I did the thing!
Mar. 26th, 2019 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kryptariaMany things, actually!
1. I fixed chapter 12 of A MIDWINTER PRINCE and sent it off to beta. And I didn't break anything too badly in my edits!
2. I joined wipbigbang.tumblr.com with A MIDWINTER PRINCE, because I want to finish this story and get back to my epic already, dammit.
3. ...
Well, that's actually it writer-wise, but hey. That chapter had me stalled for AGES. The characters kept wanting me to turn the fic into an angsty political thriller instead of the rom-com I'm determined to write, but I've finally got them back on track. Sure, there's a tiny bit more angst + politics than the original material (I'm talking A CHRISTMAS PRINCE, not MERLIN) but that's just my way of filling in the UFO-size plot holes.
I anticipate the finished fic to be 70-80k words, which means it's essentially a full-length novel.
Want a sneak preview? Let's see if I can make a cut work.
Edit: Apparently I can't. So, yeah. Scroll down for a preview?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It took Morgana turning traitor and dumping a double handful of snow down the back of his coat for Arthur to finally call for a truce. As he trudged off after his horse, who’d strayed beneath the trees, Morgana nudged Merlin with an elbow and shot him a look that was probably full of meaning to someone whose synapses hadn’t frozen solid.
Her next nudge was harder, sending him stumbling in Arthur’s direction. “Go help him!” she ordered, her mind-voice probably loud enough to be heard on both sides of the Veil.
Merlin bit back a retort only because Arthur, in an effort to rid himself of Morgana’s icy gift, had lifted his coat to give it a good shake, which gave Merlin a fantastic view of the skin-hugging trousers covering the royal arse. Thank the Gods for Lycra, he thought, only to hear Morgana’s laughter ringing in his mind.
Pointedly slamming his mental shields into place, he slogged through the snow to where Arthur had picked up his horse’s reins. He’d pulled off a glove so he could stroke his bare hand over the horse’s muzzle, a sight that made Merlin reinforce his shields even more, especially when Arthur turned to give him a curious look, blue eyes bright over cold-reddened cheeks.
“Go help him,” Morgana had said — unhelpfully. Merlin barely knew front from back when it came to horses, and the only “help” he could think to offer the maybe-future King of Camelot would end in frostbite. Not to mention a degree of mental trauma for the maybe-future King’s half-sister.
1. I fixed chapter 12 of A MIDWINTER PRINCE and sent it off to beta. And I didn't break anything too badly in my edits!
2. I joined wipbigbang.tumblr.com with A MIDWINTER PRINCE, because I want to finish this story and get back to my epic already, dammit.
3. ...
Well, that's actually it writer-wise, but hey. That chapter had me stalled for AGES. The characters kept wanting me to turn the fic into an angsty political thriller instead of the rom-com I'm determined to write, but I've finally got them back on track. Sure, there's a tiny bit more angst + politics than the original material (I'm talking A CHRISTMAS PRINCE, not MERLIN) but that's just my way of filling in the UFO-size plot holes.
I anticipate the finished fic to be 70-80k words, which means it's essentially a full-length novel.
Want a sneak preview? Let's see if I can make a cut work.
Edit: Apparently I can't. So, yeah. Scroll down for a preview?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It took Morgana turning traitor and dumping a double handful of snow down the back of his coat for Arthur to finally call for a truce. As he trudged off after his horse, who’d strayed beneath the trees, Morgana nudged Merlin with an elbow and shot him a look that was probably full of meaning to someone whose synapses hadn’t frozen solid.
Her next nudge was harder, sending him stumbling in Arthur’s direction. “Go help him!” she ordered, her mind-voice probably loud enough to be heard on both sides of the Veil.
Merlin bit back a retort only because Arthur, in an effort to rid himself of Morgana’s icy gift, had lifted his coat to give it a good shake, which gave Merlin a fantastic view of the skin-hugging trousers covering the royal arse. Thank the Gods for Lycra, he thought, only to hear Morgana’s laughter ringing in his mind.
Pointedly slamming his mental shields into place, he slogged through the snow to where Arthur had picked up his horse’s reins. He’d pulled off a glove so he could stroke his bare hand over the horse’s muzzle, a sight that made Merlin reinforce his shields even more, especially when Arthur turned to give him a curious look, blue eyes bright over cold-reddened cheeks.
“Go help him,” Morgana had said — unhelpfully. Merlin barely knew front from back when it came to horses, and the only “help” he could think to offer the maybe-future King of Camelot would end in frostbite. Not to mention a degree of mental trauma for the maybe-future King’s half-sister.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-27 07:55 pm (UTC)