#I think I've used this eight times so far in the fic I'm writing

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[hogwartshotel]

One thing I've learned about my writing style is that if I don't know how to end a scene, I will just have a character say or think "fuck" and end it like that.

I mean...if it's not broken, don't fix it, right?

[dduane]

A homebrew Iliad project

I've been fiddling with this for a long time.

Backstory: I've been dabbling in various depths of the great wine-dark sea of the ancient Greek classics since I was about seven or eight. (Might have been earlier, but I have no data to confirm that.)

I know Greek mythology like the back of my hand. (...Insert here the inevitable sound of Scotty whacking his head into an Enterprise bulkhead.) I know... a lot. And—leaving all the other stuff I know about that no one here is gonna care about one way or the other—I've read the Iliad and Odyssey probably about twice a year for the last fifty years or so. Or maybe more.

To my grief, I don't have enough classical Greek (or good enough Greek of any kind) to do any kind of respectable new translation of the work. That's far beyond my scope, or my level of scholarship. But I can sure as hell do... a retelling? A restatement? I have a number of favorite translations to use as guides, and the Perseus digital library... and, you know, dictionaries. And I'm not afraid to use them. :)

...And I'm a storyteller, and have no shame about the possibilities inherent in going where lots of others of my tribe have gone before—in restatement or in fiction. So let's just call this "a homebrew version of a work that hasn't been out of 'print' for thirty-five hundred years" and leave it there. (Is this ὕβρις? Yeah, seems likely enough. Whether this is going to be a manifestation of the downfall of the Greeks, or of the Geeks, remains to be seen.)

Anyway: my plan is to start publishing books (i.e., chapters) of this homebrew Iliad in the Fic Foundry writing website that will be opening up at last sometime over the next couple of months. The first few books will be open-access: after that they'll go subscription. They'll come out at irregular intervals (because there'll be paying work going on as well. [resigned sigh: So what else is new.])

When starting a project like this it seems like it might be wise to, in a general way, set out the goals.

Ease of accessibility. Lots of people have never read this story, or have experienced it only in one kind or another of paraphrase. (Yeah, well, here comes another one.) For maximum accessibility, I think this means what I want to do is a prose retelling. Nor am I going to get too hung up on anachronisms in the prose style. I'm reaching for the around-the-campfire sound, a little; or the story told after dinner, in episodes (and let's not throw the beef bones at the bard, she's doing the best she can).

Fidelity to the source material. This is an old, old story that both ascends to surprising heights of feeling and amazing depths of cruelty. There are things in it that some modern readers are not going to like at all: particularly the graphic gore and violence of what is repeatedly described as "the world's greatest war story". But these aspects of the Iliad, and the frequently callous, cruel and misogynistic understructure of its story, come with the territory of the original. I will in appropriate ficcer's style add trigger warnings where I think they're needed.

Completeness of the story. The temptation is always going to lurk for an adapter to decide what's important and what can be thrown out. I'm hardly immune. But it's my intention to leave the structure as intact as possible. Some people will disagree with my choices. (shrug) People have been disagreeing about ways to handle this work for centuries. What'll a few more be, among friends?

...So that's the plan. When this material starts to be ready to appear online, I'll let people here know where they need to go to access it. And after that... we'll see how things go.

I'll start this story as its first tellers did, and ask the Goddesses of epic storytelling to stand by me and lend a hand telling this one. At the end of the day, it all comes down to one angry young man: Achilles, only son of King Peleus. Achilles was completely possessed by a bitter rage that brought a whole host of troubles down on the great army of the Greeks. That unquenchable fury sent many a strong man’s soul to the Underworld, and left their bodies feeding the dogs and the vultures, while Heaven’s intentions moved inexorably on toward the Gods’ final goal...

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 8: On Angel Wings

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 7

I can't thank you all enough for the support i've gotten on this fic! this fic is what made my blog big and i just can't believe it's been so well-received. don't worry, it's a happy ending!!! also I'm sorry this took so long...I hope you guys like the ending. I'm super nervous my writing quality on this story went down, but maybe I'm too critical of my work. in any case, I hope you guys enjoy!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

you weren't sure how much time passed when you woke up in a warm bed. you blinked open your eyes and rubbed the exhaustion out of them. you looked around the room, and noticed konig sitting right by your side.

"Engel?" he asked softly. you had never heard his voice so tender.

"what happened?" you asked. you tried to sit up, but were immediately struck with a sharp pain in your chest. konig gently pushed you back down on the bed.

"lay down, Engel. you are hurt. you need to rest."

you looked down at your chest, and realized that it was wrapped with bloodied bandages. your dress was nowhere to be seen, but the blanket covered your lower half.

"what happened? where are we?" you asked as you could feel panic rising.

"we are somewhere we will never be found by anyone who wishes to separate us," konig said quietly. "you..." he couldn't finish his sentence as he cleared his throat.

"i what?" you asked.

konig shook his head. "you protected me. it is not supposed to be that way. i am supposed to protect you, and i couldn't." konig's head hung low in shame, his eyes now completely obscured from you.

you suddenly remembered everything that had happened right up to when the sword fell. your heart raced.

"i...my body just acted on its own. it was like i didn't have control over myself. it just happened." you thought for a long moment, and it was silent. konig's head still hung low.

"i don't regret it, though," you said firmly. konig looked at you in confusion.

"i promised to protect you, and here you are, laying in a bed soaked in your own blood," he said quietly as his eyes glassed over.

you smiled. "it's okay. i would do it again if i had to. but where are we? what happened to the knights?"

konig was silent for a little while. you closed your eyes.

"we are in france now. a little countryside town. after the soldiers patched you up, they realized that you weren't lying. they agreed to pretend that it never happened. but they will be back in a week, to make sure this is what you really want." his voice was quiet as he spoke.

"so...my parents and siblings still think i've been kidnapped?"

konig nodded.

"no. they need to know that you are not in the wrong. they need to know that i chose this."

"i don't know if that's a good idea," konig said after a moment. "they will say I brainwashed you."

"i don't care what they will say. if they don't believe me, that's on them. i will have the soldiers take a letter to them once they go back, and i will never speak to them again," you decided.

konig stared at you for a long while. he gently took your hand and stroked it with his thumb.

"i am sorry things turned out this way," he whispered as he looked at your hand.

you shook your head. "i wouldn't have it any other way, konig. i'm with you, and we can have our own life here. what is this town like?"

konig still stroked your hand as he spoke. "there are lavender fields surrounding the town, and a small forest to the east. there is an empty plot of land where a house can be built. the people are kind, and it is quiet and peaceful."

you smiled. "it sounds perfect."

konig brought your hand up to his lips as he lifted his hood to kiss the back of your hand. "i will make it up to you."

"there is nothing to make up, konig," you assured him with a smile. "everything will be okay now."

konig shook his head. "i will give you the life you deserve, my princess. i will build a house for you, and you can have as many gardens and animals as you like. you will have the finest sheets once again, and you will never want for anything."

you smiled. "as long as i have you, i will never want."

...

several months later

You walk out of the cottage that Konig had built for you and him on this warm morning. the birds are chirping and a gentle breeze blows over the lavender fields to the right of your cottage. you smile to yourself as you breath in the scent of lavender, and hear your sheep, ducks, and goats already waking up for the day. your garden, fenced off with bushes and a trellis with roses, blooms brilliantly in the morning sun.

konig quietly comes up behind you and wraps his strong scarred arms around you. he nuzzles your head gently with his nose and smiles underneath his hood.

"good morning, my Engel," he whispers gently to you. he speaks those four words to you every single morning. some may regard it as just a morning custom, but you know that konig never wastes any of his words. those four words every day, reserved only for you.

"good morning, konig," you smile up at him and gently hold his arms as they're wrapped around your waist. your goats bleat a few times, and you and konig share a gentle laugh.

...

life has been peaceful ever since the hell you and konig had gone through. you sent the letter to your parents, telling them the truth about your relationship with konig: how you weren't brainwashed, you didn't like being a princess, and this was the life you chose for yourself. your parents begged you to come back, their handwriting betraying their nerves and worry. but you never wrote to them again.

konig built this cottage for you in no time, and you two built your life together in this small countryside town in France. you helped out at the local bakery most days, tended to your farm animals every morning, checked your garden several times a day. you cooked warm meals for konig, which he always ate gratefully.

konig was no longer an executioner. he decided to leave that part of him in the past for your sake to build a peaceful life with you. the strong, calloused hands that once gripped axes to chop people's heads off now gripped saws and hammers and other tools to build houses, make horse shoes, craft swords. konig never spoke about it, but the gentle look in his eyes that grew as he got accustomed to normal life was something you always noticed and loved.

you two make a modest living; no more silk and fine china, but you couldn't have cared less. living life every day, doing what you wanted, you forgot about the endless want that material possessions creates. for the first time in your life, you are happy. you no longer had to worry about perfectly adjusting your hair, tying your corset, or matching your dress to the occasion each day. your hair changed each day based on your mood, and your clothing was simple and comfortable. no one told you where you had to be or when, you no longer had to watch every word that was spoken. you are free.

...

you hand konig his lunch basket for the day with a sweet smile, packed with fruits and bread and some salted meat. he rubs your head affectionately and kisses your forehead through his hood.

"danke, Engel."

"have a good day," you smiled up at him as you hugged his muscular chest. you gently tap his chin over his hood, and he smiles at your little signal and presses a chaste, gentle kiss on your lips. you watch as he descends the porch and walks to town.

you weren't sure exactly where you and Konig's lives were going to lead, but among your farm animals and garden and cottage and his arms, none of that mattered. the only thing you cared about was living each day with konig, living a normal life. you taught him what it meant to live, to breathe, to create things that made life better rather than take it away.

and even though you are no longer a princess, you will always be his angel.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug, @alexdoesntlikeyou, @helmipss, @11aplacesange11, @rouge-swears, @pasta-m1lk, @ghostinvenus

[brynnmclean]

in the core of everything drums a beat - snippets round up post

Actually, not a bad idea to have some kind of post with all the Hellblade fic fragments I've posted so far. In vague order of how they should fit together chronologically in the fic (ETA 21 May 2025, adjusted to accommodate the latest chapter count):

Chapter one -- now posted on AO3

Rough draft of chapter one where Thórgestr is having a lot of fever dreams (there was an earlier post with a small section that I think is still my favorite in the chapter)

Also from chapter one, but I think @eisoj5 asking me for "and" as a word in that WIP meme remains hilarious, so here's that post

Chapter two -- now posted on AO3

Part of chapter two and the introduction of my Irish healer OC Iseult

"She owes me nothing. I owe her everything."

Thórgestr awake and making a very bad joke about getting stabbed, my beloved

First Senua Giantsbane name drop!

"Is my father dead?" "He's alive. He's an exile."

I'm really fond of Fargrímr and I do think he cares about Thórgestr, so this is a nice little moment for that

Chapter three (once upon a time I said I could finish this in 3 chapters, lol)

Intro to the chapter where half-asleep Thórgestr eavesdrops on a conversation between Senua and Fargrímr

There is so much in the game about Thórgestr's dad so why not feature a dream of his mother, here's her introduction

I gave her some very specific spirit vibes :)

You know, lot of emphasis on being your father's child, but Thórgestr is also his mother's son and I think that's important. Also I know surnames are patronymic, but there was that whole thing in the game about the importance of names, chosen names included, and so I really dig the idea of Thórgestr privately thinking of himself as Eindridson. (Also I like prophecies and love the idea of Eindrid as ghostly fate-spirit predicting how Áleifr will die... Honestly, chapter three is a fave!)

Thórgestr probably forgot what his mother's face looked like, so of course he's afraid to look away from her when she appears in his dreams

You ever write a bunch of fun images and then have a friend brainstorm plot developments with you later when you're at a loss on what kind of object you might need characters to go find, so of course your friend is like, "hey, you already wrote what you need." Just me? (thanks @allatariel <3)

Chapter four

The beginning of the chapter

Part of a midnight conversation between Senua and Thórgestr, early in the chapter

A moment I think is cute at the end of that scene

Chapter five

The beginning of an important conversation between Ástríðr and Thórgestr.

"Your father is gone. So is mine. But I’ll have what I’m owed. Tell me, Thórgestr," Ástríðr says, "what is your regret worth? What of your word?"

Chapter six

please I want the beginning of this next scene to be down, I've been struggling

“I am worried that I will be of no use to you. So I am angry with myself. I have many things to answer for.”

working on another conversation between Senua and Thórgestr, but also this is a post where I ramble about some things I want to accomplish in this fic!

Senua first talks about Dillion

Senua finally gets a hug LIKE SHE DESERVES

It sounds simple, but Thórgestr and Senua talk a little bit about being friends and that is important to me

Chapter seven

Another spooky dream :) this one heavily referencing the beginning of the game in Reykjanestá

Thórgestr waking up from the above dream

Chapter eight

Chapter opener -- Thórgestr is finally getting out of the sickroom!

More than just Iseult survived being a giant sacrifice :) here is the intro to a couple more :)

Small paragraph referencing the voices Senua hears

“I know your fear. But we both want peace—so much that we have bled for it, him most of all. He is my friend.”

my bi!Thórgestr agenda makes its first appearance :)

Chapter nine

originally there was going to be two dreams in this chapter, but this one is getting cut: a battlefield nightmare

Druth Dream Sighting :D

More of that dream

His heart is tangled up in the threads of her story, pulled from his chest and into her grasp like a fish from the sea.

Dillion reference -- I miss him :(

“It’s not you I doubt, but myself. I wish I were whole again for you. I don’t like feeling like the weak arm in a shield-wall.”

Chapter ten

something something Tolkien fandom hair obsession got me thinking about Thórgestr needing a haircut

he's trying to be so chill and it is absolutely not working, lol

Thórgestr starts talking about Druth :)

I miss Dillion, okay? Senua has gotta talk about Dillion. And then she asks Thórgestr if he's ever been in love before. (He has!)

Chapter eleven

"Senua Giantsbane, Senua Truthseeker"

A funny part of a conversation with a Bjarg skáld OC who pitches a marriage of convenience between Senua and Thórgestr to his utter bewilderment

Technically this comes earlier in the chapter, but here is another fun moment from my girl Solveig, can anyone tell that I love bards

Hey, remember that one guard that Thórgestr has some friendly antagonism with during the Borgarvirki section of the game? First mention of him over here. He'll be back. :)

Solveig's eloquent yet dismissive hand gesture about Ástríðr makes me laugh okay?

“You want power.” “No, I want influence.”

Many things are out of his hands. But he’ll move forward. He must.

Chapter twelve

I struggled with the intro to this chapter for awhile, but here is a little from the conclusion to Thórgestr and Solveig's meeting

Stuff from later in the series

One of my favorite parts I've written for the whole damn thing even now -- Thórgestr doing sword drills alone on a beach near Bárðarvik

Thórgestr and Fargrímr conversation snippets one and two that are actually part of a larger scene

Multi / Misc:

Sections from multiple chapters: intro descriptions of OCs!

There was a WIP Excerpts meme going around late Dec 2024, so here is the tag for my responses to asks about that

WIP Word Train posts: SWEAR and then WHALE / BEAST

Other posts:

My fanmix / fic playlist post

Others Narration transcription posts (6 total)

My video games screenshots tag

The overall tag for this fic is hertan writing tag

... also for my own reference, first mention of the fic, dated 04 June 2024 (sighs so heavily about how slow of a writer I am)

LAST UPDATE ON THIS POST: 21 May 2025

Feel free to author subscribe on AO3 if you want to catch the fic drop whenever that happens in the future

Chapter One Tumblr Post | Chapter Two Tumblr Post

[jmbringitonworld]

Frans Week 2025 - Day 1 - Stars

After having to miss out on Frans Week for the past two years because my dad was dying/dead, I wanted to finally try my hand at it again. Unfortunately, the day after finishing my second prompt, a horrible cold struck me down like one of Zeus's lightning bolts, and I've been sick ever since. I'm still sick! It sucks! At least I managed to write out the two most important days for me. But I'm gutted that I couldn't get more out in time.

The rest of the days will be written eventually, though they'll be too late for Frans Week. I plan to include them in my ongoing fic, A Good Father. It's my own AU where Asgore adopts and raises baby Frisk in the Underground. Both of the prompts I managed to write in time are set in this AU. In this one, Day 1- Stars, both Sans and Frisk are children (11 and 6 respectively).

Thanks to @fransweek for hosting this event. I look forward to it every year!

_____________________________________

Sans didn’t think he was as fun to be around as his little brother.

Papyrus was far more entertaining and far more attentive than Sans could ever be, in the eleven-year-old skeleton monster’s expert opinion. Whenever the young Gaster brothers and Dreemurr daughter had gotten together, it was always Papyrus who had taken charge and decided what they would do for the day - even if that was usually puzzle planning and battle strategising.

However, today Papyrus wasn’t with them. He had very important business to take care of. Namely, chasing after old man Gerson with Undyne, to observe his fighting style (and to make sure that Undyne didn’t beat up too many “bad guys”).

Sans still wasn’t all that keen on letting Undyne into their small group of friends. And he still didn’t trust the preteen fish monster - she was far too hot-tempered and violent for his liking.

But it wasn’t up to him to decide who his brother wanted to hang out with. Papyrus was eight years old now, and was getting more independent and confident by the day. He didn’t need his big brother anymore - a fact that filled Sans with both pride, and a sad sort of wistfulness that made him feel older than he actually was.

At least Frisk still preferred to stick to his side over anyone else’s (besides her father, of course, but parents didn’t count). Sans could freely admit that their friendship was something he’d come to deeply cherish over the years they’d known each other, especially as she got old enough to play with the skeleton brothers and have actual conversations with them.

Sans especially appreciated how good of a listener Frisk was. He felt like he could tell his little human friend anything, and she wouldn’t judge him. Granted, at six years old she didn’t always understand everything he was talking about, and she couldn’t offer him the most insightful advice, or give particularly useful input. But something about her made Sans want to open up to her and share his thoughts with her, in a way he didn’t even do with either his brother or his father.

Which was why on this day, when it was just the two of them, he decided to take his best friend to his favourite place in the entire Underground.

_____

Frisk looked around the cavernous room with wide eyes, awe shining on her face as brightly as the glittery rocks on the ceiling.

She let go of Sans’s hand and took several steps forward, before spinning in a slow circle, taking in the entire room with childish wonder.

Sans gazed at her with soft eye sockets and an even softer smile. Fondness curled in his Soul like a contented cat.

“this is the wishing room,” he informed his awestruck little buddy.

Frisk turned to him with a beaming smile, sparks of joy lighting up her eyes.

“Wowie! This is so cool!” she squealed, bouncing on her toes the way Papyrus did when he was particularly excited.

Sans grinned at her. “so you like this place, huh?”

Frisk nodded her head so vigorously, Sans was half-afraid it might fall off - Pap’s skull sometimes did, though he figured that might just be a skeleton thing.

“I love it!” Frisk gushed. “Daddy doesn’t like taking me to Waterfall, ‘cause he’s scared I might get sick ‘cause it’s so wet. But I think it’s so pretty! I wish I could see more of it.”

Sans really wanted to offer to take Frisk to explore more of Waterfall. But he didn’t want Mr. Dreemurr to get mad at him - or worse, his father (his father’s lectures were the worst!). Sans was also reluctant to potentially endanger his best friend’s health.

But still… he really wanted to see that smile on her face again.

“hey, tell ya what, kid,” he leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “how’s about i take you to visit some of the drier places in waterfall? i know plenty of really cool spots like this room.”

Frisk’s smile got even bigger, if that were possible. “Really?! Really really?!”

Sans wink at her again, feeling smug satisfaction bubble up within him. “really. and, uh,” his grin dropped a little, as he gave his friend a nervous look. “let’s not tell anyone about this, ‘kay? don’t want our dads knowin’. they might ground us.” He couldn’t help the shiver going down his spine at the thought.

Frisk let out a dramatic gasp, and gave him a nod. “‘Kay! It’ll be our secret.”

“yup. our own little best buddies secret,” Sans agreed.

It felt weird to Sans to have Frisk purposely keep secrets, especially from her father.

But sharing something special, just between the two of them, gave him a ticklish feeling in his Soul.

It made him feel special.

Besides, they weren’t hurting anyone or anything like that. They were just having fun and going on super secret adventures together, as young children should do.

More than anything, Sans believed that making his friend happy was worth possibly getting in trouble for.

_____

The next time the two friends visited the Wishing Room together, Sans brought along his telescope.

After setting it up and looking through it to make sure it still worked fine, he showed Frisk how to use it.

“Wowie!” she gasped. “The rocks look even prettier now!”

Sans chuckled. “yup, i think so too.” He gave his telescope a fond pat. “my dad gave me this thing. said it used to be his.”

That made Frisk tear her gaze away from the glittering rocks, and turn to give Sans a surprised look. “Really? I didn’t know your daddy liked looking at pretty rocks too.”

Sans shrugged his shoulders. “dunno if he does, actually.” Frisk tilted her head to the side, a cute gesture that was all hers, so Sans clarified, “dad told me he used to look through this telescope to see the stars better. ya know, back when monsters lived on the surface.”

The curious look Frisk gave him encouraged Sans to keep talking.

“see, dad loves stars. real stars. he says they’re brighter an’ prettier than anything else in the whole sky.” His voice lowered as he looked off to the side, gaze distant and unfocused. “when i was really little, and dad wasn’t as busy with work, he used to tell me all about the night sky. he taught me the names of all the different stars and constellations he knew of - he even drew them for me! he also taught me ‘bout all the other planets, and other galaxies, and black holes and supernovas and stuff!”

Frisk was quiet, as she observed the excited, yet sad look of longing on her best friend’s face. She wished that she could send comforting magic to his Soul, the way her father could. The way monsters could, yet humans could not.

She understood all too well the painful desire for something wonderful that was forever out of your reach.

“That sounds neato,” she told him softly.

Sans’s smile widened, not quite reaching his eyelights. “yeah. it sure does, huh.”

Frisk was quiet again, giving him a kind, sympathetic look.

Sans didn’t like the sad pity in her eyes, or the sombre tone the conversation had taken. He shook himself. This was supposed to be a fun time with his best friend!

“hey, ya wanna know something cool?” When Frisk eagerly nodded her head at his question, Sans leaned closer to her, as if sharing some new secret. “a long time ago, monsters would whisper their wishes to the stars in the sky. they believed that if you hoped with all your heart, your wish would come true.”

Frisk’s face lit up. “Oh golly, that is cool!”

Sans grinned at her reaction, happy to have successfully managed to dispel the previous gloomy atmosphere. “yeah, ain’t it?”

Then Sans let out a sigh, “‘course, we can’t do that no more. now, all we have are these sparkling stones on the ceiling…”

At that, Frisk’s face fell, her lower lip jutting out despondently.

Sans rushed to console her, internally kicking himself for making her sad again, right when he’d managed to cheer her up.

“but hey! that hasn’t stopped us from making wishes! everyone believes that if we keep wishin’ hard enough, surely all our wishes’ll come true.”

Frisk’s expression brightened. “Right! They will! Thousands of people wishing together can’t be wrong!”

Sans knew that was a naive thought. And yet, a small, childish part of him wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that wishes could come true.

Then, Frisk turned to Sans with an earnest look of curiosity on her face. “Hey Sans? You ever made a wish before?”

The young skeleton monster was taken aback by the question.

He blinked, then averted his gaze sheepishly. “well… maybe. when i was a baby bone.”

Frisk excitedly tugged on his arm. “Ooh! What was it?” When Sans hesitated, Frisk tugged harder. “C’mon! Tell me! Pleeeeease? Pretty pleeeeeease?”

Sans’s Soul squirmed at his best friend’s pleading whine. He felt helpless in the face of her expectation. It was so hard to deny her anything when she was so determined. In the end, all he could do was let out a resigned sigh. He really was no match for Frisk.

“fiiine. i’ll tell ya.” He tried very hard to keep the pout out of his voice and off his skull.

Frisk’s fingers wrapped tighter around his arm. It almost felt like they were wrapping around his Soul, which was a silly thought. Sans couldn’t bring himself to mind.

He lowered his voice to a whisper, despite the two of them being the only ones in the room, causing Frisk to lean in even closer to him. He could feel her breath brush against his bones. It was an odd, but not unpleasant sensation.

“i wished that i could see the real stars someday…”

Frisk was quiet as a look of contemplation came over her face.

Finally, after a few moments of deep consideration for a six-year-old, Frisk turned her gaze up to the ceiling - to the glimmering rocks serving as proxy stars. When she spoke, her voice was just as hushed as Sans’s had been.

“Then I wish that I could see the real stars with you someday.”

Sans felt his Soul give a jolt.

Faint heat spread across his cheekbones, as he failed to keep his smile off his face. He scratched at his cervical vertebrae in an embarrassed gesture.

“heh. that’s a great wish, frisk.”

The human giggled, and preened under her best friend’s praise.

Sans hadn’t realised just how reflective Frisk’s eyes were. They were so clear that the light of the sparkling stones on the ceiling shone brightly within their depths.

Frisk turned her star-filled eyes to him.

“One day, our wishes will come true,” she insisted, with such determination, that Sans almost believed that the human could bend reality to her very will to make them come true.

The young skeleton monster let hope fill his Soul, despite his better judgement.

“if you say so, buddy.” Sans smiled, looking every bit an eleven-year-old child. “then i’ll look forward to seein’ if the stars are just as bright and beautiful as dad says they are.”

Frisk gave him a considering look, before her lips curled into a cheeky grin.

“I bet your eyelights are even brighter and prettier than the stars.”

Sans made a choking noise. Heat filled his face and his Soul. “w-w-what?! c-cut it out! you’re embarrassin’ me…”

Frisk erupted into giggles, loud and joyous, looking entirely too pleased with herself. The sound filled the cavernous room, echoing off the walls. Sans could practically feel her laughter reverberating in his bones and resonating in his Soul.

He dragged his hood low over his skull, trying to hide his face in the darkness of his hoodie.

Sans knew that he really was no match for Frisk.

[pennypurr]

Lowkey (NOT LOWKEY VERY HIGHKEY I MEAN THIS FROM THE DEPTHS OF MY SOUL) miss when fandom was just for the freaks and weirdos. "Oh, but people used to get bullied for liking things-" YEAH AND AT LEAST THEN IT WAS JUST AT SCHOOL, NOW IT'S ALSO IN THE FANDOM!! I've been in fandom spaces for eight years and trust me when I say it is NEVER that serious. Is this gatekeepy? Absolutely. Do I stand by this? HELL YEAH. New-Gen fandomers are so fucking annoying and the reason I had a block list of over 5000 people when I was still on Twitter. AND ANOTHER THING- what happened to block and move on? Ship and let ship? Minding your own fucking business?? As long as you tag your shit correctly I don't fucking care what you write/draw/cosplay. It could be the most vile thing to ever grace someone's screen and as long as it doesn't involve real people (and if it does you have their consent) I do not give a damn. Fandom etiquette has died and it pisses me off. I also heavily blame this on covid!! Fandom had already been on a decline, but lockdown brought the normies (yes I'm using that unironically idk what else to call them) into weirdo spaces and suddenly everything is morality policing and ship wars all over again. There is a REASON asian artists are constantly blocking westerners and it is because New-Gen people in fandom are annoying as hell and they aren't going to force themselves to tolerate it. It's also the New-Gens using things like generative AI to create things like artificial fanart and fanfic, completely disregarding how those things are so beautiful because they're made out of love and adoration for a piece of media. These are the people demanding new chapters and complaining about what fics are and aren't readily available to them. Make it yourself!! I understand the irritation, but that is what breeds creativity. Directing your energy to making something is not only better for the environment, but also your mental health. Also, yeah, your AI slop and the sheer amount you people are producing is worse and costs more energy than all the shit boomers did to mother Earth, and you're denying your impact just like they did. And don't even get me STARTED on people who intentionally seek out fanart/fic they KNOW has the potential to trigger them and then get upset at the CREATOR that they were triggered!! You literally did that to yourself. That's like getting upset when you break a boundary and the person whose boundary you broke follows through with the consequence. One of the worst parts about it is that as someone who has been in fan spaces for a long time is that the majority of these people are ones around my age and so it's difficult to find actually tolerable people to talk to. You'll also notice that the age demographics of the annoying new people in fandom and the fresh wave of mega-conservatives correlate a lot... It's almost like they're the same people. And even then the ones that identify as leftists are usually so far down that it circles back to fascism. Like what do you mean you think people should only be allowed to write/draw/engage with what aligns with your specific morals regardless as to if they're causing genuine harm or not? That sounds a little too familiar for my tastes- When did we get to a point where we decided censorship was good? It also NEVER works the way you want it to because sure at first it seems reasonable but then no one can agree on what is morally rephresenible enough to not be portrayed in a work of fiction and it just keeps getting worse, and worse, and worse, until suddenly queer people aren't allowed to be shown and social commentaries aren't allowed. Fandoms have been around since like- the eighties (probably before but I'm not looking that up atm), and this has never been such a major issue until now. The Internet has simultaneously been the best and worst thing to ever happen to fandom.

TLDR; Fandom etiquette has died and New-Gens are so fucking annoying.

[rosesnink]

The Vicountess, Chapter Eight: Watery Miracles

Author's Notes

After maaaaaaaany months without uploading, Nicole is back and strong! I've enjoyed so much writing this chapter, and the story is finally picking up! Our little lovebirds are coming closer and closer by chapter, and I'm excited for it! Enjoy the chapter!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos and grammar mistakes

No beta we die like men etc etc

Forgot what happened? Check out the fic's masterlist!

If you want to check out more of my stuff, check out my masterlist!

Likes are nice, but reblogs keeps a post alive!

Summary: Nicole and Ernest go to Bath on a trip and puts things in perspective

Word Count: 3.0k

Category: Single parents, pining idiots, friends to lovers

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x F!OC (Nicole Donovan)

Book: Desire and Decorum, modern AU

“Trip, trip, trip!” Anne cried as she arranged in her own specific order the things she needed for the weekend getaway to Bath with the Sinclaires. Ernest and Isabelle to be exact. As she helped Anne neatly fold her clothes, she ran over the plan the both of them brainstormed over coffee and videocalls: see the ruins, visit the famous Roman baths, have an off-day to visit the local neighbourhoods and have quality family time, and try to sneak some me-time for the other while the children play or sleep.

Finishing packing, Anne hummed, lost in her own thoughts as Ernest’s family car came into view. He looked rather dashing, with a royal blue shirt, a black tie, his curls neatly brushed and black trousers and sunglasses as he stopped at the Donovan’s curb. He gave them the ghost of a smile as he came out of his car and pointed to Nicole’s shared bag with Anne “Let me get that.”

Nicole smiled at him “I can handle that. I may be small and chubby, but I’m far from helpless.”

He gave her a soft look through his glasses “I know that. I want to be helpful to you girls, and it costs me nothing.”

“It is also the closest thing to arm day he’ll ever get!” Isabelle exclaimed from inside the seat. Despite her father giving her a look, she giggled and greeted Nicole and Anne.

“Excited for the trip, girls?”

They both nodded “Last time I saw a gorgeous boy! I think he was older, but my, was he dreamy…”

Anne shrugged “I don’t know. I don’t think I like boys. Or girls.”

“Yet,” Isabelle teased.

Ernest gave her a half-horrified, half-concerning look and Nicole chuckled “Let’s put on a movie for you girls before you give a certain someone an aneurysm.” He shot her a thankful glance, and she chuckled to herself. The eternal discord of little girls having puppy crushes on boys and fathers being deep in denial.

The road was long, full of fields and small cities they passed by, the only sound being the whispers of the girls commenting the movie and Ernest driving, mumbling to himself about where to go or turn to next.

At last, the old city came into view: beautiful ancient buildings, fresh air and breathtaking scenery. As he parked in the BnB, Nicole noticed the girls fast asleep, the movie long concluded, and gently woke them both.

“Five more minutes, Mama,” Isabelle mumbled.

Nicole chuckled fondly “We have arrived at our destination, sweet girl. You can sleep earlier today if you’d like, though.”

Isabelle’s wide blue eyes suddenly came into view, and noticed that everyone save her was out of the car, and coughed self-consciously “Sorry. I guess I was deep asleep, huh?”

Nicole smiled “Happens to the best of us.”

As Ernest and Nicole unpacked and went up for their respective bedrooms, the girls looked around the lavish hotel, chosen by Nicole, and observed the rich, ancient infrastructure.

“Good afternoon,” Nicole greeted the concierge “we have two rooms. One for Sinclaire and one for Donovan?”

“Oh, yes, you do!” She squinted the screen and frowned “Oh, well, I’m afraid the room meant for you, Mrs. Donovan, has gone through… damage to be repaired. We are on the process to finding you an appropriate room.”

“What damage, may I ask?” Sinclaire asked.

“The former guest came rather… inebriated and broke several doors and windows. With Mrs. Donovan coming with a minor, it’d be a safety hazard.”

As the words sunk in, a staff member came to the woman and whispered something in her ear. Then, a thunderous thud was heard all over the place. Guests gasped. The woman cursed and went to check what was happening.

Fifteen minutes later, the woman came back, the same apologetic look on her face “Mr. Sinclaire, I am mortified to tell you this, but the former guest occupying your room—,”

“Tell you what, ma’am, I do not wish to hear it. It has been proven that this environment is unsafe for our daughters and ourselves, and we do not wish to stay here. Come on, girls, we are leaving.”

Nicole looked at him wide-eyed “Ernest—,”

He gently grabbed her wrist “Please. Think of Annie. Do you want her to stay here?”

He had a point. She nodded and they both went out, and Ernest did some calls on his phone. Finally, after stopping near the park, he looked at the girls “I have talked with your father, Nicole, and he has offered to let us stay at his old townhouse in Bath.”

Nicole blinked “I thought it had been sold to the government?”

“It was rented to the city hall for a few visits, but can be lived in on short periods of time. He is speaking to the mayor as we speak. We should have green light in an hour or so.”

The girls perked up “Papa, can we go to see the geese?!”

“And the trees!” Anne beamed.

Nicole squeezed his hand “I’ll watch them. You go take care of that.”

He squeezed it back “And leave you with the labour? Never. We’ll watch them together.”

She smiled and they both came out of the car, the girls scrambling to the pond, giggling gleefully. Isabelle wore a mint sundress, meanwhile Anne wore a turtleneck with Winx Club leggings, her hair down, chestnut locks bouncing against the wind of her speed. Isabelle, on the other hand, had her hair tied in a side ponytail, her raven hair longer and straight, but with a thick mane, like her father.

Both parents watched their children, sitting on a bench as they munched sunflower seeds, chuckling at Isabelle trying to play with the geese while Anne murmured to the trees. As a street musician played the violin, Isabelle pulled Anne into a dance, and both girls shrieked and laughed, spinning and enjoying the music, the musician looking at the girls fondly. Without saying a word, Ernest stood up and gave the musician ten pounds, thanked him and came back to the bench, where a curious Nicole observed.

“What? It is not a crime to pay street musicians for a good tune.”

“Sorry, uh, I just… did not peg you for the type…”

He looked at her “And why is that?”

“It is just… people like us are always taught to not trust them, and rumour has it—,”

“I care nothing for such rumours, nor have any intention of waste my breath in trying to convince them that it is untrue. The people that truly matter to me know the truth.”

Her heart skipped a beat “Do I—that is to say… I… matter to you?”

“You do,” he said, his gaze intense and full of tenderness. Their pinkies touched, the sunlight highlighted his brown locks and her warm brown eyes, and he swallowed, about to say something, when a familiar figure slammed into him, panting and giggling.

“Isabelle! You startled me! May I know why you threw yourself at me in such an unbecoming way?” He cried.

“We want ice cream!”

Anne made her signature puppy eyes, looking irresistibly adorable. Then, he sighed “Very well. Come, I know a place your grandmother took me when she came to visit a friend of hers.”

As they walked, an old woman came to them, beaming “Ah, what a beautiful family we have here! How long have the two of you been married?”

Ernest blushed furiously while Nicole gasped “Oh! Oh, no, we are not—that is to say, we are just friends vacationing with our respective children.”

The woman chuckled “Big mistake. You two look made for each other.”

Nicole laughed nervously while he gave her a timid smile as the old woman kept walking. She giggled “How strange! She thought that you and I…”

Sinclaire chuckled nervously, trying to avoid the fact that his heart was beating like a hummingbird, and that he liked that idea. Shaking off such thought, they reached the ice cream shop, where the two girls had scrambled to look at potential flavours. Isabelle asked for a cookie monster flavour, meanwhile Anne asked for pistachio, arguing that the colour, flavour, texture and shape was perfect. Ernest asked for a chocolate, meanwhile Nicole asked for a mint-chocolate. Isabelle scrunched her nose “That tastes like toothpaste!”

“Isabelle, don’t be rude,” Ernest chided.

“It’s alright. To each their own.” She said as she scooped another spoonful to her mouth, making humming noises to tease Isabelle. Anne ate her ice cream in silence, in her own world, recharging her battery. Nicole stroked her hair “Everything okay, my sweet baby?”

She nodded “Yes, Mama. Just tired.”

Ernest checked his watch “When we finish these, we can head out to the townhouse.”

As they headed back to the car, Annie looked like she wanted to sleep. Not used to be outside much, she was practically a walking zombie. Nicole picked up her daughter and kissed her temple, and she sighed and hugged her mother as she slowly fell asleep, memories of when she was a baby flooding to her memory, which warmed Nicole’s heart. Her little baby was coming closer to be a teen, but she still had these precious moments, and she was glad to have them still. She loved Isabelle to bits, but she was the epitome of moody teenager.

“I’ll get us settled; you get Anne to bed.”

She gave him a grateful smile and he opened the door for them, and she went upstairs, remembering the old house and her childhood room, and placed Anne in it, taking off her shoes and socks, making sure her hair was not touching her back and covering her with well-balanced blankets, not too heavy, not too light. She gently kissed her forehead and checked on Isabelle, who was enjoying her DS console, and told her to not stay up too late, which she received a ‘hmm’ before heading downstairs, where Ernest already had her favourite: pinot wine with white cheese and Spanish ham with olive oil. Clanking their glasses, they both sighed and stayed a few minutes in silence, enjoying the late hour, and the intimacy of it, and how right it felt.

Leaning on the sofa, she savoured the pinot. He looked at her and asked “How does it taste?”

She closed her eyes “Like I’m in an Italian field of grapes. The sun is out, there is a small breeze touching my skin, the grass tickles my feet, and the air is crisp and fresh. It is all green and blue, the way Earth is meant to be, the warm sun warms my skin and bones, and all I hear is the birds chirping and the critters sing.” She opened her eyes and saw that he was staring at her with a newfound longing that caught her off guard.

“I wanted to honeymoon in Italy,” he started telling “but Roselyn wanted the French Riviera, as a last goodbye to her homeland. I enjoyed myself, I did, but…”

“Being disregarded like that, you didn’t like it.”

He nodded.

“I was fortunate enough. Alaric wanted to visit Uzbekistan, West India and Morocco, and I wanted to visit Tunisia, Greece, Italy and Egypt, so we compromised.” She took his hand in hers “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good marriage with her.”

He chuckled, hiding his sadness “It is a, like the children say, red flag that I missed, I suppose.”

“Don’t blame yourself. We are never on guard or wary of the ones we love.”

But that was the thing. He was always walking on eggshells with her, always wary of her heavy expenses, always feeling like he was not enough, like he wasn’t pampering her enough. He thought he loved her, that he’d die without her, but seeing her in bed, in their wedding bed, with Richards… it all put things in perspective. He didn’t love her, he loved a version of her that existed only in his head, and she loved the fact that he was so rich and well-connected.

He never felt butterflies, or thought of her often, or any of the sort he saw in the movies and read in the books. He was attracted to her, to her beauty, but he never loved her like he was supposed to.

But with Nicole, it was the opposite. Ever since they talked in that bar, he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He thought of her at every hour, at every corner he turned to, his body felt happiness when she was brought up, he stared at her when she put on an outfit that showed how beautiful she was, and wanted her in a way he’d never wanted someone before. Badly. Maddingly. With so much force, he felt like he burned every time she touched him or looked at him. He dreamt of her often, and always looked for an excuse to be around her.

Just like that, their eyes met “I don’t think I loved her,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

Nicole blinked “You… married her. Had a daughter. And didn’t love her?”

“I’ve never loved anyone.”

“Anyone at all?”

He opened his mouth to say something, then his gaze looked at her lips: plump, wide, that seemed to smell of strawberries and remaining pinot. He swallowed, hard, looking at her wide brown eyes, who studied his gaze. Then, he leaned in, slowly, gently, watching his every move. He could almost touch her lips with his when Isabelle’s signature giggle blasted all over the house.

Jumping back, he cleared his throat as she gulped the remaining pinot “I should, ah, tell her to go to sleep.”

“Good idea. I’ll… I’ll clean up.”

“I, yeah, good.”

This weekend had just turned awkward.

Nicole tossed and turned all night, still riled up from that moment with Ernest. After three decades on Earth, a few boyfriends and flings and a husband, she wasn’t mistaken. There had been a moment. He wanted to kiss her. And what was worse, she wanted him to kiss her.

A few months had happened since her relationship with Hamid. Could she really? Move on so fast? Times had changed. She had changed. Dating now wasn’t the same as then. Would her peers see her as a cold-hearted bitch for moving on so fast? Would he think that?

Taking a deep breath, she placed a palm on her chest and started doing the exercises that her therapist had recommended her, and tried to sleep something. It hadn’t come easy, but it came when she thought she’d have to wake up.

Anne knocked on her door, and at the sound of her voice, jolted awake and opened the door “Yes, baby? Everything alright?”

“Can you tell me what will we do today?” She asked.

Nicole knew what that meant. A full deep dive into what would today entailed. Stretching, she sat her on her lap and on her bed as she explained “We will have breakfast with the Sinclaires. Then, we will do some sightseeing, stop at a restaurant to eat, and see the Roman baths as I promised you. Finally, we will make dinner here. Sounds okay?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Nicole kissed her daughter’s cheek “Any time you feel uncomfortable or tired, tell me, okay?”

“I will, Mama.”

The first few hours went without a hitch. The girls laughed and teased each other, and an agreement between the adults seemed to pass: no addressing last night in front of the kids. Walking side-to-side, the girls splashed in the pools arranged that imitated the Roman baths. An elder lady whispered to Nicole “To be that young and reckless again, eh?”

Nicole smiled “Yes. They don’t know it, but the best part of their life is right now.”

Finally, nightfall came, and Nicole and Ernest both talked of what to cook that each other knew. Finally, they concluded legit pasta carbonara with lots of guanciale. As Ernest cooked the pasta, Nicole made the sauce, carefully so the texture and flavour was just right.

“Are you always this meticulous with food?” He asked.

“Yes. I have to give it to her, she knows that food has to be well done, and not… half-assed.”

He chuckled at her choice of words “I see my daughter’s language rubbing off you. One day, she’ll say the wrong thing in front of the wrong person, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get her out of there.”

Nicole placed a hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled deeply “You will. I’ve yet to meet someone as resourceful and intelligent as you. Isabelle is in the best hands.”

“She may be foul-mouthed, brutally honest and stubborn, but she’s got a good heart and her head’s in the right place.”

“Like you,” she smiled “you may be taciturn, seemingly unapproachable and morose, but your heart is as good.”

For the first time since last night, their eyes met. Truly met. He took a deep breath and gently stroked her cheek “Your words mean the world to me, Nicole. You—,”

“Are you making the bloody pasta by hand? I’m hungry!”

“Isabelle!” Ernest chided “You can’t speak like that in company!” He sighed and looked at Nicole “Forgive her. She gets, how did she call it, ‘hangry’.”

Nicole burst into laughter and added her final touch to the sauce “Who can blame her! She is growing and her body needs food. Especially when she is bound to be as tall as her father.”

Ernest’s heart warmed. Roselyn tried to get the rudeness out of her at any cost, but Nicole proved that sometimes, her reactions were right. Isabelle had been testing her patience all day, and she had passed said unintentional tests with flying colours.

And as they brought the pasta to the table and the girls raved about the new season of a show and Nicole came with witty remarks and laughed with them, he realised it as she giggled, wiping sauce from the corner of her mouth. He was in love, and he’d tell her when they went back.

[alephzdraws]

Honestly, I'm so happy that people actually like my Sonic Horror AU and I genuinely appreciate the support I'm getting for my fic! :D

After writing stuff on my own for myself for years, the occasional encouragement hypes me up so much. Each compliment makes my day.

I've been writing Sonic fics for almost eight whole years now (damn, already???), and That Freak of Nature is the first one I've decided to show to the world so far.

People haven't really read what I've written (in terms of fanfic) before, so receiving comments here and on AO3 that they really like what I'm working on, that I write Sonic & Tails' brotherly relationship well despite the circumstances, etc etc just makes me so happy. I forget a majority of the time that my writing skill is considered really good to other people (probably because of the whole eight-year writing hobby I generally kept to myself until three months ago). Same thing happens with my art. I get too used to being the only one looking at my own work. Whatever is my "eh, it's aight" is someone else's "WOAH!!! THAT'S AMAZING!!!" XD

I don't know why but looking at my fic on the text document I write it on compared to looking at it on AO3 itself is just...different.

If I didn't start uploading to AO3, the fic's story would probably still be stuck on Chapter 1. Wouldn't have been the last dead-end WIP in that case, but it would've been a massive shame in hindsight. May come back to some of those old WIPs someday...

In fact, I originally wanted the AU's story to be told as a comic, but I kinda needed a narrative to work from in the first place so perhaps another time (still thinking out it in my head though but I know drawing a comic would take much longer than writing something up).

But yeah. Just wanted to say this because I still cannot believe there are actual supporting fans of my AU. Idk, never thought that would happen but obviously it did.

Thanks, y'all! :D

Am working on Chapter 9!

[katsmtmsdoodles]

I've just re-read the epilogue for the sixth time and my....Misako disgusts me so much....is it on purpose?

I commented in chapter eight that I didn't blame Kai for becoming Shogun and now I'm his number one fan. In fact after seeing how rotten the resistance is I think Kai should have been crueler 😭😭

Like Misako, what do you mean "I'll never forget their deaths (other members of the resistance)"? Like, woman, you're the one who sent them to their deaths? Garmadon also fucked with your common sense while you were doing Lloyd?😭😭😭

And the ninjas too, I've got them by the hair. Have they forgotten that they have brains or did Garmadon hit them so hard ten years ago that they've forgotten how to think independently??😭😭

Everyone there (except Kai, Skylor, Lloyd, Ash and the other good imperials - they're my babies) needs the wonderful bucket of cold water that is reality because I don't think they've realized how badly they've fucked up yet.

Haha yeah I remember your comment, I'm glad you enjoyed this fic so much! Kai is my baby, too, but he did do some pretty heinous things, which I personally feel like warrants people being angry with him. You're welcome to read it how you like! And no, I didn't write Misako to be either likable or dislikable, she just had a certain mindset that isn't particularly readable from outside perspectives. She will get some more explanation in the next installment.

As for Kai, he doesn't care to waste his energy on Misako because...He's just in the same spot he's always been. He's used to it, comfortable, in some ways because he knows what to expect. There's no personal feelings, he just does what he's told to when he's told to do it. Misako might be chaining him, but so did Garmadon, and Kai found ways to compromise because he knew what Garmadon wanted and he knows exactly what Misako wants. This is perfectly manageable to him. Freedom was always a far-fetched idea, anyway.

But with Wu it's so much more complicated because in his entire life he has never really trusted anyone to take care of him or protect him (on a parent-child level of trust versus the sibling bonds he had with the ninja) except for Wu. And he kept that loyalty for a while, until Garmadon manipulated Kai into pushing all of his blame onto this man who had apparently betrayed and abandoned him, when Wu had promised to love him. If anything, Kai is so angry at Wu because he's angry at himself for "falling for the ruse" of Wu's care.

But I won't go into how true that may or may not be from Wu's perspective until Sword & Shield.

I would keep in mind that the POVs of my chapters are VERY shaded by the character the perspective is from. Things might be stated as a fact in Lloyd's POV that is totally contradicted by Kai's POV because their worlds are influenced by their opinions. I'm not surprised you dislike Wu and Misako so much while you really like Skylor, Ash, and Lloyd, because most of the fic is Kai's POV and that's exactly how he feels about them 😂😂 I will take that as a job well done for myself!

Anyway ahhhh I could talk about this fic all day, careful getting me going like that lol but thank you so much for the ask! I hope you continue to enjoy!

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[bellaxgiornata]

What would you get our traumatized Irish Catholic boys for Christmas? And what about our traumatized Italian Catholic and cocky Vampire?

Ahh Soulie I love this question so much but OMG I had to THINK for this one!! Mostly for Owen and Henry because we don't learn too much personal stuff about Henry (plus he's a centuries old vampire so like...what the hell would you gift him?). And I think I'm only just starting season three of Boardwalk Empire so what I thought of for Owen is more of a funny gift. I'd probably have a better answer once I've seen more of him in the show if I'm being honest. But anyway, for those who're curious on my gifting ideas and thought process for Matt Murdock, Michael Kinsella, Frank Castle, Owen Sleater, and Henry (whatever his last name is 😆), I'm putting everything below the cut cause y'all know I'm longwinded 😅

Also feel free to join in on ideas in the comments because I'd love to hear what other gift ideas y'all would have!

Gifting something to Matt Murdock seems like...an impossible task to me. Whenever I write fics, I honestly hate coming up with ideas for a character to gift him something 🤣 Why? Because this man doesn't remotely scream materialistic. I mean he barely makes any money at his law firm and is all too happy to be paid in bananas. And his only hobby is illegal and probably going to get him killed. So what the hell do you get Matt?

Personally, I'd gift him some sort of spa day or a long ass massage. He'd certainly need to be forced to take the time for himself and use it, but you know that man's battered and worn body would welcome a nice, long massage. Then maybe treat him to a nice dinner at a great restaurant because I always worry this man isn't eating enough.

Bonus gift: I'd give him a weighted blanket, too. I feel like it would help relax him on the nights he doesn't go out beating criminals.

Okay, this one came far too easily to me for Frank Castle. I'd gift him a rescue dog. Why? THIS MAN NEEDS A DOG OKAY. Frank and a dog just go together in my mind.

I also think Frank would thrive and heal a little from the unconditional love of a furry friend. And he could certainly use the company from a canine companion. I just know a dog would bring a smile to this man's face and bring out that softer, non-murder-y side that we all know is there inside of him. And honestly, I worry about how incredibly alone Frank feels after losing his family. So a dog would be perfect.

Bonus gift: Possibly some new books to read because I imagine this man doesn't enjoy much television in his downtime.

This one also came far too easily to me. I'd gift Michael Kinsella with a little vacation literally fucking anywhere calming and peaceful outside of Dublin. He desperately needs to get away from the stress of his family's business and just his crazy, shitty family in general. They're obviously not good for his health and I think he could seriously use the break. I'd also get him some less depressing books so his ass stops just reading Steinbeck and starts reading something else. You need some new books, Mikey.

Bonus gift: I'd surprise him by having his daughter Anna come along on the vacation. After eight years in prison, those two could really use some bonding time without Mikey's meddling family.

This is where things started to get tougher for me. Like I said, I'm barely in season three of Boardwalk so I feel like I don't know much about Owen personally. He hasn't had that much screen time besides some killing, scheming, and sex. So this gift idea was a bit more on the entertaining/funny side. I think further into the series I could come up with something far better.

I'd gift Owen an expensive bottle of Irish whiskey and lots of condoms. I mean, it certainly seems like he'd use both of them. The man is...definitely a flirt who has every intention of following through on his flirting 👀

Bonus gift: I don't know, me? Do I count? You can have me for Christmas, Owen.

Okay so Henry is the toughest one for me to answer this for. I mean he's a vampire and he's a few hundred years old and the movie doesn't give that much background or personal information on him. So what would I gift him for Christmas?

Considering he's a few centuries old, I doubt he's materialistic (certainly doesn't seem that way). I doubt he'd like a vacation because I mean...he's probably well traveled. We know he's got some morals since he doesn't feed on humans because he used to be one. So I imagine this vampire would enjoy literature and maybe art--things that connect him to the human side he lost. Though I assume he probably already owns and has read all the classic novels, so maybe I'd gift him something that's current that might resonate with him that he hasn't read yet.

Bonus gift: Maybe an engraved lighter? The vampire does seem to enjoy smoking. Or maybe something handmade and sentimental.

[yabancreations]

Ooh can I ask about "Clarity" 👀

Yes, you can, haha... ha /sweats

"Clarity" is an E rated, possibly dead dove, dubcon, top Xie Lian/bottom Hua Cheng project. Also known as "as far removed from what Yaban normally writes as humanly possible."

As I mentioned in the original description, the action takes place towards the end of the novel, and it's as close to canon as I can get with this premise. This means that the dubcon doesn't come from Xie Lian being a dark version of himself, but rather from a sort of "fuck or die" scenario. I make no promises of the smut being sexy —for starters, I haven't written smut since like 2011— because I'm more interested in Xie Lian's internal turmoil than anything. In fact, one of the tags I think I'll add is "this would be sexier if only Xie Lian didn't overthink so much."

I'm not sure of when the idea first occurred to me, but I've been turning it over in my mind for probably more than a year. Here's what I have written so far:

—————

Xie Lian waited until the last moment. He held on, and on, and on, watching how some flowers wilted and dried whilst others turned into fruit that ripened and fell, bursting over dead petals, making a mess of his front yard and the paths he’d painstakingly built from the base of Mount Taicang to his cottage. He had a hunch that Hua Cheng would be back before the flowering period was over, and he wouldn’t admit that such a thing happened until the very last bloom fell. 

One hot night of late summer, a sudden torrential rain shook the mountain, washing every single weak flower and most of the fruit away. Lightening felled a maple tree midway down the path, too, blocking transit. After assessing the damage in the morning after, Xie Lian resigned himself. Going back to the cottage, he picked a hatchet from his little trove of used farming tools and put on his new bamboo hat, given to him by a young man from Puqi Village who noticed he wasn’t wearing the original any more. The boy had asked what had happened to it, and Xie Lian had said that he’d given it to someone who needed it.

“But daozhang needs a hat too,” the boy had protested, reminding him of Hua Cheng.

This wasn’t a surprise, and it didn’t hurt. It was only natural that everything and everyone made him think of his beloved ghost. Xie Lian missed him dearly, so what was better than thinking about him to pass the time while he waited? He’d done so in many ways: dusting off his memories, visiting the places they’d shared, talking to Hua Cheng’s many subjects in Ghost City. Reading and wondering. Dreaming. Praying, once or twice, when he’d stumbled upon shrines dedicated to the Crimson Rain Seeking a Flower. That day, the circumstances invited him to reminisce about how swift and efficient Hua Cheng was cutting wood, the strength and elegance of every swing of his axe, and the way he cheekily pretended to sweat so he had an excuse to bare his snow-white, lean torso.

Xie Lian felt his face warm up and sighed deeply. Many days and nights of his heart and thoughts being spurred in dangerous directions by the memory of Hua Cheng’s scalding gaze and mischievous lips had made him familiar with this sort of agitation. In fact, he’d started to enjoy it, although he didn’t indulge much. The intensity of these new emotions and sensations was strong enough that, regardless of how scandalised he was at the prospect, he didn’t expect to preserve his path of cultivation nor the reserves of spiritual power attached to it once Hua Cheng came back. However, he was adamantly against allowing anything to break before that came to happen. After eight centuries and eight months that felt like a millennium each, he wasn’t going to succumb to his own imagination.

—————

When will I finish it? Who knows. I will focus on completing my ongoing fics first, but I'll keep taking notes and writing on the side. This is a very daunting project, so if inspiration strikes, I won't let it pass. Thanks for asking!

Back to WIP game main post.

[prolix-yuy]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag @oonajaeadira! Funny enough I saw this go around a couple months ago and meant to do it, then life got crazy. This seems like a great time to jump on in!

How many works do you have on ao3?

48! Wowza! That's not counting fics I only post here (like my Writers Iron Chefs and the Bangathon)

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

338,089. That's kind of crazy, I'm not gonna lie. And some of those words aren't filthy :P

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Something New, One Very Good Night, Both Sides of the Door, A Sweet Response to Tragedy, and Good Company. 4 out of 5 of these are from I Think of You, which does warm my little heart. I did laugh that their popularity is completely out of order from the series.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes yes yes! Every single one I get! I'll even yank your tags out and comment on them when they make me especially happy. It's the best part of sharing my stories.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

TECHNICALLY One Very Good Night had the angstiest ending before I continued the series. Same with Cognitive Dissonance! Apparently I get to an angsty end then just write a part 2.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that's tied with the real ending to my Whiskey & Westworld series, and all the gooey soft fun of my Javi G series. Both make my heart glow in different ways.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Knock on wood, nothing so far. I've gotten a couple of interpretations of my fics that have made me cock my head because I just don't think the person read the story, or if they did they skimmed over the character development part. But otherwise I've had a very nice time with everyone here <3

9. Do you write smut?

If you don't know by now, I'm not sure what you've been reading...

10. Craziest crossover?

100% Whiskey & Westworld. Golden Circle meets android theme park? Lusting over cowboys and having existential crises? It fit better than I ever thought it would and I still love the crap out of it.

(though as a side note, having Javi P be the person who helped Santi find his girls in the SW!Frankie AU is another fav)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not? Yeesh.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be pretty neat!

13. Have you co-written a fic before?

No, but I have had the distinct pleasure of @psychedelic-ink writing a fic in the SW!Frankie AU that made my whole life.

14. All time favorite ship?

HELP I'M TORN. It's a tie between Din and my Reader in I Think of You and Dieter and Murch in Best Laid Plans. I think about both of them so so so much.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will

I have a handful of small WIPs in a folder that who knows if they'll come to fruition. I think the greatest contender is probably the Post-Apocalyptic Frankie I tossed around because The Last of Us came out and it might just meld into a Joel story instead.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm good at pacing and giving enough description to keep a reader engaged but not bogged down with details. People connect with my reader characters in a way that makes me super happy. And I write damn good smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I can't write outlines or my brain says "it's done :)" and I never write the story. I can't write out of order. I struggle with making characters have meaningful fights and arguments because I'm non-confrontational IRL and it makes me anxious.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language

Flavor! I love reading it! I tend to shy away from writing it because as someone who knows another language, it never feels natural to me to throw it in. Pet names are a nice way to use it, and I'll allude to speaking other languages in descriptions, but it's difficult so I tend to not add it much in my stories.

19. First fandom you wrote for

Gundam Wing when I was about eight or nine. Part of my username is in homage to that! My friends and I would write our fanfics and then read them all out loud at sleepovers together. Pre-internet, this was my Tumblr lol.

20. Favorite fic you've written

You know, I love all of my fics a whole damn lot, and my top ones are still hard favs. But I think for a story that came out of my heart in a really nice way and that I hold a little closer than the others, The Plan might just top them a tiny bit.

NP tags: @iamskyereads @psychedelic-ink @julesonrecord @wannab-urs @ezrasbirdie and anyone who wants to play!

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Alright, I have only a few more hours of 2024 left to do this so it's now or never I guess. Thanks for the tag @starfall-spirit. 🫶

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

86,418 (but the real number is 56,156 since one of those fics is a collab between multiple writers).

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

Ten. Though all of those were one-shots or three-shots.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Six that have been posted. Another eight in development and in various stages of being ready enough to be posted.

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

I had a lot of fun writing Come Away O Human Child. I've always loved dark fics but had never really written one myself before that point. It was a whirlwind experience to write. I think I wrote the first 5-8k words of it on a single Saturday afternoon. I'd never really understood when other writers said they 'wrote like they were possessed' until that moment.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

To everyone's surprise—including my own—Take Care of Business for Me. I had never really written a proper modern AU before, and certainly not a RomCom. I tend to stick to AUs, Canon AUs, and darker stuff. So I kind of shocked myself by writing not only a Modern AU RomCom, but one with Daddy Kink in it...which I had never done before and—up until very recently—didn't even like.

(And yes, I know how funny it is that the one now primarily known for writing Soft Dom/Daddy Kink fics used to hate it. I contain hidden depths ok? 🫠)

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Again, I'll have to point to Take Care of Business for Me, as well as Stuffed. The reception to the latter took me completely by surprise because it was just a silly little piece of self-indulgent smut I wrote to practice writing sex scenes. Clearly that exercise was far more successful than I could've ever envisioned because it's now only a couple hundred hits away from being my most popular fic of all time. 🥲

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Probably The Hungry House, my creepy little haunted house fic that I thought had some pretty fun and spooky imagery. Though it's also a tragedy which I know isn't everyone's cup of tea and probably why it flew under the radar.

I'd also like to shout out The Horrors of Writer's Block, my silly little self-indulgent self-insert fic where a fanfic writer gets stuck inside her own fic with disastrous results. The latter was really me getting back to my roots writing self-insert/isekai fics which were some of my very first fics I ever posted on this site (and which are now hidden because they're so embarrassingly bad). It was a lot of fun and I hope to get back to it at some point, even if I'm only writing it for my own amusement.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

Loputyn. Not a fandom artist, but she has exactly the kind of creepy but sexy vibe I love.

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@whatishowedyouinthedark was the reason I felt comfortable and brave enough to write some of my most popular fics (Take Care of Business for Me and Come Away O Human Child respectively) in this fandom. She's a fantastic cheerleader, especially when you want to write the darker, sexier, or more problematic stuff, so I can't thank her enough for her unending support and being such an icon in this fandom. Without her those fics wouldn't exist so everyone go say 'Thank You SVDG'.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@pouroverpaloma! I was dragged into the Gale brainrot in the beginning of 2024 and her Gale fics were some of the first I found and loved in the Baldur's Gate fandom.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Yes! My first one ever in fact! I'm a part of the @feysand-hivemind timeloop project! I contributed a chapter and have another to come in the future.

From what I remember, @gaeleria said something to the effect of 'wouldn't a feysand time loop fic be fun?' and everyone was like 'wait, that's actually a great idea!' and before we knew it a bunch of us were throwing ideas around in a google doc and the rest is history.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

That I finally finished a multi-chaptered fic! Now, to be fair, it was only three chapters but that still counts! I had never finished a multi-chaptered fic before so I was extremely proud of myself.

(I am, of course, talking about Come Away O Human Child.)

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

That I can actually finish things! And that I am absolutely capable of pushing myself to write and I don't need to just wait around for days or weeks or months on end before 'inspiration' hits and forces me to write 2-4k words in one go. I learned that any progress is good progress. 100 words. 200 words. 500 words. If I managed to put words on the page then it was progress and something I should feel proud of. That mentality helped me write more in the last year than I have in the last ten, and helped improve my writing abilities by leaps and bounds.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Everything above. Don't give up. Write something. Anything. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't have to even make sense. Just get it out. Write a little each day. Even if it isn't a lot. Some words are better than no words. You get better by doing.

I also think you should write what you want. Is your idea too problematic and weird? Write it anyway. Is it too derivative and has been done a million times before? Write it anyway. I wrote so many things this year that I was so sure that nobody but me was going to like or even read and I was honestly flabbergasted at the reach and enthusiastic reception some of those same fics ended up having. You won't know until you try. 💜

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Definitely to finish some of my ongoing fics, even if it's just one or two of them. I also have a ton of new projects I can't wait to share with everyone next year! 🎉

Only a couple hours left of 2024 here so if anyone can squeeze themselves in before then, feel free to tag yourself in!

[avatarskywalker78]

Talk Shop Tuesday (now on a Wednesday), do you have more Doctor Who fic plans?

Well there's gonna be a sequel to the beginning, the end, and the (rebirth) of all things - which was building on my 'Ruby was created by the God of Beginnings' theory - but what that will look like very much depends on what the next couple episodes are gonna do (if Rusty Davies can stick the landing, mainly). There's also my Dhawan!Master redemption fic that I'm working on which is going alright but slowly, partly due to motivation and partly due to the fact that writing a non-linear narrative is hard (also at some point I'm gonna be covering the 'Children of Earth' storyline because a key point is that O tries and fails to find a solution that isn't the canon one, which haunts him for some time, and I think I'm unconsciously putting that off.)

The main story I'm planning, though? A rewrite of The Emilie Brooke Adventures!!!! A story I have been trying to complete since 2011 and been unable to due to lack of motivation, confidence issues (the reason why a lot of my FFN fics remained unfinished because I would start doubting myself and my writing) and getting far too caught up in details...and when I updated for the first time in five years only to get zero comments whatsoever despite having seen people follow it, it took out a big chunk of the desire to write it at all...

But turns out I really do want to - I have the old version up on AO3 but I really, really want to write the first part of her story and then all the other parts as well because I love her! I love Emilie Brooke! She's one of the oldest OCs I have and I want to share her story and to finally get to talk about her properly - something I can't do until I reveal who she actually is later down the line! So far one IRL person knows and one person on here knows both have agreed to keep the secret until the time comes, but I'd love to finally tell more people!! I want to write about her travelling with the Doctor, I want to write about her going off on her own journey, I want to write her establishing herself as another person who's willing and able to help her home planet when shit goes down, I want to write her!! So there's no more excuses!! I was originally going to do a rewatch of S1, S3, S4 and S5 before S6 because I've not seen any of them for a while...but I also want to get at least a start on the story so I'm gonna rewatch that first.

So who is Emilie Brooke? She's a seventeen-year-old girl born in the 51st century, raised by her grandparents from the age of eight, highly intelligent and resourceful, someone who used to travel with the Doctor and counts several of his friends and allies (and their friends and allies) as close family, including but not limited to Sarah-Jane, Luke, Clyde, Rani, Martha, Micky, Jack, Ianto and Gwen.

Of course, time travel makes things complicated, as in April 2011, though she's been living with Sarah-Jane for two years, some of these haven't even heard of her yet, let alone met her at this point in time... but thanks to the Doctor upgrading her phone she's still able to keep in contact with the versions who do, and she's feeling good about being able to help Earth as part of her aunt's team, but still misses the Doctor a little because he doesn't often come by.

So when she gets a TARDIS blue invitation in the post, she's delighted, and more so when she realises he's invited Amy, Rory, and River along too - it's been a while since she's seen them too, even if Amy and Rory don't know her yet...but it soon becomes clear that's something's up, and what seems like just another reunion turns into tragedy when the Doctor's killed by a mysterious astronaut. Her grief's made worse when his younger self shows up with no clue as to what just happened and she's not sure how she's supposed to deal with it...

But they were invited for a reason, and when a missing child turns out to be at the centre of it (alongside a mysterious, shadowy race) she understands why - except she seems to be the only one who does, because no one seems that bothered when they're unable to find her again. The Doctor's closed off, something is going on with Amy and her not-pregnancy, River is hiding something. A conspiracy seems to be taking shape and Emilie's convinced the Doctor's the target...but why? Was the child really responsible for his death? Why does no one seems to care about her fate? Who was the distant figure she saw on the Utah beach seconds after it all went down? Is what happened truly set in stone...?

And can they actually manage to save the girl in the end?

Talk Shop Tuesday

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @starstruckpurpledragon @dream-beyond-the-fantasy

[queen-swagzilla]

there's a person behind the screen. ->

now that i've had some time to softly tell myself that i am a good writer in the mirror a few dozen times, i'd like to talk about some comments i got that i think need to be addressed. not just for me, but for any fandom writer who does this because they're genuinely excited and passionate.

this isn't a callout, and i don't want to attack. but i want to give a view of where i'm at, and why it's kinda horrible to make your unrealized expectations a burden on writers who are creating as a passion project.

here are the key points of those comments, and my responses to them:

1) i don't want to see ochako's pov because she's a bad guy in this story and it pisses me off that you're giving her screen time

i am telling a story, and i determined that ochako's pov was necessary to move the story forward. i don't like her in this fic either. she's not gonna be magically forgiven. and if she was, that would still be my storytelling choice. my works aren't democratic. unless otherwise stated, no fan-creator's work is democratic. it's a vision that they're taking the time to lovingly execute, and you can either watch it happen or not. but you can't tell me how to tell the story i want to tell, especially because you don't know the story i want to tell. you only know what you've seen so far.

2) why are you making katsuki so irrationally stupid? i want him to just talk to people and he isn't and it's making me hate him.

i am making katsuki irrationally stupid because he is a teenager who also has a completely separate manifestation of his instincts talking in his head and confusing him. and he 's hurt. hurt people protect themselves, and katsuki does that by throwing up roadblocks to communication, which could just end up hurting him more. he's not being rational. miscommunication is frustrating from the outside because YOU can see what's wrong. he cannot. he's inside the maze, and you're watching it from above. that's a decision i made, and i stand by it. i'm sorry if you do not, but either you trust my process or you don't.

3) you take a million years to update so are we expected to wait for them to talk about this in fucking 2030 or what

(now we're getting into the thick of it): let me preface this by saying that i am so grateful for my patrons. they make life so much easier, and make it possible for me to spend time doing what i love. but the fact of the matter is that i cannot live off my patreon. not even close. if i did, in a standard US work day, i'd be making $0.48 an hour. that's not feasible. therefore, i have to do other things in my adult-ass life to keep myself afloat, which means i can't spend eight hours a day writing fic.

furthermore, if i want this fic to be any good, which it clearly is since you're upset that you're not getting faster updates, i need to dedicate time and care to the chapters. it's something i care about, and it's gonna take time. i don't have a lot of time to give, so it takes a longer time for chapters to come out. i'm so sorry, i wish i could set aside more time to write all the time, but i cannot. i imagine it's very similar for other fic writers.

4) your quality of writing has dropped in the last few chapters, nothing makes sense to me which means YOUR quality of writing is going down. i'm not trying to discourage you though, i think you're just trying to push out too much content. feel free to delete this if you didn't find it encouraging.

telling a writer that their writing is getting worse is, in fact, not encouraging. i was so proud of the last few chapters, because i was working through the ugliest feelings in a horrible and complicated conflict, and managed to keep multiple perspectives in mind while i did it. i worked hard on them, and i was so sure of myself when i put them out. and this comment made me feel like shit. i cried about it in my car. if i was proud of it but it actually sucked so badly that it was worth an entire essay telling me how bad it was, am i a good writer at all? maybe i should delete the last few chapters. maybe i should just stop writing for this fandom, because i'm losing touch with the characters.

thankfully i had friends to reassure me, and hundreds of other comments to reread to remind me that my work is loved. but man, i crashed out HARD after that one. so no, it wasn't encouraging. and telling me i can "delete it if i want" is disingenuous, because deleting the comment wouldn't erase the mark that the words left on me. i still had to see it. i still questioned myself for hours.

i will note that one of my friends went to reply to that comment after seeing how upset i was, and ended up being called my 'attack dog' for her trouble. i am so grateful to have people in my life who go out of their way to look out for me. being rude to them for trying to point out plot points you might have missed and for addressing callous behavior is kinda showing your ass.

in sum:

if you think your comment might hurt someone's feelings, don't leave it. unless a fic author has ASKED for feedback, don't give feedback. if an author says "please comment" that doesn't mean spend four paragraphs telling them why they suck, and you know it. they're asking to know how the words made you feel, or what you think might come next. they're asking you to love the characters with them, not to blast them for slightly different interpretations (because interpretation of character comes from lived experience, and we all have different lived experiences).

i am not a content farm. i'm a writer. i'm passionate about what i write about, and have intention for everything i write. i also have a limited time to write in, so i can't churn out content like a breathing AI program. i can do my best, and that's it—both in terms of time and quality. and i really think that i gave my best. i'm sorry if you disagree, but please don't tear me down in the one arena that is my fastest way to find joy. the world is hard enough without this being ruined for me.