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hoochieblues · 3 years

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100 Days of Writing: Day 10

Tell us about ideas you have floating around. Worldbuilding snippets, or ideas for new stories. Just a few bullet points.

for @the-wip-project

ehhh.... making myself accountable and WIP except under the cut.

Things I’m doing/thinking rn may include....

like a totally normal person, reduxing, finishing and getting ready to rerelease the original f!Tabris novelisations that got me into DA fandom in the first place ~800 years ago. Now with screen reader compatibility, sundry tweaks and canon divergence, and about 44% more politics, wet socks, and pickled eggs. My heart will always be Fereldan.

alienage stories that have lived in my head rent-free for ages (so. much. tabris. backstory), plus my hc Adaia needs her own screen time and I don’t want to be cheap and file off her numbers for an original story when this world fits so well.

finishing my hiatus’d DA2 Handers fic, wherein my thoughts on Justice and mage politics have shifted a bit in response to Bioware’s treatment of canon... not saying anymore rn to avoid spoilers, but I have so much more Anders I want to write. Also, my poor Hawke needs to address his issues bc he’s still a hot mess.

I’d love to do a modern AU at some point. I adore how Anders is such a fluid character (in all senses) - there’s not a time period or setting he doesn’t work in bc so many of the character concepts are universal, but I kinda want early 80s London/NYC young Anders burning down Thatcher-era Met policing and growing up to be a mentor to young activists in a world where we never actually had to argue for the repeal of Section 28 or the destruction of a Tory state....

Things involving my poor neglected Adaars, and the DA RPG OCs I’ve been sitting on since treating myself to the handbook at birthday time.

hc explorations of blood magic as more than ‘baaaad!’. C’mon Bioware.

One totally self indulgent thing I’ve been doing to sort out finishing the Great Mass of Unfinished Fic is to let myself write the what ifs and au versions of what might happen at the end of the FoD series (but likely won’t/can’t, at least not then) and just play with them in a loose, fun format.

Not sure if it’s a good thing to be writing the au to your own fic, but somehow it involved ending up with some fun character studies and possibilities. For example... Riordan outranks both Alistair and the Warden. What if he puts his foot down and conscripts Loghain, reasoning that the political symbolism of the Hero of River Dane joining the Wardens outweighs their personal vendetta, but not appreciating the fallout it’s going to cause?

Behold, an excuse for Warden x Alistair fleeing to Rivain. But can you outrun what you become?

On the Verge of a World Profound (WIP)

The pyres will be burning in Denerim by now. The wind is brisk, and coming from the southwest, but it doesn’t carry the sting of ash on it. Out here, in fact, it almost seems as if the world’s normal. The ship skims the waves, sleek and fast, and the water glimmers like molten gold beneath the pool of a rising sun that seems to have burst out of the sea like a jewel. It’s beautiful, and it smells fresh and free, the salty air fringed with the bitter oaken tang of ropes and wood, and the creak of the rigging.

For one guilty moment, Alistair realises he’s thinking of Redcliffe. It smells the same, almost. He recalls the lake, the fishing dories, and scrambling up onto the castle’s parapets to watch the boats come in and the people gut and pack the catch on the quayside in the village below. He used to get into trouble for climbing across the roof of the kennels… but he used to get into trouble for pretty much everything, so there was nothing new there. Lake Calenhad was fresh water, though. There was never such a sharp smell on the breeze, and it didn’t have the rough lolling of the ocean waves about it.

Speaking of which, he glances at Merien, and she’s still got a death grip on the wooden rail that runs along the side of the ship’s deck, although at least she’s standing up now. She looks thin and sick, and her knuckles are clenched peaks against the wood as she stares at a fixed point on the horizon, her mouth a tightly folded line. They’ve been up here all night, not because Isabela didn’t offer them a cabin, but because Meri can’t handle going below, and he wasn’t about to leave her on her own. She isn’t one of nature’s seafarers, but there’s something else that’s weighing heavier on both of them than that.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Everything about this is just plain wrong. They were supposed to fix things, not steal out into the dark like they were the ones who’d done something to be ashamed of.

Oh, yes, they’re running away. That’s essentially what this is. It’s the act of a pair of cowards, which is almost sort of funny—in a darkly ironic, not-at-all-funny-in-the-slightest kind of way—because Alistair could have sworn it was the opposite of cowardice that got them into this mess. It was that whole thing where you stand up for what’s right, and what you believe in and know to be just… and he thought that was what Grey Wardens were meant to do. Except he was wrong. Apparently. He sees that now, and he sees what a fool he is, and how stupid he’s been this whole time. Huh. Maybe he should have listened more to all the people who kept calling him that.

The only real consolation is that he’s not alone, which both is a consolation, and also makes everything so much worse, because he knows this is all his fault.

#100daysofwriting #writeblurble #cries gently #inveterate scribbler #idk if i should run w this but at least i had fun

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