hyperfixation-writings

[hyperfixation-writings]

i wanted to do something based on that deleted “chores” scene and i changed some of the dialogue a bit in order to fit this being a comic as well as try to fit it to what the finalized characters ended up like (and obviously bruno’s name)

[hyperfixation-writings]

Encanto concept fic, fix it fic

not pairing specific, but pre-movie (bc basically rewriting the past bc nobody should have family trauma, starting with abuela)

the reader is at the age of the triplets and it's set a couple years before Bruno disappears into the walls, only Camilo and Isabela having been born yet

***

Reader comes to the Encanto alone, marvels at the gifts of the madrigal family (obviously), quickly integrates into the community

after some months there's a celebration at the madrigal house (triplet birthday?)

but while the entire town celebrates, there's an earthquake which accidently knocks over the miracle candle...

... right into your hands. And the candle burns brighter than ever, much to the confusion of everyone. There are gasps around and as you look up, there's the conflicted gaze of Alma, who doesn't understand what it means because this was the miracle that was for her family, and her family alone?

So she struggles with the situation, meanwhile there are whispers in the background, and Reader gets self-concious and places it back but the harm has been done

Then, a hushed "Dios mio!" as people look up at the casita, and see a new brightly lit outline of a possible door, the doorknob waiting to be touched to manifest into a physical door.

The Madrigals are simply too stunned to speak but the town quickly decide that it's your right to be there and get your own miracle.

Neither Alma nor the triplets make a move to stop you, so you touch the handle and open the door that has now your name engraved in it.

Your gift... is about the arts? Maybe being extraordinarily blessed in producing arts: crafting statues, painting pictures and people, writing poems, maybe even giving speeches. it simply seems to always hit the mark when you produce it, but it's a gift that doesn't seem to have the same use like the madrigal kids' ones (they're war kids, so all their powers could be used in a fight or a war against the enemy: seeing into the future, healing their own troops and changing the weather to make it harder for them to attack)

So when all is said and done nobody knows how to deal with it, and you just go home, and decide not to loiter in the Madrigal's home.

There's a small riot in the community, too, after the incident. Some people demand to have access to the Miracle candle as well, and after long discussions and weeks of nerve-wracking nights, Alma opens the doors to her home again and lets everyone try and get a gift. Nobody else is blessed, no new door appears, no sudden magic happens, and Alma is secretly relieved, having to deal with only one new person in her house that is decidedly not family, but who is at least friendly enough.

Obviously the situation needs addressing, so over the course of the story you have the Reader interacting with the kids, understanding them, even befriending them.

Even Alma warms up the the Reader.

One summer evening you're telling another night story to the kids (at this point just isabela and camilo) about love and hardships.

It's an old story that your mother used to tell before she died. The story is titled Dos Oroguitas, and is about a couple who is meant to be together, but encounter hardships and keep fighting for their love. In the end they have to decide between fighting an evil witch that is specifically hunting the couple down, or running til the end of their lives, always in fear of being found again. They know the risks, but together they fight the witch, and a spell hits them. They have a split second, looking at each other, bittersweet smile painting their lips, reliving their lives together, how they met, happy memories, watching their kids grow older, all while holding onto their loved one's hand for their life.

Their love for another protects them from the fatal blow that was intended, and instead transforms them into Dos Oroguitas; stunned at the failed spell the witch can get killed by another person. The kids, teenagers and young adults actually, have a hard time dealing with the new reality, and carefully try to keep the two caterpillars - their parents - alive. One day they cocoon and the kids know they will have to let go of them, and when two beautiful butterflies erupt, they tearfully say their goodbyes to their parents. Almost in synchronism, the two butterflies sit down on both cheeks of the kids, lazily beating their colourful wings softly against them before moving onto the next kid, giving them hope that somewhere deep down their parents' love for them has survived. So they let them go and watch them fly away into the sunset together.

As the Madrigal kids listen to your story intently, they calm down but don't get sleepy like they usually do, and instead watch you with big eyes, moved by the story.

Something you hadn't noticed was the Madrigal elder, who had slipped into the children's room when she had coincidentally picked up on the name of your story, and a compulsion had led her to listen your night time story.

A barely muffled sob escapes Abuela, and you startle from your own trance while telling the story, only to soften your gaze as you take in the constant stream of tears on the woman's face.

Somehow you wrangle the two kids to sleep, and you notice Abuela seems a lot softer around you.

That night Abuela asks you to join her for a drink, and she explains her reaction to the story - how her husband had always called her his Oroguita, and how the story just seemed to hit very close to home with the war, and fleeing.

You talk about your time before the Encanto, and how your mother used to tell you this story, and that she used to be a great storyteller, too. You tell her of the couple that had inspired the Oroguita story, and through more intense talk, you actually figure out that Alma and Pedro are the couple that inspired your mother to come up with the story.

After a long night of talking, Alma finally softly welcomes you to the family and her home, but you part ways since you still don't live at the casita.

Back at your house you go through your mother's old diaries and find some entries that give hints that your mother used to be friends with Pedro before he left town to be with the woman he fell in love with.

You give Alma the diaries, certain that these stories would mean more to her than they would ever mean to you. She seems reluctant at first, doesn't want to intrude on a dead person's life and secrets that she will have undoubtedly put down in those books. To convince her you read a passage about Pedro, and how he used to make the fishermen of his hometown laugh and play pranks on them.

Abuela tears up at the story, never having heard of it before but remembering some details about the love of her life that she thought were long forgotten.

In the end she reads through all of the entries. She grows quieter during those weeks but emerges more loving and caring for her family, mourning for her lost lover but cherishing her family more than she ever.

She gets more defensive about her children's powers, openly picks fights with the villagers if they talk badly about Bruno, or if the moan about bad weather and how Pepa "can't seem to control herself".

She slows down Julieta, who has been cooking until late at night for the next day, always worried she doesn't make enough food for all the possible injuries.

She makes her kids, and their kids, understand that nothing will ever change how much she loves them, even if they produce bad prophesies (she looks at Bruno), bad weather (looks at Pepa), doesn't heal paper cut of one of the kids (looks at Julieta) or has a gift that doesn't seem as powerful or useful to the community (looks at the Reader).

She puts her family first, finally.

[hyperfixation-writings]

we’ve all heard of the NSFW alphabet, but what about a SOULMATE AU ALPHABET??

a...ging stops at 18 until you find your soulmate so the two of you can grow old together.

b...ody art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin).

c...olors (aka the standard soulmate au where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate and see colors).

d...amage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

e...sp (soulmates can sense one another’s presence and feel each other’s exact emotions even when miles away).

f...irst words/thoughts your soulmate says/thinks when seeing you are written on your skin.

g...uardian (it is said that the person who saves you from a near-death experience is your soulmate—drowning, car crash, etc.)

h...eartbeats (the soulmates share the same heartbeat—when one feels panicked, shocked, etc, the other can feel it too).

i...dentifier (a word or symbol which is imputed to your soulmate is somewhere on your body).

j...uxtaposition (your soulmate is the exact opposite of you, yet you find yourselves complementing one another).

k...eys and locks are randomly dispersed to soulmates on chains when they are born. when in proximity, the lock and key will act as magnets and bring the two soulmates closer together until the key is placed in the lock and a gratifying click is heard, unlocking the chain.

l...ast words your soulmate says are written on your skin, so you do not know it is them until they are gone.

m...arks or stains of the color black are somewhere on your body (palm of your hand, knuckles, knee) until you and your soulmate finally make physical contact. once the mark is touched, it fades to be consistent with the person’s skin color.

n...urse (the touch of a soulmate can heal you from affliction and vice versa).

o...pportune outfit (soulmates will eternally color coordinate, even if they have not met one another yet, and often times have similar patterns in their clothing).

p...assionflower (a type of flower soulmates have planted somewhere beneath their skin. Upon meeting their soulmate it will sprout through the skinand fully blossom as they reach the furthest point of their relationship. when a soulmate passes, the flower blooming from the other person does also).

q...uizzes revolving around one’s personal aspects, skills and ambitions are given to every person once they turn 18, and the results read who your soulmate is based off of your collective answers.

r...ed string bonds two soulmates together for a lifetime and all come in varying lengths—imagine the trouble of only being able to walk certain distances or having to sleep on the edge of your bed.

s...ongbird (any songs a person sings will get stuck in their soulmate’s head for the duration they decide to sing it).

t...imers are set on the wrist of every person once they are a certain age, slowly counting down until the day they meet their soulmate.

u...ndying (you and your soulmate must meet in order to end life—die—together. as long as you have not met them, you will continue aging yet remain immortal).

v...eiled (you and your soulmate must walk through life blind until running into one another by fate and finally gaining sight—those with no soulmate act as guides and help those in search of theirs).

w...riter’s choice (author can pick any au from the list to write).

x...FREE SPACE, the person who sent the prompt has the choice to make up an au or choose one from the list!

y...ellow fellow (colors of your vision changes depending on your soulmates mood. yellow is optimistic, green is envious, blue is upset, etc. and natural colors become present once the soulmates meet).

z...zz (in which soulmates first meet each other and share memories in their dreams before meeting each other in person—sometimes difficult to accomplish as dreams are hard to remember).

any writers on tumblr feel free to reblog so followers can send a certain letter to your inbox :) or just for ideas!

[hyperfixation-writings]

[hyperfixation-writings]

Oh to be a writer who writes

[hyperfixation-writings]

fanfic alignments

[hyperfixation-writings]

Amazon Unveils a [Horrifying] Fanfic Publishing Platform

Today, Amazon announced the imminent launch of its newest endeavor, Kindle Worlds, a publishing platform for fanfiction. When I read the announcement, I was horrified, then angry, then sad. I want to take a moment to explain why this is such a tragedy.

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[hyperfixation-writings]

being a writer is hard

[hyperfixation-writings]

The Storms We Weather

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Word count: 1194

Tw: none

(Part One of a loosely connected series that I haven't named yet)

Notes: Let's switch off our physics brain for a second, yeah? I'm pretty sure if something like i'm about to describe would cause a nuclear reaction, similar to what a sun is doing every second. So, yeah, let's just ignore that for a while and just enjoy the image i'm trying to paint here :D

As a kid the weekends with your family in the Scottish Highlands were your favourite. Your grandparents' house was cold, but mysterious and lovely in its own way. It was your favourite place in the world.

It was located at the edge of a small village and there was nothing around but Scottish Highlands for miles and miles. Nobody else, just trees, and forests, and lakes, and hills, and animals and the sky and you. You were often allowed to play outside by yourself and you went exploring the world. Back then everything seemed possible.

Apart from your numerous adventures, your fondest memory were of the weekends with thunderstorms. There was something about the power and chaos that seemed so alluring to you, and it was magical in its own right.

For hours you sat at the windows and watched the dark clouds as they approached, swallowing up the bright blue sky, towering over the hills.

And there in the middle were the tiny houses with their smoking chimneys, desperately trying to fight against the coldness that accompanied those clouds.

But the storm would always come, and the clouds would build up higher and higher, getting darker by the second, turning the sky a threatening purple. The wind would pick up, howling through the old house and making the old wood creak. The birds would stop singing, occasionally fleeing south on particularly dark days. The rabbits would hide in their burrows in the fields, the larger animals would hide out in the forest.

Rain would patter against the windows, getting heavier and stronger as closer as the storm got. Lightning would illuminate the dark sky for the fraction of a second, throwing grotesque shadows over the town.

And then finally, the storm was there. The air was charged, and your skin was tingling in anticipation as you waited for the chaos to begin. There was the lightning, barely giving a forewarning before the thunder would drown out all sounds, vibrating through the house and your bones. The feeling was absolutely electrifying. You had long blocked out the steady pitter-patter of the rain against the windowpanes, and were instead anticipating the next strike, the next electrifying bolt charge to the earth, the next crash that would make you tremble in both fear and awe.

Those weekends were your favourite as they ignited a flame within you, made you crave for more, made you crave for the chaos and power and noise.

They made you feel alive.

***

"You once mentioned you like thunderstorms."

You looked up from your book in surprise as the hour long silence was suddenly broken. The Master was leaning against the console, a contemplative look on his face. He seemed to be waiting for a reply.

"I did?" You scrunched up your forehead in thought. "I mean, yes, I might've mentioned it sometime." You hastened to add when the frown lines of his face deepened at your non-answer.

Immediately the lines lightened again, and a gleeful expression took over. "Perfect. You're going to like the next bit then."

He whistled happily and spun around, putting in some coordinates immediately, making the time rotor move with a deep groan.

You perked up. "Where are we going?"

"Just wait and see." He threw a smirk over his shoulder at you, making you huff and close your book as you were too curious to even pretend to be reading now.

"Now, for the fun part," was all the warning you got before the TARDIS was suddenly lurching oddly to the side. You barely could hold onto your seat that was luckily screwed tightly to the floor.

"If that's your idea of fun, I can tell you that I've had my fair share of this while travelling with the Doctor!"

"That's just her bad driving!"

The Master had one hand on a keyboard, tipping in a sequence of buttons while the other hand was white from his tight grip to the console. His wide eyes showed manic glee as he stared at the monitor in front of him. "Oh, this is going to be much more interesting."

He pushed a lever and then started running – albeit a bit shakily – to the doors, throwing them open.

In a heartbeat you understood why the TARDIS was still shaking so badly – you seemed to be right in the middle of meteoric debris and sheer luck (and some lurches at the right time) prevented the TARDIS from crashing into them.

Curiosity made you walk closer to the doors, but you were still mindful enough to keep on hand attached to the railings or walls at all times.

In the distance you could see some... clouds? No wait, nebulas. Nebulas that illuminated the all encompassing darkness with bright colours.

With the rapid speed of the TARDIS these nebulas seemed to be headed right at you.

The Master was still standing in the doorway, arms out to the side, a wide grin on his face, his eyes sparkling in madness and childish glee.

You barely had time to think, so you crouched down near the doors by instinct of self-preservation, and shouted "Get down, you bastard!".

You were clenching your eyes together, braced for the inevitable impact, waited for the space particles to be catapulted into the interior of the spaceship, took a deep breath and flexed your muscles.

And then... nothing happened.

You heard the Master laughing and as you looked up, you saw lights swirling around the TARDIS' entrance, warping closer, almost touching you, then flitting away. It almost looked like they were dancing, and you were lucky enough to witness their grace.

There were also comets and little showers of sparks, large asteroids crashing together and yet no sound would carry through the emptiness of space.

You just guffawed and stood beside the Master, looking at the spectacle.

"There's nothing like travelling through a space storm!"

You looked back into his eyes. There was the usual chaos brewing in them but something tiny was also mixing into it. Just a spark, a trick of the light, and in the blink of an eye it was gone again.

You realised that another emotion was warring with the chaos, not anger or sadness, as you would've recognised them instantly. Something positive maybe, you thought, and then it returned in full force and you could finally name it.

Wonder.

Those eyes, usually so pained and dark, were now glittering in joy as the stars exploded and the meteors crashed and nebulas formed around you; a tiny space ship floating though space, experiencing the wonders of the universe.

And with the chaos illuminating his eyes, you saw him laugh. A real, genuine, proper laugh.

A laugh born out of pure happiness.

It wasn't cold, or calculating. It wasn't obscenely wide as the manic one. It was just unadulterated happiness shining on his face, smoothing the lines of the lonely years, the years of planning and frowning, the years of destruction and hatred and rage.

In his place was a carefree man with glittering in his eyes, the crow's feet showing this regeneration was made for laughing and happiness.

You had never seen him so beautiful before.

[hyperfixation-writings]

the gentlest of nights

Count Orlo x Reader

word count: 506

TW: none

You woke with a deep breath. The familiar musky smell tinged with soap filled your lungs. You could feel the way your legs were tangled with his and how your arm was thrown across his chest and you could even feel the slow heartbeat through his thin nightshirt.

You sleepily blinked your eyes open.

It was still dark outside. Through the window you could see the crescent moon that gently lit the room.

You silently watched the man next to you for a while. In this light Orlo's face looked so much younger. He was relaxed, and he looked so happy. It was unlike the way his skin was tightened during the day when he was dragged around at court, or how the worry lines digged into his skin at night when he was planning for the coup.

In the soft moonlight his lips looked even fuller, begging to be kissed. And his long lashes were throwing some shade on his cheeks. Cheeks, that had grown a decent stubble over the night.

It wouldn't last, you knew. Shaving was one of the first things he did every morning; afraid of the consequences what would happen should he forget to get rid of the beginnings of a beard.

He was so beautiful. You knew that you didn't tell him often enough. He had finally managed to say Thank You instead of just laughing incredulously, but the doubt in his eyes was still plain as day.

You wrenched your gaze away as your dry throat reminded you why you had woken up in the first place.

You propped yourself up to see if any water pitchers were on the sidetable, and spotted a half filled glass. As you leaned towards it, you could feel a large hand possessively on your waist, pulling you back to him. But as you looked back to the man next to you, he was still deeply asleep.

The unspoken, unconcious sentiment of this movement almost made you cry.

God, you loved him so much.

You hoped he knew how deeply your feelings ran for him, because words never seemed to do them justice. Your entire heart was in his hands, and you had to trust him to be careful with it. You knew he would be, but sometimes it still frightened you how he had sneaked into your heart and stolen it, and that you had only realised when it was far too late.

You gently placed the empty glass back onto the nightstand. The coolness of the room had chilled your torso, and you were glad for the bodyheat Orlo provided.

You snuggled closer to him, nestling your legs between his again, pecking him slowly on his neck before dropping your head into his chest. You were drawing some mindless patterns on his chest.

You were blissfully thinking about him and you, and everything, and nothing, and soon his slow steady breaths gently lulled you back to sleep.

You managed to curl your hand into his before the darkness claimed you once again.