#writing flails

[grumpyoldsnake]

I propose a new neopronoun set:

ii/iir/sier/siers/sierself

The vowel sound is "ee" as in "meet." (That would be "i" by IPA notation.)

Subjective: ii. "I think ii is a fun person."

Objective: iir. "I saw iir at the party last night."

Possessive determiner: sier. "It's not sier fault we got lost."

Possessive pronoun: siers. "That scarf is siers."

And then I'm still sliiightly undecided on the last form:

Reflexive: iirself. "Ii is at peace with iirself."

Alt reflexive: sierself. “Ii is at peace with sierself.”

More ponderings to be added in reblogs another day!

[justassorted]

Mirian's first name... does not make sense fffff.

In original DnD NPC conception, Mirian was an insectoid alien alchemy vendor. I threw together some sounds that sounded name-like on the spot and genuinely had no idea that the ridiculously-close "Miriam" was an Actual Name.

While being an actual name, from what little research I've done so far, "Miriam" is not a particularly likely Indian name for human-verse-Mirian, particularly not for the time frame when she was born.

It also doesn't seem like a very likely assimilation-oriented rename for Mirian's extremely Southern Baptist adoptive parents to have given her.

Even if it did, or even if I did decide on a name that would be culturally fitting (either for her original name or for a change during her adoption), it would unfortunately run up against my brain's extreme dislike of renaming characters. :'D

So. Yeah. Mirian it is for now.

(Gerou and Ithadel run up against similar issues in terms of fantasy-verse vs. human-naming-conventions vs. my brain's preference for Fictional Consistency >_>)

Her last name is more intentional, at least! Kapoor is (documented as) her original last name and the one she's chosen to go back to using as an adult; her adoptive family's last name is Robinson.

[justashadetalkative]

Writing Flails

Most of my “drafting” so far this week has taken the form of notes, which is about how things usually go when I have ideas but don’t have the energy to write properly. 😅

An example from a reply I’m working on for @riiese:

[side tracked into glass recipes —> fell asleep in sunlight, hadn’t slept enough night before]

[Glass clinking in bowl, takes a while to rouse him]

[Once he *is* roused – ponytail to keep his hair out of his face, eyepatch, ward on the house, steps out to see what fate will come. Apprehensive but also a sort of delighted, wondering curiosity. Magic ready in fingers for defense, flight, but only as a precaution; he wants to see where this goes. This is what Ingvar finds.]

I usually wind up keeping the general gist of an idea, but sometimes I find out that something doesn’t actually work when put into proper narration and I have to backtrack, hah.

[krtart]

Rereading some of TtLW, including some scenes that I felt pretty dissatisfied with at the time of writing, and going “shit, this is kind of good actually. And directly to my tastes!”

Now if only I could magically gain that fresh view with the scenes I’m currently working on… 😂

[grumpyoldsnake]

Excellent timing.

Tidying the desktop* and ran across this just sitting there. Might as well post it.

*I had no choice. There was no more space for icons. :)

[mxanigel]

🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ I will enjoy my brainrot 🕯️ 🕯️ even when no one else does 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️

[himluv]

A little deviation from the typical Dragon Age posting, but uhhhhh. I am having a VERY good day.

First, I sold a short story that I've been submitting for almost two years now, and is a very personal (and strange) piece that I love.

Then, I just got a full request from an agent for my Historical Horror novel that I've been querying for over a year.

Like. Wait. What??? Me? Your resident fanfic writer and Bellario evangelist? Doing Real Writer™ things?

... Sounds fake.

[moonch8ld]

Derek is doing push-ups and Stiles is lying under him so he's more motivated to stay up on his arms and keep going and sometimes when Derek goes down he gets a peck on the lips (and then Derek gets tired and collapses heavily on top of Stiles, smushing him while Stiles flails).

[mediumgayitalian]

“Come here, you dweeb. Let me fix it.”

Will pouts, dragging his feet over and slumping half on top of him. Nico allows it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, pinching Will’s shoulder. He doesn’t react except for a wounded noise, muffled in Nico’s lap, so the situation is evidently quite dire.

“It’s just hair, Will.”

“But I worked on it!” He shifts around until he’s got his head in Nico’s lap, face turned towards him, body curled up on the grass around him. Nico brushes his tangled bangs off his forehead, meeting his big sad eyes. “I spent forty minutes with a stupid brush! And yet!”

“And yet,” Nico agrees, unable to appropriately school is face into one of somber understanding. Will scowls at him for his lack of proper sympathy, a little bit of genuine hurt in his eyes, so Nico leans down and kisses right between his brows in apology. He seems mollified, if only slightly, or at least he leans into Nico’s touch and stops mumbling quite so much.

“‘S’not fair.”

“Mhm.“

“Your hair listens to your instructions.”

“Yep.”

“Even Cecil’s hair listens to him, and no one listens to Cecil.”

Nico purses his lips thoughtfully. “I think Austin listens to Cecil.”

“Yes, I know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’m trying to train him out of it.”

“And how’s that going?” Nico murmurs, curling a strand of golden blond hair around his finger.

“Oh, well, I’m doing my best, so of course it’s going horribly.”

Nico snorts. He resists the urge to hold his palms to Will’s cheeks and kiss every single freckle at light speed, because he will screech something about how Nico is one-upping him in the romance department or something stupid like that. Instead he settles for looking at his dumb dramatic boyfriend’s face and marvelling over the fact that the cutest boy in the entire world, and Nico is being totally objective, hunts around camp until he finds whatever tree Nico is hiding under and curls up into a ball around him and trusts Nico to hold him while he complains about stupid things that genuinely hurt his feelings a little. It’s nice. So many people at camp are still so rigid around him, like he’s collecting information for their judgement day or something. Will prefers to exercise his lesser-known Apollonian talent of being a bigger drama queen than the god himself.

“Stay still,” Nico says softly, moving Will around so he’s laying perpendicular to Nico, now, head centered in his lap and staring up at the sky. Will sighs and squirms a little and turns his head to press a kiss to Nico’s knee, scrunching up his face and releasing it, and then settles in the position.

Humming something soft that exists on the fringes of his foggy memories, he sinks his hands into Will’s hair.

“It’s not that bad,” he promises, moving slowly and pausing whenever he comes across a knot.

Will harrumphs.

“I mean it, Marilyn Monroe. You can tone down the histrionics.”

“I used gel.”

Nico flicks a dried clump of it onto Will’s forehead, amused. “I can see that.”

“I followed every single one of Mitchell’s instructions!”

“I bet.”

“And yet!”

“And, yet.”

Nico has a sneaking suspicion that someone made a comment about Will’s hair, in the last few weeks. He can never confirm it and Will has been shifty about it every time he asks, but Nico has noticed the uptick in hoods and hats the past month and his little flinches every time Nico reaches up and tugs on it. Despite being oddly confident about the oddest things — why he is so proud of being able to fit his fist in his mouth, Nico will never know — Will is very sensitive to how people think of him. He needs to know he’s liked, and when people don’t like him, he gets…desperate, pleasing. The opposite of Nico, who becomes worse in an attempt to push them away on his own terms.

Nico leans down and presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“I like your hair, you know.”

“It’s a stupid mess.”

He smooths down a handful of it, pressing it over Will’s eye. He manages to keep a straight face for one, two, three seconds before he huffs a laugh, batting Nico’s hands away. Nico grins.

“I like the stupid mess.”

“Yeah, well, you like a lot of weird things.”

“Like you?” Nico suggests, pressing another kiss to the tip of his rounded nose.

“Shut up.”

Another strange thing about him, that Nico has to duck his head to hide his automatic smile: he gets embarrassed easily.

Nico never expected it of him, with all the dorky, medical-themed pickup lines and general shamelessness in his affection towards everybody on Earth, but especially Nico. When the poking, prodding attraction is turned on him, however, he shuts down like an overloaded Playstation. Nico can sometimes see the error messages playing behind its eyes. It’s hilarious.

“Will.” He pokes him in the cheek. “Hey.”

“What,” Will grumbles.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Watching the slow spread of red from below the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair is a delight. Nico watches in glee, wrestling Will’s hands away when he tries to slap them over his face.

“Shut up! Leave me alone! Go — flirt with somebody else!”

“You’d curse them to speak in rhymes for ten years,” Nico teases.

Will makes an agonised noise. “Who! Asked you! Shut up!”

“You’d sic Kayla on anyone who so much as winks at me, you jealous bitch.”

“I would not!”

“You would so. You rolled your eyes at everything Percy said for three weeks when you found out I used to crush on him —”

“I did not!”

“— and you didn’t even have the balls to ask me out, back then.”

“You are a — peddler of falsehoods! A prevaricator, a perjurer, and a fabulist!”

“And you sound like you swallowed a thesaurus,” Nico snickers. He catches the hand Will flails at him, pressing a kiss to the wrist, which only serves to fluster him more. He decides to take mercy when the kisses he trails down his arms result in one loud, long, tortured screech, pulling back and giving him some space.

Notably, he doesn’t move from Nico’s lap.

“I like it,” Nico admits, once Will has calmed down some. “I like that you’ve liked me for so long.”

Will peeks through the fingers he has covering his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Nico squeezes his shoulders. “And endearing, which seems to be your sweet spot.” He presses a much softer kiss to the underside of Will’s ear, lingering there until he sighs, slumping under all the tension finally leaving his body. “I love you, Will. I love your clumsiness and your rambles and your nose and your freckles and your awkwardness and your jealousy and your hair and I love you, Will, all of you. Even the embarrassing weird parts.” He kisses him again. “Especially the weird parts.”

Will breathes slowly, carefully, evenly, face pressed to the inside of Nico’s thigh. His long eyelashes tickle his skin. Nico can feel the press of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, pulsing against his calf.

“I never thought you were a freak.”

Nico brushes his knuckles over his cheek. “I know.”

“I used to — talk about you. All the time. And your oxytocin levels.”

He smiles.

“I know.”

“Lee had a — chart.” Some of the flush rises back up in his cheeks. “A ‘Days Since We’ve Heard About Di Angelo’ chart.”

Nico bites his lip. Hard.

“The number never got higher than six.”

“…I am trying really, really hard, Will.”

Will sighs.

“You can laugh.”

Nico cracks up, trying desperately to muffle his giggles in his bitten fist. It doesn’t work very well, but the glare Will sends him is somewhat softened by the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Gods, you are — a mess.”

“Mhm.”

Nico cups the side of his face. Will turns, slightly, enough to press a kiss to the centre of his palm and then stay there, eyes closed, breathing against his sword-callused skin.

“I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”

“I know.”

“Don’t Han Solo me, you bastard.”

“Go ahead and try to stop me,” Nico challenges, grinning into the passionately indignant kiss Will presses to his lips, finally, letting Nico curl his hands in his hair.

[always-coffee]

The Empress Chides the Hermit Nomination!

**clear throat** I have news! Again! My poem in Small Wonders, "The Empress Chides the Hermit," has been nominated for the Rhysling Award! I am SO thrilled!

It was a joy to work with Cislyn and Stephen. If you get the chance to, do it. Brilliant, wonderful humans.

If you haven't read the poem yet, allow me: smallwondersmag.com/piece/the-em...

I am beyond gobsmacked, at this point.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

i just caught up with my comments over on ao3 and this literally me right now

[grumpyoldsnake]

So many creative ideas rn, so little time

(For once this is less a case of “I can’t do any of the creative things I’m thinking of,” and more a case of “I’m doing several creative pursuits but my brain is still outpacing me” 🤣)

[justassorted]

Writing flails

I have finally had exactly one (1) solid idea for a type of plot that I might want to do with Kim and Mila and that single notion is almost enough fuel for me to want to finally sit down and write up proper bios for them 😂

[justashadetalkative]

Writing Phosa

Writing Phosa is hard for a few synergistic reasons.

Part of it is… in-character, in a way?

Phosa barely knows who she is when not acting in relation to Linast, so of course it’s hard to write her on her own.

Right?

Except that’s not how writing is supposed to work.

Phosa might not have a strong self-conception, but I’m supposed to know her. She might not know how to act when on her own, but I should know how she acts when she doesn’t know how to act. And so on.

The problem is that I don’t, yet. Don’t know her that well, don’t know the answers to those blank spots. Don’t know how she makes friends that aren’t also Linast’s friends, ^_^;

Which is frustrating! I have much newer characters that I’ve written less than her, but I feel like I understand what I’m doing with them better than I do with Phosa. And I don’t know why.

[krtart]

I’ve had some concepts settle such that a side character in TtLW has gone from ‘alright they’re here they’re filling a role’ over into ‘their presence in this story means something’ and I’ve just been wandering around vibrating with excitement ever since

Which is great, except it means I’ve been very distracted at work 😂

[setmeatopthepyre]

I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but re: the tags in this post (https://www.tumblr.com/setmeatopthepyre/782895175037042689) I am afraid that the self-indulgence is benefiting the rest of us too.

Sadly the flower prose and yearning and clueless buck are all ingredients for the most decadent fandom mille-feuille and I’m already at the pastry shop plate in hand for a taste 💚

(Apologies for the askbox flail but your medieval au sounds so so good! I’m excited to read more!)

not me having a minor heart attack seeing just the first few words of this ask in my notifs preview

I am so so so glad that the self-indulgent flowery prose and yearning is not only appreciated but enjoyed. as thanks, here is a completely unconnected-to-anything-else snippet set sometime in the future of this au because I felt compelled to write some Lucy-Tommy shenanigans (they can't not snark in anything I write):

-

“Oh, great, you’re here.” Tommy’s voice belies the enthusiasm the words would usually convey. He makes a sarcastic little flourish. “Evan, may I introduce you to Luciëlla--”

“--I despise you, Thomas--”

“--Lucy?”

“Sir Evan.” The surprise on Lucy’s face makes way for a grin that would put a predator to shame. “It has been too long.”

Tommy feels his arms cross across his chest before he can give it a moment of thought. “You two have met?”

“Well--”

“We have,” Lucy says, clearly delighted. “Met and met, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh by all that is holy, Lucy,” Tommy groans.

“It was just once!” Evan says quickly, his cheeks flushed.

“I outpaced him,” Lucy adds, and Tommy finds himself unable to decide if he’d rather knock her into the dirt right then and there, or thank her for the way her words make Evan blush so delightfully.

“You didn’t-- I was--” Evan’s eyes bore into Tommy’s soul as though he would gladly climb into and find refuge there, away from Lucy’s hawk-like gaze. “I was in the middle of my Knight’s Trials--”

“Excuses, excuses,” Lucy says airily, waving a hand, and turns her attention to Tommy, the spitting image of a cat bored of toying with her prey. “So, what brings you here to darken my doorstep?”

-

knight au aka medieval au aka sweetmeats aka what can ail thee, knight-at-arms? -> au tag here