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#and I've been writing stories literally since I could hold a pencil
hecckyeah · 1 month
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1, 10, 17, 32! :)
Heyyy, thanks so much for the ask!! <3
1. What inspired you to start writing fanfiction?
Mainly the Lord of the Rings, actually!! I read the books when I was about 10 or 11, and that was my first exposure to the world of fandom, mostly through tumblr screenshots on Pinterest, and ff.n through the "experimental browser" feature on my kindle, since screen time was highly limited in my house. (Unfortunately some of the first fics I read were blatant Mary Sue self-insert re-writes of the LotR movies on ff.n where the self-insert always ends up falling in love with either Legolas or like. Pippin. or something. Yikes.)
I'd been writing little stories way before that, literally ever since I could hold a pencil or type on a keyboard, and after I discovered the world of fanfiction, writing my own was the logical next step. One of my first fanfics was this weird thing I wrote with my sister, called the Fellowship of Insanity, and yeah. it's as bad as it sounds.
Anyway, those were dark times but I'm grateful that they spurred me to write my own (hopefully better) stories. And we'll leave it at that :)
10. What's your favorite part about the fic writing process?
Honestly, I think the inspiration stage, where all of a sudden I can almost feel a story in its entirety before I even start writing it, and not like I know all the plot points and everything, but more just. the vibes. I don't know, it's hard to explain.
Also that point where I don't even have to think about what I'm writing -- the words are just forming themselves basically, and I'm just trying to keep up with them. That's where some of my favorite (not always the best) parts come from, and even if I have to go back and edit afterwards, I usually end up keeping the general format of what I wrote. I always feel unbeatable and unstoppable when that happens :)))
17. What's the most memorable comment or review you've received on one of your fics?
Oh, probably every single one by @kanerallels @accidental-spice and @redvanillabee !! I love when someone is as enthusiastic as I am about a fic -- they ALWAYS make me smile. All comments do, but there's something about their energy and support that I'm SO grateful for!!
Also, one I keep going back to when I doubt my skills is this one by SilreyRevs on the medic -- they're so thoughtful and notice the parallels I had hoped people would pick up on and they just do a really amazing and kind critique of a writing style I hadn't really posted before and was nervous about sharing, and I'm pretty sure I had tears in my eyes while reading it!!!
32. Have you ever participated in fanfiction contests, challenges/fests?
Oh yeah, I've done a couple of challenges in my time, but nothing big and none that I remember off the top of my head. Mostly right around the Agents of SHIELD season 7 craze, where Dousy challenges and prompts were really big and I wrote an absolutely insane amount of drabbles and one-shots! I would love to do more in the future though, now that I feel like my writing skills are slowly improving! I don't think I would do contests though, honestly. I write for the absolute fun of it, and all that pressure and uncertainty isn't exactly my forte. But we'll see, maybe someday, if the right thing comes along!
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questions for fic writers
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ovaryacted · 2 months
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Awwwe nic, I just saw your rant. I'm so sorry you're going through a rough patch. People truly underestimate how time consuming a nine to five job is. We want you to know that you shouldn't feel any pressure from our side, we'll read whatever you write and whenever you write, even when we have to wait for it. Don't overwork yourself because that'll help no one. Now I do understand all the frustration and dread you're feeling if you want to write but just can't. Trust me, I've been there. I am there. With college and me being a procrastinating little piece of shit, I haven't written anything in ages, even though writing is my truest passion and I wish I could be an author some day. The dread felt when you're stopped from doing things you want to do over an extended period of time is so valid. Now, this little ask of mine can't magically make you a few more hours to spare nor can it make your job any easier, but I hope you at least feel heard. Take your time, write when you have time for it. Even five minutes, just put something in that word document - that's better than nothing. You'll continue later. It'll help with the feeling of depression to at least type something, even if it's just one paragraph. And when it comes to feeling like it's a waste of time, I don't think there's a writer in the world ho hasn't felt that at some point. We see you, and we know how much hard work you put in to give us those yummy fics. Know that your following is standing right behind you and we'll eat up whatever you put out there. As someone who's been writing since I learned how to hold a pencil, I can tell you that the feeling sadly never truly goes away. But it comes less often and becomes easier to deal with. And, If you really need something to keep you going, know that hundreds, if not thousands of people would be really sad to see you go if you decided to give up on the blog. I don't know how much this helped, or even if it helped at all, but the point of the story is that we're here for you, no matter what. Love you pookie, take care!❤️❤️❤️
-🌑
This ask made me emotional in the morning, and I’ve been reading it over and over the past few days. I’ll admit, I’ve been in a rough patch for like a month, I genuinely forget how my mental health can get around January-February, which are relatively rough months for me in general because that’s when my depression spikes the most. I guess it’s a combination of the pre-birthday blues and the existential dread of getting older lmao, but idk it’s always a stressful time for me and it’s been that way since I was 16. My home life is also not the best right now, which just stresses me out more cause now I’m stressed at work and at home thanks to my inconsiderate family. (Eldest daughter things feel me?)
Honestly, I’m really thankful I have a 9-5 job and a good one at that, it gives me financial stability I’ve never had before. It’s also a job I prayed for, in the field I studied and with reputable nice people. I got very lucky, especially with the current economy in the US dealing with hyperinflation and how hard it is to get a job right now I’m very grateful. But it is a busy job, I mean I work with people who are essentially government agents and have ties to the FBI so I have pressure to do well at work. I did underestimate the amount of time I’ll have for myself working a full time job, especially after coming from a shitty part time job I had more time to do things throughout the week. I feel like I took all that free time for granted, and at least when I was in college I had several days off, now I only have like 5-6 hrs after work plus the weekend to myself and the cycle gets exhausting at some point. Usually when I come home, I have the mentality and the creativity to want to write, but lack the energy. Literally the moment I rest on my bed, I just put on Netflix and doze off, or won’t have enough brain power to make cohesive ideas so I end up hating what I write or starting over (which has happened so far). So I have the weekend to relax and write, but now I have to start studying for a big legal exam later on in the year which is my ticket to law school for 2025. I just have a lot going on right now and to prep for (adulthood I guess).
Believe me, I’m trying, and I want to create, I’ve been writing since I was 12 so this is a hobby and a skill I want to build up. I’ve been taking some time out every day to just write stuff out, and so far it’s worked. And with asks, I use the morning and my lunch break to prepare responses and edit them at home to post when I have time. I just want to upload multiple things at a time, and then I get indecisive about what to start, and end up posting nothing lmao. Plus with all the bs going on in the tags and the fandom in general, it’s annoying the hell out of me cause it’s just constant drama. But I appreciate your kind words honey, I always do, they’re encouraging and make me feel better. Adore you, I hope you’re having a good day though and taking care of yourself. ❤️‍🩹
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altschmerzes · 2 years
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✨.🎶.💖 for the fanfic writer ask :)
✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉
oh gosh oh no now i gotta- hm. okay. this is a slight cheat because it's feedback i recall getting from others numerous times so it's not exactly ME coming up with it out of whole cloth, but i think i do a good job balancing keeping characters in-character with contextualizing them in and having them react to extreme situations and situations of what i've described in the past as 'both literal and emotional emergency.' i keep characters feeling and sounding like themselves (i also think i do pretty good with character voice, both in dialogue and in my preferred third person limited narrative) while also in contexts that tend to pull people out of their ordinary behaviour and reservations.
🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?
often yes, i do! one time i spent like two and a half hours writing exclusively to the dulcet tones of don henley's 'new york minute' which i think rewired something in my brain. what i've got on loop LATELY is a rotation of benjamin francist leftwich's 'summer,' jukebox the ghost's 'everybody's lonely,' a couple glass animals numbers, bear attack!'s 'carnivore,' juniper vale's 'fractions,' and poe's 'strange wind' which i can only find as a youtube rip. AN ODD COLLECTION. MOSTLY it's been 'summer.'
💖 What made you start writing?
oh gosh i couldn't tell you if i tried, i've always been doing it. i know that sounds cliche or cheesy or something but i have notebooks of stories i've been writing since i literally learned how to hold a pencil. i had a principal when i was a kid once tell me that he'd had a lot of kids who never stopped reading but he'd never had one who never stopped writing. i don't even think i could tell you why i KEEP writing, except that it doesn't feel so much a choice as an intrinsic given. it's like. what made you start breathing, or sleeping, or walking. at a point, i just Did.
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cantbelieveyouregone · 3 months
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My brain has been whirling with vague self-reflective stuff for the past like three days - partially because it's the end of the year, partially brought on by reading a bunch of Danganronpa and The Sexy Brutale fanfic for some reason (that is, it making me think for some reason, not me reading it for some reason; I'm not ashamed of that). Don't really have anywhere to put the thoughts, but they won't shut up, so I'm putting them here.
It's been a weird year. It's been one year that's felt like three. Partially that's because it was my last year of uni, which was a bit of a shitshow at various points. Spent a good deal of this academic year recovering from nearly burning out just to survive third year, after top surgery stitching came partially out on one side of my chest but I still had to do all my uni work. I don't recommend doing four university modules and a part-time teaching assistant job at once while you have a literal hole in your chest, folks. And then my honours project was full force from the get-go, brought on by me being a perfectionist and feeling an obligation to prove to the uni and to myself that I wasn't burnt out. By the end of uni, I was basically just a pile of ashes atop an 18k-word dissertation.
Then I dealt with the wildest shit of trying to get an industry job. Recruiters tried their best, but they all just kind of tugged their collars and averted their eyes when I said I'd prefer to stay local or work remote. But one of my friends already got a job at a game company and had been there part-time, going full-time once uni was over, and he knew I was looking, so he referred me. Long-story-short, I got the job - getting the call about it on my birthday, no less - and moved out of my parents' place and into a flat with said friend.
If my impostor syndrome was strong before I had a job, it's only gotten worse since I started working. I've described it as feeling like I'm just learning the alphabet while my coworkers discover new areas of calculus. "Gotten really into the letter X lately, you should try it sometime." It's just not even felt real, like I'm gonna wake up and be collapsed on my computer desk with my dissertation filled with spaces from where my head found itself falling on the keyboard.
I have not figured out how to balance work and life yet. Not by a long shot. I want to take up both physical and creative hobbies, but I'm also someone who needs a lot of down time or his brain holds itself at gunpoint, ready to explode. As I once wrote in a rambling note to myself, "I want to scream and cry and paint and write and fight and punch and create art from the bones of my own that I break let the blood be the ink so you know that I feel." I have so much love in my heart for the things I do, but fuck if I ever have the energy to do them. Maybe I'll get better at figuring it out next year, but I'm sure not there yet.
There isn't any real satisfying conclusion to this rant. I've not written songs or stories in who knows how long, I want to pick up a pencil or a paintbrush again, I want to create and feel the release of pressure from my skull before it implodes. But I'm not really willing to talk to many people in real life about this endless irritation, like an itch which has proven impossible to scratch. Asking for advice requires asking, and there's still a lot of my teenage instinct to hide any sign of suffering - no matter how little or how mundane - until I physically can't anymore. Which I guess goes to show how it's going when I'm writing this, huh?
I guess I'll just finish the rant with yet another clip of writing from a ramble in my phone's notes, which I wrote over two years ago but has kept ringing in my ears every day since.
Inertia is my nemesis. If I could get started, I could keep started, I could get going, I could keep going.
Here I lie.
To myself? Or did I just stop moving?
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helloalycia · 3 years
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The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff
chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four
author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!
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Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.
A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.
Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.
"Y/N? Is that you?"
And there goes my moment.
Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?
"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."
She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.
"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"
"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.
She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."
Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"
"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.
"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.
She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"
"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.
She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."
"Oh, the scandal," I teased.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.
"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.
Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"
She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"
I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."
Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."
"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"
She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.
"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.
I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.
Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.
"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."
I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.
"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.
"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.
"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."
She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."
She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.
"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."
"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.
"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."
"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."
She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.
"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."
She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."
I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.
When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.
"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."
She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."
I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.
"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.
She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."
"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."
She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."
Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."
And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.
Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.
Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.
As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.
Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.
Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.
"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.
Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.
"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."
I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."
She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."
The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.
"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."
"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"
She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits,  but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."
I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.
She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.
And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.
"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.
I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.
Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."
She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."
I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."
She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.
"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.
I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.
She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."
I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.
Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."
She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"
I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."
She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.
Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.
"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.
She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."
"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.
"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."
I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."
She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."
I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."
She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."
I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."
She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.
"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."
She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."
"Pardon?"
She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."
I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."
"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."
Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.
The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.
"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."
Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.
My dreams were never anything worthwhile.
For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...
As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.
So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.
"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"
It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.
"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.
I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.
"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.
In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.
"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.
She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.
"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.
Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."
The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.
"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.
When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.
The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.
"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.
I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.
"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.
"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.
My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.
"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.
They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.
"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.
I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.
When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.
I liked my brother's fiancé.
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purplehoodiesimon · 2 years
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17 what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?
47 what story are you most proud of?
💜💜💜
💜💜💜 17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh you just had to pick a hard one didn't you. Okay. Um. Probablyyyy
"Romeo and Juliet fell in love in a day, and Simon’s starting to understand why." From Dear Titanic, how did you feel? which is also coincidentally my answer to 47. I don't tend to write romance quickly, it's so hard making people fall in love in just a few days, but things just clicked with that fic.
47. what story are you most proud of?
Dear Titanic, which I already linked. There are so many reasons. I started it out thinking 'what the fuck am I on about writing a Titanic AU' and then I wrote the entire thing in like, 2 weeks. It's my second ever finished planned multi chapter story (and I've been writing fic for 6 years now, stories in general since I could hold a pencil). And I'm just amazed at some of the lines I wrote literally falling asleep that turned out so good. It just holds a really special place in my heart.
Talk to me about my funky little words
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frecklydork · 2 years
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hi hi!! i want to ask, how did you start self shipping? like, seriously started drawing art of yourself and fo's and really began indulging in it? and um, do new fos just kind of happen? the reason i'm asking is that i want to try it out, but i don't know where to start or how to start or anything ><
Hello, hello! :D
Good news!! There are no rules!! There's no "set" way of approaching self shipping! It's all your own world and your own pace!
Everyone is different! There's a lot of people in this community who only started recently because they thought it looked fun. Some people have done it since they were little, others have self shipped for a few years. For me, personally, I've been self shipping ever since I could hold a pencil. I think the first time I ever drew me befriending a fictional character was when I drew myself as a mermaid holding hands with Spongebob and jellyfishing. I think I was like... three or four years old. And when I was nine, I started getting more serious about it, making traditional comics, and then I was twelve when I started doing a lot of digital artwork... you get the idea, it's been a long time for me!! I didn't start blogging about it until 2018, though :]
New F/Os just kinda happen, yeah! For me, at least. It's like a new falling star that just randomly lands in your pocket and you think "oh heck yeah, score!!" Again, it's different for everyone. I have over 300 F/Os from the last decade. Sometimes I see a character and I'm immediately thinking "oh! you! I love you! I wanna draw myself with you ASAP!! I wanna write a thousand fics about us together!! I love you I love you I love youuu!!!" and then there are other characters that took me a few days or even a few weeks to really warm up to the idea. A few characters I'll look at for a couple seconds, think "oh yeah, you, I want you", draw them w/ me once or twice, and then I'll throw them onto my ever-expanding F/O pile and literally never make content of them ever again.
And I even have some F/Os from media that I've known for years, but I didn't even consider them as a F/O until wayyyy later on. F/Os are random, it just kinda happens. The heart wants what the heart wants. You'll know 'em when you see 'em!!
If you don't know where/how to start, I can recommend a few things:
Self shipping isn't reserved for just romantic interactions! There's lots of platonic and even familial ships out there. You can start by finding a character you'd want to be friends with, and seeing where it goes from there!
Know your self insert. You don't have to make anything complicated or do any intense world-building. Nothing is really "necessary" to make a self insert. My SBTMsona has almost zero info on her, I just... draw myself in a poofy jellyfish dress, and bam, there she is! Do I know where she lives? Do I know how she meets everyone in Bikini Bottom? Absolutely not, my head is empty, I have no thoughts. My TFP self insert, however, is suuuuper detailed and I've jumped through rings of fire for the last two years just to get her to perfectly fit into my transformers stories. Everyone approaches things differently, you just do what feels right for you! :D
Drawing is my main go-to when it comes to creating content. Whether you identify as an artist or not, if you're comfortable with it, try experimenting with a doodle, even if it's just a small scribble on a little sticky-note page.
On the same note as doodling, if you're stuck on what to draw, you can always take a screenshot of your F/O (if they're in a TV show/movie/video game/webcomic) and draw yourself standing next to them in that scene. It's a fun warm-up exercise, and it gets the creative juices flowing - you get to imagine what you'd do if you were a part of the scene! How you'd interact with your favorite characters, what you'd say, how they'd react to you; it's really fun and I highly recommend it.
Writing is fun too!! I don't write as often as I draw, but I still love doing it. You can write a small paragraph of you and your F/O(s) together! You can take a scene that your F/O is canonically in, and rewrite the scene, word for word, while inserting yourself into it and seeing how it feels.
You can make moodboards of your F/O!! You can make gifsets of your favorite scenes, or (if they're from a book series) one of those web-string aesthetic posts of all of your favorite quotes!
You can make a playlist of songs that remind you of them, songs that have their vibe, songs you think they'd listen/dance to... songs that you think would even remind them of you!!
If you need more ideas, if you search up the tag "F/O imagines" or "self ship imagines" in the tumblr search bar, there's thouuuusands of "imagine your F/O" scenarios in there that you can work with!
If you're comfortable with it, you can also make your own self shipping blog, and reblog content of your F/Os, or post your own thoughts about them! I have a tag on my blog, #love notes, I have it reserved for times when I wanna take screenshots of my F/Os and gush about how much I love them. It's like your own personal space to freely explore self shipping. You're not obligated to create content of you and your ships, and you don't have to share any info or talk about them unless if you absolutely want to! you're free to do whatever you want :D
Some people take self shipping into these great big levels, where they rewrite the entire universe to fit themselves into it (woo, I've done this). Others don't really indulge that way, rather they simply draw/write themselves with the F/O and say "yeah, I love this character, this is us holding hands", with no additional work (I have also done this). Some people don't make content at all, they just like to daydream and yearn (which I have totally done), and that's cool too!!
Another thing! OCs!! Lots of people feel more comfortable making OCs to ship with their F/Os, instead of shipping themselves. That's also an option! There's also a lot of ppl out there who don't have any F/Os from any canon media, but rather they just make their own OCs to self ship with, which is totally cool and valid!!
I'm sorry this got so long slkdfdsf but yes, I hope any of this helped!! The most important thing is to remember to have fun!! Self shipping is all about making yourself happy, and allowing yourself to feel loved by the characters you adore 🥰💖💕
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danni-dollarsign · 3 years
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I know this is a #humblebrag but sometimes when I'm feeling funky I read through TDW just so I can have something familiar to focus on while still being more or less constructive, and also bc I’ve totally forgotten a lot of the narration jokes thrown about in especially the first/early second acts
like the avatar line in ch. 17 - like, goddammit me, why can’t u be this funny and witty in-person???
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I've been writing shit my entire life and I still can't write halfway decent dialogue
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