knew better of course, but to the untrained, unknowing eye, who probably couldn’t find the valley in the first place, it would just be another stretch of the mountain to pass through.

“I’m home,” he called.

He could feel the love in the space as a few stones slowly unsettled themselves from the dirt and rolled toward the shaded area of tree line he’d just emerged from. The mossy stones were large but didn’t come up much higher than his knee as he walked back into the shade to where they’d settled.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I have something I need to tell you.”

The rocks rocked a bit, then popped apart into small humanoid figures. The one he called his mother gave him a sleepy smile as the one he called his father yawned, and the one he called his grandfather looked on expectantly. Grand Pabbie was always the first to have his wits about him when he woke, being the oldest and least effected by the exhausting light of the sun.

“It must be urgent,” the old troll said, already reaching out to grasp Kristoff’s hand in support, his brow scrunched as he tried to determine what was going on.

The two trolls that he called his parents came to shortly after, reaching for him and clasping his larger hand in between their smaller ones.

“I wanted to come and tell you yesterday, or before I even left but… I’m married.”

“Married?”

His father looked skeptical, as if he were about to start checking him for head trauma. Then rubbed his eyes with his unoccupied hand.

“Married like wed? To another human?”

His wife, Kristoff’s mother, bumped the troll with a look of cut-it-out-right-now-or-so-help-me on her face, then turned to give Kristoff a radiant smile.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s human or not… or if he is… or if it is. Our baby is in love! When do we get to meet… uh… your spouse?”

Kristoff flushed and it had nothing to do with the warm afternoon air.

“I’m not in love… or at least I’m not… I think I could be but we’re… We’re just married…” He found it much more difficult to explain than he could have imagined on his walk over, and so he just settled for the most basic information he could manage, “She’s human. Her name is Anna. Actually, well… Princess Anna.”

“Oh God,” his father said, “He’s kidnapped a Princess. I told you that we needed to stop pressuring him into finding someone Bulda. We’re going to have to move the valley, raise the protection crystals, explain kidnapping to the kids...”

The elder troll gave the other two an exhausted look, and then shook his head as he and Kristoff watched the two begin bickering. It was a loving sort of argument, but a boisterous one nevertheless.

“Princess Anna…” Grand Pabbie said thoughtfully, “The daughter of Agnarr and Iduna, yes? Is she the one with ice powers? I’m old and I can’t quite recall which one had which name. Elsa was one and Anna the other as I recall. One should be Queen by now I suppose. I know King Agnarr and his wife have passed.”

Kristoff shot the old troll a confused look. Of course, the trolls knew some of the goings on in the kingdom below and surrounding their valley, but Kristoff wasn’t aware that he knew of the girls beyond anything he’d mentioned. In the time before the last three days, he’d rarely if ever mentioned much about the human world below to his family, assuming that they wouldn’t be interested.

“I’m sorry Pabbie, I don’t understand… Ice powers? You mean those rumors about the Queen…”

Pabbie gave Kristoff an uncharacteristically wry smile.

“You have trolls for family, and you thought people telling you that the Queen of Arendelle had the ability to control ice was too wild a tale to be true?”

He would have laughed at himself were he not so confused.

“They say she froze the land, but I never noticed anything. My cabin wasn’t struck by an ice storm and while I didn’t leave home often when they say the event occurred, I’m sure I would have noticed the drop in temperature, or my clearing being covered in snow.”

“You wouldn’t have noticed a thing unless you left our area of protection and your cabin is well within it,” the old troll answered, “I forget sometimes that while you’re our kin, you’re not of our blood. You couldn’t feel the surge of magic when it occurred, or when it ended. I imagine an act of sacrifice, or perhaps one of true love. I lack the details. But you say you married the Princess then? So not the one with the ice powers, the one with the red hair. A strange thing that is given your history.”

“You don’t mean?”

His mother was the one who asked, done bickering with his father. She released his hand to cross the space to where her father, Grand Pabbie, was nodding sagely.

“I do. I doubt he recalls as we do Bulda, but there’s fate at work here.”

“Fate?”

Kristoff felt, not for the first time amid his adopted family, utterly confused. They often spoke cryptically, jumped to conclusions, or otherwise reacted to things in ways that befuddled him. They were kind, loving creatures, but he knew that in some ways they would never understand each other as completely as they loved each other.

“Kristoff,” his father asked, “How much do you recall of the day you became our son? And your wife… Anna… does she have red hair with a streak of white in it?”

Nothing can ever be simple, can it?

***

When Kristoff returned it was well into the afternoon. Anna had managed to not only fully make her way through the features and belongings of his home, but also of the stable and storage space. She’d taken in the neat rows of his small garden, and picked wildflowers from the clearing around his home, accompanied by the loose reindeer. She’d made them into a crown which sat delicately on the beast’s head, well designed to account for his antlers.

She’d seen little that surprised her amongst his things. Clothes, tools, a ledger of his business expenses and earnings, some miscellaneous personal affects like soap and linens and various things she’d never found interesting until it was his. His little home was neat, and tidy, and while a bit dusty in some places, overwhelmingly clean. She thought perhaps, from the variety of things she found of his, the worn but well cared for tools and the simple but clean stove with few pans, that he took pride in his simple life. It was reinforced by what she knew of him.

The standout in his things had been in the bottom of the chest that held his clothes. Amongst shirts and trousers and vests and winter things, she’d found three small but lovely crystals. One was blue, one was yellow, and one, which she thought for half a moment had glowed at her touch, was pink. She’d run her fingers over their facets, noted their clarity, and had then settled them gently back in with the rest of his things. She had plenty of jewels of her own, but nothing so simple and lovely. She wasn’t certain as to why they sat in the bottom of the chest, and while she thought that she might sometime ask him, she still felt nervous about the fact that she’d snooped at all, even with his permission.

She’d been feeding Sven carrots when he arrived, looking almost harried in a way she was unused to seeing him as he quickly broke through the tree line and walked towards her. She couldn’t help recoiling a bit from him in surprise when he walked up to her and with speed and little tact, lifted one of her braids from her shoulders and studied it.

She dropped the carrot she’d been holding, and the reindeer huffed as his owner held, not tightly, onto her hair and held it up a bit to the sun.

“Where did you get this?”

It took her a moment to understand. So much time away from people who didn’t know her had lead her to sometimes forget that having a shock of white hair mingled with the rest was something that was uncommon. It stood out rather well from her red hair, and while she’d often forgotten about it when styling her own hair, she supposed that they had intentionally hidden it as well as they could for the wedding. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised that it would have taken her hair being styled down for him to take notice of it.

She was just surprised to see him so interested in it while being so agitated. It almost scared her for a moment until she caught sight of a gleam in his eye. There was interest there, and nothing malicious in the least. She thought that she might be able to refuse telling him and that he would drop it, but there was no reason for it.

She wasn’t vain, and he may as well think that she was silly.

Everyone else always has.

“I think I was born with it. I don’t remember it ever not being there. Though once, when I was young, I dreamt it appeared because I was kissed by a troll.”

Kristoff ran his fingers over it gently then. She saw him look almost adoring as he did so, her eyes glancing between the soft curve of a smile on his lips, and the stroking of his fingers against her braid. He set it carefully, almost reverently, back on her shoulder before he smiled more solidly and reached down to take her hand in his.

She let his fingers lace through his and felt her heart race a bit as he moved even closer to her and loosened his grip on her hand to rub his thumb in slow circled over her palm.

“Anna.”

His face inches from hers so all she could see were his eyes, his lips. He was suddenly her whole world.

“Yes?”

Her response was barely louder than a breath. She might not have believed that she said it at all if it weren’t for the way his smile broadened. He made a sound like a soft chuckle, but seemed almost as breathless as her, when he whispered.

“Do you believe in fate?”

I want to.

“I… I don’t understand.”

He gave her an understanding look, and then took a half step away from her, still holding her hand, beckoning her to follow him back towards the forest he’d exited moments before.

“I don’t think I could explain it… But Anna… Would you stay here with me a night if it meant meeting my family? They have something to tell you.”

She knew that she should be worried, that warning bells should be going off in her head. She wondered if her parents were rolling in their graves, screaming stranger danger. She wondered if she had been crazy to trust him and follow him into the middle of nowhere.

He won’t hurt me.

You thought that once before.

Her thoughts were warring again, but her feet were following him.

Trust him.

When you trusted before you almost died.

She could feel the ice in her blood, in her chest, but she could also feel the heat of his hand, the slow circles he was still drawing, almost absent mindedly. She didn’t let the cold overtake her, the memory of someone putting out fires and laughing at her foolishness put aside until there was only this moment, there was only Kristoff.

Trust.

So she did.

“We’ll have to send word to the castle somehow, if we plan to stay longer than dark… I don’t want my sister to be worried about me, but I… I would like to meet your family. Yes.”

His grin was the brightest she’d ever seen alight his face. His brown eyes practically glowed with the afternoon light and the warmth of his expression settled on her like a blanket on a cold day.

Kristoff. My husband.

She followed him to the forest edge, leaving behind the clearing and entering the shaded wilds knowing that he would carry her through.

#kristannaadvent2020 #A Convenient Arrangement #kristanna #frozen fanfiction #arranged marriage au #I'll proofread this someday #Maybe #We sure will see

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tauntaun-rider · 5 years

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I realize that I’ve been posting rather sporadically, and I'm sorry about that. (Moment of real life honesty here: The combination of chronic pain and debilitating depression is not something that I would wish on anyone.) However, I am not here to apologize or vent, but to share something.

So, I have a folder in the Notes app on my phone where I occasionally write drabbles about my OCs that will maybe one day be turned into something. There’s one in particular about my Agent that I not only finished, but nitpicked to death. I finally decided to bite the bullet and post it to my pithy AO3 account. (Because what better time is there to face your fears than 2:00/3:00 AM?)

Here is the link: Shadows and Regrets.

Below the cut is the beginning to the first chapter. (There are three actual chapters and the fourth acts as an epilogue of sorts.)

I hope anyone that takes the time to read it enjoys!

CHAPTER ONE

This is too risky. This can only backfire. You'll end up with a blaster hole in your head. At best.

Rae bit her lip and looked down at the letter she had been writing and rewriting on her datapad during her free time over the last few evenings. Everything she had experienced since initially joining Imperial Intelligence brought her to the same conclusion: delivering this letter had the potential to yield catastrophic results. Not just for her, but for her crew and her husband as well.

She glanced over her shoulder at the man peacefully sleeping in the bedroll on the floor of the tent they shared. Rae took in his tousled black hair and the hint of a smile on his lips and couldn’t help but smile herself.

Her husband.

Rae never even considered the possibility of finding someone to love that would love her in return. Being an agent in the shadows ensured that she would be alone. Or so she thought. Vector changed all of that.

There wasn't a single person that she trusted as she trusted him. Vector knew she was working on the letter and who would be its recipient, if all went as planned. He understood it was something she needed to do, or at least try to do, to bring herself some peace. And most importantly, he supported her decision, despite the colossal risk.

Convinced that the letter couldn't be better phrased and willing to accept its consequences, Rae saved the final draft of the letter to the datachip she'd already prepared and turned off her datapad. After sliding it into her duffel bag, she slipped on her boots and stepped out of the tent into the muggy Yavin-4 night. A breeze lifted the wavy, emerald locks that refused to fit in her bun away from her face as it meandered through the makeshift camp.

There was a clear divide between the tents: Republic on the right and Empire on the left. It seemed only fair, as the truce was temporary while the combined forces worked to bring down Revan before he revived the Sith Emperor.

Rae wandered through the camp to the back corner, away from the tension that existed even in slumber. She had come to sit by the pond almost every night since they had arrived on Yavin. Vector had accompanied her a few times, but he seemed to understand that she needed space to break free of the invisible ropes that pulled her in every direction, if only for a little while, and merely held her hand while they sat in silence.

Rae sat on a reasonably flat rock at the water's edge and pulled her knees up to her chest. She laid her forearms on top of her knees and rested her chin on top of the tower of limbs. The letter and its implications kept overpowering any other thoughts she had and thwarted her attempts at meditation.

Her frustration was interrupted by the sound of twigs snapping beneath boots as someone walked toward her cozy nook. Her head lifted off her arms with a jolt as she strained to hear any noises that would identify who it was. Out of habit, she reached down to grab the vibroknife hidden in her boot before mentally chastising herself and putting her arm back on top of her knees.

"Can't sleep either?" Theron asked as he took a seat next to her. His normal faux hawk was a bit misshapen and he still wore his clothes from the previous day.

She nodded, gazing out at the stillness of the water.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"Your hair was kind of glowing in the moonlight," he chuckled.

Rae turned her head towards him and smiled. She thought of their first meeting. Their first verbal communication occurred while she was stuck on a research center on Manaan that was on the verge of being entirely submerged. Theron had directed her via comm to the only remaining emergency pod, while going out of his way to point out that a Pub was saving her life.

After escaping unscathed, Rae and Vector, both still slightly sodden from the ordeal, walked into the hidden base that Lana had procured for their mission to find the new, unlikely allies huddled over a table covered in datapads and sheets of flimsy. Theron said he didn't need to know who she was, but insisted on introducing himself anyway. Rae, both tired of his attitude and in need of a laugh after the near-death experience, made a mildly flirty comment in an attempt to break down his brash exterior. In some strange way, that seemed to decrease some of the early tension between them.

Despite that initial experience, she had every reason not to trust him. After all, her stint as a double agent didn't exactly go smoothly. And he, who she assumed had no knowledge of her past experiences with the SIS, had no reason to trust her either.

Yet somehow, they had forged an unusual bond. Rae initially thought it was a polite courtesy, as they had the same goal of uncovering the Revanites' plot and were in the same line of work. But the more time they spent together on Rishi, the more she got to know him as a person. She was surprised to find that they actually had a lot in common. Just in the first few days alone, she discovered that they both hated undercover work on Nar Shaddaa, they both were uncomfortable with having to use seduction as a means of gathering information in the field, and that they both preferred working alone whenever possible.

They shared some embarrassing stories from being undercover, without the confidential details, of course. Rae shared the story of her first time pretending to be a pirate while on Hutta, while Theron told her about one mission in which he ended up running around an Imperial battle cruiser in his underwear. She had to cover her mouth with both hands to hold in the giggles that threatened to pour out and avoid waking Lana. Rae still distinctly remembered the way Theron's eyes had narrowed at her and how his frown conveyed an impressive amount of disapproval while she shook with barely concealed laughter. After a few moments, however, he lightened up and the frown turned into a vaguely amused, self-deprecating smirk.

She recalled another night when they stayed up late talking about the lives they led. Always working, always keeping a distance from other people, always being on high alert and looking for threats. It was nice to talk to someone who understood; no one else in her life really comprehended the toll it took on her the way he did. She learned a bit about how he ended up in the SIS, and she told a bit of her unusual spy origin story as well. Rae felt rather comfortable talking to him, even though he was supposed to be the enemy. She couldn't help not knowing how to feel about the development; he gave every indication that he was experiencing the exact same flurry of confusing emotions.

Rae turned back toward the pond, once again focused on the present.

"What's keeping you up?" she asked.

"Honestly? Pretty much everything. It's all just hitting me now." Theron paused to readjust his position on the rock. "Rishi... Teaming up with a Sith Lord and an Imperial Cipher... Being tortured by my ancestor... The awkwardness with my mother... It's a lot. And after tomorrow, it'll be over. Win or lose, it'll be over."

Rae nodded.

"I don't blame you for being overwhelmed. This strange journey, full of twists and turns, along with pirates and insane cultists, of course... It's taken us across the galaxy and formed what seemed like an impossible alliance. But here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Theron decided to ask her the same question.

"Regrets," she said as she wrapped her arms around her knees. "Too many."

"What, you're regretting all of this now?" He gestured to the camp behind them. "Wishing you had stayed in the shadows instead of getting wrapped up in this madness?" The small smirk on his lips worked as a way to both lighten the mood and prompt her to share more. Rae was well aware of the tactic being used, but indulged him anyway.

"Actually, no. I don't regret any of this. It's led to some... personal revelations. I've made some interesting acquaintances. One might consider them friends, while the focus is on Revan." Rae glanced over at him to see him listening intently. His eyes were widened a bit in surprise, but he wasn't laughing at her or the way she openly admitted to enjoying the experience, which she found oddly relieving.

"Whatever happens," she said softly, "I'm glad I met you, Theron. And thank you for saving my life on Manaan."

He nodded, his hazel eyes focused on her.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. Can't say I was expecting to get along with you after finding out who you were, let alone stay up at night talking to you," he chuckled quietly to himself. "I guess I should also thank you for helping me get the rest of the way out of Revan's stronghold. And having my back with Lana after all that."

Rae raised an eyebrow at the last part.

"Lokin told me what you said to her while I was out," Theron explained. "How you walked that line on my behalf."

Rae knew exactly what line he was referencing: the line between Force users and Force-blind people, or more specifically, the line between Sith and everyone else beneath them. It was one that she personally never cared for very much.

Rae's gaze intensified and the corners of her lips were tugged downward. She could feel her teeth clenching out of habit.

"She had no right to put you in that position. She has no idea what it's like or what it can do to a person." Rae broke eye contact and looked at her reflection in the pond. Even in the stillness of the water, she looked broken. She bit her lip and tried to get the haunting image of Hunter's sneer out of her mind.

"No, she doesn't. But I appreciate that. She could have gone all Sithy on you, and you still took that risk."

Rae tightened her grip on her knees, her knuckles turning pale with the action.

"Sometimes, risks are necessary. Sometimes, you need to remind yourself what you're fighting for in the first place."

She could feel Theron's eyes on her and knew that he was trying to restrain himself from asking what she meant. Before he could ask, she turned toward him.

"Besides, I think it's clear that people have 'gone all Sithy' on me before," Rae added bitterly as she looked down at the scars visible on her chest in her sleeveless tunic. "Lokin thinks my so-called moral compass is going to get me killed one of these days," she laughed.

Theron's eyes followed hers to the web of violet scars and bits of puckered skin just below her collarbone. He had to have noticed it before; she made no move to cover any of it up while on Rishi. However, she had never talked about it openly until now.

Rae stood up and stretched.

"I'm going to head to bed. You should, too."

"Alright. Night, Rae."

"Goodnight, Theron."

Rae walked back to her tent, let herself back in, and pulled off her boots. She slid into the bedroll next to Vector and nestled into his side, pulling him close with one arm across his chest.

Tomorrow would be a big day, indeed.

#tauntaun writer #maraesa #otp: what will be the next verse of our song?#i'm too afraid to use the 'swtor' tag.#it can get rather vicious in there.

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luthienebonyx · 5 years

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Fanfic Meme

I was tagged by @agirlnamedkeith

At what age did you start writing fanfiction?

I was 31. And yes, that was a couple of decades ago. I am not just fandom old, but old old.

Who is your favorite author?

I have favourites in every fandom, and I’ve been in a lot of fandoms. Also, inevitably, if I tried to list them, I’d wind up forgetting some. I’ve written lots of recs over the years, and you can find quite a few of them here on my dreamwidth account. (I hardly used dreamwidth at all for about five years until about six months ago, so there’s a gap between the recent few recs and the earlier ones.)

But yeah, okay, if I had to pick my favourite authors over a long time and across many fandoms, then the two constants would be @telanu and Nym. Yes, they’re two of my best friends, but the reason why I wound up talking to them in the first place was because I loved their writing, and that hasn’t changed over the many years I’ve known them.

Favorite type of scene to write?

I love writing long, navel-gazy descriptive stuff. Description comes easily to me, and my aim in any fanfic is to get under the POV character’s skin and find out what makes them tick, so inward-looking description just makes the words flow for me.

Dialogue, otoh, is something that I don’t enjoy writing so much. People have told me that I’m quite good at it, but when I’m writing dialogue I’m always hyper-aware that one wrong sentence, or even one wrong word, that isn’t in-character can throw out an entire paragraph or an entire scene.

What is your favorite fanfic?

Again, so many fandoms, so many great pieces of fanfic. If you read the links to my recs above, you’ll get an idea of the sorts of stories I like.

One story that sticks out above others, though, is Nym’s A Bed of Thorns. It is an IMMENSE story, longer than War and Peace, and it’s still a WIP, though Nym dearly wants to finish it.

It’s a Once Upon a Time Rumpelstiltskin/Belle (rumbelle) canon divergence, where instead of going with Rumpelstiltskin to be his servant/sort of captive, Belle marries him. You know all that navel-gazing description that I like to write? It’s even better when someone else does it for me, and when that someone is a writer as talented as Nym... This story is chock full of character exploration, including character exploration via a LOT of sex scenes, and angst, and fluff, and more angst, and plot, and memorable original characters and original cats. There is nothing else like it in any fandom. Read it.

What tags do you avoid like the plague?

Very little. I’ll read just about anything if it’s well-written. I dislike anything where the author’s kink (not necessarily a sexual kink) trumps the characterisation. If the kink is used in service of the character exploration, rather than the other way around, then that’s fine, though. Because of this, stuff like Alpha/Beta/Omega really doesn’t work for me.

What AU do you wish to write but feel like you won’t manage?

Not so long ago, I would have said that the one AU I’d LOVE to write but wouldn’t be able to manage was a novel length Regency AU. I’ve written Regency one-shots in other fandoms, but I didn’t think I would have the strength for a longer Regency AU. But, um, well... You I Know.

Do you outline or write as you go?

Hahaha. I’ve have TRIED to outline. It doesn’t work for me. My outlines turn into drafts of scenes. I do work with a sketchy mental outline of the main beats of the story, a sort of skeleton that will be filled in with the flesh and blood of detail as I write. There are going to be about half a dozen distinct sections to my current WIP, and those will keep me writing in the right direction (I hope). I do also have a list of bullet points that I keep adding to whenever a detail strikes me that I’ll want to include later on, but that’s really the extent of my planning. Oh, and I like to know approximately where the story will end up before I start putting words on the page. Until I know the destination, it’s really just a story idea rather than a story draft.

What has been your favorite story to write so far?

Very occasionally, a story is so clear in my head that I just have to write it. I can’t stop and second-guess myself; the story just has to be what it wants to be. I’ve written precisely three of this type of story over the years:

1. The Rain Keeps Falling (Harry Potter, Snape/Harry)

2. Plain Jane (Once Upon a Time, Rumple/Belle)

3. More Than a Memory (Game of Thrones, Jaime/Brienne)

Do you prefer to write one-shots or multi-chapters? Why?

Um, both? I mean, I am TERRIBLE at predicting the word count of my own stories, to the point where my friends just laugh when I confidently tell them how long I think my current story is going to be, so sometimes I think I’m writing a one-shot and it turns out I’m not. Case in point: More Than a Memory was going to be a one-shot of a few thousand words. Three weeks later, it ended up at 33,000 words over five chapters.

What is your favorite kind of comment?

Well, the long, detailed comment where it’s clear that someone really ‘gets’ what you were trying to do with the characters and the plot is hard to beat - but absolutely any comment is great. I view fic as being part of the fannish conversation, so when I write a story, I’m opening a conversation about the characters - the comments are the other half of that conversation. And, really, that conversation is why I’m in fandom at all, so it’s all good!

Why did you start writing fanfiction? Why are you still writing it?

Back when I first found fandom, I lurked on a Mailing List (yes, it was that long ago) devoted to one particular character. It wasn’t a big group of people, so there wasn’t masses of fic, and some of it was only so-so. And no, this is not where I tell you that I decided one day that I could write something better than what I was reading. In fact, it was the opposite. One day, someone posted a REALLY good story, and I read it and thought, “Fanfic can be like this. It can be this good.” And I wanted to be part of that, so I gathered my courage and sat down and tried writing something of my own.

Why do I still write fanfic? Well, actually, I thought I’d stopped. I hadn’t written any fanfic for a couple of years, apart from the occasional drabble, although I’d started a few stories but not finished them.

And then the final season of Game of Thrones aired, and characters I’d loved for years, without ever feeling the urge to write them, had an ending that just left me going “but... but... but...” I got that feeling where I HAD to write them, and now I’ve written over 50,000 words in six weeks.

Fandom taught me long ago that I should never say never about anything. I should have remembered that.

—-

Tagging @slipsthrufingers, @woodelf68, @sfiddy, @indiefic and anyone else who wants to play.

#fanfic #fanfic memes

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egelantier · 6 years

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writing meme

tagged by @maculategiraffe (omg senpai has noticed me!):

This little tag meme is an opportunity for writers to reflect on (and promote!) our own writing, but also to hear about the work of our fellow writers and to find something new to read!

Rules: answer the following questions about your own writing, whether fanfic or original. If you can’t/don’t want to answer a question, just put N/A. If you don’t have that many posted works, tell us about your WIPs or individual chapters/drabbles or even your ideas! Then tag as many writers as you like :)

AO3 name and link, if applicable: egelantier

What’s your most popular fic, by whatever metric is most relevant to you (hits, kudos, comments, reblogs, some other trait)?

for a root, for a leaf, for a branch, for a tree - a short guardian of the galaxy hurt/comfort coda i’ve banged out in an hour, listening to pacific rim ost, after coming home from the movie theater. part of its popularity is getting right into the zeitgeist of just-getting-huge movie fandom, with some h/c and nice found family vibes, and partially, i think, is just how much fun i had writing it; i very rarely write on a whim, and that was it. i’m probably never beating this particular record, since i don’t generally do megafandoms.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

it’s a hard question! a lot of different fics at different times, and sometimes the answer is ‘the one i just wrote’ or ‘the one i’m about to write’, but i’m particularly fond of from the sphere of our sorrow, a tiny drabble about sam going to valinor, that arrived into my head in its entirety on a prompt and came out exactly as i wanted it.

What’s your best fic, and is it different from your favorite fic?

this is even harder, and i don’t know how to answer this question. like, there are fics that are longer than what i usually write, and i love that i’ve managed to stay with them for that long, and there are fics where i’ve tried to achieve a particular structure and mostly nailed it, and fics where i went like ‘oh, dialogue, apparently i can write it,’ et cetera; i don’t know which one is the best. on purely technical level, i think Ten Ways To Die At Zee is the best at doing exactly what i wanted it to do.

Do you have a fic whose popularity surprised you?

if we discount some megafandom fics, you would take the breath from my throat (a leverage ot3 wingfic) got a lot of attention - and it’s a tiny flashfic, like an overgrown drabble, written very quickly and carelessly, and i’m not sure why this one. maybe people just like the idea of parker with wings :D

Do you have a fic you wish more people would read?

all of them let’s say a man who bares a stranger’s face, dutch/alvis killjoys pre-canon met-cute that, if i say so myself, had a pretty neat twist built into it, and that i’ve enjoyed greatly.

Is there a ship or fandom you haven’t written, but really want to?

given how much of my life nirvana in fire had consumed, i’d like to write something ridiculous and indulgent and fix-it-ish, but the research and the complexity! nope, nope, nope.

Tell us a random fact about your writing process:

i’ve spent a completely unholy amount of time - years - trying to turn the fic-writing process (fics only, i have zero pro writing aspirations, i just want to string tropes together in peace and share them with fandom) into something bearable and occasionally enjoyable instead of cripplingly terrifying and painful (inner critic is an asshole; i have no shame about sharing the fics that make through, but writing them! - argh, the stomachache), and this year it had, tentatively, maybe possibly who knows happened. i meditate a lot, and rely on the support of friends and fellow chat members and a kindness of occasional commenters. i talk about writing in therapy.

anyway, the best working method right now: bluetooth keyboard for my phone (harder to get distracted, and i love it to bits) + 4thewords.com and it’s daily streaks + 10-5 pomodoro timer.

the key, so far, is to be consistent but not push too much. if i can, i would write 1-1.5k a day. if i’m not in the best shape, i’ll write the required minimum - 450 words. if i can’t stomach doing it, i’ll write 450 words of random stream of consciousness in another file and call it a day, and come back tomorrow.

it’s - pretty hard to be kind with himself about it; i do my best, and it seems to be working, at least somehow. i write my first drafts without editing them, no matter how awful they are, and shows them off to people i like and trust; then i edit, then i get a beta to really get into it, then i edit again, then i post. i have to remind myself, a lot, that a usual shelf life of 90% of fics is about 2 weeks; that i’m not aiming at a Work Of Literature, that i just want to share a specific emotion with a bunch of people who might enjoy it - and it’s enough, for now.

tagging! @arsenicjade, @court-of-ocelot, @bythepricking , @for-the-flail , @brigdh , @alessandriana , @gemilemon, and whoever else wants to play ♥

#writing #writing meme #my fic

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x-wearethefuture-x · 5 years

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How do you get inspiration? Is there a muse that you consistently have the muse for? What has influenced your writing and blog? Take the opportunity to write a short ramble/drabble about something you want to write about.

How do you get inspiration?I’ve actually been struggling with this a lot lately. Usually it’s music,books, games, shows, or movies that give me inspiration to write. Though, mostcommonly, my inspiration to CONTINUE threads comes from the people I write with.If they seem actually interested in the thread (it doesn’t matter how longreplies take, I just mean the writing. Sometimes you can tell through how theyreply whether they’re interested or not) then that gives me more reason to wantto reply to it :)

Is there a muse that youconsistently have the muse for?Sooyeon on my other account is the one muse that I ALWAYS have muse for. I think it’s because she’s been a muse of mine since even before I moved over to tumblr rp, so I have a ton of history with her.Over here, it fluctuates a lot more, mostly dependent on things I mentionedabove. Yongsun is my most consistent muse with Wheein being a closesecond. Then probably Hyuna and Hyuk? Usually my female muses are my strongest ones,honestly. Lately I’ve had a ton of muse for Sarah. When I have musefor my boys, though, the strongest ones tend to be Seunghyun, Hyuk, and Jaewon. I think that Jaewonand Hyuk have similar personalities in some ways, so when I have high muse forHyuk I tend to have high muse for Jaewon, as well.Also, I ALWAYS have a ton of muse for most of my secondaries. I’m alwayswatching, reading, or playing stuff related to Star Wars so those are mystrongest muses, closely followed by my muses for Jack and Nisha (I literally play Borderlands all the time, and TPS is my favorite of the three). I’ve beenDYING for another thread with Jack, one where I can show off the complexity ofhim. Jack is technically the “bad guy” ofBorderlands 2, but he doesn’t see himself that way... he honestly believeshimself to be a hero even if his methods of achieving peace are a little harsh. He kind of thinks of it like it’s “for the greater good”. I would love to explore that more and have a chance towrite about it. Atton is such a complex character, too. He’s one of the biggest reasons that I’ve replayed KotOR2 so many times. And, like, I would even be okay with writing him in a normal verse as opposed to a Star Wars one because I just love him that much.The one muse of my secondary muses that I have a hard time with is my maleRevan. People expect me to water him down so he’ll be easy/fun to write with orthey want to write with him because he’s a Jaejoong face claim and they haven’tread his bio, but he’s actually incredibly difficult to write as or with. Andromantic threads are an absolute no-go. If he’s intimate in that way withanyone, it’s purely for power, not for love. So while I think he’s super interesting and I’d love to write him in some very serious threads, I think he’s the kind of muse that people have to be careful of ^^;

What has influenced your writing or blog?I’ll be answering this one in another ask soon~ I’ll try to remember to link it here when I’mdone~

Take the opportunity to write a short ramble/drabble aboutsomething you want to write about. Can I ramble about more than one? I’ve been desperate to write almost anything on my Wanted Plots list, honestly. Something based a little bitaround Princess Yue from A;TLA. Hogwarts AUs. Star Wars AUs are (obviously) myfavorite and I’d REALLY love someone to write an Old Republic based AU with,even if you haven’t played any of the games (I’ve, personally, hardly evenplayed the MMO). I’d specifically love a chance to use Atton or Meetra. I’dLOVE someone to write their own version of the Exile opposite of my Atton becausein KotOR (2 specifically because that’s where these characters are from) youget some back story but mostly get to choose your own path, so you don’t haveto feel inclined to follow a specific type of character (also the Exile cantechnically be male or female in the game, so that helps too! She’s femalecanonically, but I’m not entirely like stuck on canon- in fact, I prefer Revanto be a female as well, personally, and canonically Revan is a male so...).But, yeah, I know I’m older than some of the rest of this community (andprobably more into Star Wars than a lot of them, too xD) so I know it’s a longshot finding someone to write Star Wars AUs with me, but they’re my favoriteand I could accidentally ramble for a hundred years about Star Wars AUs oTLI’ve also REALLY wanted to do an AU where both muses are on the run from the law(a serial killer duo would be fantastic, but I’d also just love one where maybethey’re both thieves doing heists together. Or maybe one of them hasaccidentally killed someone in a struggle and in a panic fled the scene and theother is a proper criminal who happens upon them and they join up to outrun thelaw). Speaking about NON-aus though, I’d really love to explore my muses powers more. I getto do it a little here and there (mostly with Hyuk and a little with Wheeinwhich is PERFECTION) but I’d like to focus a little more on the mutant side ofmy muses. How they discovered their powers growing up. The control (or lack of)that they have of their abilities now. How people react (both positively and negatively). How it affects their lives.Sooyeon trying desperately to control other elements because she knows shetechnically CAN, but she struggles with anything outside of water manipulation.Hyuna being able to transform into animals, maybe having to do so in order toescape. Also her ability to speak with them would be fun to explore, too. ALL OF HYOJIN’S ABILITIES. She can absorb memories and powers both, and shestill sometimes can’t control either. So her catching flashes of someone’smemories when she touches them, or finding out that someone is a mutant becauseshe accidentally starts stealing their powers and draining them of their life force. Hyojin is such an underrated muse of mine tbh.Ericka thinking the bar is closed and empty, but Rui didn’t tell her that shehired someone new so when Ericka teleports from home to the bar and suddenlyshe just kind of APPEARS there, she’s got a lot of explaining todo to the new employee. Sarah’s emotions accidentally manipulating the weather because she can’t alwayscontrol her powers, and it goes from a perfectly bright and sunny day tohowling winds and downpours. And maybe she has a friendwho kind of catches on, whether immediately or not. Her eyes go white when shechanges the weather intentionally, but that doesn’t always happen when it’sjust emotions causing it, so it might make it harder to catch on in that way. And I’d also love more chances to explore the harsher side of things-anti-mutant coalitions trying to assassinate mutants. Underground governmentprojects to create power suppressing/eliminating serums. “Science”outposts where they kidnap mutants and experiment on them, trying to discoverif they can eliminate their abilities or take them and give them to others tocreate super-soldiers. I’ve had a few opportunities to scratch the surface ofthese types of things, but I’d love the chance to go more in depth!Also, just about anything that’s a “broken timeline”. Like AUs but based on theactual muses backstories, just with a change or two that set things way offcourse and now they’re completely different people from who they are in themain verse. So, like, if Sooyeon and Seunghyun had never met, where would theybe right now? Or what if Wheein had kept her powers hidden and continued tolive with her over bearing, overly religious, family? What if Sooyeon’s father hadn’t diedand she’s stayed with him? Or if Seunghyun’s mother hadn’t passed away, wouldhe have ever discovered his abilities of resurrection? What if one of the museswho attended Xavier’s had been drafted into the Avengers? Or joined the X-Men?What if someone became an actual superhero, bringing vigilante justice andhiding in plain sight? What if one of them had started using their abilities ona larger scale for more sinister acts? How would they have gotten to thatpoint, anyway? Things like that.

#((ooc))#((Thank you for these~ I know I answered them a little late but I enjoyed it ;u;))#ofpearlsxgods

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