#aaah i know you probably don't read star trek aos love but most of my tangled fics were written in the last year

[ashdumpsterpile]

20, 21, and 22 for the fic writer questions? :^)

Aww thanks for the ask bestie!! <3

Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Anywhere, as long as I don't have homework due and the room is clean! For some reason, if I feel like I have something else to do, I can't focus on writing. :/ Doesn't stop me, but I usually don't have a good time.

I also prefer writing at night.

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

I usually go through about three rewrites (and grab a beta) if I can! The first rewrite is for spelling errors, the second is for content (aka beefing up the chapter, adding to or reducing paragraphs) and the third is for spelling errors again.

Lately I've been a complete heathen and just have been posting after, like, one rewrite bc I'm lazy lol.

Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

This was hard to choose because my early fics are so bad, but I finally settled with something from one of my Kircus fics. Also this fic is complete garbage so pls don't click on it.

"Oh, hey!" a familiar voice interrupts Carol's train of thought.

She turns.

Out of all the people she expected to recognize in her Intermediate Temporal Mechanics class, James Tiberius fucking Kirk wasn't one of them.

His appearance paints a different image than that of the smokey, run down bar of just months ago. He's traded in the dark bruises and bloodshot eyes for an easy smile and a vibrant gaze. He's leaning casually back in his chair, one stylus tucked behind his ear.

It doesn't escape her notice that his uniform collar is popped, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Despite breaking regulation, it's a dorky, if not endearing image. The image of a bad boy at odds with the nerdy pikachu socks that peek out in the gap between his shoes and pants.

Carol reminds herself that she doesn't like him and rolls her eyes.

"It's the Farmboy," she drawls, leaning on her elbow on the back of her chair.

His grin widens. "Never denied, sweetheart. Carol, right?"

"Hmm," she hums affirmatively. "So you do remember things."

"When 'things' are attractive women who kick my ass, then yes. I have an edict memory."

Carol dutifully tries to remember why she doesn't like him and draws a blank. Fuck.

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