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why must a fic be "finished" is it not enough for it to be lovingly daydreamed over a period of 6 months.

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suzanne said i will not stop writing books until you guys actually understand the main plot and what it signifies and honestly? i really fucking respect that

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peeta tried to save him and katniss by saying she had a baby, because he knew that would pull at the capitals heart strings. In a dystopian society, peeta mellark knew the capital would care more about a fetus than the real dying children . this sounds oddly familiar

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🔥🔥🔥!!

[make me write]

okay so this fic in particular is very new and rough (she doesn't even have a title yet) so if anyone notices anything that needs fixing please let me know but also trust she'll get actually edited

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Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch stood in a quiet line on the reaping stage. The three were still, a stark contrast to the tumble Haymitch took the year before. As the eyes of her district stared at them, Katniss felt a newfound sense of respect for her old mentor. If she had to do this for 25 years, she would show up drunk too. 

The slips of paper in the large glass bowls taunted her. They were hardly as full as they’d been the previous years, a stark reminder of who was really in danger here. She tried not to resent the others in the crowd for their relaxed posture, their craning necks as they tried to spy on her and Peeta’s families. If she had found out that her family was safe for a year, that they had a guaranteed pass on the games, she suspected that she would have acted the same. 

The usual speeches of the morning took place, the attempted fanfare sounding hollow against the quiet wall of citizens. Even Effie, for all of her charismatic charm, couldn’t act convincing as she began to announce the reaping. Katniss felt Peeta slide his hand into hers and give it a gentle squeeze. All Haymitch could muster was a sad look as Effie’s hand reached into the bowl. He was the only person on stage safe, his family dying shortly after his time in the arena. He had always had a fond respect for Katniss’s mother, and, like many throughout the districts, cared deeply for Prim. 

It was Prim who was on Katniss’s mind most today. Peeta only had brothers, and while they had not announced if the age limits of normal years would be lifted for the occasion, Katniss felt confident that there was no reason for them to reap Peeta’s mother. He was the one they loved more. 

Effie’s perfectly manicured hand reached into the bowl.

The paper crinkled in the microphone as she unfolded it.

She let out a sad sigh, her voice breaking as she read the name.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

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💨💨💨💨

[make me write post]

we're going to ignore that there are sections with just initials and dialogue, i never promised finished drafts (but also life hack if dialogue is getting you down, don't write any other aspect of the scene and stage it all out later)

enjoy!

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“Nephew. You were lucky today. You must give up this search.” Zuko sat up and glared at the old man.

“You know why I can’t.”

“I know why you can, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.” Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Please uncle, enlighten me. What is it that is preventing me from finding the avatar.” Iroh sighed and pulled the chair away from Zuko’s desk, sitting next to his bed.

“Nephew. You need to stop chasing this impossible goal. You are going to throw yourself even deeper into spiritual torment.” At these words, Zuko stood up.

“Spiritual torment? Uncle please, stop acting as old as you look.”

I: You can’t keep denying what you know to be true. I traveled the world before this, learning from the spirits themselves, you can not think that I am this foolish!

Z: What am I denying uncle? Tell me, what deep secret is it that I am keeping from you?

Iroh didn’t respond, instead reaching for the jacket Zuko had hung on the back of the chair. He made a big show of holding it up, reaching into the right pocket, and holding his hand out to Zuko, a small pile of pebbles resting on his palm. Zuko’s eyes widened in shock, before narrowing.

Z: I don’t know what you’re accusing me of Uncle. Clearly whoever did laundry last needed to be more thorough.

Instead of speaking, Iroh turned his back to Zuko in frustration. The pebbles rolled around in his palms as if he was weighing a decision. Suddenly, reflexes faster than Zuko could react to, he sent them flying at his nephew. His aim was perfect, honed by years of military training. But this didn’t stop the pebbles from changing course, flying to the sides haphazardly as Zuko threw up his hands in defense.

The ship suddenly became very silent.

Zuko’s eyes widened in fear. Iroh’s face, which he expected to be smug, instead looked shocked. Like somewhere deep inside him, he hoped his suspicion was wrong.

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i get so happy when people that are new to fanfic writing, or just writing in general, post their work on ao3. despite their doubts, despite their fear of something so personal and vulnerable being perceived, they still press that button, and i turn into the equivalent to a proud mom cheering on the sidelines. like yes! you did that! your work is worth seeing! you deserve to share your passion for and be part of a community! i’m so proud of you!

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[make me write post]

@redpandaoverlord - here you go!

Far away from the commotion of the South Pole, a young boy walked through Makapu village. His bare feet hardly made a sound on the worn-down cobbles as he snuck through the buildings that made up the town’s center. He wasn’t sure what it was that drew him to the village that day. The hours-long walk was usually only made when more food was needed for his small community, the danger of the journey making it hard to justify a recreational visit. But on this day he woke up with a nagging feeling in his chest. He knew where he had to go, even if he didn’t know the reason. And now, as the sun began to lower out of the highest point in the sky, he stopped in front of a building, and read the sign that hung above the door. It read simply, “AUNT WU’S”

The sign didn’t need more information than that. People from all over the Earth Kingdom traveled to Mapaku to hear her wisdom and predictions. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, the nagging in his chest suddenly growing quiet. This, he realized, is where I was supposed to go. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, the smell of incense burning his nose. A girl around his age, looking 12, maybe bordering on 13, walked up to him with a wide smile.

“Hello! My name is Meng,” she stated loudly. “Aunt Wu has been waiting for you. Please, follow me.” She turned on her heel and began to walk towards the back, not waiting for the boy to catch up. He closed the door and scrambled after her. Her hair was in two braids that bounced as she walked. She slid open a panel in the wall, revealing a new room, and motioned for him to enter. There was an old woman sitting in the middle of the room, perched on a thick green cushion. Across from her was a similar seat, crafted from yellow fabric. She smiled as the door closed behind them. Her pale brown eyes seemed to look right through him. “Welcome Aang. Please, sit.”

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force me to write please i'm begging

i have come to the realization that part of the reason that i have been having so much trouble getting anything done on any of my wips is that i have been keeping them so under lock and key and not letting myself have any fun in the process of writing. to combat this, i'm letting the good citizens of tumblr dot gov hold a gun to my head for a bit.

i'm putting super brief descriptions of my wips down below with an emoji. drop an emoji (or multiple) in my asks and i will write a few sentences for each one and share part of it in the reply*.

thee wips:

🕶 Wanted For Vandalism - graffiti artist x architecture student sukka au (2 chapters published on ao3)

💨 Cycle of Fate - long form zuko is the avatar au (currently gen, likely going to lean zutara in the far future) ft lots of angst and hurt/comfort

🔥 Untitled HG:CF - catching fire au where instead of reaping existing victors they reap the family members of the victors. prim and gale go in the arena.

if i start anymore wips i will add them to this list, but i really want to make actual progress on these and get to the point where i can share them.

*it might take me a few days to reply. the joys of being in college ig

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writing chapter 2 of wanted for vandalism and i know that chapter 1 was kind of mid (i hit the point of needing to post what i had or else i just wasn't going to post at all) but im already so much happier with this chapter oh my gOD

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"I didn't even know what the ICWA was before now! How can I help?" A non-Native guide to helping us defend our rights:

It's a noble thing to see injustice against a people you don't belong to and decide it means you need to help. As frustrating as it is that the injustices we face get put on the back burner, I see you and I know you mean well, and I thank you for your efforts and the sentiments behind them. So, how to help?

We have the quickest, easiest, least involved ways: sign the petition started by the Lakota People's Law Project and donate to them. This gesture is appreciated, but there is always more you can do if you want to help more after that.

When the problem is not knowing, the solution is learning. Do your research. Learn about the United States' history of genocide of the Native peoples. You are going to find a lot of difficult and painful details, but for the sake of advocacy and solidarity, i need you to stomach them, absorb them, and keep them in your mind. Nobody every learned from history by keeping it pretty, and remember: nothing you find will be news to a Native person. It's something passed down from generation to generation or it's learned when we're old enough to ask why there are so few of us when we were here first. Learn about L Frank Baum and Teddy Roosevelt and others who have wanted us dead and the vile things they've said about us. Read it until you can recite it from memory. Read about the accounts of John Wayne having to be held back by six security guards from trying to attack Sacheen Littlefeather for telling the audience at the Academy Awards that Marlon Brando declined his best actor award in protest of the portrayal of Natives in movies. Learn as much as you can. If it devestates you, if it enrages you, it should. Let that motivate you.

If you didn't know, your social circle likely didn't know either. Tell them. I've found an easy way to start the conversation is "you know what's messed up?" or "do you ever think about the things the US government and the oil companies don't want you to know?" Engage them. Give them the gutwrenching details. Make them angry about it. Make them want to do more to help.

This is crucial: if you see anti-Native racism and/or willful ignorance (such as quoting statistics without questioning why things skew one way or the other) call them out on it. Use what you've learned and help them understand, and if they double down, you double down too. People insist on remaining racist and ignorant because it's comfortable, so your job as an ally is to take away their excuses and make ignorance and racism uncomfortable. Familiarize yourself with other forms of racism and draw appropriate comparisons if you must. Embarass them. Make them feel guilty. Do not allow them to remain comfortable in their harmful, backward beliefs. If someone tries to derail the argument by policing the tone or word choice of the Native person making the argument, call it out and shut it down. We are facing genocide attempts that never actually stopped; there's more at stake than non-Natives' hurt feelings

Keep your ear to the proverbial ground. If Native people need help, help them or seek out someone who can. If they ask for your support and solidarity, show up or spread the word to people who can. Don't take photos at protests and don't talk to cops. Remember that we are human beings and ask yourself what you'd want people to do if it was you in this situation

Recommendations for accessible and accurate learning materials are welcome additions to this post. Bad faith arguments are not. Complain about Tribal leadership and wanting to adopt stolen brown babies elsewhere.

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If you can't bring yourself to care that the Supreme Court is going to review the constitutionality of the Indian Child Welfare Act, thus possibly opening the doors to further cultural genocide of Indigenous Peoples on United States soil, unfollow me right now.

If you think our rights aren't as important to protect as your rights to your own body, i don't want you on this blog.

Never forget residential schools were not a uniquely Canadian issue, they existed in the US as well. Silence and neutrality allowed them to be built and silence and neutrality will bring them back. Whether that's your silence and neutrality is up to you.

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[Zuko had no idea who wrote 23 very upset sticky notes about his art and stuck them to the wall with masking tape, but he was determined to find out who it was and give them a piece of his mind... He rips the neon pieces of paper off the dusty brick wall, thankful that nobody was out on the street yet. He had no idea what he would say to somebody who asked questions like: “Why are you staring at a wall at 6am on a Sunday?” or “Hey wasn’t this wall blank two days ago?” or worst of all “Why are you holding a stack of sticky notes, and why do so many of them have the word fuck on them?” ]

OR-

- Zuko is a graffiti artist with a vendetta, who also likes to do his homework in his uncle's tea shop - Sokka is an architecture student who has possibly insulted a local graffiti artist via sticky notes, who also has a crush on the hot artist he sees at the tea shop - Suki is just trying to work and thinks it would be way easier if Sokka would just ask the guy at the corner table out instead of just awkwardly glancing at him every five minutes and texting her possible pick up lines

[inspired by @dickpuncher420 on tumblr]

RATED TEEN AND UP FOR LANGUAGE

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hi how are yall anyway im posting the first chapter of the graffiti artist x architecture student zukka fic inspired by that @dickpuncher420 post this weekend, anyways never start a wip right before getting a new job because damn this took way longer to write than it needed to.

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i believe in Suki Is A Bitch supremacy. she loves Sokka so much but she loves long walks on the beach and calling him on his shit even more. and that includes telling him to stop staring at hot men in public, she doesn't care if its pride month

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i see people talk about the weird things they overly research for a fic they’re writing, and i figured i wouldn’t even need to anything too weird, but now here i am, looking at the websites for local universities to see what the most common classes you take in various architecture/engineering majors

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I like to imagine that in any atla modern au, aang still, for some reason, finds a reason to beat ozai’s ass

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Me: *gets story idea*

Me: This is so obvious and clever it practically writes itself!

*later*

Narrator: It did not write itself.