#firesign23

[musing-and-music]

If its not too late to ask, I wanna know about Dogs can smell | fear and also love with perfect accuracy (fma)"because what a doc title 😂

Thank you for the ask!

This one is a 5+1 fic, centered on Riza Hawkeye and 5 dogs she meets during her life (+ the one dog of the military, aka Roy Mustang). The title comes from a poem I've found after looking for dog-themed poetry: If Feeling Isn't In It by John Brehm.

There will be plenty of angst and hurt/comfort in this fic, and I'm sorry for the dogs who suffer in it 😭 (there will be a "The Dog Dies" tag in this)

[gaslightgallows]

🐱🐱🐱

🐱 for "moderately intimidating"

Honestly, I just loom very well.

[sdwolfpup]

🧠 💖😈

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

SO MANY. My ideas list is, um, 75 items long, not including follow-ons to already published fics. I HAVE A PROBLEM, I KNOW. (I did this with vids, too; it makes my brain happy to have a place to put these even if I know I'll never get around to writing them all.) Here's one:

Best Little Whorehouse in Texas AU – Jaime is the sheriff; Brienne is Dolly; Stannis is Thorpe (Dom); Robert is senator that takes the college football kids; Podrick is Jewel; Cleos is Fred (Jim Nabors). Stannis is trying to shut the whorehouse down for ratings; Jaime and Brienne have been secretly seeing each other

Thankfully i already answered 💖😈 so I don't have to figure out how to answer them again, hee.

[forbiddenfantasies1]

Tell me about Weary Kitchen

I answered this one here. Kinda. Somewhat. I have a general idea that makes perfect sense in my head. Anyway since I've already answered, here's another little chunk.

The refrigerator door was cool against her back, and she was fairly sure a magnet shaped like the letter Z was digging into her spine, but Brienne couldn't have moved if her life depended on it. It felt so good to simply be still, to let her body rest without anyone touching her, or asking for things, or needing her attention. She let her head fall back, her eyes shutting. She didn't want to see her cheerfully cluttered kitchen, or the lego tower scattered across the floor. 

Her eyes were still stinging, from the smoke her burnt sandwich had emitted or from her frustrated tears she wasn't sure. Whoever had said that women could have it all was full of shit, she decided. Either that or she just sucked at being that woman.

"It's just burnt lunch, babe," Jaime's voice came from behind her, low and soft. "No sense in crying over a grilled cheese sandwich."

"How about a grilled cheese sandwich and accidentally hanging up on an angry client and yelling at my daughter?" Her voice broke a little on the last word. 

[sdwolfpup]

iftheworldwasending for the wip meme? I know what it is, I just want to hear about it 😂

😂I have also posted a couple of snippets of this one before. Basically this is a pretty dark “last night alive” fic idea based on the song If The World Was Ending. I seriously open this every couple of weeks, write a paragraph or two, and then close it again. I’ve got 4k written though so it seems to be working? Here’s the most recent part I added:

A noise from the hall brought both of their heads up. There was pounding on the wall and then an incoherent shout, and just as Jaime rolled to his feet warning Brienne to wait, she was already halfway to the door.

“Brienne!” he called after her, but she threw open the door and all he could do was follow, cursing.

A man Jaime didn't recognize was in the hallway, half-dressed, eyes wild. “We're going to die,” he hissed and then he burst into huge, wracking sobs, collapsing where he stood. Brienne moved closer to him while Jaime surveyed the rest of the corridor. There were a couple of other doors open nearby, though they closed as soon as Jaime looked at them. One further down the hall stayed open, and a woman hovered in the doorway, one hand curled like a claw around the frame. Her face was blank, as though she couldn't comprehend where she even was.

“Shh, shh,” Brienne was saying. She knelt down next to the man, and when he flailed out at her, Jaime leapt towards them.

But she didn't need Jaime's help. Instead, she quickly grabbed the man's hand and tucked it between them. He curled further into a ball on the floor, but his crying quieted. They held that tableau for three minutes, while Jaime counted every second. They had so few left to them, he didn't understand why she was spending them like this.

[zetaaa]

Medusa!Brienne and Jaime

Inspired by

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

that was inspired by

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Two amazing fics! For Jaime/Brienne Monthly Madness - March - Supernatural elements

[luthienebonyx]

6 & 7 for the ask meme?

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

Description, definitely, but not just physical description. Describing emotions, sometimes directly but often indirectly, is at the heart of a lot of what I write. I’ve described my style before as “navel lint in written form” - and honestly, I don’t think I’m exaggerating that much?

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

My go to answer for this sort of question used to be “dialogue” - but I don’t think that’s as true as it used to be. Various people have told me over the years that I write dialogue well, but I always felt nervous about it because it seemed to me that the wrong word in the wrong place could so easily fuck up an entire conversation and affect the characterisation and... Yeah, I thought about it WAY too much.

I think with the last few stories I’ve written, where I felt the dialogue flowed pretty naturally without my needing to angst about it, I’ve actually finally got over a lot of the struggle I used to have with dialogue. 

So what do I still struggle with? I think it’s just mainly when I don’t have a clear enough picture in my head of exactly what the non-POV characters in a scene are feeling and thinking. If I’m not clear about their motivations, then writing the scene is going to be a struggle. And of course the only answer is to stop writing and work out what’s going on with those characters - but sometimes that feels a bit too much like hard work, so I keep struggling until I finally wave the white flag and go off and do the thinking that’s required.

35 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

[seethemflying]

23 and 34?

Hey @firesign23! Thank you so much for the askk!! I incorrectly answered 24 instead of 34, so have that one as well!

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

I go through phases. At the moment, I can’t concentrate on anything without outside help and I am really struggling to update my WIPs, so I love the spontaneity and excitement that comes with prompts and challenges. When I am a little bit more focussed in life generally, I tend to prefer writing long fics based on my own ideas. But now - prompts are great!

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

I wish I could write good one-shots. Unfortunately, I can’t keep anything to the point, so everything I usually plan to be a two parter, ends up with forty chapters and a sequel. So, I have to say mulit-chaptered works, even though I wish I was saying one-shots.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

Alcohol.

She was blaming the alcohol.

She had been drunk after the wake, so drunk she would have believed absolutely anything. That’s why she’d got that wacky idea that she fancied Jaime Lannister stuck in her head.

When Brienne arrived at the station on Monday, her head somewhat swimming, she found Jaime standing by her desk, a cup of tea in his hand.

“Good morning, wench.”

She swallowed thickly. How had she never noticed before that that cocky smile of his was ridiculously sexy?

“Good morning PC Lannister,” she said, scooting past him so he wouldn’t see the ugly blush that was settling on her cheeks. Her plan failed.

“Wench, it’s just turned nine o’clock, I’ve barely said hello to you, and you are already blushing.”

“I’ve just jogged here from my flat,” she insisted, sitting down and turning on her computer.

“Why?”

“You may spend your days consuming so many Nobbly-Bobblys you are ninety five percent ice cream, but some of us care about our cardiovascular fitness.”

“Oh, I care about cardiovascular fitness,” he said, leaning over her so his breath tickled her ear, “but there are much more exciting ways to maintain good heart health.”

“Such as?”

He chuckled, withdrawing. “As I said, it’s only nine o’clock. I might give you a heart attack if I spell it out for you.” Giving her shoulder a brief squeeze, he headed off in the direction of Tywin’s office, swigging his tea.

She had no idea what he meant.

(From Chapter 11 of A Big Cop in a Small Town)

35 Questions for Fanfic Writers