#ma-sulevin

[heroofshield]

10, 14, 23 for Zea please!

@anderfels

10. Does Rook know their history? Do they know of the HoF, Hawke, the Inquisitor?

Vaguely.

Zea dealt with a lot of nobles from Antiva so she knows of the Montilyet's and that one of their relations was an advisor to the Inquisitor. She also asked Harding what it was like working for the Inquisitor before meeting them so she could have some understanding of them.

She also heard rumors that the Warden Queen of Fereldan managed to find a cure for the Blight and how she & King Alistair have a five year old, but they're just that- rumors.

She's also heard a lot of stories about Marian Hawke from Varric, how her red hair and sass remind him of her. She'd asked Varric to tell her some stories of his time in Kirkwall that hadn't gone into the book, but he always put it off with a 'once we track down Solas.' He never did get around to it.

14. What does Rook see when they look in the mirror?

Freckles all over her face and shoulders with short red hair (better to fight and treasure hunt with). Tanned skin from being in the sun all day and a fading tattoo on her shoulder/arm that reminds her of how far she's come.

23. What does Rook wear in the off hours? Do they like dressing up?

When not in the field she'll wear semi-loose clothing, the more breathable in Rivian's tropical climate the better. She's fond of 'harem pants' (she likes the feel of the silk against her legs) as well as sleeveless tops (to show off her muscles and tattoo).

As the Lighthouse, it's whatever is clean. More often than not it's some form of leggings, a loose tunic that laces at the top, and sandals so she doesn't stub her toes again

[mythalsknickers]

the religious prompts and solavellan tho....

❝ i begged for a miracle. instead, i got you. ❞

screaming. anyway, happy friday!

Title: A Faded Crestwood Pairing: Solas x Fen'aslan Lavellan Rating: T Word Count: 1146 Author Note: Thank you so much for your prompt, I hope you enjoy this, I have been toying around with my own variation of Crestwood for awhile now. @dadrunkwriting

Adamant Fortress laid in ruins, yet the fade was a comforting embrace on days that took too much from her. Something deep inside her had turned her blood to ice and twisted like a knife between her ribs. Yet, in the fade she was under trees older than the world, and darker than the night sky. Wolves howled in the distance begging for her to hunt. As she focused on the deeper currents of the fade, she could feel him, a certain elven apostate.

The fade rippled but she did not take the plunge to join him, her little corner was warm, it reminded her of something but she could not fully recall it. Vhenan the fade around her shuddered as the word reached her dreams. Opening her eyes she came face to face with the pale blue eyes of Solas. "Vhenan?" she murmured, the fade had changed around them. It had grown colder, a mist had covered the ground and a pair of great harts overlooked the glade, the water she laid in was unnaturally blue. Taking his hand, she rose from the water slowly. "Ma serannas, I did not mean to intrude." A finger found her lips briefly replaced with a slow and tender kiss.

"You are welcome here, Vhenan." His eyes held a tenderness to them she had not seen from him yet, their fingers lacing together as he lead her to the banks. "I called you here to tell you the truth..." Her eyes met his again and her brows knitted as he seemed to be stumbling over the words. "T-the Vallaslin, in ancient times they were used to mark the slaves of nobles and the gods." His lips pursed and she felt his hands tighten, but he was no longer looking at her. Her eyes narrowed for a moment and the temperature around them dipped, ice starting to form on the grass.

"What aren't you telling me Solas, aside from another thing the dalish got wrong?" His grip on her hands tightened and there was a subtle shift in his eyes to the purple that happened when she challenged him. "The dalish did get one thing right, they made you Vhenan..." Her lips thinned as she took a breath, creators or ancestors she needed some strength to deal with this man.

Creators, Sileal was so stubborn. He could never tell her the plans. Her eyes widened as the memory drifted forward, gauze-like curtains and a warm breeze, someone playing a lute in the background as she and Solas stared down eachother. But that couldn't be possible, she born in the Tirashan and Solas was from the north, sure he was older than her but he could not be that old.

"I know a spell that can remove them, Vhenan if you wish." Her eyes focused back on Solas, the gauze-like curtains were gone, and they were back in the misty glade, had he not seen it? Her shoulders dropping. He was not going to tell her, but perhaps..if she agreed to what he wanted he would relent and tell her what he truly had wanted to. "I--" he breath caught as she took a breath. The Eyes of Fen'harel, that was what her Keeper's mentor had called them. They had been responsible for her isolation from her clan, and ultimately sending her to the conclave where she met her Vhenan.

You should not have left Las, we are in the middle of a war. Smoke filled her nose, but hope it burned bright in her chest, shining in her eyes. Her hand reached up to touch a soot and ash covered cheek, trailing into blood matted hair. "You are my Vhenan, Sileal. Just as Sulevin is your second. I go were you both go. I will not let you not feel my light because you fear what will happen!"

"I--I will agree, if you tell me what is really going on Solas." His eyes too had seemed distant for a moment before they refocused on her. For a moment they were knitted in confusion as if he was puzzling out what he just saw, was it something about her or had he like her witnessed a memory of the fade. Something was untangling deep in her. "Very well Vhenan." He sighed reluctantly taking her down to the ground pulling her into a slow and deliberate kiss.

His hands glowed a dim blue, coolness washed over her face, for a moment he looked as if tears where forming. "Ar lasa mala revas..." As the magic faded her head began to pound. Her face bare as her eyes wanted.

Three wolf pelts, blood spilling across a golden dais, chaos cutting celebration short, a pair of hands pulling her from the two she needed to be with. Las! he had screamed for her. Da'len you must sacrifice for the good of the people. The voice she had heard in her mind thousands of times as she was put into an uthenera chamber, fighting and struggling, tears streaming from her eyes. You will be bound to the wolf, and when the time is right you will know all.

"Vh--Fen'aslan!" Her eyes focused on him, raw and full of tears as she cradled her head. "Vhenan?" His voice softer as he gently removed her hands. "You must harden yourself--"

"NO SILEAL!" The words left her lips and Solas stumbled back, his eyes widening, tears forming in his eyes as they shifted more towards the true blue. "The Evanuris asked for a miracle!" The temperature plummeted as the lake began to freeze her screams turning to howls. "Instead they got us! They tortured us!" Sobs wracked her body, tears freezing to her cheeks.

"Vhenan..." there was a pause as he stood slowly creeping into the field of ice around her. "Las... Vhenan is it truly?" his voice sounded like a prayer, another sob tore through the clearing. His chest tightened as he reached out to touch her face. What had they done to her. Despair had long sank claws into her during the war but for it to have twisted. The wind and ice stilled as his fingers brushed away icy tears. "Las..." he murmured again. He pulled on the memory, hope filling scared and tired voices, the burning hope of seeing a fortress in the middle of the mountains. "You are hope, Vhenan."

The ice began to melt from the grass, the sobs continued, her body collapsing into the damp grass. "Sileal why?" His throat tightened as he pulled her into his arms, a millennia of her being gone that faithful night the best of them was taken. True names left their lips, the binding to say the names given to them by their friend gone. "They killed her Las...and I b--broke the world." Her head buried into his shoulder as the both cried.

[wardencommanderbrosca]

you want kiss prompts? alright, 31 or 46!!

Thank youuuu <3

31. neck kisses, for Merrill and my Hawke, Deacon

Deacon withdrew his sword from the viscera on the ground, another pleasant night in Lowtown interrupted by bandits. He ran the cloth over his blade, the blood washing away from it. Deacon reached for his face, relieved that the kaddis he smeared across his stayed intact. He turned to face his companions. "Is everyone all right?"

Merrill giggled, saying, "My goodness, that was exciting!"

Fenris gave a noncommittal grunt, which Deacon knew was as close to an enthusiastic yes as Fenris could get. Varric groaned and looked down at his chest. "Maker's breath, Hawke, the least you could do is avoid getting blood everywhere."

Deacon snorted out a laugh. "Forgive me, Master Tethras, for the fact my blade defending you led a spray of viscera. I'll be sure to let the next bandit gut you."

Deacon's friend chuckled. "And here I thought I was the comedian." The dwarf's complex crossbow folded shut, and he elbowed Fenris. "Come on, elf, you know the score. I got more than you, you're picking up the tab."

"You miscounted. There was the one you only hobbled. I had to finish him off."

"What? No, I--,"

Varric and Fenris' bickering faded into the night, the two walking away. Deacon turned to look at Merrill, opening his mouth to ask if she needed anything, and he froze.

Hawke never held the Maker or Andraste in any sort of esteem. However, as Merrill stood there, Deacon understood what people felt as they looked upon Andraste's splendor.

Merrill's hands and bare feet were coated in blood, some of it splattering onto her neck. Her form was almost otherworldly, the light of the moon gleaming on the ichor that stained and fueled her. As she returned the staff to its plane on her back, she used the remnants of blood magic to draw the viscera off of her. Deacon's heart skipped a beat, nostrils flaring, as he watched Merrill. Hungrily, his eyes danced over her lithe form, the blood hovering before her as she drained it into herself, cuts and bruises fading in an instant. Deacon was standing over her before he realized.

"Ma vhenan, are you well?" Merrill looked up at Deacon, eyes like oaken bark looking up at him. She looked so... vulnerable, soft. Regal and excitable as any princess, yet carrying more knowledge than any noble could. So guileless and yet so deadly. Deacon lifted her and held her against the wall of a dirty Lowtown alley, the tang of the blood coating them both an allure to Deacon. He planted a kiss on Merrill's neck, a soft, tantalizing thing. He ringed her neck in the kisses, and Merrill gasped. Deacon pulls away, and Merrill giggles. "Mythal'enaste, Deacon, what came over you?"

Deacon smiled and bowed. "You're never more enticing than when you have control of the battlefield, ma sulevin, never more enchanting than when your enchantments have been wrought."

"You are a dog, Deacon!" Merrill responded, smile spreading across her face.

"I'm Fereldan, so that fits," Deacon responded, and Merrill's laugh only makes Deacon feel more at home.

46. Kisses for Comfort: Balsis and Zevran

A string of Antivan curses crossed Zevran's lips before he could stop, pain shooting across his back and shoulder. He winced; it had been some time since he had weakened enough to let out even the smallest bit of pain. A skill well-learned at the hands of the Antivan Crows, controlling when you let someone know you were in pain; it certainly made seducing targets with more exotic tastes easier to seduce. The hurlock had hit him hard enough to dislocate his shoulder, and Zevran's usual tricks to pop it back in unseen were unsuccessful so far. Still, Zevran did not want him to worry unnecessarily.

A clanging sound approached his tent, and Zevran sighed. Andraste's Grace, how this Warden survived as a thief and criminal was beyond him. Zevran turned as he heard a rough cough. "You may come in, Tesoro."

The voice that followed in response was a low grumble, like (Zevran mused rather amused) stone rolling across stone. "I didn't want to intrude. Never really heard you yelp before, so I wanted to make sure you were okay?" The Warden still waited outside.

Zevran's jaw fell open. "I do not yelp! I bemoan, yes. Complain, oh, yes. Whimper, you have certainly made me do. But I simply do not yelp."

The bulky shadow of the Warden outside the tent shifted, and Zevran once again marveled at how one so tainted could be yet so innocent. The Warden replies, "My mistake, it must have been some other whiny man with a penchant for needling witches. Perhaps I should check on Alistair."

Zevran's body rewarded those words with a flash of anger and a churning stomach, yet it quickly passed. That was his Warden, indeed, able to rise to sparing with word as quickly as he was with axe and dagger, a wit grown sharper around Morrigan and Shale and, yes, Zevran himself.

This Warden took to handling haft and hilt expertly whenever it was time to spar.

Zevran grinned. "Get out of that armor first, then you may enter freely and of your own will."

With much scraping and crashing, the Warden eventually entered, dressed in a simple, sleeveless undershirt and loose trousers. He looked at Zevran and blushed, the rosy cheeks only making his brand and tattoo over the eye stand out more. Zevran was well aware of the effect he had on people, but it was still gratifying to see it shone through even the coverage of a thick, dark beard. The Warden entered, and his eyes alighted on Zevran's body... then they darkened with concern.

"What caused the yelp? And do not forestall me, for I have only your interests at heart."

Zevran sighed. "Letting Leliana teach you to read was a mistake, you are nearly as verbose as her."

Balsis snorted out a laugh, then said, "And I noticed you're still sitting down, you usually leap into my arms by now. So, what did you hurt."

Zevran's jaw sets. "It is nothing. An old injury in my shoulder."

"I can have Wynne--"

"No," Zevran snaps, "I do not need to be cradled like some child, Balsis. I have lived with it this long."

Balsis' eyebrows raise. "How long have you lived with it?" Zevran curses. Mierda, he was getting sloppy. Balsis reached toward him, then hesitated. Zevran began to turn, then Balsis said, "Stay put. If turning hurts, I'll get around to the back." Balsis circles to stand behind Zevran, and the assassin works to slow his breathing. The last person he trusted to be that close he spat on as a traitor.

Balsis didn't need to know that. Balsis said, "Maker's breath, Zevran. Your back..."

"The Crows, a wonderful gift of their training. Making sure we could resist torture. Chains, whips, decorative canes." Zevran laughed. "It almost sounds like some of my more fun targets."

Balsis fell silent, and then said, "Sodding bastards. They did this to you? As kids?"

"Kids, youths, sometimes a reminder as an adult," Zevran flippantly rattled off. "I have heard House Dellamorte is particularly fond of canes, but House Arainai was always more in favour of the rack. My shoulder's flexibility is that old friend's parting gift."

Balsis looks at the shoulder, and something guttural escapes his throat. Zevran's Dwarven is rusty, yet he believed he caught something about the Stone rejecting House Arainai's ancestors. Balsis says, "If you get your shoulder popped enough, it becomes easier. Give me a second, on the count of three..."

At the end of the count, Zevran feels the shoulder pop back in. As he went to shriek, Balsis plants a kiss on the top of Zevran's head, and Zevran melts slightly. Balsis tore away a strip of his cloth, making an improvised sling. "We can work on some exercises. Sword forms that aren't too stressful. Help strengthen that shoulder."

Zevran looks at Balsis with an appraising eye. "I did not realize you knew so much medicine."

"I got punched a lot in Dust Town, you learn to take a hit. Also, I nicked one of Wynne's books."

Zevran laughed. "Any other surprises, Ser Balsis?"

"Just a promise." Zevran's heart skipped a beat. "If we ever find the Crows that tortured you, I'll make them pay." Balsis kissed Zevran softly, gently, soothingly, and Zevran's scars began to feel less present.

[greentea13]

Goodbye NaNoWriMo

It's been a long time coming, but I've finally made up my mind to dissociate from NaNoWriMo. Honestly if I knew nothing about the drama and the many many underhanded things that the NaNoWriMo Board has been doing I might have been able to continue participating in NaNoWriMo with no worries. But knowing just how bad things have gotten and how the NaNoWriMo Board not only hasn't changed but seems to think they have done nothing wrong, I just can't...

I'm not going to delete my account (created in 2010, though I've been participating since 2004) since it has too much sentimental value to me, but I also will no longer be using it.

I also won't stop writing. For now I will probably follow the timeline of the Camp in April and July (which I use to write my outlines) and 50k in November. I just won't be using the NaNoWriMo web site, instead I will be using mywriteclub THIS spread sheet tracker created by @ma-sulevin for tracking my progress.

It's so sad things have come down to this. But the NaNoWriMo Board has been given so many chances already and I honestly don't see how things could improve at this point.

[thevikingwoman]

WIP Whenever

thanks for the tags @wickedwitchofthewilds and @galadrieljones!

I know I just tagged folks, but let's keep this going - so here we go again. What are you all working on? tags for @myreia @roguelioness @bearlytolerant @buttsonthebeach @a-shakespearean-in-paris @ma-sulevin @coldshrugs @scionshtola @lilas @galadae and tag-back for @wickedwitchofthewilds and @galadrieljones

working on FFXIV fic for Meryta and Emmanellain - M or E under cut

“It’s softer than I expected, I must confess,” he mumbles, and kisses her shoulder, the scales above her breast. He kisses her nipples next, and it’s no longer calming, lighting rushing through her veins with his sudden boldness. She arches towards him, an ache between her legs. She wants his hands there, or her own, and her pulls free from under her to wrap around Emmanellain’s arm. He startles and she almost want to apologize, but he lets out a low groan and continues exploring her body, every touch pulling moans from her.

[roguelioness]

wip un-wednesday?

Tagged by @thevikingwoman, @galadae and @myreia - thank you ♥

Tagging @wickedwitchofthewilds, @ma-sulevin, @kagetsukai, @bearlytolerant, @darethshirl, @galadrieljones, @karygurl, @redwayfarers, @impossible-rat-babies, @coldshrugs

you ever start writing something that just to prove to yourself you can write it? at this point this has become a spite project for myself anyway here's some alyzenos AU

It should be impossible for someone of his size to move so quickly. It should be impossible for anyone to move so quickly. In the time between heartbeats, she’s pressed up against a cliff, sharp edges digging painfully into her back, his fingers wrapped tight around her throat.  “Sheathe my sword,” he says calmly, and she wonders at his choice of words as she fumbles about, hand trembling as she struggles to find the slot that will house the weapon in its elaborate case. It takes a few tries before she succeeds, a soft schink as the metal slides home. “There,” she wheezes. “Now let me go, you asshole!” He returns his own blade to the scabbard leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world, undeterred by her frantic attempts to free herself. Hand now unoccupied, he stares down at her, taking in the sight of her in all her battered, bruised glory.  “You will do,” he remarks cryptically, before lowering his head and capturing her mouth with his. His tongue runs across her lips; there’s a sharp sting as the cut there reopens, and she tastes iron when he slides his tongue against hers.

[forlornmelody]

Playlist Tag Game

I was tagged by @alyssalenko. Thanks, friend!

Rules: post a screenshot or a list of your playlist titles and tag some friends. If you’re tagged, send op an ask about one of their playlists (you don’t have to tho).

Tagging: @joufancyhuh, @ma-sulevin, and @pigeontheoneandonly, if you want to play!

So making playlists is a favorite pastime of mine. Here's the most recent ones (that aren't in folders)

My Playlists

-Bodies Bodies Bodies

-Brown Bunies

-Voidpunk

-Outlaws

-Snowmelt

-We're Wearing The Pants Now

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

15qs, 15 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @morganlefaye79 :)

Are you named after anyone? Not technically. My mom just liked the name after hearing it in the news (it was marlon brando’s daughter’s name. Funnily enough we have similar ethnicities, which made being told “you’re name is country” in college high on the what the hell scale.)

When was the last time you cried? Wish I could say last Sunday when I saw Titanic. (Again.) Sadly it was Wednesday when a parent informed me her son couldn’t “connect” with me because I cried in class months ago, and how I dress. This is a twelve year old boy. I couldn’t even teach my first period class I was so frustrated. Thank god my instructional coach took over.

Do you have kids? No, but I certainly feel like I do when I leave my job every day.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Sarcasm is no language I speak /s

Whats the first thing you notice about people? Their voice. Definitely.

What’s your eye color? Chocolate brown.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, but I like bittersweet endings the best.

Any special talents? Crochet, writing. Tying a knot with a cherry stem in my mouth.

Where were you born? Texas.

What are your hobbies? Gaming, writing, walks, swimming, travel, crochet, reading.

Have you any pets? My dog Scarlett passed away last week :( she was 16 and we loved her a lot. Thankful though we did have her for so long.

What sports do you play/have you played? Golf as a kid, and pétanque as an adult.

How tall are you? Five eight.

Favorite subject in school? Was English and theatre, but I also loved history.

Dream job? Travel writer! 💜 not necessarily a writer who writes about traveling. Though that would be fun, but fiction writer who travels a lot 😂

Tagging @thevikingwoman @galadrieljones @wintersongstress @ashalle-art @charlatron @muses-circle @laelior @adventuresinastrangeworld @princessvicky01 @kemvee @jentrevellan @dismalzelenka @ma-sulevin @briarfox13 and anyone else!

[demawrites]

dema!!! for Niva x Solas, 'I will be watching for your enemies, to let them know that they contend with me'??

Thank you for the prompt lovely! A fun first foray into @dadrunkwriting

I will be watching for your enemies, to let them know that they contend with me

He haunts the edges of her life like a ghost.

Sometimes, in dreams, she catches a glimpse of him – a wolf's eyes peering at her in the dark, or a flash of movement between the trees – but in the waking world she is oblivious, believing herself alone. It is almost disheartening, how easy it is to convince her that he has vanished without a trace. That he’d abandoned her.

No, he did abandon her. But not wholly.

His power traces over the stones of Skyhold like fingertips. He has eyes and ears everywhere, lurking behind masks and mirrors, in inquisition livery, in merchants’ carts, in petitioners with pretenses of kissing a new Divine’s ring. It is disheartening how completely his former companions trust the spies in their midst, how guileless they are, how unsuspecting. All but Niva, who casts her furtive glances at every shadow, who always seems to find him, even without knowing. (His Niva, he thinks, ever perceptive, and forever a mere breath away from the truth.)

Her eyes meet his across a distance, then skirt away.

It is disheartening, but he cannot blame her; he is wearing another’s face.

Even his acolytes do not know him in this shape. Neither Fen’harel nor Solas, but some elf mercenary in drab leathers and mud-spattered boots and an ill-fitting helm that covers him from forehead to chin. He looks exhausted and waifish, among so many who have come to his fortress seeking shelter. Just another mouth in a sea of them. No-one spares him a thought, least of all the Inquisitor, who loops her arm through her Commander’s and scales the steps to the keep. He watches them for longer than he should. Catches her looking, brows furrowed, over her shoulder at the crowd.

It is an effort to remind himself that he has a purpose, here.

One of Leliana’s scouts passes too closely, colliding with his shoulder, and amidst the perfunctory apologies and admonitions he finds a scrap of paper pressed into his palm. Solas scratches at his forearm, slipping the paper beneath the leather straps there, and ambles off to a cellar where he knows he won’t be disturbed. There are two elves inside; his. When he removes his helm, letting his features flicker a moment, they startle.

"Ara seranna-ma, we did not know you, ser."

He inclines his head. Without being bid, they collect their things and make for the hallway.

"Sulevin ghilana hanin," they whisper at the door, and he repeats it distractedly, frowning at the note in his hand. At the name, scrawled in hasty script.

Abernache.

He stares at it for a long moment, a silverite gleam rippling across his gaze, before he crumples the paper in a fist and casts it into the nearby hearth. When he looks up, his expression is hard as ice, and twice as cold. Intercepting the noble’s retinue on the road from Skyhold would be a simple enough matter – he needn’t dirty his own hands. But given the nature of the crimes, Solas finds himself inclined to make an example. After all, there is one thing the enemies of the Inquisition must be made to understand:

Anyone who dares to threaten the Inquisitor will find themselves at the mercy of the Wolf.

[heroofshield]

@ma-sulevin

im not defending myself against a vampire. suck away gorgeous

[heroofshield]

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

tagged by @vorchagirl

tagging @caesarclowningaround @ma-sulevin @alyssalenko @paperairplanesopenwindows @cassiesinsanity @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton

[mythalsknickers]

Wip Wednesday

I am self tagging myself, but I did take part of this ages ago. So here is my current WIP, it is a Prequel of Ma Nas, Ma Las, Ma Ghilan. I Hope you enjoy

The descent from the heart of the Palace complex, was quiet the people's song lifting her dark thoughts, and the thought of her Sileal and Sulevin holding her as they danced and celebrated, it quickened her heartbeat and flushed the tips of her ears with a warmth. The faint song of the wards reached her ears, she shivered, and her dress fluttered as they stepped through. For a moment there was a resistance, it pulled her back to the sanctum and then as quickly as it had come it was gone. Even the most devoted of the Mother stopped and stared at her small procession, some reached out to touch her, their admiration felt foreign and odd. Yet as the continued the second set of ward let her pass with not so much of a protest. Her own magic wove around her in a display much akin to breathing; a delicate, iridescent metal diadem formed. Chains of opals and clear crystal dangled from it, as it framed her cheekbones suspending the sheer silken veil. The Diadem of the Senior priestess, the Mother had insisted, having the metal shaped and the veil sewn by the finest of her craftspeople. No different then Sileal's golden leaf armor or Sulevin's sentinel plate. The last ward fell away and her feet graced the Journey of Divine and whispers fell over the petitioners, and those graced with the attendance of the Celebration. She could feel their eyes on her, and her gaze lifted to the Ascension of the Divine, it was not far.

I am tagging whoever would like to take part.

[thevikingwoman]

Writer tag game

Tagged by @a-shakespearean-in-paris thank you, these are fun questions

Do you write in order?

Mostly. I sometimes skip parts I'm not sure about, and in some circumstances I write a scene I just need to get out of my head and then write the rest of the story after.

I can't jump too much around though, as I will loose focus.

Do you start with something in particular?

As in inspiration? Mostly it's just - I want these blorbos in situations. Sometimes with a dash of horny ;).

How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try?

This really depends. Usually pretty well formed, if I'm very excited about it. Some times it's just, notes, if I need to get past it. I try to make it as formed as possible -- I get a little stuck if it doesn't feel right? Which maybe I shouldn't, but I like writing better when I have the scene worked out.

How many drafts do you go through?

Hmm, usually I write something, goes through it once or twice, then a final re-read and then I post it. So 4ish? I don't change too much the last time. Sometimes I just go through it once, get impatient and posts.

In all cases, I will be sure to find spelling mistakes or missing words the next day.

Tell me about your process?

I just? have an idea, and then I think about it for a week or five, and then I open a document and write a bit of it. Then I poke at it for many more weeks and eventually it gets done.

I also tend to write ideas down in a notebook form, if I'm not ready to write them yet.

and for OCs, I sometimes do timelines and backgrounds etc to figure out what goes on.

For longer stories, of which I only have a few, the "shopping list" outlining and the 7-point structure has worked well for me (no links, but from @the960writers blog)

tagging @galadrieljones @barbex @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @roguelioness @ma-sulevin @coldshrugs @myreia

[roguelioness]

fanfic writer bingo

Saw this floating around and wanted to give it a try! Tagging @thevikingwoman @myreia @karygurl @wickedwitchofthewilds @coldshrugs @ma-sulevin @kagetsukai @impossible-rat-babies @gefiltefished and anyone else interested!

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[forlornmelody]

Six Sentence Saturday

Caught up with my tags, so I thought I start another one!

Tagging: @citadelsushi, @ma-sulevin, and @pigeontheoneandonly if you want to play.

This snippet is a scene I started today from my fic, Outlaws. You can find the first two chapters here.

---

“You teamed up with Scarecrow!?” Ivy shrieks. The van swerves. Rose jerks awake, her arm bumping into Jason’s.

“Ivy–” Jason starts to say–

“Scarecrow!?” she says, louder this time. Before anyone can say anything, Ivy continues. “That motherfucking, narcissistic, patronizing asshole. You teamed up with him?” 

“Look, I know it was a mistake–”

She manages a sniffle. “I thought I was your favorite.”

[foofygoldfish]

Zoom was the SHIT. I still remember the zip code for Boston lmao

!!!!!!!!

i'd look for a gif but zoom has such a different meaning now lmao

god, i remember wanting to do all of the different science experiments in the show back in the day, they all seemed so fun