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24 September 2020 @ 04:29 am
The thing is, I do feel a bit presumptuous in this ridiculously awkward way, posting this. I haven't written enough, and I don't know if this is going to be of any help at all to anyone who is not me.

But I feel unusually organized today (also, there was this one time when I couldn't locate some of my own fics, so.)

The Masterlist of all my fanfiction, let me show you it.


Sometimes, I write.Collapse )
Current Mood: embarrassedembarrassed
09 October 2010 @ 06:46 pm

I've come to the conclusion that I'm one of those people who has to obsess with one thing in order to get over the other.

Writing's always helped me with that, I think. When my real life takes boulders to the front, I write compulsively. Without any respect. And thats when, I suppose, the quality of what I write hits a solid bottom. I used to think I wasn't one of those people at first - writing was never supposed to be an escape route or anything as dramatic as that. I made do with music and sketching and I made do with them brilliantly.

I didn't need a journal for heavens sake, I didn't want my life to be a turn out of the stereotypes my subconscious has picked from British romantic comedies or Meg Cabot. I don't think there's anything wrong with owning a journal per se, its just that whenever I tried pinning my thoughts down on paper (my own personal thoughts) I inevitably ended up sounding old and hollow and pretentious, and I don't like thinking too much into that for obvious reasons.

But then I turned to compulsive writing, and there were these other characters I could screw up. People who could be as flawed as they cared to be, as flawed as my mood allowed because they don't exist outside of  own brain, which makes is okay because no one is ever looking at them.

And so I went through three months of angry writing, moody writing, depressed writing, hateful writing, Freudian writing, political writing, pretentious as fuck writing, quickforcedblind writing.

And it wasn't brilliant the way it turns out for most literary geniuses (not that I expected it to be, that would be ridiculous, but the end result of what I'd created was even more so,)  it wasn't productive, it didn't help in the long term, and when I re read what I'd written then I'm sort of appalled at how callously I'd treated something I claim (and it really is) to be my favourite thing in the whole world.

My fanfics are different. My fanfics are fine because I don't like to brutally break down characters who don't belong to me (beyond a certain extent that is.) But I've not been doing any quality writing at all, at least not any of my original stuff holds any worth, and I guess I'm just very, very tired of that.

I don't even know if this post makes any sense because I'm just trying to sort this jumble of letters and characters in my head. My writing, as an entity,  is not a product of my mood, at least I don't think it is. I mean, of course my state of mind matters - how can it not - but it shouldn't be able to kill something that I hold precious, not even screw around with it. I write, essentially, because I love to, not because I'm mad at people or at myself. And I think its time I reminded myself of that.

So I guess I'm trying to say that I'm going to write with my head again and not with my allegorical dick. 

The End.

Um, also. Have a picture my pretties.

I eat strange.Collapse )

Edited because I have friends who can't click a picture without picassa-ing it into a couple of other dimensions. But that's me, albeit a slightly yellow version.

I don't know why I feel the need to share this. At all.
Title: Of Metal And Morphing  (Arthur/ Eames)
Rated: R
Word Count: 6,946
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Where they can't run away from each other. Arthur, to his credit, tries. Originally written for this prompt at the inception_kink  . Because I live to make make lives easier when I'm not destroying them with failing fanfiction, I've posted the video below :)
Notes: I thought it'd be incredibly clever to be nice and subtle about stealing scenes from the prompt, but then I discovered it was all going down the drain when I had to squint myself. And oh, oh human beings, I am so sorry about the pick up lines. They ran away from me although I thought I had them placed in dungeons of terror. I do apologise. 

Of Metal and Morphing.Collapse )
Current Mood: chipperchipper
Title: Paris: A Rainy Day  (Arthur/Eames)
Rated: PG
Word Count: 1,719
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Its raining and Eames and Arthur are obvious gits. Ariadne gets thinking. Originally written for [info]bookshop's prompt at theinception_kink . I've posted the picture below to make things easier.
Notes: Everytime I try to convince myself that its a good idea to write unintelligent Inception fiction - I succeed. 

Paris: A Rainy DayCollapse )
29 September 2010 @ 10:07 pm
Title: Accord (Arthur/Eames)
Rated: PG-13
Word Count: 2,105
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Arthur is an awkward berk when it comes to goodbyes. Originally written for this prompt at the [info]inception_kink.
To make things easier I've posted the picture below :)
AccordCollapse )
Title: Roman Piquant and Lots of Sex
Rated: R
Word Count: 2,057
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: Eames has a mystery to solve and Arthur drinks coffee.
Notes: I can't keep linking coffee to cock. Or cocktail to cock. Why do I exist

Roman Piquant and Lots of SexCollapse )
Current Mood: awake
21 September 2010 @ 10:13 pm
Title: The Way They Are (2/2)
Rated: It's filth art.
Word Count: 3, 552
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: The one in which they are misunderstood boarding school students who have angry misunderstood boarding school sex. So much for suspense.
Notes: I wash my hands off this. I am DONE. I am reverting back to comedy and STAYING there. Also, I am sleeping.

Part 1

Part TwoCollapse )

Title: The Way They Are
Rated: It's filth art.
Word Count: 2,336
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Summary: The one in which they are misunderstood boarding school students who have angry misunderstood boarding school sex. So much for suspense.
Notes: Its much too late for me to panic over this. I am so predictable. Oh GOD why boarding school, why? No, the title makes no sense. I should be drunk right now.

The Way They AreCollapse )

Part 2