#also this snippet is seriously first drafty

[longeyelashedtragedy]

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

anon, sorry for the delay! after my interview yesterday i got super busy unexpectedly, but thank you for all your emoji prompts!

truth or dare ask game link

🍬 post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character let's see if i can come up with a new answer than the one i gave yesterday...idk...I have no real beef with trent alexander-arnold personally, but i can't figure out why he is so popular in fics?

❄️ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? well, it's about time i shouted out @protect-daniel-james here. this fic would be so hard to do, i think, though she works miracles regularly, but it would be amazing to see some frank sr/harry redknapp one-sided pining or brief awkward "we're just drunk" hookup, perhaps when the kids are little?

🦋 share something that has been on your heart and mind lately i really want to become less inhibited in my writing. i'm pretty...uninhibited in what i think about, but i have a shyness about putting it in writing. that frustrates me, because i want to contribute to more "interesting" fics in fandom. but i've always had this problem!

🎨 link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

i can't link it because it's...disappeared, but i have it saved. it's this šejan fanart by artist esparafuso:

it's just very...passionate and tender and hot, and the tattoo details are A++++, and it's just. agggh. RIP this ship

🧩 what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? i answered that here!

📚 what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

declan's first appearance in a fic:

The dining room is starting to clear out, but it’s one of those days where Aaron isn’t nearly bouncing out of his seat while eating, so Ben’s stayed with him.  How could he not.

Aaron flicks Ben’s cheek with a finger.  It’s a sharp feeling.  “Whatcha thinking, Benjamin?”

“I was thinking that you’ve been so calm today, but I think I’m changing my mind.”  He rubs his cheek and makes a face at Aaron.  

“Georgina’s always threatening to slip some pills into my breakfast,” Aaron says.  “Maybe today she did.  I’ll check when I get home.”  He stands up.  “Need to take a piss, wanna come?”

Ben gives him a Look, but the seriousness of it is broken by the kind of big smile that Aaron always makes happen.  “No.”

“Boring.  Okay, I’ll meet you back here.”

But as soon as Aaron walks away, Declan appears, sitting right down in Aaron’s chair.  Ben thinks: all the other chairs are empty too.

“Hey,” Ben says.  Declan’s fine, but these moments alone with Aaron at training are starting to feel like a rare thing he needs to collect, like a special-edition product he needs to stock up on before it sells out.  “What’s up?”

Declan looks serious.  “I was talking with B, and it made me think.  I wish you’d be joining us on international break.”

[green-socks]

Oooh! What is "Nightmare Soulmates"? Is that the one you mentioned the other day?

Yeah I have talked to you about this at some point at least, but I don't remember when! Pretty sure at this point there is no wip I haven't told you about lol😂 Except maybe the one I started on the weekend...

Anyway, to sum up! It's a hangster soulmate AU with the premise that soulmates have a Soulmate Dream (TM) that they share, except for these two it happens to be a nightmare. Not very pleasant, but at least they have each other. And there's also the thing of them having known each other for years and kinda wanting to be together but no soulmate dream ever came so they're like ok fuck everything then. A lot of bullshit about the universe not feeling they were ready etc etc. But they ARE soulmates!!!! I'm a big fan of soulmate stories where they want to be soulmates even before it gets confirmed so that's what I'm going with here.

I have a lot of things to say in this fic and I'm taking it wayyy too seriously which is why it's taking me forever to write😂🙈

A very first drafty snippety snippet:

Jake was no stranger to nightmares. You didn't get to be the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill without having seen some shit. And even though he was proud of his job, and it wasn't like him to be afraid, all those things left a mark. But this one was different. This one was so much worse.

[anakinsthot]

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

From this ask game:

Ugh this was so hard! But I think it's this one:

“I still want you all back, just so you know,” he speaks softly as he watches the bees crawling around the entrance to their hive. “You might be doing ok for now, but this is a terrible place for bees to live in the winter. The new box I got for you, on the other hand, would be lovely.” He pauses for a few moments, just watching the little things fly around in inscrutable patterns. “I’m even going to insulate them, it’ll be really nice. Much better than a drafty old barn that’s probably going to fall down anyways.”

The bees continue to fly in patterns he can’t discern. This close to the hive their buzzing is a quiet, constant, background noise. Sighing, Anakin drops to the ground and leans heavily against the fence. The wood creaks ominously as his weight settles against the board, but it holds.

“I don’t know if Obi-Wan is keeping you guys just because he doesn’t like me or because you were Qui-Gon’s, but hopefully he’ll come around soon,” Anakin reaches out to a worker bee that’s crawling on one of the bluebells he’d planted weeks ago. As she steps onto his finger he lifts her to eye level. “Go tell your sisters that my place is much nicer, ok? I don’t know if you care, but it’ll be warm enough and you’ll have enough food available that you wouldn’t even have to kick out the drones.” He says seriously. Anakin’s not sure this is a great argument. He’s read that hives always leave the relatively useless drones outside to freeze in the winter; but it’s the best he can come up with in the moment.

I think this is the first time we see Anakin sit down and just take a breath. He's always doing something or planning something. And now he's sat and is actually just watching the bees.

Also Anakin talking to a lil bee is really cute.

[nervousladytraveler]

👀

end of year WIP meme!

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

Thanks for asking! @veryflowerobservation 

This is the first bit of a Poldark fic, focusing on an older Henry (and another character mentioned briefly in the novels that won’t get introduced until later). It’s a sort of play on A Little Princess and the main action takes place around Christmas.  Maybe I’ll have it done by Christmas 2021. ❤️❤️

---

Shadows of Love

London, December 1831

Henry Poldark hadn't given much thought to his neighbour the first few weeks he was in residence. Colonel Burnsteade was a quiet man, with a kind smile, who when passed on the stairs would grow from sleepy to animated-- his rheumy eyes lit up in an instant and he’d nod an effusive “Good day, good day, Sir”--but Henry hadn't ever found a proper opportunity to speak to him. He’d been busy getting settled into his rooms and procuring his books and clothes, the latter task he'd relegated to his Aunt Caroline who took the job quite seriously.

“While I shall never grow bored with the business of choosing ribbons and gowns for my own daughters, they have households of their own now and I must be judicious in how often I visit and just what I can impose upon them. And poor Dr Enys no longer allows me to fuss as he once did--only every now and then do I get to slip in to replace an old coat of his. So you see, my dear boy, dressing a young man is a novelty for me! It would be an honour and a diversion, as well as something I can say I'm doing for your beloved parents,” Caroline Enys had explained one afternoon right before she whisked him away to a tailor who had a reputation of being both respectable and fashionable.

It wasn’t until Henry’s mother arrived in London that Colonel Burnsteade seemed to become a fixture in his life and that seemed to happen overnight, for once he’d been introduced to Lady Poldark, the Colonel visited Henry’s rooms at regular intervals.

Henry’s mother, Lady Demelza Poldark, had that effect on people. Henry had learned this when he was quite young. In fact her charisma had once saved their lives when they were desperately fleeing France. He’d been not more than a babe at the time and couldn’t really recall the details of the ordeal--and the version his sister Bella told had become so highly embellished over the years and seemed to focus upon a heroic performance of La Marseillaise. Henry never spoke of it to anyone, but he had some memories of his own--feelings really, that over the years had been interwoven with love--a recognition of the enchanting diplomacy his mother had employed at the time. It had been palpable and memorable. 

Now a woman in her sixties, she still held considerable charm. It wasn’t that she appeared younger than her years--which she did--but her allure made one think youth was irrelevant, useful only in comparison to something or someone else. And why would one compare this woman to any other when she was in the flesh, present and alive? Henry thought about how his mother’s spirit seemed to keep his father younger too--or at least active and moving and not playing the part of a doddering old man. It hadn't occurred to him that the Colonel and his own father were quite probably of equal age.

“The Colonel seems quite taken with you, my dear,” his father had teased his mother after they’d had tea with the man in the elegant parlour Henry’s landlady kept for her more esteemed guests. It occurred to Henry that he’d heard this exchange between his parents before. His father's eyes twinkled, his mother brushed away his words like a pesky fly.

“He seems a good soul. There’s warmth there but tis in reserve. P’rhaps there’s still a hurt after all these many years?” his mother had proposed. She was observant of these nuances in the nature of others and was seldom mistaken.

“Again my love, you prove an excellent judge of character. Yes, Colonel Burnside did have some tragedy in his youth. A ward died while in his care--he’d been off on a military mission...the battle of Laswari...and had left her in the care of a parsimonious governess,” his father explained.

“And?” Demelza asked her eyes wide with horror.

“It was a drafty old manor, the child was ill fed and, well, you can imagine how easy it would be to fall ill,” Ross had responded grimly.

“And this neglectful governess? What became of her?” his mother pressed on.

“She remains at the family estate still--she’s the Colonel’s own sister. She's stayed on as caretaker though she must be quite old by now,” his father mused.

“That explains why he prefers to be alone amongst strangers in London! Oh Henry, you must be sure to call on him when you have the time,” she cried.

“Yes, Mama,” he laughed. He’d come to London to finish his education and to make useful professional acquaintances. And he was also meant to enjoy all the frivolities expected of a young man of his means and station. Yet Henry Poldark wasn’t being untruthful when he promised his mother that he’d attend to the old gentleman neighbour. He would never lie to her, for if he ever dared, he was quite certain she’d see through him at once.

[broomsticks]

oooh heck yeah!! 23, 38, 39, &/or 30? (if you like, no pressure re: any of these!!) <3<3<3

from this fic writer ask game!

:D hellooooo thank you for playing!! oh eep some tough ones hahaha

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

unreliable narrator, if that counts as a trope? it’s so fun.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

seriously i thought i was a 7-8ish, but after seeing some of y’all’s mayonnaise-jar-eating chaos i think i might be... maybe a 4? i might have plunny fragment ideas scattered across 8 different docs—that are not the fractionally drafted/plotted fics—with no rhyme or reason as to how they’re organized, but at least i do not have a single Untitled document 😂😂😂

i do write in total lowercase though imsorry, sentence caps is one of the last things i do.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

characterization? canon details? i don’t care that much about actual canon compliance (malicious canon compliance is where it’s at 😈), but especially for the fics i’ve written (/am writing) based off other people’s fics, working in nods and callouts and themes/motifs is always fun and it’s the MOST lovely thing to hear that i got their fic/characters!

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

ahhh big big big ahhhs about sharing my drafty messes hahaha, but, have this context-free and also capitalization-free... thing XD

“here, monday’s runes notes,” lily drops a sheaf of parchment in remus’ lap, flicks a quick glance around, and presses a quick kiss to his brow. “are either of you free the last friday before break?” she asks. “potions society’s invited ((random name)) to come speak—i know, potions, but slughorn’s not that bad, honestly, and the canapes are good!” peter exchanges a glance with remus. lily takes the pause as permission to continue: “it’ll be interesting! she’ll be discuss—” “no,” says remus, flatly, “thank you lily,” but there’s a smile in his eyes. “pete?” she asks hopefully. “i’ve got plans,'' says peter, “quidditch practice,” and gives her his most beatific smile. it’s no secret he hates flying — he’ll listen to james talk game strategy any day, but he’d been mysteriously sick every flying class and they’d given up after the first term. “you’re terrible,” she declares, walking off, tossing over her shoulder, “you’re both terrible.” “love you too, lily!” hollers james from overhead. peter sprawls out belly down on the grass, wriggles his elbows about to make himself comfortable. he longs to kick off his shoes, but he has no idea when james and sirius will have enough and want to go back in. they could be five minutes more, or two hours, no one can tell. “what’re you reading?” remus asks. peter holds up his chess magazine. it’s obvious enough from the diagrams, but remus is only working up to something, peter knows — peter is the dress rehearsal. he discreetly taps the game playing out on the page to pause it and idly scans the advertisements on the facing page.