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bereft-of-frogs · 4 years ago

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3. Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them? + 4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it? + 5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter. + 17: What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing? ---- Sorry, i am very curious :D

Thanks for asking! Questions are from this list, if anyone wants to send any more!

3. Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

The two I’m currently focusing on out of my sea of WIPs are what I’m calling the ‘twin bastard WIPs’: aka, the grotesque fic and ‘variations on a redemption arc 1′. I’m calling them that because they’re both similar despite being in different fandoms. They’re both about the same length, they both deal with dark themes (including torture, always fun), there’s a lot of overwrought emotional conversations - and I was having the same problems with them. Specifically, I’d put them aside and let myself get distracted by other works and then when I picked them back up I would have like...the same series of revelations every single time. Like, ‘oh I should do this and this, and THIS is the real motivation for this character behind the mask.........wait I’ve already done this.’ So I decided to just focus on these two until they were finished, which is going...umm...okay. (There was not a ‘variations on a redemption arc 2′ when I made this pledge and then wrote three pages of it in a notebook...)

I would say I should be done with both by the end of the summer? Hopefully? well, the grotesque fic has a deadline now and I’m making good progress on the other (though I have fight scenes left to write blegh I always procrastinate writing fight scenes).

4. Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

I rarely consider WIPs abandoned. Either they were never really WIPs to begin with, just snippets of ideas and dialogue I had no intention of expanding on in the first place, indulgent scenes I just wrote for myself, or I still have hope to finish them. Two slightly longer ones though that I would call abandoned:

- last year to combine a whumptober prompt with a bad things happen bingo square (hunting season + surrender) I started a Star Wars fic but the worldbuilding never came together and I subsequently learned there’s an arc of The Clone Wars that did almost the same thing (one day I will actually watch The Clone Wars....it is not this day, though I do have a friend who might bully me into it soon) so I just scrapped it.

- I had another earlier version of the ‘Team Revengers on the Ark’ type semi-episodic fic, but I ended up pilfering some individual scenes for ‘pain and other human sensations’ and I ended up liking where I went with that a lot better (even for things that didn’t affect the larger series plot, like the Grandmaster’s return) and never really cared to go back and continue this version

5. Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

from ‘variations on a redemption arc 1′

“You’ll let him die?”

The thought of it leaves him momentarily breathless. But he still says, “Yes. I would let him die a Jedi.”

Silence falls between them. Qui-Gon expects Dooku to leave. But he doesn’t.

“I cannot deny,” Dooku says after a few minutes of quiet. The roar of pain has dulled to a steady throb. “That once I would perhaps have answered as you did. That I would have perhaps had the sense of honor to let you die rather than fall. But I have watched too many Jedi cut down in service of a mission that failed long ago, and I will do it again.”

file this under, ‘willing to put up with writing 3 separate fight scenes because I am in love with this one exchange’

[additional note: the second ‘variations on a redemption arc’ isn’t actually a sequel but just another fic along the same lines, with some divergences, which is why I really want to finish this one first, because first of all I keep getting distracted and losing track of the complicated emotional and political motivations, but I also don’t want to mix up themes since they’re taking place at very different narrative points. it’s just a funny placeholder title haha, because the other day I was like ‘wait isn’t this just another variation on the same narrative’ and then was like ‘eh, two cakes’]

not from the grotesque fic, but the conclusion to an accidental trilogy about ghosts and hallucinations:

“You see, in this I preferred the old Thor. He’d spare me these sorts of conversations, bury it down deep and act as if nothing’s wrong.”

Thor’s gaze is level. “You’re asking me to act like nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.” Loki would vastly prefer never to have this conversation. He’d much prefer that Thor dismiss any of his new oddities as simple quirks and let him suffer in silence until it all fades. He turns back to his counting. 5…10…15…20…

“I know you’d prefer to avoid this talk, but see, that’s what got us in this mess in the first place, brother.” Thor sounds weary. “I let you suffer in silence until it didn’t fade, until it all blew up in my face. And you ask me to do it again? To repeat history?”

Loki stops counting cans. He was certain that he had not said any of that out loud. He turns and opens his mouth, but before he can demand an explanation, Thor says, “How’s the inventory coming?”

Only the Thor he was looking at hadn’t said anything, and the voice came from behind him.

Loki turns. Thor stands in the doorway, looking at him with an innocent smile on his face. Loki glances back to the crate where his brother had been perched. It is empty. He turns back to the Thor in the doorway, face feeling very cold and something unpleasant in his stomach. “What?”

“How’s the inventory coming?” Thor asks, a bit slower this time.

This was just the first piece I wrote of this conclusion, still far from making any decent progress on it but I like it!

17. What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing?

Tie between 1) any jokingly angry comment (like obviously not any actual nasty comments but the ones where people are like HURTS SO GOOD) 2) actually scratch that, when I finally got the first ‘you’re disgusting’ comment on one of my extremely rare actual Thorki fics, I was pretty proud of that too 3) any time I get to a place where I read back a fic of my that I’ve posted that hasn’t gotten a ton of comments or kudos and I’m like ‘hell yeah this is fire, I don’t care if the readers don’t appreciate you, fic, I appreciate you’. Which might sound sort of full of myself but it’s always a nice place to get to where it’s like...hey the validation is nice but also I just really like this work. wrote it for an audience of one, me, and me is happy so that’s a win.

Feel free anyone to send more asks! I will theoretically answer them at some point this evening as procrastination from actually writing

#idk why I get so cagey about sharing snippets of my star wars fic #i think i'm still weirdly waiting to get cancelled or bullied out of the fandom for some reason haha #even though people have been super nice even though i'm writing in a smallish niche #but yeah idk why i think i'm just...too emotionally wrapped up in it right now haha #so every time i post a star wars snippet i throw out an mcu one as a distraction/cushion for it to land on if that makes sense #deep insecurities about my star wars fic babies but i also love them so much #thanks for asking!#long post

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gffa · 5 years ago

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@grim-on-the-darkside replied:

I just recently saw the Rise of Skywalker, I didn't want to give Disney my money so I decided I'd wait til I could stream it for free.- This is just a personal opinion, nothing more, but I thought it was absolutely terrible. I knew I wouldn't like it, but I never thought it would be so awful. It may sound funny, and I don't mean it that way but, it literally made me sad. I suppose as a life long hardcore SW fan, as a Lucas Canonist, I knew it wouldn't be what I might have hoped for, but I never thought it would be like that. The worst SW movie I have ever seen by a wide margin. To see how far Star Wars has fallen, it has made me feel totally hopeless for the future of Star Wars. I'm not knocking anyone else for liking it, these kinds of things are totally subjective, that's the nature of art and no one is wrong for liking or disliking anything of an artistic nature. I actually envy those who do like Disney, because they get to still have Star Wars. For me, Star Wars is dead. It only exists in a place and time for me. Only Filoni can bring it back to life.

As always, I am not here to change anyone’s minds and I don’t think you’re here to change my mind, either, that both of us will be entirely fine if we don’t move an inch from where we started! It’s just a good chance to jump on one of my favorite subjects: navel-gazing about why, despite that I’m pretty hardcore about loving George Lucas’ Star Wars, why I enjoy the Disney era so much. It’s not that I think there’s anyone who can ever really live up to George Lucas, not even Dave Filoni, there’s plenty I disagree with him on or think he didn’t do as well as I wished he would have. I greatly, greatly admire how much he strives to stay true to George’s SW as much as he can and that he is clearly very passionate and very in love with SW and that I like the vast majority of things he creates and certainly I trust him more than most. But, for me, there are three distinct areas of “canon” and I’m fine with enjoying any given one of them for their own sake: - George Lucas’ Star Wars (the six movies + TCW) - Legends’ Star Wars (anything produced before mid-2014 + some after that) - Lucasfilm’s Star Wars (the Skywalker Saga + TCW + everything post-2014) Each one of those is completely separate in my mind, despite that they occasionally overlap with what they include as part of their continuity. Therefore, my love of George Lucas’ Star Wars does not infringe on my love of Lucasfilm’s Star Wars or Legends’ Star Wars. But the other thing is that, honestly, I don’t care that much about the movies in contrast to how much I care about the bigger everything that LFL is doing. Oh, I like the movies fine! But I got just as excited about Jedi: Fallen Order or Dooku: Jedi Lost or the amazing Age of Republic comics or the Dark Lord of the Sith comic. Seriously, I was just as excited about those as I was about the movie! (The movies take up more space, so I wind up talking about them more than any other individual project, but my excitement for every new issue of Dark Lord of the Sith eclipsed whatever I felt for the movies.) So, when I look at Lucasfilm Star Wars (or “Disney Star Wars” if one wants), my first thought isn’t always the movies. Which means there’s a hell of a lot less pressure on the movies for me, they don’t have to be All Things to me, and thus they’re just one part of a bigger continuity/canon that I really love. And I do think that a lot of the current comics have been fantastic. The main Star Wars ongoing comics, the main Darth Vader comics, they’ve all been telling stories that I’ve found to really sing to me, I’ve found that the bigger picture LFL canon has done better with George Lucas’ themes than I expected. I thought Rebels was really great. I’ve been enjoying the spectacle of The Mandalorian. Jedi: Fallen Order was so satisfying for me. If I only had just the ST movies, who knows, maybe I would be feeling similarly, that SW just had no future for me. But when I think of “future of SW”, I’m thinking, oh, I’m really curious about those High Republic books, I’m thinking, oh, I really want to see what a second JFO game might do, I’m thinking that I’m curious to see what ILMxLAB will come out with after how much I enjoyed Vader Immortal, I’m curious to see what the new Vader and SW comics are going to do, I’m curious to see what the new Thrawn books are going to be like, I’m curious to see if we’ll get follow up on all the stuff that happened after Rebels. I enjoy the stuff around the ST movies, the novelizations always have fun little snippets for me and, yeah, TROS is my favorite of the sequel movies, because I can at least grab hold of what they were trying to do and I’m willing to give the novels and comics and whatever comes in the future time to fill in the gaps. Some people are always going to hate the ST movies, a lot of people are always going to hate TROS and can’t see how it’s anything other than a pile of garbage, and while I’m sad that we won’t be able to share joy together, I get that people see things differently and that everyone genuinely brings their own stuff to the table and the reasons they don’t like it or reasons they do like it are valid for every one of us. If you want (and there is precisely zero pressure to do this, if it’s not your thing, I won’t think twice about it), maybe try some of the comics around the OT or the PT, have you watched the other TV shows? Or is Star Wars always going to be the movies for you? (And there’s nothing wrong with that, if that’s how it is for you!) That’s always my offer--try out some of the other stuff (especially the longer running comics or the TV shows), see if that hits the vibe for you re: what you’re looking for out of SW, because even if you don’t like one part of SW, there’s still those whole huge other area for you to try out. (Assuming you haven’t already, of course!)

#lumi.txt

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alchemisland · 6 years ago

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The Moors Mutt - I

Part II coming on Tuesday!

I. Old Stone

The beast I knew only in folkloric snippets. Hedge whispers perverting history to arcana through time immemorial. Perhaps too I had known it in nightmares, shapeless until named, becoming then familiar as a bedchamber.

It was grim autumn when that fateful letter arrived, setting in motion a chain of events both strange and unlikely. In retrospect, that a series of vignettes so bizarre could start with the simple act of a posted letter seemed comical.

The letter landed with a thud, dubbing me sole executor of the late Lady Renton Sizemore's last will, a grim charge requiring a trip to her wicked home, listed in the Briarscombe country house register as the third most bloodstained holding in England.

Dislike isn't the word. Lady Sizemore and I got on famously when last we spoke, thirty years ago. I wasn't the doting schoolboy turned dribbling manchild spending Saturday nights at bingo. Neither was she the elderly relation procuring coins from behind ears to the delight of the youngers.

We were not eachother's keeper. Why I was suddenly favoured for this sensitive task that required more mental finesse than anyone in the family gave me credit for out loud, puzzled me greatly. Somebody must have annoyed her at one of her events. Sandwich gala on the Pringle Estate destroyed by careless nephew's untucked shirt. In true family style, whatever infuriated her she took to the grave.

Once the money was apportioned, I was to ensure no stone went unturned, apt phrasing given its namesake. Cairn Cottage stood oppressively atop the mound some two hundred winters, a plundered megalith shielding against the bracing gales.

Up there the flowers bloomed blighted, grass grew sideways and only the sturdiest roots survived. Without the megalith's girth, perhaps those winds might have toppled the twisted demesne, but she held firm now as old.

Mystics, druids and spiritualists alike extolled the house's phantasmic virtues. Fringe groups scrambled to reserve exclusive use of the land for Candlemas ceremonies. Lady Sizemore didn't care, provided she was soundly remunerated.

Rumours abounded of hauntings, anomalies occurring on the land by midnight's trickery.

Upon receipt of instruction, I spurred my carriage toward Cairn Cottage, the house in whose shadow no local walked without rosaries.

Although my visit was primarily administrative, there was another matter pertinent to my interests. One muttering which above all others inspired fear. A cautionary tale warning children from the grounds by night. And sometimes, on cold and lonely nights, a brave man wandering alone might see fit to take the longer road home.

Worse than druids, they said a beast lived on the Moor. A hulking creature, whose snarling teeth bared in fullness of dark glowed like spears of starlight, whose stark brightness was dulled only by the gleaming viscera of previous engagements clinging in ragged flaps.

However the rumour started, it long sprouted legs of its own, more exciting with each recounting.

No smoke without fire. I intended to find the single primal ember, the lone truthful element, stripped of frill and frock, fancy and folly, bereft of myth, or loyalty to tradition. Was there something in the fields by night? Was it dangerous?

First came Sperrin, a grizzly hamlet outside the estate's confines. For a penny, a local lad promised to find a suitable nook for the trap. I visited the sole watering hole, a squalid cellar named Lar's. The tavern itself was not charmless, offering average vintage for below average prices, warmth, music, rustic flattery and inimitably, whispers of the beast.

The tavern's proprietor Lar was a man out of time. With his arms folded across his simian chest and those big lugs like trophy handles either side of his substantial forehead, he could have easily passed for a saxon chieftain. He stood astride the bar against a backdrop of coloured bottles. Immediately upon entering his eyes set upon me with great intensity. Unlike the merry keep of fireside tales, he offered no warmth in greeting. That you were found fit to sit his barstool was kindness enough.

Inebriates remained nursing drams, glowering at their respective lecterns. Occasionally I'd catch one staring at me, then turn away as I waved. After a while sitting and sipping, making a game of catching their nosy glances, I signalled Lar's attention. 'This is probably going to sound strange. Probably because it is. Hear me out though. Have you ever heard or seen anything strange out on the moor?'

Widened like an owl, Lar's right eye scanned me once, twice, three times before he moved a muscle. 'Have in fact. Not now though. Too many around. Later.' His lips barely moved. I tipped my nose.

Nearer closing, he poured a cup and sat, remaining on the business side of the bar.

'The beast, you say?' He leaned in close, one eyebrow raised, its shape the arching rod of a hooked line. 'I could tell you a thing or two about the beast alright.'

'Prithee speak, my curiosity is burning. I won't rest a wink until it's satiated. Tourist talk aside, do you believe, as men do God, a beast prowls these forests?' I inched forward, as if by closer proximity, the truths would be truer.

'Regular Theseus, eh? Monster hunters, we have had plenty. Lovers of darkness too. Students of forbidden arts. All are served here. Kings and paupers alike. Did you come all this way to hear me say that?' Lar spoke with great confidence. The manner of his prattling meant the tales he told were true, or this was practiced.

'No.' I replied, 'I have business in the cottage. My heart though, she belongs to this creature. I am not a quack, nor a holder of séances. I am not a man of low learning on the hunt for falsehoods. I am a lover of stories. Pray, continue your captivating narrative.'

He continued, 'Let it be said I was coaxed. You wanted this.'

In this ominous portent he let slip a mask of deft craft. There was artifice in his smile, a cheshire grin that touched either cheekbone. A whispered suggestion of hidden intent.

Everything made sense. Was I seeing clearly? More than ever. I saw his ruse; city boy down for the day, take him for a ride, tell him the usual stories. A pal of his will burst in at just the right time, scare me half to death, then they'll take me to the supposed hot-spot for the low price of everything I've got. Lar took me for a lettuce. Something in his warning tipped me. A little over-arch. If his performance was not theatre, then Shakespeare never wrote.

Doubtless once finished, Lar would proffer some overpriced talisman no fellwalker could risk refusing.

'Enough pussyfooting. Spill it. I'll need all the advice I can get.' Like a drill tip, I pressed my index finger into the bar.

'No matter what image I conjure in your mind's eye, the beast is yet more ferocious and terrible in the flesh. It's the great unreality of it.' He tapped his forehead. 'Your mind doubts what it's seeing, unable to comprehend its stimulus. Brave men are made mice in its shadow.'

'What evidence have you of such a creature?' I asked, draining my tankard. He did the same, then wiped the amber residue on the back of his hand. He looked me over once, as if to ask who I was to question. I returned a withering gaze, maneuvering my features to convey a similar message. For a moment the air felt charged with kinetic possibility. As when two pugilists circle to begin a contest, lead hands pawing. Neither of us wished to be responsible for qualms.

He broke the armistice. 'Evidence? If you didn't think it weren't here, you wouldn't have come. If you believed in your heart this week you'd be contending with a monster, you'd have stayed at home in your jams.'

'Nonsense, man! You forget I am summoned, not here of my own volition.'

'We, each of us, tell ourselves sweet little lies to justify how our limited time is spent. I have a right mind to think if the lady yet lived, you and I might still have met. On a yawning stretch such as this, arriving as you have: alone and curious. If there's one thing I can't respect, it's a self hating believer. Swanning around with all the cynicism of a non-believer, clad in the robes of an adherent, so that when the hobby is proved spurious you can point to your skepticism. You'd be first to the papers tomorrow if scientists verified the beast's existence, how you had journeyed and studied on your own dime to further the science.' Lar pursed his lips, knowing he'd cut me to the quick, vanished was his earlier reticence.

I hated how right he was. I was exactly this sort. Insulting people who believed the same things as me. First to refuse to enter a haunted house for fear a demon might take my soul.

I'd never concede his point though. I riposted, 'Few are more loathed than the opinionated barman. You speak much too readily. Do so again, I'll see your manners are checked for the next weary traveler willing to pay good coin.'

Lar's eyes lit, bulging with imagined riches. 'Let me fill your drink, sir. I meant no offence. We speak freely here. Manners soften. Soon one finds truths cannot be digested unperfumed. Here in the wilds, it's a duty to voice quarrel. Far from crown and court, unaired anger festers.' Lar gladly dispensed his pearls of rural wisdom as if they were sweets from a bulging striped bag.

'Really, man. Every idea can be made ridiculous if extrapolated to that degree. Manners take the edge off. I'm not offended by your candor. I intend to find the creature, if such exists. Have you no doubt about that.' I watched him pull another drink.

The returned tankard was too full to raise without spilling. I slurped loudly, head bowed. Like a pulled plug, half the liquid gone in a single gulp.

'What evidence is sufficient? Look around you.' Lar held aloft his hands, urging me toward his empty business, still cast in a sickly light from the last flickering sentinels.

He pointed toward the empty seats. A single patron remained hidden in the shadows. A local by his boots.

'We did a roaring trade before that bloody woman inherited the place. Once she came, the trade died. When I was a lad, that land was free to roam. No walls. She had them built to spite us. Worse rumours too and all, that she built those walls to house it.'

'It?' I asked

'It. The beast.' Lar's voice lowered to a whisper. 'A cage for a pet beyond control. That's your sort all over. Dabbling where you shouldn't.'

'Her sort.' I corrected, 'I'm not aristocratic. You're a presumptuous sort, you know.'

'Believe you're not the first to say. Her sort, whatever pleases. I don't subscribe to this theory. Me personally, I think it came from hell. One thing's for certain, it got worse when they shifted the cairn.'

'You say you have seen it?' Part of me thought I was the one stringing him along, but another more gullible me firmly believed, or wanted to believe, that he had seen something. Hoping not to seem needy, I drew myself close to him, the bar still between us, 'With your own eyes if you saw it, you must swear it now. Did you see it as I see you now, or as one sees the distant stars and erroneously assumes knowledge.'

'As I stand before you.' Lar gestured to his stained apron, which he then removed and hung on a hook overhead. He nodded to the barfly, who stumbled from his seat and shot the bolt across the lock, an angry black mechanism like a bas-relief, which clanked against the timber as he let it fall. 'That's Fergus.'

Fergus lurched over. One leg trailed behind him. I couldn't help imagining him as a gothic manservant, dragging corpses to the laboratory in pursuit of higher knowledge. He came to stand beside me. There were giants on the earth is those days. Though our eyes observed the same setpieces, his countenance betrayed little comprehension. He had the chiseled jaw of a marble bust in profile, but his mouth hung open permanently, moist lips pursed like a fish.

He placed an enormous hand on my shoulder. Such space was permitted between his splayed fingers that ten legions abreast might find passage unmolested. His knuckles protruded unnaturally, evidence of labour, something harder than masonry or smithcraft. Mayhaps soldiering overseas.

I stared at his hand. He never looked at me. I coughed, first mannerly, then more harshly, thinking to approach cautiously lest my assumption prove provident, that he had lost his sound during foreign campaigns, of whose spoils we all were beneficiaries.

'Don't mind him.' Lar said. He spoke softly in the presence of his friend, observing his movements closely, ready to interject with a steadying hand or a warning to the cruelly curious. I wondered were they brothers. They bore little resemblance, though stranger things I had heard. Lar took Fergus' wrist and pressed gently, disturbing the folds of his motheaten jacket. They shared a moment I could but observe, radiating warmth and glad tidings in a wordless wave.

'I mean not to speak boldly, and lash me with spite if I transgress overmuch, but I must know or I should forever wonder, are you kin?'

Fergus shared Lar's laugh with the same look of bemused ignorance.

'You hear that? Fancy man reckons we're brothers. Probly thinks we're all related down this end, and not in a godly way.' Lar laughed, a viking bellow.

Lar released his grip and the folds of Fergus' sleeve righted themselves. He spoke several octaves lower, miming offence at my observation. I started to explain I intended no hidden subtext, but Lar waved to indicate all was taken as delivered.

'We are not brothers. Close friends. Known Fergus here forever.' He gently tapped the giant's hand, slapped on the bar like some enormous muddy bird print. 'Used to be a keen cookie too, once upon a forever ago. Loved languages, Welsh mostly. Pugilism he loved more. One passion consumed the other. Anything burning so intensely inevitably cannibalises itself. Took one knock too many, stole his wits in an instant. A left hook across the bar sent him erstwhile. Twenty five minutes he was on the shores of night, learning the landscape of the dreamworlds, while we fanned his rigid form, wet his brow and whispered familiar names in his ear. When at last he woke a part of him was left forever in that place. I like to think, boyishly perhaps, it awaits him upon leaving this plain of lousy strife, like the belongings awaiting a homeward jailbird. The cloak of a lost lifetime. Not for him. He'll slide right into it, fit like a tailored piece, and all of eternity to speak. Not here though.'

Tears welled in his eyes. I took the reins, 'Think nothing of your emotions, man. We each have them. Doubtless I will shed a tear up in the old witch's place. Another life awaits, that much is sure. Grander than this. I'm sure he made, and makes, a fine man. Built like a gladiator. I am sorry to have dredged unpleasantness. I meant only to satisfy my own selfish curiosity. Forgive me. Please, continue.'

'I will at that.'

'It were one night, three years ago. Ferg was there. We'd been called out on account of strange noises near the workers' cottage. They wouldn't work until the evil was killed or driven away. We came down from the high road proper and saw it between the trees ahead. Like a horse it stood, with clumsy stilts supporting an ursine bulk that swayed as it shambled. It drank shadows to conceal its dread presence. Blackness it took for robe. In walking its front paws propelled its cumbersome form, while the rear set, less lengthy, dredged channels in the dirt. In motion it arched to reveal a belly spun of lighter felt, ashen in the scant moonlight. Bundled, it became an orb of shadow, nothingness.'

'Unbeknownst we watched it watching, green eyes like blazing protostars probing for movement. Well it knew to choose this site, one of only two wells being located nearby. In a flash then it was gone, satin-shoed away into the night.'

The tale Lar knew was a scorcher paused. He beamed, an actor awaiting applause. I gathered my jaw from the floor, brushed it and set it back properly.

Each word drew me closer, which Fergus mirrored, until we three sat as witches about the bubbling lip of their cauldron, a coven of pallid specters.

Lar paused to sip and nodded we join.

I wondered had my hobby, in a blink, become too dangerous to justify. It was well telling my employers of ghost hunts, but a wild beast - my insurance wouldn't have it! If it turns out some menagerie escapee, what then was it? Quest for wonder or recklesss folly? Weiss, Wellie and Wardun insurance, even in their most obscure policies, don't pay out for fools. That's why I chose them!

Lar went on, a fresh cigarette painting the air blue in his articulation, 'Each new, shifting moon we came to that spot and watched. We took it upon ourselves to rid the land of danger.'

'Fergus knows a bit about a bit, that's what's left to him, God bless. What he knows is knots. Army training dictates every officer have at least passing knowledge of ten or more useful fastenings.'

'Me? I know about animals. We make a fierce duo. We inquired in advance about a reward, to which the estate responded agreeably, so we set off with lengths of rope overshoulder and the angriest looking traps the furmen could spare, determined to snare it. We planted snares all about its presumed domain.'

'Nothing came. Not a rat. Not a wisp. Not never again. It's the mystery disturbs me most. I'd die happy knowing.'

In his voice a single note of longing rang, dispelling the subterfuge of his intentions and, in the length of a breath, his beings and inner machinations were laid bare. Far from the sinister goldlust and murderous intention I had silently attributed to him, he seemed eager in an earnest fashion, willing in the name of a job done.

I observed Lar, powerful and straight. 'Do I sense an unfinished quest?'

'Aye. Not too subtle, mind.' Lar flashed a toothy smile, the sort a condemned man spits at his executioner. 'You seem a serious man. I didn't know when you first came in parading your manners like fancy knickers. You can't be too sure about a man who gives too many pleases. You're not that sort and have proved such twice over.' Lar imagined that was a compliment from the look he gave me. Expectant almost, between child submitting scribbles for display and cat batting dead mouse onto pillow.

Well, of course I had something to say about that. Cats were hissing. A donnybrook of claws and torn fur not even a hearty stock of iodine could salve. 'And I might say also that I too had cast aspersions on your character, maintaining you were of sinister country stock. As you claim to have been rapturously convinced otherwise, as have I.'

'Once the lady's estate is divided and bequeathed I'll receive my own. I mean to inherit a substantial bursar. I will pay to you a fair sum. In exchange, you will guide me to the hotpots, generally ensuring nothing eats me. When we find it, you're in charge until it's bound.' If he came, it would be on my terms.

'Find it? Slow down. We've seen it once in a hundred times. I'll take you gladly all the same.'

Wordless, we shook hands and drained our horns.

'Tomorrow?' Lar asked. He drew my gaze to an unopened whiskey bottle, which I declined.

'Not so, good man. Tomorrow I will tend my affairs. In the evening, if all is ordered, I will return to discuss further a plan of action. Have you a room I might rent?'

'Not for everyone mind, so don't go saying. There's one in the back. I'll light the fire.'

'Please do.'

I left a generous tip. Before following the publican to the warm hollow, I shook Fergus' hand, assuming he too would be part of our fortean friendship.

While I slumbered, the nightmare broke free her paddock, thundering across the veil of my somnambulant phantasmagoria, its clanging hooves ringing shrill terror.

I saw spined creatures oozing pus, many-eyed. Edgeless orbs hissing like flying snakes from one black abyss to another.

Cats with human faces screamed. A hairless man with a tail curled upwards like a scorpions noxious pike disemboweled himself with a broken mirror.

Last came the bestial form, not unlike that which Lar had described, striding evilly. Two venom coated fangs, uncontained by its snarling mouth, curved inward toward its breast. Catlike claws glinted menacingly. Turning my third eye downwards as if to look upon my feet, I found I was formless, yet the beast circled knowingly around the space my corporeal form should occupy.

I knew instinctively this reverie was more tangible than the others. That if the beast should strike I would die or wake screaming with a crimson pool spreading below me. It sniffed the air, pawing closer.

I woke to my beastless chamber. Sodden, I sought a candle and in its gloam chronicled my nightmare. That night sleep ne'er returned, making groggy my morning plod toward Cairn Cottage.

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welllpthisishappening · 7 years ago

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Hi, it's writer appreciation day and I just wanted to remind you that you're absolutely fantastic and I live for your writing. I always look forward to your posts and I am so mad that tumblr never gives me notifications when you update because I literally want to read everything you write, including your tags. You're wonderful and I could live in your Blue Line universe, all your Yankee!Killian universes and YPLAG universe, fuck, just all of your universes. I love them all. Seriously. Much love~

HELLO YOU ABSOLUTE DELIGHT AND MY FAVORITE!! So I don’t know if you know this, internet, but Ro and I are genuinely in love. It’s real. It’s true. CAPITAL LETTERS TRUE LOVE. I cannot tell you what Ro’s friendship has meant to me and she is the reason Blue Line got finished and the reason The PyeongChang Triple happened which means she’s THE REASON Matthew David Jones exists and she’s willing to join me down this Tyler Seguin rabbit hole. Look at him! LOOK AT HIS FACE! Anyway, nothing I write would be anything without @distant-rose to let me flail at her and send her snippets that are just walls of text.

Earlier today we were talking about Matthew Jones (as we are apt to do) and talking about him getting his first tattoo and, like, this was real nice, so, uh, here’s some words Ro.

It hurt like hell.

A fact he was quick to point out – several dozen times, each one getting louder and more yelpier than the last and that was totally a word Lizzie came up with while she was doing a pretty pitiful job of not laughing in Matt’s face. And Peggy was doing enough laughing for all of them.

Combined.

For, like, the entire world combined.

“MD, this was your idea,” she said, another repeat and more laughter and Matt was pretty positive even the tattoo artist was starting to chuckle a bit under his breath.

“That’s why he’s so mad about it,” Lizzie mumbled. “It does something weird to his brain when he’s not right about every single thing in the world. He doesn’t know how to cope.”

Peggy appeared to be cackling.

“Mar, I swear, if you don’t shut up—“

“—You’ll what, MD? Please, tell me what you could possibly do. From Boston, that I’m going to find so intimidating.”

“Don’t you have something else to do?”

She shook her head, smile tugging at the ends of her mouth. “Not a single thing. I legitimately cleared my schedule for this.”

“What does that say about you?”

“Probably a lot of things I don’t want to acknowledge,” Peggy admitted, eyes flitting towards a clearly amused Lizzie. “You’ve got to stop shaking the phone though, Lizzie, it’s making me dizzy and Mom and Dad are going to know something is going on if Iike…I get vertigo or something.”

“You are sitting down, Margaret,” Matt seethed. He hissed in his breath when the needle passed over what appeared to be the single most sensitive piece of skin on his entire body, and both his sister and his cousin rolled their eyes in practiced tandem.

“Should we point out again that this was genuinely your idea, Mattie?” Lizzie asked. “And you researched this.”

“Almost too much,” the tattoo artist mumbled, and Peggy nearly fell off her bed in New York. Matt groaned. That didn’t have anything to do with the needle.

“Mar, seriously, I’m going to tell Mom and Dad about that time you nearly pushed Chris in front of a cab on Astor Place.”

Peggy stopped laughing immediately. Lizzie cursed under her breath. “Shit, Mattie,” she mumbled. “That’s intense.”

“And patently untrue,” Peggy added. “I refuse to agree that. I didn’t try to push him in front of a cab—“

“—Ehhh,” Matt interrupted. “He was pretty bruised and battered.”

“That’s not true either! Also, he was like six and really enjoyed running away from us and we weren’t supposed to be there!”

Matt widened his eyes, like that answered that, but then the needle moved again and it felt like his entire body was on fire and possibly drowning and he’d take being checked eight-thousand times, directly under the shoulder blades, if this ended quicker.

“God, you’re seriously the world’s biggest wimp,” Lizzie sighed. “Also can someone explain to me why you three were sneaking onto Astor Place and letting Chris run in front of cabs?”

Peggy growled, low and threatening and that was almost more intimidating than whatever the hell the needle in his arm was doing because Matt was well acquainted with that sound. It usually ended with her finding a stick and hitting him, no less than, six times in the ankles. On both feet.

“That’s not what happened,” Peggy promised. “MD is a giant liar who is totally overreacting about the pain of a tattoo in a normal tattoo spot that normal people get every day and worrying because he thinks Mom and Dad are going to be upset about this great, big enormous secret.”

“It’s a secret?”

“Again, because MD is an idiot.”

“And sitting right here,” Matt hissed, grumbling a string of words he’d learned during a particularly emotional game during that final Cup run and both Lizzie and Peggy whistled when they realized what he’d said. The tattoo artist looked confused. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “I know I’ve got to sit still.”

The tattoo artist hummed in agreement. Peggy had started laughing again.

“So, someone going to finish this story or should I hang up on you, Peg, and just go directly to the Chris-type source?” Lizzie asked archly.

“Oh my God, no, don’t do that either,” Peggy sighed. “He’ll just agree with MD on principle. The highlights—“

“—Or lowlights, as it were,” Matt interrupted, flashing his sister a smile when she flipped him off.

“Highlights,” she repeated. “It was like two days before Christmas, we kind of, sort of, didn’t get gifts for Mom and Dad, we didn’t want to go near Midtown and, well…it was crowded on Astor Place, Chris might have been hopped up on sugar.” She cut herself off immediately, head snapping towards Matt like she was challenging him to object and his smile felt as wide as it had since the needle had started pricking at his arm. It had to be almost over. “There was a lot of sugar involved,” Peggy continued. “And Chris was excited about Christmas and a tree and running and an almost run in with a cab. It was fine. He was fine. He just kind of—“

“—Fell over,” Matt finished. “In the street. A tourist nearly stepped on him.”

Lizzie looked equal parts stunned and horrified. “That’s the worst Christmas story I’ve ever heard.”

“We never guaranteed it’d be a good Christmas story.”

“What did you end up getting your mom and dad?”

Matt considered that for a moment, gaze flicking towards Peggy and she’d collapsed back on her bed at some point. “We got Dad a t-shirt jersey of his own jersey and Mom got some like…trading card thing of Dad that he signed for Steiner sports approximately twenty-thousand years ago.”

Lizzie laughed, shoulders shaking quickly enough that Matt was almost sure she didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping her right hand. “Wow, you guys suck as kids.”

“Ah, that’s not true,” Matt objected. “Something, something, it’s the thought that counts right?”

“And this is way better than any Christmas or birthday or anniversary gift we could have given them,” Peggy added. “Top-tier Jones Line sentimentality.”

“You’re not the one with a needle jabbing your skin, Mar.”

“And now neither are you,” the tattoo artist said, far too much joy in his voice, like he couldn’t wait for all of them and their very loud FaceTime call to get the hell out of his shop. “Done.”

Matt blinked. “Done?”

“Done.”

And, really, Matt knew his parents wouldn’t freak out about the tattoos. Or tattoo – singular, the first one, probably the first of man, but some of his earliest memories were his mom putting his dad’s wedding ring back on over the ink that wrapped around his left ring finger so he figured he was kind of free to do what he wanted.

But Peggy was right too and it was absurd and kind of sentimental and he hadn’t actually told anyone except Lizzie or Peggy he was thinking about doing it.

They didn’t notice at first.

That made sense too, his arms were covered by his jersey and he was on the ice more often than not and there wasn’t really time to come home during the season, but then it was the offseason and summer in New York refused to allow anything except short-sleeve shirts and it was only a matter of time.

As both Peggy and Chris kept muttering under their breath whenever Matt walked by them in the hallway for the few weeks he was home.

His dad saw it first. Figured.

“What is that?” he asked, sitting at the table in the kitchen with a mug in his hands and a pile of papers next to him that probably detailed the incoming rookies strengths and weaknesses.

Matt nearly tripped over his own feet. “What’s what?”

“Matthew.”

“Ah, you just…jumped right into serious, huh?”

He lifted his eyebrows, mouth set in a thin, straight line and he didn’t actually ever put the mug down. That felt more threatening. “Matthew,” his dad repeated. “What’s on your arm?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that question.”

“And that’s a pretty God awful answer.”

“I figured you’d be cool about it.”

“I’m not uncool about it. I’m curious.”

Matt sighed, well acquainted with that tone of voice as well and he might have mumbled that’s not fair, hooking his foot around a free chair and sinking onto it with a distinct lack of grace. His dad peered at the ink on his arm, a string of black and he didn’t understand.

“Ok, ok, so I totally was going to tell you,” Matt started, already rushing over the words and there were few things he hated more than whatever his dad’s eyebrows did whenever he was trying to explain some sort of ridiculous situation. “But then I kept thinking about it and it’s honestly the dumbest thing I’ve ever done—“

“—I hate to tell you this, Matt, but it’s kind of tattooed on your body.”

“No, no, I’m not regretting the actual ink. I think that’s kind of cool, right?”

The eyebrows got higher. They defied gravity and the expectations of fatherhood. Matt tried not to slink in his chair.

“It’s kind of cool,” he mumbled. “And you’ve got ‘em, so…”

He trailed off, not sure he could finish that sentence without saying something else he’d regret and he probably wouldn’t if he just told his dad I kind of always want to be you, but neither one of them had actually finished their coffee yet. That felt like something to say while properly caffeinated.

“Anyway,” Matt continued. “I, um, I did a ton of research and talked to the artist about font choices and where to do it and it hurt like hell, but it’s—“

“—They’re coordinates,” his dad said suddenly, and Matt could almost hear the metaphorical light bulb. “Aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Yeah, uh, the longitude and latitude of the Garden.”

It took a moment to find enough room on the table for the coffee mug, and Matt wasn’t entirely prepared to be yanked across the kitchen floor in an actual kitchen chair, but his dad’s arm wrapped around his shoulder and caffeine was probably bad for him during the offseason anyway.

“I like it a lot.”

“Thanks,” Matt muttered.

“It hurt?”

“Like hell. Mar laughed the whole time.”

“Was your sister there?”

“You think Mar snuck to Boston to watch me get tattoos?”

“It honesty wouldn’t surprise me at this point. And there was a plural in there. Are there more than one?”

Matt shook his head, lungs feeling less pinched than they’d been a few minutes before and he grunted when Chris flew into the kitchen, jumping into his stomach and kicking both his legs in the process. “God, C,” he groaned. “Control your limbs.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” his dad laughed. “I think I still have bruises from you.”

“There’s only one tattoo.”

“For now.”

“Eh,” Matt shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe it won’t hurt the second time around.”

“Next time you see Scarlet ask him how loud he yelled when we got the tattoos after the first Cup. I think there’s still video evidence of his inability to cope out there in the world.”

Matt laughed, tugging Chris further up onto the chair and it was only a matter of time before his mom showed up to remind them the chairs can’t hold that much body weight. “Can I get a tattoo, too?” Chris asked, two heads shaking in response and he, somehow, managed to kick Matt again.

“Wait a couple years, C,” Matt grinned, twisting to grab his dad’s coffee mug and grinning when he was met with a decidedly non-English curse. “Then we’ll talk."

#laura rambles #blue line rambles #cs ff #blue one one shots #blue line tumblr prompts #that's not really what this was #but for tagging sake #and the massive number of hockey related words i constantly spew at the internet #distant-rose

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lumilasi · 7 years ago

Photo

So...since Helias isn’t an apprentice character, and this random ship became more of a thing somehow, I figured I should write out the story of how they met and such a bit. Canon-storyline speaking, it’s gonna follow Asra’s route basically, as my friend’s Apprentice Lina appears in these and she’s mainly paired with Asra.

This was the hardest thing for me to write since ever, and you’ll learn why at the end as I’ll explain a bit more there.

Part 2: https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/175782057246/second-short-story-snippet-for-this-au-thingy-or

Part 3: https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/176583500291/part-3-of-the-ocsvesuvia-crossover-series

For now, hope you enjoy it:

The bar was buzzing as usual, perhaps even more so due to what was happening in the palace; some sort of visitor from another Kingdom or so. Julian wasn’t too sure about it, for he’d been rather preoccupied with his own thoughts when his sister had informed him of it, telling him to stay away from the palace grounds for now, given the security has been tightened due to this visit.

Downing his third (or fourth?) drink, Julian glances around, but saw no familiar faces ready to drag him out of the pub. It made sense, for Pasha was likely busy preparing for the guests, and Lina had agreed to help her.

It was such an unusual event; Vesuvia rarely had visitors of this caliber, at least the brunet had heard the term “Emperor” and “Empress” being thrown around. Someone had even spoken of some sort of magic, like there was something unusual of these rulers or so.

Julian couldn’t help himself; he’d been curious and gone against his sister’s advice, almost getting caught by the guards as a result, never catching even a glimpse about their mystery visitors.

He’d only narrowly escaped them by hiding in a barrel, then eventually dragging himself into the Rowdy Raven, smelling like whatever stinky substance had been in said barrel. The bartender was used to seeing him show up in such a state, so he’d said nothing, just helped him to tidy up and get him a drink.

“You oughta listen to others more; you’ll get killed at this rate.” The barista tells him with a scolding tone, and Julian shrugs, taking a long gulp from his drink.

“What can I say? With all the rumors going around I was curious.”

“Ever heard of the saying “curiosity killed the cat” boy?”

“Ah yes, but did the proverb not continue with “satisfaction brought it back?” Julian fires back with a cheeky smile and the bartender sighs, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

“You’re one troublesome young man, let me tell you.”

“Yes I get that a lot; always on the run, aren’t I?”

Julian lets out a laugh, taking another large gulp from his liquor. Suddenly, a presence appears nearby him and slips down to sit beside the brunet, and a soft, borderline musical voice – at least in Julian’s drunken mind – joins in on the conversation with an amused chuckle following it.

“My, it seems we have something in common.”

Julian lowers his drink to take a look at the person who’d sat down beside him, and his heart freezes for a second, before it starts beating faster. The stranger sitting beside him was easily amongst the most beautiful beings he’d ever seen, and it seemed several bar goers agreed, as few other heads had turned their way too. The bartender did not seem affected, though he was one of those people who’d seen a lot of things come and go in his bar, so an ethereal, pale skinned beauty was likely nothing new.

Although, now than Julian took a closer look, he noted the paleness did not look quite natural; almost if the stranger had gotten ill at some point, and was still recovering from it, thus his – at least based on the voice they were likely a male – skin tone was still a bit sickly pale.

“I hope you do not mind if I sit here?” The stranger chuckles and brushes through his hair, looking directly at Julian, who struggles for a moment to find his voice.

“Oh, not at all; I wouldn’t mind some company, especially from someone as stunning as you, my dear.” He brings his trademark smirk on his face, gesturing to the chair the newcomer was already sitting on. Then, he turns on the bartender and requests him to bring another drink – both for him and the mysterious person beside him.

“Ah, you’re offering me a drink too? How generous of you.” The stranger chuckles, and Julian shrugs at that. “Felt it would only be polite, given you seem to be new around here my dear.”

He then offers his hand in his usual dramatic fashion, and the pale visitor slips his delicate one onto his grip, allowing Julian to kiss it in a greeting.

“It is a pleasure to meet a new face around these places, even if I do wonder why such a being of grace would bother with these parts of the city.”

It was rather obvious that whoever they were, this white haired stranger was used to such gestures. In fact, his overall appearance spoke of a higher class than most patrons in Rowdy Raven. The smooth, silky white hair that looked well-kept, the high quality looking cloak he wore. Even the stranger’s mannerism reminded him of the Countess somewhat.

It indeed was bizarre as to why someone like him would be around here. Lots if folk in this tavern tended to be hiding, or on the run, but somehow, Julian questioned if this was the case with his companion.

The stranger chuckles as he brings his hand back, sipping the drink the bartender had brought him. It was noticeably in a cleaner glass than majority of the drinks given around there, and had a sweeter scent, indicating it wasn’t as strong as the Salty Bitter Julian had.

“Oh, I like to wander around when I visit new pastures. My curiosity is endless after all.”

The auburn haired male hums; so his thoughts were on to something. In all likeness they were not running from anyone or anything, though one could not be too sure. For all he knew, his companion could simply be lying, hiding his true motives behind the veil of lies like most folk around here did.

“Still, these areas are rather rowdy as the name of this tavern suggests; I’d be more careful about where my feet take me.” The brunet holds up a scolding finger, waving it like one would to a misbehaving child.

The stranger laughs a bit at that, giving him a coy smile that had the Julian’s heart skipping a beat. It reminded him of Asra a tiny bit, though it had a more light-hearted tone to it, like his companion was not doing it to purposefully bother him, but just acted slightly flirty naturally.

”You’d be surprised how many times I hear that warning; trust me despite my appearance, I am perfectly capable of handling myself” the stranger tells him with a wink, making Julian second-guess his initial impression of the seemingly delicate being beside him.

”Ah, should I perhaps be worried for my safety, then?” Julian asks jestingly, though keeps a close eye on the person beside him, who was sipping his drink now. He did not seem particularly bothered by the taste, but the same time drank much slower than normal patrons would, though it may have been a question of one’s personal manners than their like or dislike for the drink in question.

“That is rather amusing, coming from you, given what I heard from your dear sister, Doctor.”

His eye widens in surprise, and Julian tenses visibly, examining his companion more closely. He tries to keep up the facade of calm friendliness however, even if his heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Ah, Whatever sister you may be speaking of? You may have mistaken me for someone else I’m afraid my dear.”

The green eyes flashed with amusement, and Julian shifts nervously, feeling that the stranger was calling his bluff. Who was this person exactly, and what did he want from him?

“Red hair held high up, strong-willed, rather short, referred to as Portia. Are you certain you do not know of her, Doctor?”

Julian feels a cold sweat travel down his spine; his companion did not seem dangerous by any means, but the fact he seemed to know who he was, it was alarming. How would he know about Pasha in the first place? How did they know they were related?

As if sensing his plight, the pale figure hums and offers him a softer smile.

“No need to be alarmed, Doctor. I am merely here to see the famed man myself, for your sister spoke quite a bit about you.”

His words sounded genuine enough, but one could never be too sure. Pasha would not talk about him to any stranger she met, so how had this stranger gotten this information?

Nervous, Julian takes a gulp from his drink, wondering if he should sprint or not. There were no guards nearby, and his raven had not come to warn him, but one could never be too certain in this day and age.

“Your sister mentioned you in a discussion with the mage apprentice I happened to overhear, and so I became curious. She mentioned this place in her, shall I say passionately displeased speech, and once I saw you here, I couldn’t help myself but to take a closer look.”

The stranger adds all of a sudden, leaning against his palm.

Ah, that explained his strange knowledge of this, but it didn’t do much to ease his racing heart. The fact this person was purely there to see him....well it could mean multitude of things.

”Well, in that case, now that you’ve found me, may I inquire what is it that you plan to do? I might make myself scarce depending on the answer.” He informs his pale companion with an outward grin, inwardly mapping out his escape route already just in case.

It’d be a shame really, he’d never seen anyone like this before, but, well, beggars cannot be choosers.

”Well, right now my plan is to enjoy my drink, and it would be unfortunate if you decided to leave so suddenly, given you even offered this for me.” He nods the glass towards Julian, who recalls that yes, he had in fact offered to pay for that one. Perhaps he’d indeed drank too much.

”Yes, that would be rather rude of me, but I quite dislike the decor of the palace dungeons, I’d rather not go there.” Julian shrugs, brushing trough his hair with a smirk.

”Would be a waste of my good looks and skill to be stuck in there. I’ve also heard hanging is quite unpleasant.”

”I didn’t take you for a necromancer, Doctor.” His companion chuckles, genuine amusement in his tone. Heavens it was a nice sound, but he really could not sit around if this stranger was intending to trick him into an arrest, or was stalling him for the guards.

Suddenly, a pale hand reaches for his, delicate fingers gently grasping his free gloved hand resting on the table. He couldn’t really feel the touch and almost felt miffed about it, though he was also alarmed by the sudden physical contact.

”Really, calm yourself. I am not here to arrest you, or help someone do so. I am purely here out of my own curiosity as I stated.” His tone was gentle, and the green eyes were locked with his, almost a melancholic smile dancing on the pale lips now.

”I don’t blame you for being wary, any man or woman would in your situation. I suppose me bringing up your sister may have been a bit too straightforward, so I must apologize for that. I can be a bit...let’s say I may have hard time with certain social cues at times.”

For a moment Julian just sort of gazes at the hand lightly resting on top of his, noting the strange, undeniably magical glow emitting from the blue markings on it. As he looks up, the green eyes were examining him again, as if gouging out his reaction, seeing whenever he believed his words or not.

”I find it rather...difficult to believe one would be comfortable sitting in the same table with a wanted murderer.” Julian points out with an expressive lift eyebrow, testing the waters. His companion wasn’t phased one bit, rather just examined him like he was the most intriguing thing they’d seen in a while.

”I find it difficult to believe you are one. I don’t sense a shred of malice from you, only slight unease which I must assume is my doing, and I apologize for that again.”

The brunet was taken aback by those words, the sincerity shining trough from the apologetic voice. Sure, he had his own doubts about his guilt, but the only other people who’d ever questioned it -as far as he knew - were Lina and Pasha. Having a complete stranger agree with them, it was something to think about.

Julian glances around and notes that his raven was still nesting on the usual spot, watcing them but clearly relaxed. Surely it would have made a noise already if he was in any danger, so the doctor relaxes slowly, dread replaced by slight curiosity.

“Ah, but I believe you haven’t given me your name yet, my dear? I’d be curious to learn what it is, for I don’t often meet people like you.”

The green eyes examine him quietly for a long time, an amused glint hidden beneath the serene look. Whoever Julian was speaking with, they could not be human, he was certain of it. No human held such radiance, although the Countess came very close.

No average human had glowing marks in their body either. If they did, it usually meant something. Bad, in his case.

“Helias. My name is Helias.”

Helias? That name sounded familiar, but the brunet could not quite recall where he’d heard it before.

“Well then Helias; was it only your curiosity about me that attracted you to this humble tavern, or was there another reason for this little adventure?” Julian questions him, gesturing around the dimly lit pub and its inhabitants.

He still needed to make sure.

Helias brushes his hair, every single movement he made somehow fluid, like he was made of liquid instead of solid flesh and bone. It was enticing to look at, even if a bit unnerving as it spoke of magic of some sort.

”The palace is...lovely but quite boring eventually. I needed to get out to see what else Vesuvia has to offer, and by chance came upon this tavern I overheard dear Portia mention, and decided to see if you were here out of curiosity.”

Helias explains with a slight shrug, brushing trough his hair with a sigh, gazing aside for a moment.

”My sister wouldn’t allow me to go on my own in these parts, so I slipped out in secret, I do not need my guardians breathing on my neck constantly.”

The clear displeasure in his voice indicated this was a common issue, and Julian couldn’t stop but lift an eyebrow at the mention of guardians. So Helias had to be of someone higher status.

”I suppose I must thank you for choosing coming here by yourself; I am not fond of any sort of guards.” Julian remarks with a grin, and Helias actually laughs at that, though his voice still remained quiet, as if to not attract any more attention to them than what his unusual appearance likely already did.

”Still, I am rather curious on why exactly you seem to attract so much trouble, at least based on Portia’s description of you. Any other person would likely keep hiding when they were accused of a crime, yet you keep lingering about, almost getting caught if anything what I heard is true.”

Helias questions him all of a sudden with a clear curiosity coloring his voice, taking another sip from his drink, keeping the green eyes trained onto the slightly flustered brunet. He swallows his nervousness down quickly however

”Oh, Drama is my passion so to say; it follows me wherever I go. You could almost say I am married to trouble itself.” Julian declares, gaining another amused chuckle from his companion. It was not malicious by any means, but rather it was clear Helias found his dramatics entertaining, which had been his aim really. He loved to entertain people after all. Flashing him his trademark grin, Julian lifts his mug higher as if to toast for something.

”Life would be boring without any sort of hardships, hence I’ve accepted my fate that the world has given me.”

”Your sister may have referred to this ’fate’ of yours as ’tendency to be overdramatic and look for trouble on purpose’ as she put it. ” Helias comments amused, tilting his head as he examined the Doctor’s face, who’d faltered a bit upon the mention of his sister again. He really didn’t mean to worry her so much, it just sort of happened.

He was also a bit concerned that somebody had been able to eavesdrop into her conversation so easily. Pasha if anyone should know the Palace had ears everywhere.

”No need to look so mortified doctor; I am fairly certain the only unnoticed presence nearby those two was me, and I can be difficult to spot if I choose so.” The pale figure chuckles upon noticing the concerned change in his expression, and winks at Julian, who coughs and attempts to hide his flustered expression again behind his mug.

Was he really that easy to read? Or did Helias use some sort of magic to read his thoughts?

”Are you feeling well? You seem a little uneasy. Perhaps the Doctor needs a doctor.”

Julian coughs and straightens himself, bringing that usual grin back on his face, though it was hard to not blush when he looked back at Helias, whose green eyes examined him with a playful look in them.

”Oh I am perfectly capable of handling myself, do not worry about me my dear.”

He dismisses the concern with a wave of his hand, noting that his mug was now empty. His head was buzzing rather lot already, but Julian figured he could still have at least one more.

”Tell me, how did you come to meet my beloved sister, Helias? Did you see her in the palace or just run into her on the streets? How were you able to deduce that I...well, that I’m the one she spoke of.” Julian asks while the bartender fills his mug again, glancing at his companion nervously.

That was the one question Helias hadn’t exactly answered yet.

How he’d been able to tell who he was? The brunet sincerely doubted Pasha would have babbled out his appearance during a rant of hers.

”In the palace. She was bringing us tea alongside the mage apprentice. As for your second question...” Helias flashes him a slight amused smile and leans his head against his palm.

”You and your sister have highly similar auras. All siblings tend to have. I have the ability to sense them, like most beings familiar with magic.”

Ahh, so, magic. He was half expecting that answer. Julian lets out a slow sigh, knowing asking more detail on that would just confuse him; he did not understand magic very well after all.

”To be fair, I heard her rant on the streets I was wandering; apparently her and the apprentice are looking for you.”

Julian almost spats his drink, then glances around, half expecting to see a very angry and concerned Pasha storming his way. So she must've heard of his venture into the palace and how he’d escaped narrowly.

”I cannot say I blame her for worrying; crashing trough that window must’ve hurt quite a bit.” Helias comments with amusement coloring his voice, and Julian looks up at him surprised.

”You...saw me escaping?”

Helias lets out another, quiet laugh, and the smile aimed at him was so filled with strangely fond amusement that the brunet couldn’t help the blush spreading on his face. He had not seen anyone looking at him like that in ages, aside from his sister.

”I did. Granted I only caught a glimpse, a patch of your auburn hair, but I must say you left quite an impression.”

”Well I am glad to entertain you my dear.” Julian declares with a dramatic bow, giving him his trademark grin again. His companion’s smile never falters, and now when he thought about it, it had always been there since he first lied his eyes upon the pale figure, just changing its intensity and meaning.

None of which had been malicious.

”Why yes, you sound like a highly entertaining person, Doctor, and I would not mind you entertaining me some more in the future.” He comments with a wink, blooming quite the flush on Julian’s face, who coughs and hides his face behind his hand briefly as if politely hiding his coughing fit, averting his gaze.

”Ah, but I suppose it would be selfish of me to wish to endanger you like that. Even as an Emperor, I doubt I’d have much say in the matters relating to your case without any sufficient proof of innocence.”

Julian was about to comment on how he had people working on that, when a particular word registers in his mind.

”...Emperor?” He blinks, wondering if he heard correctly.

”Oh, I thought you’d figured it out by now.”

For a moment, Julian just gazes at him confused, and another amused smile spreads across Helias’ face as he leans closer, so close the brunet could feel his soft breath brush over his skin.

”I am one of the royal twins.The Emperor Helias of Mirthas. It has truly been a pleasure to meet you.”

Julian feels his brain freeze, and for a moment, all he could do was gape at his companion, who shifts back with a childlike snicker, winking at him.

”It’s a secret though, so don’t tell anyone; I am not supposed to be around here.” Rather pointless statement given how much he stood out naturally, but likely Helias knew this already.

Julian splutters out for a bit, trying to find his voice; this was certainly not the kind of turn he’d been expecting from his evening. Finally, he manages to get his flustered state under control, and coughs, giving him a charming smile.

”Why of course! I should’ve known someone as stunning as you couldn’t be anybody else, Sire. I heard rumors of the stunning beauty of one of the twins, as well as about the fiercity of the other.”

”Oh Gwendolyn is fierce indeed; Even the strongest of warriors tend to tremble under her scowl. Well, everyone except a certain mage I know.” Helias chuckles, sipping his drink again.

Julian takes a quiet moment to process that yes, he was indeed sharing a drink with a royalty, a gorgeous royalty who seemed to enjoy his company.

His stomach was doing flips, and the fast beat against his ribcage didn't help. This time it wasn't out of fear for his safety though, at least not like before.

Having someone try and trick him into getting caught was one thing, dragging a royalty into his mess by accident was another.

Just as he was about to say something, Julian spots a familiar red haired figure heading his way, and a second later, strong hand grasps his ear and tugs on it hard enough to pull him off his chair.

”Ilya! I told you not to come to the palace today! What if you’d been caught?!”

Pasha scolds him loudly, still tugging from his ear so painfully the brunet wondered if it would come off. Beside her, a slightly concerned Lina watched the two siblings with an awkward expression. Then, her eyes hit on the figure beside them, and her eyes widen.

”Ah! Sire Helias, why are you here? Your sister was so concerned!”

Helias just chuckles and sips down rest of his drink, before slipping down from his seat fluidly like rest of his motions. That is when Julian notices that he was barefoot.

Why on earth would somebody walk barefoot on these streets?

He could get injured by a rustly nail piercing his soles or be bitten by the rats. He must’ve mumbled out his concerns out loud, as Helias chuckles amused and steps closer, gently shooing Portia off him briefly.

The redhead woman looks at him a little stunned, likely wondering the same thing as Lina, but does so nevertheless out of politeness, still giving her brother the stink eye. She hoped that Ilya had not gone and upset the Emperor somehow, though it didn’t seem to be the case given how calm Helias appeared. Then again, from what she’d gathered during the day, he was always pleasant like this. Even if it didn’t necessarily reflect his actual mood.

”I appreciate the concern, but my kindred are highly resistant to most diseases and injuries of human kindred.” He lifts his hand to gently brush the reddened ear Portia had been holding, causing a maddening redness spread across Julian’s cheeks.

The touch was so incredibly soft he wasn’t sure if he actually felt it at all. His sister was watching them keenly, deep worried frown on her face; it did not seem like Ilya was in trouble right now, but, you never knew with him. It’d be a miracle for him not to be.

”It was a pleasure meeting you, Julian. I do hope though...”

He steps back and turns to head out of the bar, glancing at him over his shoulder with that same soft amusement that had never left his features during this whole meeting.

”.....That next time when you sneak in the palace, you don’t rush out trough a window.”

Julian coughs and rubs his head, giving him a sheepish smile.

”I would use the door My lord, but, the guards won’t let me as you can likely imagine.”

Helias just hums amused, before turning to look at Lina, questioning whenever they’d lead him back to the palace.

”Of course sire! Please follow me.”

Lina glances at Portia, who just nods, telling her to go on ahead. She keeps looking at Helias, as if trying to deduce whenever her brother would be in trouble or not. As if sensing her thoughts as well, Helias gives her a reasuring smile.

”Let’s keep this adventure a secret shall we? I wouldn’t want to worry my sister, and I believe your dear brother has reasons to keep quiet as well.”

After a moment of silence, Portia nods, seemingly relieved,

”I’ll take care of my stupid brother. Bring His Majesty back to the palace, will you Lina?” She states while giving Julian another look that spoke of a long rant and more ear-pulling. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

The only thing unusual from times before was the long haired, glowing figure that kept lingering in his thoughts.

He wasn’t entirely sure on what to think about this encounter.

So. My issue writing this - why this took me three days when normally writing something this short takes only a few hours - is because Julian isn’t a typical character I write about. Normally I write about quieter troubled ones, aggressive asshats, etc.

Dramatic Cinnamon Rolls aren’t my specialty, so I had to ask help from my friend so she could proof-read this and make sure the story is as IC as possible for Julian.

This is only really a first one, I’m planning on fleshing this out more as I don’t really care about making random shipping with no story behind it.

I LIKE writing stories after all.

Lina (C) @mad-hatter-rici

Helias (C) Me

Julian and Pasha (C) Nix Hydra

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potterlivesrp · 7 years ago

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sample application.

Below you will find my sample application for Seamus Finnegan (FC: Thomas Doherty)! Thank you for your patience as I got this all together. I do want to make the strong point that the freeform section is absolutely up to you. I mean it when I say you can do whatever you want! I have elected to write a bunch of headcanons because that works for my personal character building process; if you want to do something different, please do! Good luck to everyone who is applying, and if there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to let me know.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: Honey

Age (18+): Twenty three

Preferred pronouns: She/her

Timezone: GMT+11

Life responsibilities: 8/10. In addition to being the admin, I am also a newly minted PhD student (yikes!). Between all the chaos that entails, I am actually quite good at time management, so I am here for the long run! If ever I need to duck away for a few days, I will make a post on the main and the OOC blog just to keep everyone updated.

OUT OF CHARACTER - Q&A

Answer the questions in the application here! No, I won’t give away the answers.

IN CHARACTER - BASICS

Full name: Seamus James Finnegan

Age and date of birth: Twenty years old (December 10th, 1980)

Zodiac sign: Sagittarius

Gryffindors born under this sign are exuberant and full of good humour. They are intelligent, but often do not make the best of students, because they would rather be outside enjoying the fresh air or off studying on their own. They aren’t good at diplomatic silence; if a teacher makes a mistake, the Gryffindor Sag will draw attention to it right away, usually loudly and in front of the entire class. At length. These students can get into trouble - their hot tempers make for easy dueling matches, and their impish senses of humour inspire a great many practical jokes. Still, they rarely mean anything malicious. They’re too jovial to harbour malice. These Gryffindors are likeable extraverts, on good terms with practically everybody, and they generally do all right in the end. Many excellent Quidditch players come from this sign. (Source)

Ex-Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Gender identity: Cisgender male

Sexual orientation: Homosexual panromantic

Faceclaim: Thomas Doherty (if I were an applicant, I would put three FCs here in order of preference!)

IN CHARACTER - IN DEPTH

PERSONALITY TRAITS

POSITIVE: Generous, curious, idealistic, humorous, energetic, adventuresome, enthusiastic, brave, optimistic, confident, flirtatious.

NEGATIVE: Inconsistent, impatient, upfront, brash, undiplomatic, tactless, disorganized, careless, superficial, gullible.

HEADCANONS

Although he would loudly object otherwise, Seamus is a bit of a country bumpkin. His father was a muggle farmer when he met his mother, who was a field officer for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The way they met was hardly romantic: she was there to investigate an outbreak of grindylows; he was about to call the council about the strange creatures infesting the water supply for his flock of sheep. But in a twist that is now legendary, Mary didn’t tell James about her magic until after they were married. This was hilarious to a young Seamus, who never tired of teasing his parents about their mutual deception. “Didn’t she give anything away?” Seamus would demand, laughing, and his father would grin, “Aye, I did wonder why a woman so beautiful would look my way.” Theirs was a happy home, one full of good humor and light-hearted conversation. Both of Seamus’ parents were Irish: national pride was not so much an aspect of Seamus’ upbringing as a permanent feature. Endlessly curious, Seamus would pour over old family photographs, nose nearly pressed to the unmoving faces of his father’s side, fingers tracing the crinkling smiles of his mother’s ancestors. In many ways Mary and James had parallel families, despite being magical and muggle respectively. They had seen famine and hardship, cruelty and poverty. The Finnegans were working stock, all calloused hands and sun-browned skin. Seamus burst with pride when he thought of his family’s blood and sweat that had seeped into the green fields of An Neidín.

Even in the middle of a war, Seamus knows he will return to Kenmare. His childhood was spent helping out on the farm, flying brooms with his cousin Fergus, and playing tricks on the local muggles. None of this was ever in ill-humor, for Seamus has an especially warm approach to all people. At school it wasn’t uncommon for him to apologize profusely if one of his jokes went a little too far (once he’d stopped laughing fit to burst, of course). One of the most important things in life, he reckons, is laughter. Laughter and good conversation. Indeed, Seamus could talk the hind leg off a donkey. When he was a child, Seamus would often ride his bike into the local muggle village on an errand of some kind – the newspaper for his Da, a bottle of ale for supper – and be found some hours later, engrossed in discussion with the shopkeeper over any manner of topics: animals, weather, farming. Seamus has an open, approachable manner that attracts him to farm-hands, milkmen, beleaguered Ministry workers, bartenders. With a vast and rambling mind, he manages to pick up snippets of information that, although often untrue or exaggerated, do mean he can contribute to essentially any topic in some respect. The degree to which his contribution is useful or even heeded, however, is up for debate.

Seamus has no clue what he wants to do after the war. Survival is his priority, as is anyone’s, in his opinion. For some years, however, he and his cousin Fergus have discussed opening up a whiskey distillery. This idea often surfaces after they have had a few too many whiskeys themselves, although Seamus would be remiss to say he isn’t seriously interested in the idea. He likes to imagine himself as the salesmen, the face of the company, while Fergus can do all the hard work. Fergus, needless to say, refutes this distribution of labor, and usually remarks that of the two of them, anyone would be more willing to look at Fergus’ pretty face than deal with Seamus and all his freckles. These conversations then regress into a tussle, which Seamus rarely wins. Fergus is a slippery little fucker.

The Finnegans are a small clan, and so Fergus is Seamus’ closest and only cousin. His senior by five years, it was Fergus who introduced Seamus to the first of most things. They attended the Quidditch World Cup together (where Seamus got catastrophically drunk – at fourteen, no less – under Fergus’ careful “supervision”); they often met in Diagon Alley for a pint and a game of chess together (Fergus always loses, mainly because he is easily distracted by the barmaid); and they flew brooms together. The last is among Seamus’ most treasured memories. Fergus would say he wanted to be a famous Quidditch player when he grew up. “I’m destined for greatness,” he insisted seriously, “haven’t ye seen me skills? Lad, you’ll be beggin’ for me autograph one o’ these days, just you wait.” Fergus did in fact make the reserve team of the Kenmare Kestrels a couple of years ago. Professional Quidditch, it turns out, is more about training and hoping you stick out enough to be picked for a game than it is about fame and glory. Now that the war has struck, Fergus has returned to Kenmare to stay with Seamus’ mother and father. The Regime has little need for sports at the moment, particularly when they’re too busy murdering muggles. If Seamus writes to anyone, it’s to Fergus, and damn Hermione’s rules about owling out too often. Fergus is his one link to home: without him, how would Seamus know about the new calf, or his mother’s redundancy from the Ministry, or his father staying up late, night after night, smoking his pipe and gazing into the fire? War means more than battles; it means leaving your family behind and hoping beyond hope that they’re missing you less than you miss them. For Seamus, who is so connected to his blood, the Resistance can be a form of torture.

Seamus dresses in muggle clothes more often than not. His parents had a relaxed attitude towards presentation, with his mother foregoing wizarding robes in favor of floral dresses or comfortable slacks, and his father usually slogging through the back door in enormous green wellies, a tweed flat cap crammed over his greying hair. Seamus is all muggle black Levi jeans, tight t-shirts of bands he’s never heard of, flannel overshirts, and a denim jacket littered with magical badges. He’s often found lounging on a sofa, trainer laces trailing, t-shirt rucked up his freckled stomach, a Quidditch magazine glued to his nose. Seamus has perfected the art of claiming a sofa to oneself (this also extends to beds, brick walls, and queues outside clubs). The trick, he reckons, is in looking utterly bored and somewhat post-coital, with half-mast eyes and a ready smirk, should anyone catch his eye. Seamus does have an air of sensuality about him -- and he can be an incorrigible flirt. “I can’t help being a sex god, can I?” he’s asked rhetorically on more than one occasion. In reality, Seamus is less sex god and more sex menace. At school he was often complaining about the regularity of his shags, the quality thereof, and the attractiveness of his partners. Being a part of the Resistance has had the effect of dampening his sex drive, but only slightly. Instead, Seamus channels his frustration into dueling. Blue balls is a very effective battle tactic.

Seamus is actually remarkably ordinary when it comes to magic. He is fair at transfiguration, good at charms, and reasonable at hexes. But it’s his patronus charm that is remarkable without exception. Seamus’ corporeal patronus – and it is always corporeal, make no doubt about that – is a fox. At first he demurred when it was suggested he teach others in the Resistance how to cast a patronus charm. “I’m not that good,” he said uncomfortably, “can’t ye get someone else t’do it?” Seamus isn’t a very good teacher when it comes down to it. He is easily distracted and often goes off on tangents, preferring instead to fall into conversation than to actually direct his student’s magic. This is a shame, because Seamus does have a gift, and it’s certainly lucky that this falls into one of the most difficult areas of magic there is.

His place in the Resistance is unquestioned. Seamus couldn’t bear to be at home, twiddling his thumbs, hoping that someone else was going to save them all from His reign of terror. Part of the reason why he joined the Order for a hot minute was simply all that energy. Seamus, for all his humor and chatterbox nature, is a doer. He needs to be in the fray, to feel useful. The Finnegans never got anywhere without getting their hands dirty, after all, and hard work is something Seamus is used to. His father certainly didn’t allow his only son to lollygag about the farm when there were cows to milk or agricultural fairs to attend. Much of Seamus’ early memories take place in the passenger seat of his father’s truck, bumping along endless green fields, heading towards some distant destination, their border collie panting and bouncing over Seamus’ shoulder. The problem with the Order was that he felt peripheral. Seamus will never kid himself: he knows he’s not a leader. He doesn’t have the charisma, for one, or the attention span. Although he’s definitely gifted at boosting morale and connecting with people, he far prefers a secondary role than being right at the front (this doesn’t stop him soundly criticizing anyone he believes is slacking off, of course). In the Resistance at least there is the feeling that they are working towards something. The Order was all cloaks and daggers: now Seamus is engaged in the gritty everyday of the Resistance’s existence. Someone has to scout out new camping spots, to figure out when they should attack that Death Eater hot zone, to teach people how to cast a patronus. Seamus is happy right in the middle of the action. He needs to feel valued.

For Seamus, the war sounds like late-night laughter, hushed in the blue dark, from people sitting around a bonfire. It’s the smell of a forest at dawn, of the rain-washed clean of another nameless British moor, the cold rush of ocean air whipping over dunes. Unmade beds, dish-washing duty, the organized cacophony of group breakfast. It feels like trudging along another country track, his boots sticking in the mud, Dean bumping into his side as their readjust the straps of their backpacks. The war sounds like the music that thumped out of a muggle club that one time in London; the way it pounded into the close summer air and tangled in Hermione’s sweat-damp hair. It’s that time he and Ron found themselves stuck in an abandoned warehouse for hours, watching a Death Eater do Merlin knew what across the way, until finally she apparated at four in the morning and left them sore, tired, and stupid, snapping at everyone when they arrived back at headquarters before collapsing asleep in bed for twelve hours. It’s the red bruise forming between his fingers from where he holds his wand. The war mainly feels like one anticlimax after another, but it mainly feels like holding a cup of tea on a frosty morning in Devon, sitting outside the flap of the tent and watching the light turn from dust to silver to gold. It feels the way that Dean makes him feel: short of breath, nervous, thrilled with their proximity.

For all his positive qualities, Seamus is a flawed individual. He finds it easy to identity the alleged weak spots of other people and does not hesitate in pointing them out, often loudly at at length, with little regard for other people’s feelings. He can also be quite brusque and even dismissive, believing that he has already considered the consequences and someone else’s opinion is merely a beat too late. In addition to this, his brash nature can cause him to be sloppy, clumsy, and heedless of consequence. Taking responsibility for his actions is something he struggles with constantly. There is a reason Seamus is not put on the trickier missions, when a careful hand and a steady eye are the only ways they can succeed. He is far better in the thick of it, with his spirit burning bright, his spells shooting through the dark like jets of flame. He lacks the finesse that a true spy requires; he does, however, have the mettle of a freedom fighter, and that is his redeeming feature.

One of Seamus’ biggest problems is his ability to jump to conclusions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Seamus to forego any logical explanation and simply choose whichever answer is the most salacious, extraordinary, or unbelievable. And somewhere, in the crowded, bright places in his mind, these tales take on a life of their own. At school it meant he was especially susceptible to gossip. More recently, his doubt in Harry Potter exemplifies this. Seamus would never discriminate based on blood status, and that is not the reason he feels uncertain around the prophecy of Potter being the Chosen One. No, he has a problem with the fact that Harry essentially knows nothing about how to fulfill this supposed prophecy. Although a halfblood himself, Seamus did essentially have a magical childhood. His mother imbued their home with magic in all of its ordinary glory: floating teapots, evergreen flowers on the sill, self-refreshing laundry. Seamus is used to the lovely everyday of magic and the wonder it can inspire in even the most mundane of chores. Even his father, in his sentimental moments (which are frequent; the Finnegans are an emotional lot and prone to heated monologues) expresses how strange and empty his old life feels without the touch of his wife’s wand. So how can someone who has never known the poisoned touch of You-Know-Who, who never grew up with stories about his reign of terror -- how can someone like that be expected to save someone like him? Even Seamus’ mother had a rough time during the first war; Seamus has seen her scars. You-Know-Who might have taken everything from Harry -- and that angers Seamus on Harry’s behalf -- but he also doesn’t know about the grim reality of Dark magic. What a word without Light is really like. And that, to Seamus, is difficult to reconcile.

EXTRAS

Seamus’ blog can be found here!

Here is a Pinterest board for him.

This is also where I would link to two writing samples if I were an applicant! They do not have to be IC.

#hp rp #golden trio rp #harry potter rp #literate rp #seamus finnegan #sample application

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onlinemarketinghelp · 6 years ago

Photo

Email Marketing Made Simple: How To Start & Run A Successful Email Marketing Campaign https://ift.tt/2XNUTGQ

Email marketing has one of the highest returns on investment in all of online marketing. For every dollar spent on email marketing, you can expect about a 3800% return.

And no, that wasn’t a typo.

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Email marketing requires a combination of work and the right tools. Only you can put the work in.

For my tool, I’ll be using Constant Contact. They can build opt in forms, send email blasts, run email automations, and have super powerful list management tools.

All the better? You can try Constant Contact free for 60 days, no payment method required. You can use the trial to follow along in this guide and set up your own email marketing campaign.

Click here to try Constant Contact free for 60 days

Run your email marketing campaigns with Constant Contact

Benefits of Email Marketing

I’m a big believer in the power of email marketing. There are a few reasons for that.

1. Everyone Uses Email

Email is a fact of life. And whether your audience is old, young, or somewhere in the middle, it’s almost guaranteed that they use email to some extent.

An OptinMonster survey showed that 99% of people use email every single day. You can’t say that about any other communication channel.

Imagine it like this: You have a business where you can sell an item to 100 people. You have 100 potential buyers.

But what if you could change locations and have 10,000 potential buyers? The move might be a little inconvenient, but that’s a huge increase in the amount of potential income you can make.

You can make the exact same comparison with social media vs email. You could reach a fraction of your audience on social media (despite its hype, social media doesn’t encompass everyone; I’m a male in my mid-20s and despise social media). So you could reach some of your target demographic on social media.

Or you can reach 99% of people with email.

That’s a no brainer. No other communication channel is so prevalent (or so easy to market to).

2. You Control Your Traffic

As a guy who makes his living by getting visitors to a website, this is a big one for me. Email allows you to control your flow of traffic.

Social traffic can be hard to build (though Pinterest traffic may be an exception). Organic traffic leaves you 100% in the not-so-benevolent hands of Google. And with the ever-increasing trend of using featured snippets to steal clicks, I don’t think that trusting organic traffic is wise.

So what can you trust?

Your email list. They believed in your brand enough to sign up for your email list. If you did a good job on your lead magnet, these people already know and trust you. You’ve already established your value by giving them something. They don’t mind clicking a link you sent them as long as its relevant to their interests.

Which leads me to my next point…

3. Email Converts Well

Since your audience trusts you and since you’ve established value, you can expect pretty high conversions on email.

Joe Blow who started down the rabbit hole by searching about dolphins and somehow landed on your site? Nah.

But someone who you’ve demonstrated your value to? Someone who already knows your name, your brand, and trusts you?

I can tell you from the Niche Pursuits email campaigns that email converts well. It’s an audience of people who are familiar with you and know that you do good business. The conversions are awesome.

4. You Own The List No Matter What

This is by far my favorite thing about email marketing. Yes reaches everyone, yes you control it, and yes it converts.

But no matter what happens, you can always have your email list.

If the stock market goes down, if real estate goes bust, if you lose everything in a divorce, you still have your list.

You still have your audience.

An email list is the ultimate guarantee that you won’t have to suffer financial hardship again. You own it, you control it, and no one can take it away from you.

It’s the fruit of your labor. So let’s talk about how to use it.

How To Start An Email Marketing Campaign

Email marketing starts with building an awesome list. This means that you’re going to have to use some kind of opt in form to generate interest for your list.

It doesn’t mean that you have to create annoying popups with pretty much zero value.

You know the type:

That opt in provides zero value to me. Of course I love adventure! That doesn’t mean I’ll get an ounce of worth out of their email list.

You need to show your audience that you provide amazing content, that you’re trustworthy. We call this a “lead magnet”. It’s something to hook in your audience.

But how can we build a lead magnet without being spammy?

It’s easier than you think.

Best Practices For Opt In Boxes:

Use pop ups

Offer something of value

Make them relevant to what the reader is learning about

Make it actionable

A pop up within 10 seconds of a reader landing on a page is about right

Use content upgrades as your bread and butter

Use super lead magnets to build trust for high ticket items

Bad Practices For Opt In Boxes:

Putting them in the sidebar (you won’t convert anyone!)

Popping up too late

Offering “tips, tricks, and hacks” or other unclear value

Making a general opt in for your whole site

Converting Without Being Spammy

A good opt in box will help your audience achieve or get something. In internet marketing, we call this a “lead magnet”. Your readers like it, they want it, and they’re willing to give you an email address for it.

There are tons of strategies for developing lead magnets, but here are the two that work the best:

Offer your readers a bonus on an existing piece of content. In the olden days when Jesus walked the earth, these were often a PDF form of the post. There are better things to offer than a PDF. You want something actionable and easy for your readers to fall in love with. We’ll call this a “content upgrade”.

Offer your readers a super awesome, super amazing, super fantastic something that they would pay for. The good news is that they don’t have to pay for it; they can get it in their email address for free. These are best used if you have a funnel and sell higher-ticket items later on down the road. We’ll call this a “super lead magnet”.

Of the two of these, the content upgrade will be your staple. It’s the bread and butter of email marketing.

We’ll discuss how to build an awesome content upgrade and then talk about making a super lead magnet.

Quick Note: I’ll be using Constant Contact to build my email list. You can also use them to build your opt in boxes 🙂

Click here to get access to Constant Contact free for 60 days. No credit card required

Content Upgrades For The Win

A content upgrade is when you offer your readers something that’s “content plus”. If your page is about DIY craft ideas, then a content upgrade would be a video walkthrough for building home furniture (or whatever).

If you’re writing about how to catch big mouth bass, a content upgrade would be a free lure for bass.

The goal here is to take whatever your reader is learning about and upgrade it. Make it bigger, better, and more actionable. You want your content upgrades to be:

Related to what the viewer is reading now

Easy to consume (video, audio files, etc.)

Actionable

The first step to making an awesome content upgrade is to make it related to whatever your viewer is already reading. You don’t have to make these on a post per post basis, but I think that you should at least have a different opt in for every category.

Category level opt ins help you boost your conversion rate and will allow you to segment your audience. This is a big help later when you’re sending out emails or selling products. You already know what each segment is interested in, so you can craft emails or products just for them.

It’s a bit more work on your part, but the payoff can be enormous.

I found an amazing content upgrade on Healthline. I opened up an article about sweeteners that parents should watch out for. Here’s the opt in box I got:

This content upgrade is brilliant for a few reasons.

It is related to what I’m reading. I am curious about unhealthy sweeteners, Healthline gives me an option to take a mindful eating challenge

It’s easy! Look at the wording here. “Free”. “Our Nutrition team will show you how to create lasting, healthy eating habits“. Lasting, healthy habits for free? I’m all in.

It’s actionable. It’s a challenge: go on this journey with us for 21 days

I can’t see their opt in rate for this, but I’m guessing that it’s pretty significant.

That’s a great opt in. What are the characteristics of a bad opt in?

I did a little digging and found a bad opt in. It didn’t take me long.

This is a bad opt in for a few reasons. First, you can see that it doesn’t offer me much of value.

A Roadie insider? What is that? Why would I want to be one?

The next things they offer me are “exclusive deals and discounts”. I don’t think I’m interested. I’m reading an article about how to tune a guitar. Odds are good that I already have a guitar, so I don’t need deals or discounts.

Second, they don’t offer anything actionable. Since this is an article about guitar tuning, an awesome content upgrade would be a video guide. It would be easy to consume, helpful.

And third, this is unrelated to the content I’m consuming. Nothing here about being a better musician or tuning guitars better. I’ll pass, thanks.

The biggest problem with this opt in is that it doesn’t offer me much value. What does “deals and discounts” even mean? Is that a $10 off coupon once a blue moon? Or is it 50% off a $500 purchase? The difference between those two things is enormous. They need a better value proposition.

Here’s an opt in that is okay. It’s not great, but it doesn’t make me want to bleach my eyes:

The value proposition here is better: saving money on my next trip. That’s pretty appealing. I do love saving money.

But it doesn’t tell me how I’m saving money. Will I be spending less on airfare or will I be swapping a nice Airbnb for a hut in the wall?

It also doesn’t tell me how much I’ll be saving or what I’ll need to do to start saving. A better opt in might be “3 things to say to your airline to guarantee cheaper flights” or something like that.

It’s a fine opt in. But it’s pretty eh. With a clearer value proposition and more actionable content, this could be a killer.

So now let’s look at an amazing opt in:

Woah. Take a look at that copy.

I have no desire to be a profitable Youtube music star, but I opted in anyways. Let’s break this down:

It’s related to what I’m reading. I was checking out best apps to learn guitar. They know I want to play music, they know I have a technical inclination. I’d rather use my phone than go to an instructor. There are good odds that I’ve seen someone teaching guitar on Youtube and have thought that I’d like to be in their shoes. They know that I’m a “real world independent musician”.

It’s easy to consume (a free book, nice!) and has a super clear value for me. I could make between $4,077 and $22,573+ per month! Look at those specific numbers.

It’s very actionable. 5 steps to a profitable music career. What gets easier than that?

It has social proof. They show you that the book has 4.5/5 stars. Nice!

That’s an awesome content upgrade.

As mentioned before, you can build these types of content upgrades in Constant Contact. Try Constant Contact free for 60 days, no payment method required

Super Lead Magnets For High Ticket Items

Content upgrades are great at building your email list for pretty general purposes. You want direct traffic, you want affiliate sales, you have a small funnel.

But if you sell big ticket items?

You might need to build a little more trust with your audience. You need to show them that business with you is always a win for them.

The easiest way to build trust and give amazing value is to give something away for free. But this can’t just be anything for free; it has to be something so cool, so awesome that someone would pay money for it.

These “super” lead magnets should be something that most people would pay in the range of $20-$100 to have… and you’re giving it away for free.

The best super lead magnet I could find was on Authority Hacker. They have a course called The Authority Site System that teaches you how to build a 4+ figures per month authority website (check out my Authority Site System review).

Their opt in process looks like this:

First they have a popup that offers relevant, actionable, easy-to-consume content:

And the free training they mention?

It’s an hour and a half long webinar that tells you step by step how to build one of these sites.

No hype, no fluff. It’s an hour and a half of pure value. They give you their strategies for building sites, proof that the methods work, and tell you how to replicate it on your site.

This free training alone is better than some online courses.

And I don’t know their numbers, but I’m going to guess that The Authority Site System sells like hotcakes.

That’s the power of a super lead magnet: you establish trust with your leads. And once they trust you, they won’t have a problem buying from you.

Since these are more difficult to make than a content upgrade, I recommend a super lead magnet if you’re looking at selling your own products. Super lead magnets work well with high ticket items that require a lot of trust beforehand.

Now that you have a strategy for your lead generation, let’s look at what to do once you have the email list.

How To Run An Email Marketing Campaign

The best way to run your email marketing campaign is to start with the end goal.

What is your ideal outcome?

Do you have a funnel where you want someone to buy or do you want to build the relationship? Are you trying to wish a happy birthday to the members of your list or are you planning a 7 email series to create customers?

Or maybe you want all of these things for different audiences. Maybe high ticket clients get a happy birthday and others get a welcome message when they join the email list.

No problem. You can do all of that.

The post Email Marketing Made Simple: How To Start & Run A Successful Email Marketing Campaign appeared first on Niche Pursuits.

from Niche Pursuits

Email marketing has one of the highest returns on investment in all of online marketing. For every dollar spent on email marketing, you can expect about a 3800% return.

And no, that wasn’t a typo.

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Email marketing requires a combination of work and the right tools. Only you can put the work in.

For my tool, I’ll be using Constant Contact. They can build opt in forms, send email blasts, run email automations, and have super powerful list management tools.

All the better? You can try Constant Contact free for 60 days, no payment method required. You can use the trial to follow along in this guide and set up your own email marketing campaign.

Click here to try Constant Contact free for 60 days

Run your email marketing campaigns with Constant Contact

Benefits of Email Marketing

I’m a big believer in the power of email marketing. There are a few reasons for that.

1. Everyone Uses Email

Email is a fact of life. And whether your audience is old, young, or somewhere in the middle, it’s almost guaranteed that they use email to some extent.

An OptinMonster survey showed that 99% of people use email every single day. You can’t say that about any other communication channel.

Imagine it like this: You have a business where you can sell an item to 100 people. You have 100 potential buyers.

But what if you could change locations and have 10,000 potential buyers? The move might be a little inconvenient, but that’s a huge increase in the amount of potential income you can make.

Or you can reach 99% of people with email.

That’s a no brainer. No other communication channel is so prevalent (or so easy to market to).

2. You Control Your Traffic

As a guy who makes his living by getting visitors to a website, this is a big one for me. Email allows you to control your flow of traffic.

So what can you trust?

Which leads me to my next point…

3. Email Converts Well

Since your audience trusts you and since you’ve established value, you can expect pretty high conversions on email.

Joe Blow who started down the rabbit hole by searching about dolphins and somehow landed on your site? Nah.

But someone who you’ve demonstrated your value to? Someone who already knows your name, your brand, and trusts you?

4. You Own The List No Matter What

This is by far my favorite thing about email marketing. Yes reaches everyone, yes you control it, and yes it converts.

But no matter what happens, you can always have your email list.

If the stock market goes down, if real estate goes bust, if you lose everything in a divorce, you still have your list.

You still have your audience.

An email list is the ultimate guarantee that you won’t have to suffer financial hardship again. You own it, you control it, and no one can take it away from you.

It’s the fruit of your labor. So let’s talk about how to use it.

How To Start An Email Marketing Campaign

Email marketing starts with building an awesome list. This means that you’re going to have to use some kind of opt in form to generate interest for your list.

It doesn’t mean that you have to create annoying popups with pretty much zero value.

You know the type:

That opt in provides zero value to me. Of course I love adventure! That doesn’t mean I’ll get an ounce of worth out of their email list.

You need to show your audience that you provide amazing content, that you’re trustworthy. We call this a “lead magnet”. It’s something to hook in your audience.

But how can we build a lead magnet without being spammy?

It’s easier than you think.

Best Practices For Opt In Boxes:

Use pop ups

Offer something of value

Make them relevant to what the reader is learning about

Make it actionable

A pop up within 10 seconds of a reader landing on a page is about right

Use content upgrades as your bread and butter

Use super lead magnets to build trust for high ticket items

Bad Practices For Opt In Boxes:

Putting them in the sidebar (you won’t convert anyone!)

Popping up too late

Offering “tips, tricks, and hacks” or other unclear value

Making a general opt in for your whole site

Converting Without Being Spammy

There are tons of strategies for developing lead magnets, but here are the two that work the best:

Of the two of these, the content upgrade will be your staple. It’s the bread and butter of email marketing.

We’ll discuss how to build an awesome content upgrade and then talk about making a super lead magnet.

Quick Note: I’ll be using Constant Contact to build my email list. You can also use them to build your opt in boxes 🙂

Click here to get access to Constant Contact free for 60 days. No credit card required

Content Upgrades For The Win

If you’re writing about how to catch big mouth bass, a content upgrade would be a free lure for bass.

The goal here is to take whatever your reader is learning about and upgrade it. Make it bigger, better, and more actionable. You want your content upgrades to be:

Related to what the viewer is reading now

Easy to consume (video, audio files, etc.)

Actionable

It’s a bit more work on your part, but the payoff can be enormous.

I found an amazing content upgrade on Healthline. I opened up an article about sweeteners that parents should watch out for. Here’s the opt in box I got:

This content upgrade is brilliant for a few reasons.

It is related to what I’m reading. I am curious about unhealthy sweeteners, Healthline gives me an option to take a mindful eating challenge

It’s easy! Look at the wording here. “Free”. “Our Nutrition team will show you how to create lasting, healthy eating habits“. Lasting, healthy habits for free? I’m all in.

It’s actionable. It’s a challenge: go on this journey with us for 21 days

I can’t see their opt in rate for this, but I’m guessing that it’s pretty significant.

That’s a great opt in. What are the characteristics of a bad opt in?

I did a little digging and found a bad opt in. It didn’t take me long.

This is a bad opt in for a few reasons. First, you can see that it doesn’t offer me much of value.

A Roadie insider? What is that? Why would I want to be one?

Second, they don’t offer anything actionable. Since this is an article about guitar tuning, an awesome content upgrade would be a video guide. It would be easy to consume, helpful.

And third, this is unrelated to the content I’m consuming. Nothing here about being a better musician or tuning guitars better. I’ll pass, thanks.

Here’s an opt in that is okay. It’s not great, but it doesn’t make me want to bleach my eyes:

The value proposition here is better: saving money on my next trip. That’s pretty appealing. I do love saving money.

But it doesn’t tell me how I’m saving money. Will I be spending less on airfare or will I be swapping a nice Airbnb for a hut in the wall?

It’s a fine opt in. But it’s pretty eh. With a clearer value proposition and more actionable content, this could be a killer.

So now let’s look at an amazing opt in:

Woah. Take a look at that copy.

I have no desire to be a profitable Youtube music star, but I opted in anyways. Let’s break this down:

It’s easy to consume (a free book, nice!) and has a super clear value for me. I could make between $4,077 and $22,573+ per month! Look at those specific numbers.

It’s very actionable. 5 steps to a profitable music career. What gets easier than that?

It has social proof. They show you that the book has 4.5/5 stars. Nice!

That’s an awesome content upgrade.

As mentioned before, you can build these types of content upgrades in Constant Contact. Try Constant Contact free for 60 days, no payment method required

Super Lead Magnets For High Ticket Items

Content upgrades are great at building your email list for pretty general purposes. You want direct traffic, you want affiliate sales, you have a small funnel.

But if you sell big ticket items?

You might need to build a little more trust with your audience. You need to show them that business with you is always a win for them.

These “super” lead magnets should be something that most people would pay in the range of $20-$100 to have… and you’re giving it away for free.

Their opt in process looks like this:

First they have a popup that offers relevant, actionable, easy-to-consume content:

And the free training they mention?

It’s an hour and a half long webinar that tells you step by step how to build one of these sites.

No hype, no fluff. It’s an hour and a half of pure value. They give you their strategies for building sites, proof that the methods work, and tell you how to replicate it on your site.

This free training alone is better than some online courses.

And I don’t know their numbers, but I’m going to guess that The Authority Site System sells like hotcakes.

That’s the power of a super lead magnet: you establish trust with your leads. And once they trust you, they won’t have a problem buying from you.

Now that you have a strategy for your lead generation, let’s look at what to do once you have the email list.

How To Run An Email Marketing Campaign

The best way to run your email marketing campaign is to start with the end goal.

What is your ideal outcome?

Or maybe you want all of these things for different audiences. Maybe high ticket clients get a happy birthday and others get a welcome message when they join the email list.

No problem. You can do all of that.

The post Email Marketing Made Simple: How To Start & Run A Successful Email Marketing Campaign appeared first on Niche Pursuits.

November 24, 2019 at 01:07AMhttps://https://ift.tt/2XNTq3i https://ift.tt/2qF30cy

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

Note

Quick q for your mango verse. Female alphas, do they carry?(and if they do carry, is it stigmatized?) and how does a female alpha/female omega pair produce pups? (Do they adopt?) (You mentiondd earlier that the only secondary gender to be determined by birth was a male omega, so I got curious) sorry/not sorry for making you expand this lovely universe of yours

I went in so DEEP this is all my thoughts on this universe and the gender/secondary gender politics of it.

Honestly, because this started as a drabble, I put SUCH little thought into it, lol, but as I’ve written, there have been more and more I’ve been dwelling on.

I’m gonna put it under the cut bc I talk genitals and stuff. Don’t want anyone to get uncomfy.

Here’s the Mango Masterlist, I’m gonna maybe put this somewhere in there. Maybe at the top.

So yes, how I always like to think of ABO is that male omegas have some combination of penis/vagina because I once read one where that was the case and I was like, hell yeah. It just kind of clicked into my brain.

Especially for this one, I’m not usually into mpreg unless it makes more sense for me, biologically, so like a trans person getting pregnant (which someone tagged the Mango series as trans!steve, which could TOTALLY work) or as I’ve written Steve, more on the intersex scale. I just think it’s interesting to bring this side of gender politics that very much exists into it and make it more.

HOWEVER, Steve can DEFINITELY be read as a trans man with a clit dick, so honestly, whatever you want.

So, my original plan, when I introduced Robin, was to have her being a female alpha a kind of euphemism for her being a lesbian, and most omegas are female in this universe. My original thought was that female alphas would have a penis, but then I was asked to write about Nancy (and look me in the eyeballs and tell me that girl is NOT an alpha) so I was like, nvm and decided to scrap that, it also sets male omegas even further apart, as they are the only secondary gender to have a difference in external genitalia. I decided that when I wrote the part of them getting harassed.

So what I was thinking, was that Robin’s queerness comes in with her being attracted to other women, obvs, but also being attracted to other female alphas.

I think that with ABO, since they are these other secondary genders, there would be an even wider range of sexuality than in real life, so you could have omega women that are attracted to only alpha males, or only alpha females, or both or neither, etc, etc. Maybe a beta male that’s attracted to women, be they alpha or omega or beta. There are two different levels to sexuality alone that would be interesting to bring into play.

I think for Steve, he likes alphas. Doesn’t care male or female.

To me, for this universe, Steve is perfect for Billy. He likes the idea of omegas, but prefers males. Maybe he only dated male betas before he met Steve, so when he finds a male omega and it’s like he’s hit the Holy fucking Grail.

Nancy is an alpha that prefers betas, she likes to be more dominant, but doesn’t want someone to be completely reliant on her.

You bring up a SUPER interesting point, and I do really like the idea of. The world I've set up definitely caters more to alphas, but I think that there would be some kind of stigma against alpha women. I think a metaphor for it would be like, alpha males are the white cishet men of the world, they get away with everything and get it handed to them on a silver platter. There’s a LOT of privilege there. Alpha women are like white cishet women, they lose some of the privileges the men have, but they still have it WAY better than most.

So as I’m thinking about it, maybe because the way an alpha presents is their knot coming in, maybe when a female alpha presents, something similar happens where her clitoris enlarges. Because alpha males are rare, many alpha women date beta or alpha men, however, I think it’d be seen as kind of a pussy move by the world at large if a male alpha were to be with a female alpha.

Does any of this make sense? I honestly don’t know.

There are a lot of things I’ve thought about that I haven’t found a way of putting into the story since they are just snippets of time, but I thought it would be interesting to delve into Steve’s experience as a male omega, like maybe when he was born his parents could’ve had him undergo surgery and hormonal therapy to have him live as a female omega, as sometimes parents of intersex people do (which is something I DO NOT agree with, let people live) but they ultimately chose not to, which could then be reflected in how Steve’s mom tried to make amends after they moved to California.

This was a long tangent and didn’t answer a single thing you asked.

Female alphas carrying: I think yes, they can carry, but I think many would not want to. Part of the typical omega biology is wanting to carry pups, to nest and take care of life. I think many alpha women would choose not to have pups. They may feel the desire to reproduce, but don’t ultimately wouldn’t want to actually get pregnant. Maybe there is a well-established culture of omega surrogates. For female alphas that choose to carry, I think they would be looked at as lesser, like maybe they are with a male alpha, and she is seen as a lesser alpha for submitting to her man’s primal urge to impregnate, even though it was a decision they both made.

I think in this universe, female alphas/female omegas can’t procreate together, but as I mentioned, maybe there is a strong culture of surrogacy like many male alphas donate sperm and many female omegas are willing to act as surrogates for those that can’t procreate on their own, and having a surrogate or using a sperm donor is seen as fairly normal.

There is still a large sense of homophobia, as the stigma Billy and Steve face is largely that Steve is a guy, but that also has an air of anti-intersex or transphobia, seeing as the real rub is that he is a male omega, it’s the combination of the two that people are mostly discriminatory against. I think in terms of stigma, male alpha with a male omega is like, BAD, and then from most stigmatized to widely accepted and celebrated would be male alpha with male alpha, male beta, female alpha, female beta, female omega.

To use an analogy from modern-day, a person may be accepting of a gay couple, but if they find out one of the people in the couple is a gay trans man, then they are transphobic and problematic about that.

Steve also is faced with transphobia and anti-intersex moments in the form of people asking him about his genitals. That is something that many trans and intersex people are harassed with and it’s disgusting, but I think that would be many people’s go-to form of harassment with him, like the guys in part 26.

As I mentioned, Robin may face discrimination from being a female alpha, being a female alpha attracted to women, but it is more the combination of being attracted to female + alpha that creates the same homophobia she would face in real life 1980s.

(I also was going to go into how transness may work in this ‘verse, since I think being under the trans umbrella would come into play with both sets of gender, and a person could be non-tertiary (? like non-binary but with 3 established gender roles) but this post is already so long if anyone wants to know my thoughts, feel free to reach out.)

I hope this kind of explained somethings, I went on long tangents without really answering your actual questions, and I kinda feel like J.K. Rowling not mentioning any of this stuff because it’s not a part of Harry’s journey, but this has been where my brain is at in terms of writing this drabble series. The more it progresses, the more I think about certain aspects of it, and I think a LOT about how gender and sexual politics would be established in this world.

As always, if I have said or done something harmful and problematic, please come and start a discussion with me, I am always willing to learn and I understand that in talking about certain things I do not experience, I can get stuff wrong and be insensitive.

#yikes talks #yikes writes #mango

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odditycollector · 8 years ago

Text

Anti-Parallel Evolution

[disclaimer: as always with just-so stories, i'm talking 'what i enjoy believing' not 'true with any authority']

This is kinda a continuation of my semi recent homestuck myth post, and kinda a continuation of my not even a little recent blackrom post**.

**[Which I think still holds up, although if I was re-writing it today I'd put either way less or way more effort into bullshitting the low-level mechanisms of reproduction, 'cause that's the least thought-out part & it shows. tldr: I enjoy believing trolls have many more than 2 parents.]

And alas but I've gotta ruin the "true thing” hidden in the homestuck myth post to go on with this one.

It's the last bit, where the early proto-trolls were, as a swarm, a single(ish?) superorganism in the way that a colony of earth ants or termites or bees can be best understood as a single superorganism, but then as the trolls evolved they became more and more individualistic until they are as we meet them.

Things that make more sense this way:

variation between "castes"

eg, why are there sea trolls? why are deep blue trolls apparently hoarding all the superstrength? why are there powers that you'd expect to find in yellows or ceruleans respectively... but not v.v.?

a: because at one time they were specialized "cells" of a superorganism, where the castes had different functions like how ants have soldiers and workers and breeders.

and those divisions were either too useful (for some definition of "useful") or too genetically baked in to be completely erased yet even if they've blurred.

incestuous slurry

eg, if the endgame is sexual reproduction, why not just have two parents and less confusion (even if imo it would be a waste of thinking about aliens)

a: because primitive superorganisms, to the best of my knowledge of science's knowledge, only hold together when they are all genetically similar. (This is why a cell in your liver is willing to cast its lot with a cell in your brain it will never meet.) Otherwise, individuals will *cheat* - find a way to reproduce outside what is best for the entire superorganism, and after that there are *more* genetic cheaters, who cheat more, and then... death by extremely slow existential cancer, is almost what it sounds like I'm describing here?

How genetically similar *are* trolls then?

no idea, but here is the thing: even if genetic similarity is GREAT for cooperation, it is CRAP for being a viable species that is not going to go the way of the genetically identical eating bananas - currently in the process of all getting killed by one disease strain. And if you're an r-selected** species - many many children, low resource investment, low survival to adulthood rates - you can afford to do a lot of genetic experimenting (ie, have a high mutation rate) because the fucked up ones will just die, like most of them do anyway, and hey, you never know.

**[Or close enough for this post.]

So this is what I'm positing.

your dna goes into the slurry, baby trolls come out of the slurry. check. but which baby trolls are made of YOUR dna in particular? Well, who's counting, but probably a lot. like "more than you'd get with 2 parents per troll" a lot.

If you have 20 paired chromosomes and (with some help >;) ), you split them down the middle and make 2 kids with half your dna each, you have an investment in getting those 2 kids as far in life as you can, because that's the whole you.

but split them further - say one chromosome per kid - and now you have *40* kids you're invested in seeing survive in order for there to be a whole copy of you still floating around in the 2nd generation.

But at the same time, you have way *less* of an investment in each one of those 40 than when it was only 2. And again, who's counting? Any number of the baby trolls crawling inside the caverns could have bits of you in their mix.

Instead of caring a *lot* about *some* members of your species, you care a *little* about *all* of them.

Maybe that's enough to get a species to hang out together? That'd be worth the energy it’d cost to do it if it'd be so.

That and... *one* other thing.

Cheaters, remember?

The way insects do it is central control. The non-queen individuals biologically cannot** reproduce on their own terms.

**[or close enough for this post]

oh hey, *who does that sound like*?

The thing I like to believe is trolls don't make eggs on their own, and haven't for millions and millions of years, b/c once upon a time when they still did make eggs they parasitized the proto-mothergrub species the way wasps lay their eggs in caterpillars, and this became proto-trolls parasitizing the proto-mothergrub species by making them make eggs containing proto-troll dna, and this became whatever is going on today.

(If you think that is too neat and unlikely you should look into the terrifying shit Earth insects have managed to get up to.)

So, with all that, could a species introduce significant genetic variation at the individual level and still survive as a superorganism?

Well...

it *didn't*, did it?

[And here's a thought.

[Spiders - singular insects - are r-selected the way trolls seem to be. Lots of eggs, few to reach adulthood, competition intense.

[but are *hive bees* r-selected?

[arguably, they are not. bee colonies don't make as many new bees as possible, they only make as many new bees as they need, and they provide the baby bees honey to eat and nursemaids to take care of them until they become adult bees.

[and isn't it kinda weird that post-pupation trolls seem somehow, like, *injured* by growing up by themselves in a harsh world, even though it “should” be what they are evolved for?

[Maybe they're meant to be less r-selected than we assume.

[That last bit's not What I Like To Believe(tm), but it's a thought.]

Wow that single quick intro paragraph got away from me a little :/

Anyway, parallel evolution is when two species, faced with similar constraints, evolve similar traits to deal with those constraints.

eg, flying squirrels and flying lizards both glide around on flaps of skin, but they have not shared an ancestor for a very very long time - They both developed the flying thing separately.

Humans... okay, we all know about humans, right? We were once more individualistic creatures but then we slowly, piecemeal, learned the trick of inter-group cooperation and used it to take over the world.

So humans were individuals who learned group-ishness, and trolls were a group that learned individuality, and then we all met together somewhere in the middle.

That’s what I think would be cool.

[bonus question: Humans have developed *intER*group cooperation. Trolls were starting from a place of *intRA*group connection and working backwards. Which one of us d'you suppose would be better at making interspecies friends, come alien contact?]

And the interesting part is, in both cases, you get there the same way.

via neoteny!

neoteny is when a species evolves to keep more child-like traits into adulthood. It's what fuels the domestication process - being docile and curious and trusting and friendly is a phase for *babies*. ...And/or any species that 1. naturally goes through that phase and 2. hangs around humans too long.

Including humans.

We are all giant whiny babies who have no one to blame but ourselves. That is science facts.

And genes are complicated and stuff so when you change the behaviour of a species you change the physical traits of the species as well, and a domesticated animal will keep child-like markings/features/etc into adulthood and that's why dogs have floppy ears.

But! Back to homestuck trolls.

It is easy to read what we are given in-comic as "these kids are growing less violent as they get older, and at the very beginning of their humanoid life - the 'trials' - they had to be really quite vicious indeed".

To illustrate my headcanons here’s a snippet from an old thing I wrote:

At about 5 sweeps is where things get interesting.

The trials are long over, and so the slow wave of settlement. There are enough resources to go around; bloodlust is falling out of fashion with the inexorable change of brain hormones. Suddenly, everyone is interested in figuring out the *rules*.

or:

“Yes,” she says. “Sure. Right. Karkat, you’ve survived this long with less challenge than anyone else I’ve known. Here.”

Kanaya pries the book from him and searches through it for a passage. “…proximity to the parasite has been observed to actuate the development of premature empathy in adolescent trolls.”

“Premature empathy,” Karkat repeats. “You mean that being around me makes trolls less aggressive. Just by *existing* at you, I made you *weak*. Oh fuck. I’m so sorry.”

I could argue my case in depth but it's not that unusual a theory and I don't wanna go on another whole essay tangent.

But the kid trolls only know what adults are like from their media, which is explicitly mentioned to make stuff just for kids, who are into violence. Maybe the troll child-friendly channel is the one with all the goriest stuff on it, idk, but I def. do not believe there is no adult-audienced media anywhere in the fleet.

So like

Humans: Neoteny --> more childlike --> more trusting, curious, and friendly

Trolls: Neoteny --> more childlike --> more individualistic and uncooperative

See? *backwards*

(And Her Imperious Condescension sure looks cool to the hs troll kids, but maybe she's just a spoiled brat who never really grew up. Not like THAT's not a theme for Homestuck villains.)

And now... here we are.

And the real reason I brought us all this way is because it opens up an potentially amusing cultural mismatch.

We have certain associations with facial proportions, right? It's neoteny all over again (and also some sexism but).

And maybe trolls have the opposite associations... for the same reasons**!

**[Yes I am assuming trolls have similar childhood traits because otherwise it isn’t funny.]

here are some neoteny linked traits:

low, large eyes small chin, nose large head:body size ratio short stature invokes the general abstract concept of roundness somehow etc.

Human RX:

adorable! helpless/vulnerable/needs protection i just met it and i loooove it! does it need hugs cause i have extra hugs just lying around here compelled to hold/pet/cuddle it

Troll RX (suggested):

vicious/violent/dangerous leave it alone or it will bite you probably unpredictable/disloyal selfish likely to end up dead anyway so not really worth caring about instinctual revulsion (judging from karkat + grubs)

and some anti-neotony linked traits:

smaller eyes, higher in head larger nose, jaw taller with smaller head:body ratio etc.

Human RX:

more likely to be dangerous (poss. in protection of itself/bonded others) suffers fools less than gladly, see also: unwanted attention self-sufficient jealous of resources/not good at sharing closed off/suspicious

Troll RX (hypothesized):

more emotionally stable more socially adept/a potential friend or ally competent/proven sex haver competent/proven at self protection safer to let down your guard around it able to usefully cooperate in groups towards shared goal

Okay? Okay.

okay......

So then imagine Karkat's reaction the first time he gets a puppy shoved in his face.

The end.

I'm out of typing now.

#homestuck #it is also interesting to imagine what human/troll couples would see when they look at each other #probably some of my questions could be mathematically modeled and tested but ehhhhhh #probably r-selection isn't really a thing anymore exactly but ehhhhhh #trolls are terrible

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victorluvsalice · 8 years ago

Text

Weyr Wednesday: Fandom Weyr -- Parole Officer

Welp, there’s not much happening in DragonVale now that I’ve cleared out all the available dragons. And I happen to have run out of Pern Crash ficlets to share. So, it’s time for a piece from the other Pern crossover I came up with ages ago -- Fandom Weyr! As you might guess from the name, this is a multiverse crossover set on Pern itself, with characters from a bunch of my favorite fandoms living on an island with its own little weyr. The place is run by the Pern version of Vetinari -- hey, if he can keep Ankh-Morpork running smoothly, he can sure as hell handle a weyr. Glados leads the kitchen drudges, which of course includes Chell and Wheatley; Victor (now Vitor) lives in nearby Everglot Sea Hold with his fishing family, drawing maps and composing music in his spare time; Alice’s (or Aliss’s) family helped run a crafthall until their murder by wandering Harper Bumby; and so on and so forth. I never fleshed it out as much as Pern Crash (mostly because I’ve only read two Pern books, both of them for young adults, and both of those were for Menolly’s fire lizard family), but I did do a couple of little fic snippets for it. Here’s the first, for the curious.

Set-up: Vitor and Aliss have been taken to Fandom Weyr -- Aliss having been caught for Bumby’s murder, Vitor as a possible Impression candidate -- except the moment he arrived, he had a screaming panic attack about going “Between.” (Because if anything’s going to trigger Victor’s phobia of absolute darkness, it’s an airless void between places and times.) Aliss is meeting with V’tinari about the punishment for her crime, and for some reason he’s just called in Vitor. . .

“Come.”

The door opened, revealing the very pale face of one Vitor of Everglot Sea Hold. Aliss squinted – was it just her, or had he someone managed to become even whiter since she’d last seen him? Then again, he’s just been summoned into the presence of one of the most renowned and reviled Weyrleaders on Pern, after having a panic attack that the whole Weyr must have heard. I’m surprised he’s not unconscious. “Is our appointment over, Weyrleader?” she asked, glancing at the open gap behind Vitor. But it couldn’t be, he hadn’t actually assigned punishment yet. . . .

“Oh no, please, stay where you are,” V’tinari said pleasantly, before nodding at Vitor. “Do come in. You made quite the impression on my Weyr today, young man.”

“I – I am s-so sorry, sir,” Vitor said as he entered the room, hands twisting together before him. “I r-really had no idea I’d–”

“My Ankth has already spoken to the dragon that brought you here,” V’tinari cut him off. “Apparently his decision to take you was more or less an act of pity.”

Vitor blinked, clearly thrown. “Sir?”

“Yes, Arctith didn’t really think you appropriate for a dragon. You have a spark of what’s necessary to be a good rider – but just a spark. No, he and N’rth simply saw how discontent you were in the Hold of your birth – Everglot Sea Hold, correct?” Vitor nodded. “And am I right in assuming you were the unsuccessful suitor for the Lady Holder’s daughter Vitorea – what a remarkable coincidence with your first names, by the by – and the one who found that corpse the wanderer Barkis tried to conceal?”

Vitor blinked rapidly a few times. “I – yes. Y-yes, that’s me,” he confirmed. “I – d-didn’t realize the story had become so famous.”

“Oh, not really,” V’tinari said with a calm smile. “I just make it my business to know as much as I can about everything on Pern. I was apprenticed as a Harper before Ankth called me.” He shrugged with the ease of a man who has everything under control, even things that technically shouldn’t be under his control. “Old habits die hard.”

“I thought everything about Fandom Weyr involved the old habits dying,” Aliss put in, unable to help herself.

V’tinari turned that stony gaze on her. Aliss held out as long as she could, but the Weyrleader was clearly more practiced than she was at outstaring people. “Joke, sir,” she said at last.

“Ah, of course,” he said. “Do tell me when you feel another coming on.” He turned back to the fidgeting Vitor. “Now, don’t be upset, Vitor – I’m quite glad N’rth made the decision to bring you to my Weyr.”

Vitor looked up, his expression absolutely baffled. “You – are, sir? Even with – with what j-just happened?”

“Oh, half of the boys and girls that have been retrieved by my riders will not Impress,” V’tinari said carelessly. “I wish they’d all give such clear signs of their unsuitableness for the post so we don’t have to waste time putting them on the sands. You, Vitor – you I can place in your appropriate position right away.”

“I’m willing to do anything, Weyrleader,” Vitor said with what he thought was a helpful smile but was more a grimace. Aliss resisted the urge to slap her hand against her face. That sentence probably condemned the poor fellow to emptying latrines and spreading dragon dung over nearby Hold fields.

“Excellent! You’re Aliss’s new parole officer.”

. . .what?!

Vitor seemed as startled as she – probably more, as he hadn’t guessed his companion in the room even needed a parole officer. “Ah – I – I b-beg your pardon, Weyrleader?”

“Whatever for? Having a panic attack isn’t a prosecutable offense,” V’tinari replied, voice smooth as fresh-churned butter. “V’mes would have you in his charge if it were. And as far as I know, you haven’t killed anyone like your new charge.”

Vitor’s eyes snapped to her, wide with shock. Aliss winced. “I would like to point out again that the man in questioned killed my entire family when my sister refused to pretend it was a dragon’s mating flight with him,” she said.

“Yes, and we have ample evidence of his other – activities,” V’tinari said, tiptoeing delicately around what those activities actually were. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, they were wretched. “But the fact is that you have killed someone, so we can’t exactly allow you to roam free. Vitor will keep an eye on you on his new assignment, and you can pay back society by proving your worth as his assistant.”

Now Aliss and Vitor shared a baffled look. “I’m afraid I’m not following, Weyrleader,” Vitor said with considerably more caution in his voice.

“Do you know how large the island the Weyr and its tithed holds occupies?” Both young people shook their heads. “10,000 miles across at our last estimate, and our last estimate is very poor. We need someone to take a proper measure of the place – to draw maps of the best roads between holds and weyr, to find where the medicinal and food plants grow, and to make sure no dangerous fauna lurks in the darkness waiting to reduce our rather meager numbers even further.” He fixed Vitor with a look. “From what I understand, Everglot Sea Hold prospers at least in part because of your skill in drawing maps. I’d like you to put that skill to work for me.”

“You – want me – to map your island?” Vitor said slowly.

“I see you understand me perfectly! And to send back regular reports of whatever animal and plant life you discover. Anything that might be useful to the running of the Weyr.” He smiled suddenly, something that actually looked like a genuine smile. “We have a number of fire lizards on our beaches, by the way. Any eggs that you could secure would be invaluable. And should you wish to take one or two for yourself. . .well, the dragons assure me you would be perfect for the ‘little ones.’”

“And – I’m expected to help him?” Aliss said, staring. This – this didn’t sound like a punishment at all. It sounded like paradise. Yes, she’d have to put up with Vitor, but – he didn’t seem a bad sort when he wasn’t screaming and comparing the cold dark of between to his worst nightmares. Surely this couldn’t be how he intended to see justice done. . . .

Unless he believed you when you said you’d already done it.

#weyr wednesday #fandom weyr #pern #Discworld #oh dear I probably slaughtered Vetinari #he's hard to write!#I borrowed the 'joke' exchange from Going Postal #it felt appropriate here too #and trying to remember to 'misspell' their names was tough too #stupid Pern having weird naming conventions #still it was an interesting writing exercise #I hope you all enjoy it #queued

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