finding an error in someone else's fic: awe. we are all human - this is totally understandable and doesn't bother me whatsoever. it is almost endearing to know that others are not perfect, and in their excitement to share, they made a small mistake.
finding an error in your own fic: a merciful death is too kind for me. i deserve to be burnt on a pyre or publicly executed at dawn
We are three weeks into the creating period and have just a little over 4 weeks left. Remember works are due on December 22nd, although you can continue to edit and tweak things up until the 24th.
How’s everyone doing? Have you started? Are you finished? Hope you’re having fun with with creative process!
I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.
(You can see your total word count by looking at your stats page and selecting "all years", if you have multiple accounts, vote based on your combined total from all accounts)
people be like “just sit down and write” as if i’m not already fighting 12 inner demons, a collapsing attention span, and the evil spirit of a plot hole i forgot to fix in chapter two
thank you SO MUCH for sending this and making me write, i hope you enjoy it :)
--
"Sif, wait!" His voice echoes down the cloister and Loki is grateful she is the only one to witness the way he tears across the flagstones, a tinge of desperation dripping into his tone, "Hold on!"
Sif stops short, turning so sharply, he almost stumbles into her, her whole being radiating tension. If Loki were more sure that his wrist wouldn't end up broken, he would smooth out the crease in her brow, or catch her clenched jaw in his palm, but they still haven't spoken of this strange energy between them, the one that feels like a fire blazing just beneath his skin, so instead he tightens his grip on the prize hidden in his fist as she studies him, frustrated.
"What Loki? I am already running late. If I'm not at the arena with my armor on in half an hour I—"
"I just wanted to give you this," he lets his hand open, revealing three thin strips of material wound into a braid.
The pieces are simple enough; the leather formerly a bookmark, eased out of his favorite volume of poetry, the soft green fabric sliced from the edge of his favorite cloak, the delicate golden threads pinched from his mother's weaving basket and sparkling with a hint of magic. It is the simplest of favors for her to wear, one that will surely be hidden by her bracers as she fights and the long sleeves of her dress at tonight's feast, but his heart is in his throat as he holds it out towards her, willing the heat he can feel at his throat not to rise to his face.
"I eagerly await your victory, and I would be honored to know that you pummeled those fools into the ground wearing a symbol of my—" he coughs involuntarily, his throat going suddenly dry, "my favor."
"Victory," she scoffs, teeth flashing against her bitten lip, "sure."
She looks downtrodden and he tries not to let it sting too much that she has clearly missed his barely subtle subtext, instead focusing on the uncertainty in the slump of her shoulders.
"What do you mean? Surely you believe this year's tournament is yours for the winning, no?
"I don't know." Her voice is smaller than he's ever heard it, his ears straining, even against the silence of the stone around them, "What if I can't? What if I choke?"
It is unnerving to see someone so confident withdraw so steadily into herself, a fear Loki has only witnessed in brief flashes suddenly eclipsing her. He knows what this must be like, the overwhelming terror in admitting your weakness to another and so he catches her hand, letting his thumb draw gentle circles against her knuckles. She looks up and an infinity seems to pass as he loses himself to the overwhelming feeling of all her precious focus being directed at him.
"Sif, you're and bolder and more brilliant than the lot of them. They underestimate you, they always have, and today you show them why that's not just a mistake, but a tactical failure. You'll destroy them and they'll never see it coming."
"You really think so?"
Truthfully, he always finds it best to be cautious, to never promise anyone anything he cannot guarantee, but the hope that lights Sif's eyes is addicting and he could not bear to be the one to dash it.
"I know so." The moment of uncertainty passes and the smile that breaks across her lips rivals the sun, "Now, may I offer you this token ahead of your match?"
"You may."
She frees her hand only to offers her wrist to him and Loki fumbles with the braid as he tries to loop it around once, twice, finally succeeding on the third try. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how her eyes have softened, how she huffs out a silent laugh at his awkwardness, and allows it to bolster him. They have spent years dancing around their feelings and despite his clumsiness, never before has he felt so confident of his reception, so after he ties off the knot, Loki allows his thumb to slip under the bracelet and brush across her racing pulse.
"Also, I wanted to ask, do you still remember how to get to the tower in the eastern wing?"
"I do," if she is surprised by this turn of conversation, she doesn't let it show, "why?
"I think I might find myself up there perhaps an hour into tonight's festivities. You know, there'll be no better spot to watch the fireworks or the stars after that." Finally he chances a glance up and is rather pleased by the flush softly staining her cheek, "I already have my eye on a particular vintage from father's cellar and I...it would be nice to celebrate. Just the two of us."
"Oh?" He nods, not quite willing to press his luck further, but then she laughs and it sounds like relief, like finally, "It sounds perfect Loki, I would love that."
Beyond them, a bell chimes and Sif snaps to, her attention clearly split between staying here, extending this moment as long as they might dare, and running at a full tilt to the armory so she might have a bit more time to prepare.
"Go," he says, already looking forward to watching her dance across the training yards, "I'll find you later."
She squeezes his hand and for a moment, Sif's eyes dart down to his lips, considering, but she just shoots him a wink and a smirk before she turns and runs down the rest of the hall, Loki's heart and his favor going with her.
someone: hey I noticed this thing you did in your writing!
me, kicking my feet up flirtatiously: oh??? do you want to hear my thoughts on why I did that? do you want a play-by-play of the language choices in every related sentence? do you want an exhaustive breakdown of The Themes???
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