do you plan to write more elderburn stories? i discovered your work over a year ago on ao3 and find myself rereading them every now and then. i think it would be nice if you wrote some canon-compliant narratives!
Ah, I saw your comment, just haven’t had time to respond. The problem with making things canon compliant would be I’d have to watch the show and I’m not sure if it’s even available anywhere. 😅 I do still think of Elderburn a lot, but my time is super limited due to work and other obligations. And I feel bad having so many open WIPs; I don’t want to start a new story until I can get some finished. But, I’ve also had a stroke since the last time I wrote a lot of those fics, so I’ve forgotten things. I’d have to reread just to remember where I left off and what I was trying to do.
11 ⧽. if you were to rewrite [insert fic] with [insert different character/ship] how do you think it might change?
Queens of Vale but with Elderburn instead of Freezerburn
Hmmm, not sure if this means rewrite the QoV setting for Elderburn or just do an arranged marriage AU with Elderburn, but for the former, I'd need to have Jacques double down on the invasion by sending Winter to lead it in a bid to weaken her standing among the Atlesian nobles and/or use her as a martyr to further his own ends. This would put Winter and Yang in opposition during the battle where Yang earns her Dragon of Patch moniker and Winter would likely realize the losing fight and order a retreat to save what ships she could. Realizing that invading Vale is a lost cause, Winter would propose the marriage as a political alliance with the only collateral she, as heiress apparent, has: herself.
A lot of QoV is focused on how Yang and Weiss establish their relationship, how they work through cultural misunderstandings, and how they teach and learn from each other to grow into their positions as the Queens of Vale. A QoV with Yang and Winter would come from a different angle- as an active participant in the war, Winter wouldn't have the cultural blindspots Weiss has, but would consider herself effectively a prisoner of war. Meanwhile, Yang would respect that Winter fought in the war herself (even if she wasn't a particularly talented warrior by Valen standards) and try to connect with her via combat. That would probably frustrate both of them and the tension would ratchet up until they reached a breaking point where Winter accepts that Yang isn't looking down on her and Yang starts really connecting with Winter outside of what she thinks is their one thing in common.
QoV with Freezerburn was about how two people work together to make things work and be leaders in a changing world and how love isn't something that just happens but takes conscious effort and, sometimes, even mistakes to become stronger. A QoV with Elderburn would be about two people figuring out themselves and each other while trying to do the best for those around them and that a relationship is really what you make of it.
9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?
Elderburn, though I had a lot of fun branching out into other ships/fandoms this year.
12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?
Um... well... technically... 25ish...
29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?
“I was confronted by one of our more… belligerent courtiers. It touched on some sore spots. Mainly, if nothing between us can change, if we can be nothing more than friends… does it make me a fool to keep seeking you out anyway? To look forward to our trips to market, to any moment I can spend with you… to let it motivate me. Is it wrong?”
“My Dearest Princess, do not begrudge me that I must speak plainly, but yes. Yes, it does make you a fool, but so am I, for between us, I am even more aware of how futile this is and, yet, I miss you when you’re gone. Knowing as I do that we can never be more than this, I allow myself to yearn, to hope, to dream- so we’re a pair of fools, you and I, and all the more foolish for being in this together.” Somehow, it didn’t hurt, being called a fool. Weiss had a point. They both seemed aware of the situation and, while Blake lacked the specifics, her mother wasn’t wrong- Weiss was stubborn and true, and Blake believed that with her whole heart. She may never be able to understand the specifics without all the details but that didn’t make her less aware of the outcome. Her gaze shifted from the ocean in front of them to watch the woman as she frowned severely. “However… in my heart, I can’t call you wrong. In my head you are- how can you be so careless with your heart, Blake, to give it to someone like me? To put yourself in this position- damn your honor and your pride, to take over my shopping as an apology, because you put yourself in this awful position and I- damn me, too, for not stopping you, for not turning away from your kindness and your smile and your playful eyes. For seeing you up on that wall and being weak. Damn us both for not being able to resist what we have known to be foolishness since the beginning.”
Her voice shook at the end but Weiss clung to that same pride that had fueled her since the beginning, the sharp look in blue eyes dulling ever so slightly as tears threatened to fall. Blake couldn’t help the sad curl to her lips. “I think I would rather be damned for all eternity than to live a peaceful life never knowing you, Weiss.”
“And damn your romantic words and what they do to me.” She turned and curled forward, into Blake’s chest, and she didn’t hesitate in enveloping the woman in her arms, burying her nose in moonlight locks and relishing the sensation. To hold her, even for a moment…
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, placing the words gently beside Weiss’ ear.
“Don’t be. Damn me, again and again, for being so thankful that I’ve gotten this much, for now that I understand how powerful love can be, I wonder how I’ve lived so long without it, and I wonder how I can stand by and watch as you one day marry someone else.”
-My Love, My Heart, Chapter 3
Getting to do a pseudo period piece and write some ridiculous Monos was very soothing. The melodrama was also fun.
I would like to get to know the fic, therefore I pose to you: 4, 15, 24, 46 and 66.
As that's a few, please do pick and choose from among them.
4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?
Oh, absolutely everywhere. AUs based on other properties are easy- I just pick the scenes or characters that mean the most to me and rearrange things until they work- but for the most part I'm just constantly thinking of things or reimagining them.
15. How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?
Smut's extremely difficult to write for me. A personal reading pet peeve of mine is trying to figure out how characters get from one position to another or reach certain places in a given position, so I spend a lot of time thinking about the details and mechanics of it. However, that's not why I write smut; I, as an author and even as a reader, care more about the emotional significance than the act itself (granted, not always true, but usually). I don't really want to focus on the details or visuals as much as the significance and emotions... but, damnit, sometimes, it's unavoidable! As for realism, as long as the underlining mechanics make sense, I could care less.
24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?
There was a whole Twitter thread filled with shit writing advice that I reblogged once but the one that sticks with me was "if all you're ever going to write is fanfic, you should quit". I ignored it.
46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)
I really try to focus on characters and their emotions, so I would hope my writing is seen as character driven and emotional. Not that I want anyone losing sleep over my fics or anything but I do hope that they resonate and stick in the mind for a bit, either for humor or relatability.
66. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?
I don't, lol. For a very long time, my self worth was firmly tied to my ability to "do a good job" and, if I wasn't updating, then I was failing to "do a good job". So, I stopped posting WIPs and just work on them in private and share when they're done. Negative comments don't ever make me question my writing but they do make me question the concept of people. I also come from the days of: if you have the temerity and energy to write a critique, don't, just write the damn fic yourself. If a critic isn't willing to do that for any reason then, sorry, that "critique" is just sour grapes; into the bin with it. I stopped giving myself deadlines and focus on writing for the sake of writing, creating for the fun of it, and sharing because if it helps someone pass the time or brighten their day, then that's probably the best thing I can do for a stranger I'll never meet.
I am so excited to read Queens of Vale again and able to read it in its entirety. I was sad when I read that update saying you were shelving it but I defenitly understood why you did.
But, with its this re-release, I'm so excited to read your story again. I hope this means you're going to he going back to a few of your other stories (after a well deserved break) I've been a huge fan of your work and always love the settings, writing and pairings your written about. Always exciting and fresh setting when it comes to your work.
I apologize for the lengthy non-ask but I've been trying to get better at leaving comments and sending love to stories and artwork.
Thank you. I do hope, with the benefit of hindsight, people are more understanding of my decision to shelve it publicly. Realizing how long it would be, and how belligerent people were being regarding updates, it was just the most sensible option to preserve the integrity of the work. As @jsnhlbr5 can attest, having the freedom to work on it at my own pace gave me the ability to be a bit more critical than I might've otherwise been regarding the pacing and scope of the story, to its benefit. (That being said, I definitely didn't proofread it as good as I thought, lol.)
I do hope to finish a few more WIPs sometime in the future, though I doubt any will reach the length of QoV.
I appreciate your comment and I hope you enjoy whatever comes out next.
As long as you're taking suggestions for fics to work on (which you are naturally under no obligation to give credence to) two of my favorite RWBY fics of all time are Called Up, Called out, and Symphony of Souls.
See, I've debated rewriting Symphony of Souls multiple times, if only because I think the pacing is atrocious. However, I'm not convinced the pacing is so bad it requires a rewrite instead of 'heads up, just go with it' tacked on the beginning.
A CUCO update is halfway done; I got lost in a research rabbit hole and then lost track of what I was initially researching.
Darkness and pain. That's what she awoke to, despite the sensation of the sun on her skin. A strangled groan of agony wrenched from her lips as she tried to move, the weight of something bearing down on her, but she could neither dislodge it nor even open her eyes to see what it was.
How long had she been out? Was it that very morning that she'd stepped into her chariot, prepared to lead the charge against the enemy, or was it a week past? More?
She couldn't be sure. Couldn't feel anything aside from the pressure and pain, the heat of the sun and the cool kissing breeze of early evening, and Winter Schnee understood very well the traditions of her people. To die on the battlefield- the ultimate honor, not sullied by being removed from the field, left to stand vigil over the sites of bloodshed, and without the sounds of the war drums pounding, she'd been counted among the fallen and left behind.
Of course, given her present situation, she would likely die anyway, but it chaffed at her that she hadn't fallen in combat outright, left instead to succumb to her wounds after the fact.
"Gods, grant me mercy." She coughed, choking on the words and only then becoming aware that she ached for water, for food, on top of everything else.
"Is someone alive out here?" A voice she'd never heard before- curious, surprised, but speaking a language she knew- called out and drew closer. "Or was I just hearing things?"
Another groan left her lips. Some scavenger picking over the remains of the battlefield. "Leave me be."
"Hey, you don't have to be rude; you just-" She heard shuffling off to her right side as whoever had descended upon the killing field stopped. "Wait. C-can you see me?"
"I can't open my eyes so, no, I can't."
"Uh... your eyes are open."
A frown touched her lips as she tried looking around her, but the action drew a hiss as pain flared across her face, which she couldn't assuage with her arms pinned. "Very well then, I amend my answer. I'm apparently blind so, no, I can't."
A sigh- maybe from exasperation or frustration, considering the circumstances, plus the droll tone adopted by the woman as she approached.
"Gee, are you always this charming?" More shuffling until a shadow fell across her, and she could only tell that much because her face suddenly didn't feel as warm. "You're wedged under a bunch of wood and a dead horse. It's gonna take me a moment, but I think I can move it off you."
"Is the horse white?"
"What?"
"The horse. Is it white?" She could move her head without much pain, though it did make separating the pain a little bit easier now that she could better envision her situation. The agony in her face must be what had blinded her, perhaps one of those vile liquid concoctions the enemy used that would eat away leather if left unattended, and she had a headache that seemed exacerbated when she pressed a particular spot on the back of her head against the ground. Sometime after her helm fell off during the fighting, she must've been dealt a blow that rendered her unconscious and put her in this predicament in the first place. "Well?"
"No, it's brown." It didn't seem like the scavenger was lying but she couldn't be certain. "I don't see a white horse anywhere. Wait, there's a white one with black socks over there."
"That's not mine. Mine was pure white." A little bit of relied settled over her; at least her steed had survived the battle and would live to carry more warriors to the field or sire strong offspring to do it in his stead. The slain one had belonged to an ally and she hoped they’d died, too. Better a warrior’s death than the loss of so vital a companion as one’s warhorse. "Were you here when the battle ended? How long has it been?"
"Honestly, I came when I heard the fighting; made enough noise to echo all through the valley. By the time I got here, one group was retreating while the other chased them, so it's only been a few hours." There's some strange sound, like a low hissing, as she got a bit closer. "This might hurt a bit."
"What are you- ah!" She grimaced as the weight on her suddenly moved, the sound of crashing wood just barely making it over the blood rushing in her ears. Suddenly, she could feel even more pain than before, and it wretched another cry from her lips a moment before something pressed against them, cool and wet.
“Drink this; it’ll numb you to the pain. It’s only temporary though.”
Begrudgingly, she let just a little bit of the liquid spill into her mouth and down her throat, coughing the moment she could breath. “It tastes awful.”
“Of course it does! It’s medicine!” The woman chuckled, carefully slipping an arm beneath her shoulders. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay? Don’t fight me; I want you to drink a little bit more before I get a proper look at your injuries.”
“Just leave me,” she said, though the pain began to ebb from her consciousness, leaving behind a pleasant warmth that calmed her. “Atlas soldiers are honored by death on the battlefield.”
“Are they honored by returning from death on the battlefield?”
If it didn’t hurt her face, she’d probably scowl, so she settled for infecting her tone with enough scorn and incredulity to convey that anyway. “What?”
She hummed thoughtfully. “Here in Mistral, the people have many legends. Stories about warriors plucked from the battlefield, chosen by the gods to become a champion, divinely ordained to fulfill some quest- does Atlas not have tales like that?”
Winter puffed out an irritated breath. “We do, but they’re far and few between, and I’m not much of a champion like this. Don’t try to sway me with your customs.”
“I’m from Vale, actually, but even we have those legends. Maybe the Gods brought me here to help you.”
“Leave me be,” she replied, groaning as the liquid began to take effect, the pain ebbing as it morphed into something nebulous and intangible- incense smoke, already dispersed on the wind. “Let me rest.”
“You can rest in my cave- become stronger. Who knows? Maybe the gods will give you back your sight if you have blind faith.” That didn’t sound like any god she’d worship. She knew only of battle, of life and death, of strength and cunning and speed- one could take nothing on faith in the midst of war. “Come on, let me help you.”
Her brows knit together but she smoothed out her expression immediately after, for the pain could still penetrate the veil of medicine. “You’re persistent.”
“It’s one of my better qualities.” More shifting and hissing, soft touches against numbed wounds- she couldn’t place the previous sounds but perhaps it was the woman’s armor. She’d seen many strange things since coming to this land; that could very well be one of them. “Your wounds are pretty bad; I’m not sure if I can heal them... hmmm... so how about a deal? A bet, if you will?”
Seeing as she lacked the strength to drive the stranger away, she gave an inch. “What bet?”
“I take you back to my cave and try to treat your wounds for thirty days. If, by the end of thirty days you’re not any better, I’ll bring you back here and let you die in peace. How’s that?”
“You fool.” With her ability to feel the agony falling away bit by bit, Winter felt herself become tired. If she could stall a little longer, perhaps she’d pass into her eternal watch long before the stranger had a chance to remove her from the field. “Atlesian soldiers do not die in peace. We die in war, in bloody combat.”
“Fine, then I’ll fight and kill you myself.”
She suspected the answer to be obvious but asked the question anyway. “Are you a warrior?”
“No, not really,” the woman replied, though her voice remained strong. “But it’s not hard to hold a sword.”
That made her pause and think. If a warrior survived long enough, they would be expected to train youngsters. It remained the one thing she hadn’t done; she’d fought, she’d forged her own weapons, her own armor, she’d commanded, she’d won, and she’d lost. But she’d yet to train- and her sister didn’t count. If she trained this stranger to at least hold a sword properly, to actually fight... maybe she could still die in battle.
“Is there another alternative?”
“Oh, sure.” A chuckle. “I could paralyze you with a potion and mend your wounds that way, then leave you in some Mistrali city, where you’ll no doubt be imprisoned as an enemy.” A melodramatic sigh. “At least then, you’d live another twenty years before dying in a jail cell.”
As her lips curled into a sour frown, she had to consider the woman rather clever for that; she would expect such cutthroat tactics from a mortal enemy, not a healer. “What do they call you?”
“... many things,” she replied with a sigh. “But my name is Yang Xiao Long.”
“You may call me Warrior,” Winter said, noting how her tongue felt thick and clumsy, sleep beckoning to her. “Do not let me die away from this place, Yang. This is where I should stand my watch.”
An arm hooked beneath her knees as the stranger picked her with ease. “Warrior’s a kinda... weird name. No offense.”
“I didn’t say it was my name.” Although proud, she couldn’t help but rest her head against Yang’s oddly shaped pauldron, careful not to let the wound on her face catch against the armor. “Only my comrades and enemies are fit to know my name and you are neither.”
“Let no one accuse you of being overly grateful.”
“You’re free to drop me now.”
“As stubborn as you are to die, I’m just as stubborn to help you.” The hissing seemed louder for some reason but... weirdly soothing. “Rest, Warrior. You’ll need it.”
Winter blinked, turning her head to look at her wife. They sat side-by-side in the waiting room, having lost track of time as they waited for news. “Come again?”
“Do you have a favorite memory?” Yang had that look in her eyes, the one that said she’d been awake for far too long and floating through the moment, trying to keep her head above water and nothing more. She empathized even if years of service had made the state of mind almost second nature to her. “Like, something you think about, remember, just to make a bad day good again?”
“Usually, I think of you or the kids,” she replied, realizing her wife’s exhaustion had reached a new level when Yang neither smiled nor seemed to register her response.
“But, like... specific...”
Winter sighed and slumped slightly in her chair, shifting her left hand to rest on her wife’s prosthetic. “I’m not sure if I’d say it’s my favorite but... do you remember when I texted you in the middle of the night after our first big fight? And you immediately called me to very politely chew me out for doing that?”
That seemed to bring her wife back to reality somewhat. “You mean when we almost broke up?”
“Yes.” A small smile curled her lips. “Perhaps it’s foolish but I reflect on that night often. You had every reason to ignore me entirely or end our relationship right then. I was entirely in the wrong.” Winter leaned towards her wife, tilting her head to rest against Yang’s. “But... you gave me a second chance and I don’t want to imagine how my life might’ve turned out otherwise. It’s a good reminder to be thankful for every moment, even the ones that aren’t perfect.”
“Huh.”
“And you?”
Her wife was silent for a moment before sighing deeply. “The night I tried giving up... but you wouldn’t let me. Not so much the arguing but when you got the kids together and we all went back to bed... always reminds me how lucky I am.”
“We really are a pair,” she said with a wry smile. “Turning our scars into badges of pride and affection.” A moment of silence passed as her wife turned her prosthetic arm, beckoning Winter to intertwine their fingers. “But if I had to pick a favorite, as in one I enjoy thinking about when I’m already in a good mood...”
“Yeah?”
“You first.”
A chuckle as Yang leaned into her as well. The arms of the waiting room chairs dug into their sides uncomfortably but it didn’t matter. They were both exhausted and that didn’t matter either. “Every new moment with you is my new favorite moment.”
“That’s delightfully cheesy,” she replied. “I love it.”
“I have my moments.”
“Mom! Momma!” They both straightened up, looking over to see their son hurrying towards them with a wide smile on his lips. “There you two are! Come meet your new granddaughter!”
As they got to their feet, Winter snuck a kiss to her wife’s cheek. “I concur. Every moment by your side is my favorite.”
