1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic. 3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole? 22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. :)
Another ancient ask I never saw, however - answers as below!
1. Probably I would say domestically funny is my signature move - no big stakes at play as such, but silly (and snarky) interactions. Emphasis on the funny - I do enjoy writing to make myself laugh. Honestly I think the best thing I have ever written (and possibly will ever write) is Dial 911 & State Your Emergency.
The other thing I’d say is crossovers - I really enjoy the challenge of taking two elements and fitting them together.
2. Probably the whole alpha/beta/omega stuff - I just don’t really understand it!
3. I’m not sure my style has really changed, tbh 🤔 mostly I default to casual modern funny, but occasionally I lean into a more gothic tense descriptive style. In the absence of being able to fulfil this question I’ll offer a sneak peak at some unfinished fic:
“I’m pretty sure that guy thinks I’m guilty,” Steve said heavily, as the door swung shut on the small room.
“And I’m pretty sure I have no idea why you’re sitting on your ass waitin’ on that monumental waste of good oxygen, when you know damn well the best lawyer in the United States is just a phone call away,” Bucky answered, leaning back in his chair and fixing Steve with a long look.
It was the first Christmas after the events of Civil War, and though the gang was technically back together, relations were strained to say the least.
Tony, who waited exactly six months, 14 days, 3 hours and 17 minutes before he called Steve and told him that, whilst he still thought he was an asshole and that Barnes should be locked up, he nevertheless considered Steve his asshole and he’d be damned if they’d be having Christmas at the compound without him.
Steve told him that wasn’t what he meant by the letter, and hung up.
It took Tony five voicemails, two and a half begging letters of his own and a succession of text messages before Steve broke.
These Endless Days (Are Finally Ending in a Blaze)
“This would be Faith,” the blonde gestured toward the doorway where the lithe brunette was lounging against the wooden frame. The other girl winked.
“Not gonna introduce me all proper-like, B?” Faith asked, grinning. “And here I was thinking all these years that you were the one with manners.”
“Bucky, this is Faith. She’s tried to kill me on multiple occasions, once stole my body and fully believes that pleather is for life, not just for Christmas. Did I leave anything out?”
“Nah, think you got it all,” the brunette commented, inspecting her nails.
