#Changeling Snippet

[author-a-holmes]

First Lines Tag Game

Thank you @talesofsorrowandofruin for the Tag. I've not played this one before so do let me know if I've got it wrong <3

Tagging forward, with no pressure, to @amewinterswriting, @j-1173, @arigalefantasynovels, @acertainmoshke, @avrablake, @afoolandathief, @faelanvance and @minamoroz. Also anyone else who wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

The first line from Changeling is...

In the nocturnal peace of Lizzy's bedroom, lit only by the dim shards of light from a newly risen crescent moon, the thud of her jewellery box snapping open as it hit the hard wooden floor, seemed amplified.

For the first line of Darkling, because I (A) Can't resist and (B) Isn't a huge spoiler since the first pages of Darkling can be read in the backmatter of a purchased copy of Changeling.... See below the cut!

The first line from Darkling is...

After six weeks on the road together, watching Lizzy had become something of a habit for Andric Roche.

[justplainmels]

"Every day. Five days a week." - AT on RDA’s antics

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

***

Arthur crossed his arms. “You know what I want.”

“Yes, I do.” Sansa gave him a flat look. “You want to be insufferable and domineering. Like all dominant men.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m not like all ‘dominant men’, my lady. I’m an Alpha.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “And it took you only five minutes to point that out. Lovely.”

“It’s in my nature.”

“It is.” She agreed way too easily. “Which is why we cannot pretend this is anything but temporary insanity.”

“Why?” Arthur pressed.

“We’re both Alphas, Arthur. This is unheard of.”

“Stop avoiding the word.” Arthur growled at her. “Say the words. What is unheard of?”

“Do not show your teeth at me.” Her eyes went wolf.

“Say the words, Sansa.” He pushed. “What is that we can’t do?”

“We cannot be together. At all.”

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Passionate Sex 6C: Jaerik’s plan was to simply distract the noble, lure him away from his office and give her team the chance they needed to sift through his stuff—but perhaps she played her role a bit too well…

“Harder~ ohhh fuck, it’s so good~”

Jaerik panted, moaning as she writhed against the soft sheets under her. The pleasure was just so intense—the feeling of his hand on her chest, gripping so tight, his arms around her holding her close against him—his fingers were tangled in her silky locks, tilting her head back and letting her moan to her absolute heart’s content, and the way his hips bucked into her—

“Ohhh fuccckkk~” the Changeling shuddered with a breathless moan, her hips jerking back into him as she clenched tight around his cock. She bit her lip, her juices squirting hard around him, and she let out a soft whine as she felt his lips on the back of her neck. “Fuck~ you’re relentless~”

“I could say the same for you, my naughty little slave~” the noble chuckled into her ear, leaning down to press his lips to her cheek. Even as he felt her climax so hard around him, the man did not release her, and instead seemed to thrust even harder into her, the smack of his hips on her ass reverberating through the master bedroom. “This body just keeps begging for more~ and who am I to say no~?”

“A-a very~ good~ master~” Jaerik moaned in reply, though she could barely get the words out—even with her own incredible endurance and experience, she was finding herself a bit outclassed by the sheer relentless lust that the noble was pouring out onto her. She was finding it hard to catch her breath, and her mind was going hazy from the constant release. If she didn’t finish him off soon—

“Oh my~ now what is this~?”

Jaerik gasped as she felt the fingers in her hair tug hard, and her body arched back into his chest. She gasped, eyes flickering open—and froze as she saw herself in the mirror across the way. Herself…instead of the maid whose identity she’d taken for this little distraction. And over her shoulder, she could clearly see the lord’s face—a wicked smile on his lips and fiery anger in his eyes.

“Well now~ isn’t this a nasty trick~?” The hand resting on her chest moved up slowly, wrapping around her slender neck as he murmured into her ear. “I wonder what other secrets you have in store for me~ my naughty slave~?”

Her only response was a small whimper of concern, before the room was filled with her passionate screams.

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Maleform Jaerik accidentally runs up too high a tab at the tavern and needs to find some way to wipe his debt. Fortunately, the barmaid and owner of the establishment has a few thinks he can help out with... namely being her stress relief after a long day.

Only one problem... the leather bindings on the barmaid's bedpost? Yeah... they aren't for her. They're for him.

Incredible, the rare maleform Jaerik—such a wondrous find! And such a unique prompt, too~ Let’s see how it fairs in this situation~

The moment he noted the leather straps on the bed, Jaerik felt a grin spread across his face. He wasn't above selling himself for sexual favors now and again to get himself out of a tight bind, but rarely did he find himself a participant that was as eager and willing as he was, and so prepared too. He could already imagine her slender body arching against the bindings as he laid into her, shuddering with bliss as he towered over her and—

"Now then~ lay on the bed for me, will you darling~?"

Jaerik felt his world slide to a stop, and he turned his gaze back to the barmaid and owner behind him. The gorgeous redhead was standing at her dresser and stripping out of her dress, but just beyond her in her dresser, he could make out the slightest signs of...instruments. Chains, collars, and he was certain a whip or crop. He felt his throat go dry, and swallowed hard as she glanced back at him. "Well, what are you waiting for~? Lay on the bed like a good boy."

The changeling felt his body move before his mind registered, and he quickly disrobed himself—clothes falling in a heap at the side of the bed as he approached and lay down. His heart hammered in his chest—this was something new, even for him, and as the barmaid approached, he felt a knot of anxiety building in his chest. An expression she must've noted, as she smirked down at him and placed a hand to his cheek.

"Don't worry~" she purred, dragging her hand down his arm and lifting it to the straps. "It'll all be alright~"

Jaerik swallowed again as she quickly bound him down, his body held helpless against her bed by each corner, until at last she was seated over him, her hips resting on his, and her folds brushing teasingly against his cock. "For the rest of the night, I am your mistress~" she murmured, rocking her hips back and forth. "You will only refer to me as mistress~ understood~?"

The changeling blushed at her tone, but nodded. "Y-yes, Mistress~" he murmured, his voice low and husky, his arousal slowly growing. The woman smirked down at him, grinding her hips harder into his.

"Very good~ you're such a good boy, Jaerik~" she purred, before pulling away from his cock entirely and moving up the length of his body. "And good boys get rewarded~ just as soon as they serve their mistress' needs~"

Before he could say anything in reply, the barmaid gripped his hair firmly and lifted his face up to her quivering snatch, holding him against her lower lips as she forced him to eat her out. He groaned at her grasp, resisting just a bit, before he slowly relaxed, lips parting as he licked and sucked at her folds—coaxing a deep and wanton moan to spill from the woman's lips as she held him close. "Oh yes~ mmm, just like that, baby~"

Jaerik groaned, but did as she asked—well aware this was about to be the longest night in his life.

[haunthouse]

i am slightly incapable of working on things without sharing them as i work so. hi besties who wants to read a little of the [comic / interactive fiction / weird coding project / ??? not rly sure what form its gonna take otbh] im working on :^)

(warnings for uh. implied murder / blood / general spookiness. its a horror piece)

[fey-touched-trilogy]

30 Days to 70k - Camp Nano July 2022

Post three, for July 3rd...

By the time I went to bed at 9am on the morning of July 3rd, I'd only managed another three 20-minute sprints, and 1,244 words.

I got a little side tracked, fell a little behind, but I did manage to bring my total word count up to 11,362, which is enough to meet my minimum needed word count for Day 5.

That meant, for this afternoon, I only had to do an extra 2,186 to match the goal for Day 6, or an extra 4,444 to match the goal for Day 7.

Waking up tonight, I was ready to get my teeth into those 4.5k words, but literally 22-words into my first sprint, one of my neighbours decided to spark up some of the most foul smelling skunk I've ever encountered.

(For those who don't know, skunk is a colloquial term for a foul smelling strain of weed/cannabis)

You can buy CBD oil at the local shops now, and if that's too expensive, I know there are strains of it that don't stink out my *entire bloody house* but I digress.

My point is, 22-words into my first sprint and tonight was already going to hell in a handbasket...

But, I did eventually manage to drag out an extra 3,200 words, making my total for July 3rd; 4,523

I made the goal for Day 6 on Day 3, and I was only 1,200 short of Day 7's goal. Better than I expected when I woke up.

The next goal is still to get seven days ahead. To do this I need about 10k words, so I'm going to aim for 6k before bed on July 4th, and then another 4k when I get up in the afternoon of July 4th. Wish me luck <3

As for how the story's progressing, I'm up to Chapter 14 now, and I've gained two entirely new chapters that weren't in my outline, but I love them a lot!

My favourite part is that both of the new chapters are from Andric's PoV, my main character's love interest. It's letting me put in a lot more worldbuilding and backstory details than I was previously able to, and introduce his best friend, Nameer Khatri, within the first act.

Since it's going to well, I'm gonna share just a little snippet from Chapter Twelve of Changeling...

"Andric!"

For a split second, the high pitched voice calling his name made his heart still in horror. The thought that he'd walked, unprepared, straight into another encounter with Mia Harris made his stomach go cold, but then the the voice fully registered. It's false pitch, the awkward vocal tics as the speaker tried to make themself sound feminine and failed entirely, and Andric growled at the grinning face of his best friend.

"Don't do that!" he snarled.

"Oh, my friend. I'd say I'm sorry for startling you, but the look on your face just now was entirely worth any retribution you bring down upon me at a later date," Nameer said laughing, leaning against the door that led back to the rest of the school with his ankles and arms casually crossed.

He was still dressed in the uniform of a Kavian Hunter, so Andric assumed he'd come directly from his post on the front gates. A black t-shirt with short sleeves that looked simple enough, but was reinforced with tiny strands of woven plastic, making it highly resistant to the scrabbling claws of a rabid kavian. The trousers were thick leather, reinforced in places, with built in sheaths for the daggers that hunters always carried.

Nameer preferred his gun, Andric knew, but nothing took a kavian down faster than a severed carotid, and no hunter would refused to carry a blade on principle alone.

"What are you even doing here?" Andric demanded, "Shouldn't you be sleeping, or preparing the next round of torture for your students?"

"And let you skitter off into the unknown without an explanation?" his oldest friend asked, a black eyebrow arching over warm brown eyes, still glimmering with open amusement, his dark clothes and umber skin almost letting him disappear into the shadows of the windowless office.

Then his lips parted into a familiar, cheeky grin, flashing sharp, white teeth at Andric playfully. "Not bloody likely."

Andric stared at Nameer for a long moment, holding the other man's gaze, before he let a wide grin spread across his features. It was mirrored by Nameer, the other vampire's smile widening into an open grin, as Andric paced across the room. The two came together easily, right hands clasping left forearms, while they tugged each other into a hug, laughing.

"Ah, I have missed you," Andric sighed when they stepped back, and Nameer sobered slightly in response. He studied Andric's features carefully, and Andric let him until the other man let out a soft hum.

"It's rough, back home?" he asked gently, and Andric nodded.

[cruelprincae]

Cardan, about Mike: just give me 5 minutes alone with him and a pair of scissors.

[ishipgenfics]

Conch Shell: Part 1

Conch is a changeling.

Changelings are not inherently evil. They are merely fae born to humans, and they need love and acceptance like any other child. They are not wrong, or monstrous.

(Conch repeats this to themself every night. They wish it wasn't so hard to believe.)

Conch(although they did not go by Conch then) developed their abilities early. Very early. They were young, and small, and didn't know what was happening to them. All they knew was that birds would swarm around them when they walked and that sometimes, when they were trying to sleep, they could hear the wind whisper their name.

All Conch had ever heard about magic was from stories of crafty witches, evil sorcerors, and tricky fae, so he tried to hide it. And it worked!... at first.

But Conch started to get more powerful, and things started to get noticeable. And people started getting scared. And so people did what they tend to do when they get scared.

They got angry.

Conch had run into the forest, scared and alone and hating themself. And the wind and the flower and the birds whispered, "Would you like to go?"

And for the first time, they said yes.

When they got to the orphanage, in a place the birds told them was called the Spring Court, a sheep fae with a kind smile asked them their name.

Conch thought about it for a long moment.

They thought about screams and disgust and annoyance.

They thought about their parents.

They decided they never wanted to hear their name again.

"Call me Conch," they say, and the humming in the air almost makes them believe its true.

[ghouljams]

Fic Master List

If you’re on mobile you can search my blog using the usual au tagging structure of (AU)!(Character) and that should yield results. I will attempt to keep this list updated as well as put posts in the correct timeline order, but no promises.

Cowboy!141 Au

Cowboy!Ghost

First Post

MeetCute

On your knees

Save a horse

Morning After

Off Limits

Lowkey Stalker Ghost

Sun in Your Eyes

The Coyote

Kiss me like you miss me

Sandbagging

Pop Tabs

Not Boyfriend Material

Hands pt.1

Hands pt.2

In the Barn

So he’s a comedian

Rummy

A Hard Cry

Almost Caught

Caught

Give that man a baby

Momma’s Boy

4th of July

Taking Care like Lovers Do

Shower Trouble

Bonfire Season

Drunken Confessions

Branded

Cowboy!Price

Meet Cute

Family Fluff

Momma’s home

Cowboy!Soap

Chaos Siblings Meet

Meet Cute

Remember your vows ladies

Bourbon

Confessional

Real Cowboy Shit

Cowboy!Gaz

Loves a Mrs

Meet Cute

First Date Jitters

Cowboy!König

Meet Cute

Sharing a Saddle

One Bug

A Small Trade

Not Very Good at This

Working Overtime

Just Dinner

Piggy Smalls

Chickens

Lock your Doors

Jealous

Bee’s Expertise

Bad at Haggling

Moonshine

Bee Cracks

Broken Dam

Foals

Murder for Hire

OC Snippets

Goose’s Accident

Goose x Reader

Fae AU

Fae!Ghost (World Building #1, What the hell is Tapping, Court Standings, Tethers)

Caught

Released

No escape

Prey

Alt. Reality (escaped)

Alt. Reality (Bad End)

Do the thing

Repaid

Scent Marking

Bait

An Unfortunate Meeting

Apologize

Debts

Both Ways

Names

Stabby Stab

Owned

Playing with Tethers

Animals

Crafts

Gushing Gold

Cabbage Patch

I Guess They Can Keep It

Trio Activities

Fae!König (everyone is so mean to König all the time)

Meet Not So Cute

Banned

Liebling and Love meet

Unbanned

Your Tethers

First Date

First Kiss

Panic

Bracelets

First Time

Bitten

Iron

Aftermath

Twice Bitten

Changeling

More Changelings

Scent Marking

Mocking

Return of the Seedling

Play Stalking

Fae!Price

A potential Darling appears

The Witch

141 Places a Bet

Miss Me

Playing with Tethers

Cigars

A Bet with the Witch

The Fae Trap

Testing the Threshold

Enforcing the Threshold

Overbearing

Tapped

Knit Cap

Protected

Sweetheart

The Mimic

The Mimic (pt2)

The Mimic (pt3)

Scared

Misuse of Magic

Aftercare

Fae!Soap

Meet Cute

An Artist

Another for the Club

Drained Dry

Manic Chaos

Horror Artist

Violinist

Godmother’s Gift

A Softer Touch

A Stalker’s Approach

The Threat

Sandwiched

Fae!Gaz

A Darling a long time gone

A Creditor’s Apothecary

Happy

Fae!Valeria

Her Pet

Where you belong

Short Leash

OC Snippets

Liebling’s Sight

Non-Canon Snippets

Drunk Love

Barely a peck

Liebling Dies

Demon Darlings

Ghost

Personal Hell

Die

Feed Me

A Good Meal

Kind of Cute

Reverse Au

König (pinterest board)

Fetch

Good Girl

Desk Duty

Bitten

Soap

Hush

Sin Summer

Part 1

[ullasabat]

Battle of the Bands

Hobie, Miguel, Gabriel, Gwen and 1st person pov OC / MC

New Adult magical realism AU (obvi) brain worm that has grown from a 2-shot screenplay for some fun comics into a monster. This fic is like Tremors in my brain.

The summer before college MC, Gabriel O'Hara, and Miguel O'Hara go on an international road trip with their metal band, Neon Requiem. Destination? BandFest, the Battle of the Bands in London guaranteed to secure the winning band a record deal. They meet other ATSV characters along the way.

No mention of Y/N / Reader, written from 1st person POV. Self-insertion is made easier by fewer details about the MC.

Notes on language: Tried my best here, if you are a native speaker of French, let me know if the MC's French is unnatural and I will love you forever.

Romance, angst, and poorly understood music concepts are often written as having a distinct visual component because I am an artist first. <

@pinksugarscrub @the-kr8tor I DID THE THING!

*******************************************************************

Chapter 1 - “Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l’oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire”

The Rusty Nail's neon whir and raucous rhythms had been muted to a melancholy hum that evening, it was a ghost town, the emptiness of the dimly lit bar echoing with decades of unfulfilled longings. I nursed my drink, letting the smoky burn of liquor etch contours of quiet contemplation onto my throat as I surveyed the handful of kindred souls keeping solemn vigil. Life had been feeling heavy, and I needed to write, to make art, and to get lost in music.

At the far end of the bar hunched a beautiful wraith, his slim, angular frame sheathed in torn denim and studded leather. Something indefinable shimmered around him, unsung poetry, snippets of melodies, a symphony I could see and hear and almost touch. Drawn like a moth to the lambent glow of the music, I slid onto the stool beside the ethereal punk spectre. In my mind's eye, I crowned him the prince of punk, a fairy tale rebel.

Our bodies brushed intimately in the cramped space, raising ghosts of sensation along the exposed skin of my fishnets. "Wozzat, luv?" he murmured, kohl-rimmed eyes flickering over the point of contact with a soldering heat.

Mon dieu, {My God} Had I spoken my admiration aloud? A flush crept up my cheeks as I scrambled for a response.

"Désolé. Je répétais quelque chose pour ne pas l'oublier… Need to write it down before I lose it," {Sorry. I was repeating something so I wouldn't forget it…} I mumbled, a flimsy excuse for my wandering mind.

Fumbling through my bag ,I pulled out my tattered notebook, fingers trembling as I scribbled down a scrap of verse inspired by the punk's incandescent presence beside me. I scribbled my observations in hasty strokes. The dying light of day bled into night, a liminal space that begged for a soundtrack. I could almost hear it, a melody just out of reach, shimmering in the smoky air.

"The liminal light of late afternoon, yawning into early evening…" I muttered, pulling on the strings of the melody, trying to draw it back to me. "I don't want to be loved for the things that I don't do. I don't want to be just a pretty face, I want to be a work of art…We are all just works of art."

The jukebox fell silent, making my mutterings around sift and strange, slightly unhinged---but the punk prince remained---his gaze heavy on my skin. I met his stare, unflinching. Unabashed curiosity flickered in eyes, wide brown and doe-like, framed by lashes so lush they seemed to blur the line between masculine and feminine, earthly and ethereal. I found myself dizzied by warring impulses - to flee this unsettling intimacy, or be consumed by it wholly.

He was a changeling, gorgeously androgynous: part punk Mona Lisa with a Cheshire cat grin, part Jean-Michel Baptiste, part force-of-fucking-nature. He made me feel like a background character in his story, could be a punk fairy princess, and I would be the dragon. My thoughts raced, fragments of poetry and half-formed desires. I scribbled faster, chasing the threads of inspiration, but a nudge from my prince brought me back to earth.

Snatches of poetry, raw and unfinished, that I urgently longed to refine on the page before they dissipated like the last wisps of smoke in a spent ashtray. But the punk's aura dragged me too deeply into devotional reverie. I glanced up apologetically as my concentration scattered, the thread of inspiration slipping through my fingers once more.

The bartender had sprouted up directly in front of me, and she eyed me expectantly. Her hair was a shock of blue curls and silver streaks shorn close to her scalp, it made her eyes seem more gray. Her skin etched with lines that mapped out the years like a roadmap. I felt the familiar pang of a poem lost to the ether.

"Un…Jack Daniel's, s'il vous plaît," {A…Jack Daniel's, please} I said, no longer able to filter its lilt from my words, as I wasn't paying attention to dulling it.

"Blimey, that's a proper choice, innit? You 'ere for the battle of the bands event this week, love?"

"Oui, how did you know?" {Yes, how did you know?}

"Just a…sense," he demurred with a wicked grin. "Call it a punk's intuition, darling. I'm in the mix too, y'know."

The bartender chuckled as she set my drink down. "You mean because everyone is here for Bandfest? Don't listen to this one, lovey, he's incorrigible. The crowds will be in later on, but you're a bit early."

"Shh, Roz. Who's up tonight?" The prince asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, you want insider information? What's in it for me?"

"Givin' away free tattoos, could autograph yer arm, love."

"I'll pass, thanks. The brackets are up in an hour anyway. It's Night Terrors vs. Death Rapture, Blood Prophecy vs. Cherry Bomb, Spider Punks vs. Neon Requiem…"

"Why are the punk bands going up against the metal bands?" I asked, just as the prince inquired about Phantom Pulse.

"There wasn't a lot of quality competition this year, or that's what the sponsors said, so they automatically advance to the semifinals since they won last year."

"Bollocks!" The prince cried, his outrage palpable.

"Oi Punk, you don't want to sign with Vic Luna at Zenith Music Group, anyway."

"Tu…ne le fais pas? Mais pourquoi?" {You…don't? But why?} The words tumbled out, my curiosity getting the better of me. At her blank stare, I repeated the question in English, heat rising to my cheeks.

Roz leaned in, her voice low, "Look kid, it's complicated…"

The prince rolled his eyes, a sneer playing at his lips. "Betrayed a lot of good bands."

"You don't need to remind me, Punk, I lived through it. Despite the changes at Zenith Music Group, they still organize the annual Bandfest, which showcases both established and emerging talent in the punk and metal scenes. The event is highly respected within the community and provides a platform for bands to gain exposure and connect with fans," the bartender continued, her words stilted, rehearsed.

"Ay, and they are the sponsor bringing in your crowds." The prince's voice was sharp, laced with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"The only time we're out of the red, punkass. We'd have to shut down if it weren't for the Battle." She said heavily, "Which is the greater evil, we are a place of refuge for several members of the community, not just you."

"You don't need to remind me Roz, I'm living through it. Right, I'll stop ragging on the corporate sods for now, until you have some plausible deniability." He raised his hands in mock surrender, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"There's a good Punk." Roz smiled, sliding him another pint before retreating.

I made a mental note to warn my bandmates about Vic and Zenith's sordid history. We were in this for the music, not the money, no one played metal for the money--but it never hurt to be cautious.

"Roz is like the den mother of the London punk scene, a living testament to grit and resilience, and screaming yourself hoarse at basement shows. Dream t'be like her when I grow up. To listen without judgment, offer advice without preaching, and know when to slide a shot of whiskey across the bar and when to cut you off. She has a way of looking at you, really seeing you, like you matter… like you are more than just another face in the crowd." His voice trails off, heavy with emotion. He blinks and shakes it off.

"Can I see it?" The prince's voice cut through our lost thoughts, his fingers reaching for my notebook.

I clutched it to my chest, a knee-jerk reaction. "Can you look into my very soul, like Roz?"

His smirk widened, that Cheshire cat grin that set my heart racing. He nodded, a challenge in his eyes.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he purred, and I felt my stomach flip. I repeated the phrase in my mind, first in French, then in English, just to be sure I'd heard him right. Wasn't this some flirty idiom?

"You have a book of poetry somewhere hidden in those skinny jeans, mon ami?" {my friend?} I ask, hesitant, double-checking his meaning. He flirts like others breathe.

In lieu of an answer, he produced a sharpie from thin air. Before I could protest, he had my arm in his grasp, his touch electric against my skin. I shrugged off my leather jacket, baring my arms to his ink-stained fingers. Roz chuckled as she set another drink before me, clearly amused by the prince's antics.

"You'll need it…I see you took this wanker up on the free tattoo offer. Don't let him draw any on your arms."

"Any? …Any what?"

"Wankers," she clarified with a laugh. It clarifies nothing, I need to study my British slang.

"I would not mar the flesh of such a beautiful and willing participant, Roz. Kindly fuck off," the prince mumbled around the sharpie cap clenched between his teeth.

Between the verses he scrawled, he peppered me with questions, his voice a giddy whisper.

"So, who's your poison, love? Which bands get your motor runnin'?"

"Ah, j'adore Rammstein, Gojira, et bien sûr, Motörhead. And so many others, doesn't even scratch the surface. Et toi?" {Ah, I love Rammstein... And you?}

"Proper choices, those. For me, it's the classics - Sex Pistols, The Clash, Buzzcocks. Real raw, in-your-face stuff, y'know?"

I leaned in, excited, but too close. I nearly jumped as my lips grazed the dusky shell of his ear. "Ah, un homme de bon goût! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, c'était incroyable!" {Ah, a man of good taste! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, it was incredible!}

"No bleedin' way! Metal chick like you? I'd give me left bollock to have seen the Sex Pistols live. But I did catch The Clash back in '07. Changed me life, it did."

"Lemmy, sans aucun doute. The man's a legend!" {Lemmy, without a doubt.} I declare into the bar.

"Oi, don't go disrespectin' Johnny, now! The bloke's a punk icon, 'e is!"

"You're a punk icon!" someone shouted from the back, but the prince waved them off with a grin.

"Oh, I didn't catch your name," I said, with a sudden shame, my brow furrowed.

"Everyone just calls me Punk. You can too. Just not dirty punk, we don't want to come to blows, do we, love?"

"I'd kick your ass, mon ami. Pas grand chose à donner, mon petit prince des fées… eh mon prince dégingandé, right? I would not describe you as petite even if you are skinny." {I'd kick your ass, my friend. Not much to give, my little fairy prince… eh my lanky prince, right?}

Miguel was at my side in an instant, all rippling muscle and furrowed consternation. "Carnalita, {little sis} why did you sneak out on practice just to drink in this hellhole?" he rumbled, disapproval lacing every sonorous word. Tenderness faded a bit.

I met his gruff chiding with an insouciant toss of my hair. "Salut, Miguel. Ça fait longtemps." {Hello, Miguel. It's been a while.}

"Is that Jack? No puedo mas… Carnalita…This shit is bad for you." {I can't take it anymore…little sis...}

"Je nais etre rond comme une queue de pelle. Tu es vraiment un trou de balle quand tu dis des choses pareilles!" {I would be round as a shovel handle. (Idiom, essentially she is saying ~ I was born to be drunk) You are really a dumbass when you say things like that!}

Miguel's grumbling stream of Spanish reprimands washed over me as I settled into our familiar dynamic - the tender yet terse cantata of friend and protector that had composed them score of our relationship since childhood. For all his bluster, I knew every arrhythmic cadence encoded Miguel's steadfast affection.

Only Gabriel's soft interjection could salve the rising discord. "You worry too much, Miggy. We've been practicing all week."

He cast me a plaintive glance, silently pleading for conciliation, and I grudgingly obliged with an internal eyeroll. "Qu'il aille se faire! C'est vraiment chiant tu te rends compte." {Let him go fuck himself! It's really annoying, you know.}

Heedless of my saucy french asides, Miguel merely drew a fortifying breath before continuing in that maddening timbre of unrelenting reason. "Gabri and I could have come out with you. You shouldn't go out alone in an unknown city - it's not safe for you, mi carnalita."

The prince leaned towards us with a lazy smirk, "S'not that serious. The Rusty Nail is safe enough." He paused as the bartender snorted in agreement before continuing, "We're keeping the lady safe, mate…you can trust me, I'm one of the Spider-Punks."

Miguel simply sneered at the prince's proffered handshake, dismissing it out of hand. "You have arms like sticks. How would you keep her safe?"

The punk's smirk widened as he shrugged. "Ah, one of those. Never skip leg day, eh bruv?"

I strangled a guffaw as Gabriel hastened to run interference, engulfing the punk's hand eagerly. "We've heard of you guys, the local punk band, yeah? Your drummer is…gahh…Ah-Mazing! You think we could meet?"

"You call that punk noise "rock"?" Miguel scoffed. "Metal is where the real skill lies…Real talent is in the complexity, the technical skill. Metal pushes boundaries, takes you to new places. Punk's just three chords and an attitude."

I rolled my eyes. At this rate, I'd have to drag Miguel out before he started a brawl.

"Ah, mais non, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, non?" {Ah, but no, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, right?}

Miguel grunted, but squeezed my hand.

I stood, motioning for him to lean in close. "Allez, let's save the competition for the stage, d'accord? I learned some things about the record company. We should talk in private." {Come on, let's save the competition for the stage, okay?}

The prince unfolded himself, towering over me. "Tell you what, mate. Let's settle this on stage. We'll let the crowd decide who's got the real chops," he challenged.

Gabriel chimed in, "Pero, mana's right, Miguel." {But, sister is right, Miguel.}

Miguel looked ready to explode, but Gabriel's eyes held him in check.

"Music's music. Let's just focus on putting on a good show, and maybe we can learn something from their band, eh?" Gabriel said.

The prince leaned in, lips grazing my cheek. "Aye, love. Can't wait to teach your wall of meat here a thing or two. How about we give 'em a show they won't forget…later?"

I grinned, "Oui! A collaboration? Here… Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard…mais, pour vous. I want it back later." {Yes! A collaboration? Here…It doesn't break three duck legs (Idiom ~ It's nothing special) …but, for you. I want it back later.}

The lanky punk sauntered off, his studded boots leaving faint trails of glitter on the barroom floor. Miguel's scowl deepened as he watched him depart, fists clenched tightly.

"Is that your poetry notebook?" he growled, voice rumbling low.

"Yes, I traded it to the punk faerie for these tattoos, I smirked, revealing the vine-like scrawl of ink now adorning my flesh like raised scars from whipping brambles.

Miguel's face darkened further, storm clouds gathering at my words. "The one you never let anyone touch or read…"

His voice strangled to a whisper, and I could not parse the complex calculus of emotions flitting behind his eyes

Gabriel placed a calming hand on his brother's arm.

"Easy, hermano {brother}. He's not worth it," Gabriel said in a soothing tone.

"Be nice, Punk is a good guy. I like him," I countered softly, a warm glow blossomed within me as I realized my entire arm was now a crawling garden of sentences entirely in French.

Miguel opened his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash a heated retort, but Gabriel cut in, "Should we go look at the brackets to see who we're facing?"

"It looks like my entire arm is covered with quotes from The Little Prince, which happens to be my favorite book. It's actually quite a sweet gesture," I said softly, fingertips grazing the raised words like treasured runes.

With renewed curiosity, I examined the ink quote now etched on my skin: "Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l'oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire." {You are the master of your life and your emotions, never forget that. For better or worse.}

I didn't mention the lone scrawl that could have been a phone number hidden amidst the literary foliage now vining my limb. Miguel was in full-on Dad mode, and I didn't need to add fuel to that particular fire.

"I already know the competition for the quarterfinals, we don't need to waste our time. Come on, manos {used as slang for brother}, we're going to kick some ass!" I giggled brightly, elated at my new 'tattoos' scrawling up my arms. I didn't put my leather jacket back on, I didn't want to cover any of it up.

Miguel's glare never wavered, his eyes fixed on the far side of the bar where the prince had disappeared into the crowd. "Don't tempt me. Let's go, carnalita {little sister}, time for practice."

With a resigned sigh, I surrendered to my brothers' insistent tugs, allowing them to lead me from the Rusty Nail. But the punk prince's parting words still reverberated through my mind like the lingering notes of a siren song. Later, he had purred, that single hushed syllable seeming to contain all the intoxicating lure of a siren's call - equal parts velvet promise and brazen challenge, twined inextricably into an enchantment I could not resist. The whole damn bar was a sailor's nightmare.

[author-a-holmes]

Leaves, warm coat

Hello Anon! Thank you for the asks <3 This is going to be a bit of a long post, because my editing process is... detailed, so I'll answer Warm Coat first, in case you get bored about reading my long-ass editing process <3

Warm Coat: Share a happy or fuzzy scene from your wip!

This is a cute moment that I love. It's from Chapter 20, and it really shows how Lizzy and Cara's friendship develops over the course of the book. Poor Lizzy though, they fey just don't celebrate birthday's the way we do...

"It's Lizzy's birthday," Cara said, pretending that she wasn't still blushing, and Lizzy rolled her eyes. Cara slid on the straw sun hat she'd been carrying in her hands, the orange band of fabric encircling it the brightest splash of colour on her entire outfit, and Cara's hands fussed with the ribbon tails as they trailed off the brim and down her back.

"It's— Your birthday?" Andric asked, switching his attention from Cara, as she fussed with her sunhat, to Lizzy mid-sentence, and Lizzy shrugged.

"It's not that—"

"It is important," Booker cut her off with a growl. "You're eighteen. This one's important... even without Maddy," he added, voice softening.

"I was thinking; Shopping, movie, meal," Cara said quickly, stepping closer to Andric, and Lizzy watched, bemused, as Andric got hit full blast by her roommate's wide-eyed pleading.

He seemed to hesitate a moment, and Lizzy half expected him shut down Cara's extravagant plans, but then she leant forward and added, "Did you know that fey don't do birthday parties?" and he caved.

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out," he said simply, holding out an arm towards the front doors of the school, "if we want to fit all that in, we'd better get started."

"Yes!" Cara celebrated, jumping on the spot and throwing one hand in the air as Lizzy looked on bemused.

"Looks like you're getting a mortal-realm style birthday," Booker teased as Cara and Andric moved towards the doors, and Booker began dragging her after them with the arm that had curled around her shoulders, "whether you wanted to or not!"

Leaves: What does your editing process look like? How does your wip typically change as you work on it?

My editing progress is... in depth? I guess? I know that grammar is my weak spot, so I kind of just do the best I can to get it as clean as I can before I send it off to an editor.

The way I do that, is to edit in layers, and this ties into the second half of this question about how my WIP changes. Because once I have a completed manuscript, my WIP's core story doesn't change all that much.

So, it might sound strange, but step one of my editing process is actually to create an outline of my story before I start writing. I know. Sounds weird. Bear with me...

So I make my outline. It's very rough, it's not in depth, it's not detailed (Sometimes it's nothing more than a list of bullet points), and I'm not going to stick to the outline as I write. So why do I make it, you might ask... because I can use it when I come to edit.

For example. Changeling's outline. The first version I wrote before I started the series. I changed the outline after I finished the first act. By the time I'd reached the 3rd act, I had to entirely rewrite the final act of the outline, because my story had drifted so far that the original outline no longer worked.

So now I have a finished manuscript, and 3 versions of the Changeling Outline, because while I was editing the outline, and rewriting it, I never deleted the original.

The first thing I do to edit, is I reread my original outline. I look at the story I wanted to telll, and the things I wanted to include, and I decide if I managed that. If I didn't, do I still want to include them? Or is the story better without them? I'll make handwritten notes about all this while I'm reading the outlines, because I don't edit the manuscript straight away. I have to let it rest, but I go over the outline as soon as possible after finishing the manuscript so that it's still fresh in my mind.

The second thing, once I have all my notes from re-reading the outlines, is to let my manuscript rest. The length of time varies. Stolen I let rest for 8 months. Changeling I was happy going back after about 3 weeks.

The third step is to actually edit. I don't reread my manuscript. I've let it rest so it's fresh, and I don't want to lose that by rereading it. I have the notes I made from the outlines, after I first finished it. These are usually large, plot structural changes I need to implement, so I have that notebook beside me as I work through the project. For example, in Changeling, I realised I needed Booker to have a 'Tell' for when he's using telepathy (for plot reasons), so that's something I needed to weave in throughout the story as I went.

And then I edit the manuscript one chapter at a time.

This is still step three, but I do each chapter in small, easily repeatable steps.

(A) I copy/paste the chapter from my writing program into the Hemmingway App. (Warning for Anyone who uses Hemmingway; It will not save your work. If your browser page refreshes, closes, or your computer restarts, you will lose ALL your work. If you need to navigate away from Hemmingway, copy your work into a googledoc or something)

While it's in the Hemmingway App, and before I use any of it's functions, I use Ctrl+F (Find in my browser) to search through the chapter for Weak Words, Filter Words, and my commonly overused words.

Caveat; If any of these are found within character dialogue, I ignore them. Character's shouldn't speak perfectly and so Character Voice always wins out.

Weak Words

Suddenly

Then

Very

Really

Started

Just

Somewhat

Slightly

Somehow

Seem

Definitely

That

Filter Words

see / saw / look / looked

hear / heard

taste / tasted

smell / smelled / smelt / scent

touch / touched

feel / feels / felt

wonder / wondered / think / thought

decide / decided

realise / realised

know / knew

My Personal Overly Used Words

Own

Though

Quickly

After I've searched for each of these words, looked at the paragraph it's contained in, and decided if it's the best word for the job/if it can be rewritten to remove it/if it can be deleted outright/if i want to keep it there... then I move onto the things Hemmingway App can actually do.

Hemmingway highlights a bunch of things, but the only two features I actually use or pay attention to is it's highlighting of Adverbs and Passive Voice.

If my Passive Voice is below the recommended, then I'll still go and have a look at them and see if I can reword to remove them, but I don't worry about it too much. I've usually only got 2 or 3 instances per chapter, and that's a comfortable quantity for me, as most of the time these are within character dialogue.

Adverbs are where I'm quite weak, I usually have a painful number of Adverbs, so I will painstakingly go through and check each adverb to see if it's a strong or a weak adverb. To see if I really need it there, or if I can cut it. If I do need it, then I try and see if I can rewrite the sentence or paragraph to remove the adverb, and replace it with a stronger verb instead.

I always try and get my adverbs below Hemmingway's recommended number, but as long as I've checked over each one, and made a decision on them, that's good enough because that usually gets me within 5-10 adverbs of their target anyway.

As I'm going through editing Adverbs, I'll also work in any new content I need to add from my notes. I'm rewriting paragraphs during this stage, so it's the easiest moment to slide in extra, additional, or changed content.

(B) Once I've done my final Adverb check in Hemmingway, I copy/paste it from Hemmingway into Grammarly.

I use Grammarly's free version. I've tried their paid, but I don't think it's worth the price, especially if you're also paying for a professional editor. ProWritingAid is another good grammar checker, but I find it too complex to work with. Your Milage May Vary.

So, my document gets placed into Grammarly, and I wait for it to run it's grammar check. I then go through each of it's suggestions. I don't accept every suggestion, I read it and make a decision based on how I want my story to read.

Honestly, this is probably the fastest step.

Once I've said yes or no to each suggestion, I move onto Natural Readers, but KEEP the Grammarly Document open in a different tab.

(C) Keeping my chapter open in Grammarly in one tab, I go to Natural Readers Online. Natural Readers have really GOOD sounding voices, and they will read back to you any text you paste into their website.

So I'll copy the chapter from Grammarly, and paste it into natural readers. You can get 5 minutes of their Plus voices for free per day, and I think it's 20 minutes of their Premium voices for free per day. Their basic voices are free, unlimited, but do sound more like the robotic voice you'd expect.

I hate reading my own work aloud, so this is the way I bypass that embaressment. I have Natural Readers read my work back to me. I find this step invaluable. I can hear the flow of the text, I can catch spelling mistakes that a spell checker thinks are correct, but aren't what I intended (like Brian instead of brain, for example).

I also find that I can spot repetativeness more easily when it's read back to me too. I can hear I used "running" three times in two paragraphs easier than I can see it.

I can also spot where I've duplicated paragraphs. Sometimes, at the Hemmingway Stage, if I need to rewrite a paragraph, I'll go to the next line and retype it out from scratch, but will forget to delete the original. Natural Readers, and hearing it read back to me, is where I'm most likely to catch this mistake.

The reason I keep my Grammarly tab open, is that any errors I hear in Natural Readers, I edit in Grammarly. That's because Natural Readers doesn't like my Em-dashes. It breaks them. So it's easier for me to copy/paste from Grammarly that it is from NR and to fix all my Emdashes later.

(D) So after Natural Readers has finished reading my chapter back to me, and I've fixed any error's that's highlighted, I copy my final version of the chapter, and I paste it into my manuscript's Googledoc File.

I run Googledoc's spellchecker, to catch any tiny, last things every other step missed, and then I log the final wordcount of the chapter so that I know how many words I cut or added, and so that I can keep track of my manuscript's final word count (Because final word count is what I'm paying my editor to check)

(E) Then I do it all over again on the next chapter. This process can take me anywhere from 2 hours to 6 hours, per chapter.

Final Step, once I've completed all my self edits, is to read through the book from start to finish myself. At this point, I'm hopeful, I don't find anything else I think I can change.

Then I hand it over to Beta Readers. I'll make any small changes they find, then it'll be time to send my manuscript off to my professional editor, Nicole at Evermore Editing.

She edited my prequel short story, Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail? and I have every intention of going back to her for Changeling

So that's my editing process. It's also why my core story doesn't really change a whole lot once the manuscript is completed. Any huge, structural changes happen during the outline, and during the actual writing process. If I reach the end of a manuscript, it's almost entirely how I wanted it to come out, or I go back and rewrite.

Editing is really the final stage, and some once I'm reached that point, there's not a whole lot that is due to shift.

So I whine about editing a lot, but it's more that I find it highly tedious, and repetative, than stressful or difficult.

[screemnch]

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Artemy Burakh the Haruspex.

On this episode of “I am definitely not okay and dedicate my time to sillygoofy things” - we look at the Haruspex in the Bachelor's campaign. This alone took me a whole month, because there is a lot of funk happening in my life, so the Changeling will have to wait a little more. Anyway. Y’all maybe don’t know the drill quite yet, so let’s start at the beginning.

What is the Haruspex like in the English version? Well, discarding the “sweet but tired dad” persona that the entire fandom has assigned the poor guy, the impression I got while watching people playing through the game is that he is first and foremost a very impulsive person, and that, in a way, carries over to his speech. He’s also very cryptic to the other healers, in that ominous “you shouldn’t have done that” way. If I hadn’t read at least a bit of his dialogue lines for the previous analysis, I would have assumed that he’d be the one to use all those “rough” words every other sentence, since that’s how people from outside of the capital cities are usually portrayed. In the Bachelor’s campaign, he is almost like a goddamn cryptid, that tells you he doesn’t know what antibodies are and then presents you with a panacea on the very next day - he speaks very little and does not bother with niceties besides the honorary title. In the Changeling campaign, all those factors seem to be even more emphasised. Overall he acts even more distant, even more ominous and is even more threatening, since it’s seen through the eyes of a scared little girl (she’s also a miracle worker but we won’t talk about it now). Both of the campaigns are, of course, drastically different from what we have in the Haruspex campaign - which is where we get to see the whole “guided by the heart” thing in action. From the other two’s perspective, he is an ominous, potentially volatile, but still helpful figure. And his speech matches that exactly. So let’s get cracking.

As the Bachelor: the vibes are pretty consistent between the English and Russian version. The Haruspex is just as cryptic and curt in both of them, and doesn’t talk in the manner usually given to all these “rough and dangerous” types in Russian fiction. In all honesty, I think it’s the fact that his manner of speech is so simple and short that made translating it to English so much easier (or at least I think it was). Sadly, there is so little dialogue, that it also meant I barely get to talk about anything interesting, since what little there is to look at, is mostly accurate. But, when there ARE differences… Oh boy are those differences. So, you’ll see a little bit of other characters in this analysis as well because these interactions in the Bachelor campaign felt almost like an afterthought. Like, the writers knew how the wanted them to meet and part, so in the middle, they just used Burakh to be a tool for exposition, and not much else. Additionally, the “fairytale-like” way of speech that Artemy has in his own campaign seems to be gone here, and I can’t wait to see what happens to it with the Changeling. With all that being said, here is the more fun stuff: aka the snippets and screenshots! Once again, the chronological order is dubious at best, and most of this was written at two am in the morning, so I hope this isn’t completely insane.

Very interesting choices made in the translation here. First and foremost - instead of relying on his heart to guide him, the Haruspex specifically says that he is guided by “his love” which, depending on how consistent this change is, might strengthen the connection between several different themes. Now to the fun part - “it’s a shame we aren’t standing together.” I need you people to understand that I am trying to remain as impartial as possible when I write these, without inserting my own opinions of the story or anything. But, the much more word-for-word translation of that line would be “Pity, that we aren’t together.” And yes, people being “together” does also have the same connotation in Russian as it does in English. And while I understand that it’s mostly likely supposed to imply “allyship,” I think it could be worded a lot better, had the writers wanted to avoid misunderstandings.

Let’s focus on the last sentence here: in English, the Haruspex says he admires Rubin’s determination to help people. In the original version however, the sentence is “He deserves respect.” See, the interesting thing here is the difference between “I” and “everyone.” Where in the English version Burakh voices his personal approval of Rubin, in Russian it’s an unspecified, but general statement, which bears the implications that others should respect him as well. And while the difference itself isn’t too significant on its own, when paired with the fact that Rubin is someone who’s on the run from half of the town, it hits a bit different. 

Also, and I didn’t really know where to stick this, and maybe this could’ve waited until we actually got to Rubin as a character, but yeah. I wanted to point out specifically that the word “master” in Russian doesn’t have a dual meaning. Cuz, correct me if I’m wrong, in English this can both refer to a master of a certain activity (ie martial arts master) as well as a proprietor of something (ie master of the house). In Russian, however, the word “master” refers exclusively to a “master of their craft” type of people. A master of a property is referred to as an “owner”. The “Mistresses” in Pathologic are also referred to as “owners” (with a suffix that indicates female). This creates a bit of a confusion, because the word exists in both of the languages, but only shares some of the meanings. And uh… This is related to this quote because uh… Something-something recognition of expertise.

I’m personally a big fan of the themes of freedom, and how different people react to losing their freedom of choice, or dealing with the information that they were never free to choose to begin with. And that brings us to this little line, which I find particularly interesting. In the original Russian dialogue, Burakh says that he had already “lost” his freedom, in the way one loses something in a game. I feel this shines a different light on both how he eventually reacts to being told that he’s just a toy in a child’s game (he’s had to deal with disempowerment this whole time, it’s nothing new to him) but also with how he views his loss of freedom. Not something that some higher power has revoked from him, but rather something that he himselfs basically “gambled away.” In that sense, I can see the eventual reveal that everyone is simply a toy in a sandbox being a relief. In the way that it wasn’t his fault after all, that everything was predetermined, and that he couldn’t have carelessly lost something he didn’t have in the first place. Makes me wonder what the dialogue between these two would’ve been like if they’d met on the first day in this campaign.

I have a shamefully small amount of notes as I go through these, so I’m literally latching on to anything to talk about. I pointed out how dry and laconic the Haruspex is, but god DAMN if that doesn’t make for text that’s easy to translate - and that gives me less things to work with. For example this - a simple word difference in the last sentence that you couldn’t possibly translate properly without sounding illiterate. Because as it is - the translation is accurate in the last sentence. But that’s because “evil” in English is both a noun and an adjective. In Russian, however, the adjective for “evil” also makes for a synonym to “angry” and that doesn’t fit with the meaning conveyed here. Burakh calls Clara “evil itself” the embodiment of evil, all that shabang. It’s something that is recurrent in people talking about her, from what I’ve seen - people address her as a concept, and link her to more generalised ideas, rather than specific characteristics. Either way, it’s a fun thing to think about.

Hi, confused, I’m dad. I did a thing where I tried to read the English dialogue in its entirety first, because I wanted to avoid talking about information that was already accessible in English, and I remember being confused at this line, because… The cattle grounds were on the other side of the Gorkhon? Since when???? It didn’t make sense with the rest of the dialogue either, and the Russian version says “on this side of the Gorkhon” so… What gives? Assuming that the website is accurate (cuz if not, then I’d have to go and check in the actual game which would take hours to get to) does this then just mean it was a simple translation error? Or did the writers decide to change the lore as they were translating? It confuses me so much, because overall the game is well translated, so I don’t get how no one noticed that the meaning of the sentence becomes completely flipped here. Anyways, if you’re like me and that confused the hell out of you in English, just know that it makes sense in Russian and you can sleep soundly. Also, on the more chill note, there is no reference to a kraken in the Russian version, the deposits are compared to octopus tendrils.

I know this isn’t Bachelor time again, but I wanted to point out that there’s a switch back to the formal “you” here, and I feel like it throws a wrench into my previous theory. Or maybe it supports it. Let’s try to be objective here. The simplest explanation could be simply that this is a continuity break, that this was completely unintentional from the writers, and that I am trying to figure out why the curtains are blue in a situation where they are, indeed, just blue. But we like fun here, so let’s assume the curtains are blue for a reason. The real problem is whether this works with my previously established theory, or if it's for a completely different reason.

If we are going with the supposition that the Bachelor switches to formal “you” when he is uncomfortable (which some people found strange when I brought it up, but it’s a legit thing in Russian. Like, I do that sometimes when I want to place a little bit of professional distance between myself and whoever I’m speaking to, though sometimes the person might get upset if you do that) then one possible explanation would be that he is uncomfortable with the implications that this new knowledge has brought to light - a huge residential part of the town is sorta kinda maybe doomed. It could also be the overall dread of what the other piece of news would be.

On the opposing side of this argument is a somewhat mundane explanation that would bypass my theory completely. The idea that the switch to a more formal language was either an attempt to keep the conversation civil and “professional” at a spot where a conflict of interests could potentially emerge, or the possibility that it simply happened because sometimes a person doesn’t know where they stand, or what would be more appropriate in this situation, and opt for the safe formal version.

I do want to apologise, in case y’all don’t wanna hear these hypotheses of mine, I just thought it would be unfair to pretend like my explanations are the only ones out there, so yeah.

Welcome back to “mom pick me up, the translations are being weird again” this time - "my confidants are alive. Are you sure they’re alive? I see no problems." Perfect, flawless logic, I love. And while I understand that the original Russian version uses a very “ye olde” version of “if,” I still assume that the translating team spoke Russian and understood the meaning of the sentence. For context - the modern version of “if” in Russian is “если” (yesli). However, in this line, the Haruspex uses an older word “коль” (kol’), which implies a condition, or an “if” scenario. But the word itself isn’t extinct, people still understand what it implies, the same way native English speakers would know that “thou” means “you.” Like, I can’t imagine how the meaning got flipped in here, it just confuses me. Either way, the “I see no problems with that” is also kinda wonky, because it makes it sound like Burakh has no problem with the “my bound are alive - so I’ll be at the meeting” logic. In Russian, he specifically says “-I’ll come. I see no obstacles.” As in - there is nothing to stop me from doing so. Anyway, translation wonky, let’s see how the rest of it goes.

Now that’s an interesting difference. And a morbid one at that. This is the line where the Haruspex talks about his bound “rebuilding the settlement and turning their lives to become the angels of its foundation.” Which I interpreted more in the sense of - becoming the highly revered figures of the town, with lots of authority and responsibility - like angels. And I’m curious to see how y’all interpreted this, because I did not anticipate the Russian version in the slightest. And it’s this: “... my bound, that are destined to bring this town back to life and lay down their lives under its new cornerstones.” For one, I find it curious that both in English and Russian there is such a similar turn of phrase - because “lay down their lives” could have been translated almost word for word. But also… I am so confused. Is the sacrifice in this sense a literal one? Or does he simply mean a dedication to the town so strong that it could count as giving up one’s life? Either way, this is definitely a curious difference in translation, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

The interesting thing is… For the most part the “Are you aware that we turned out to be toys” dialogue starts the same in both the Haruspex and the Bachelor runs, only diverging in a few character-specific moments. This is one of them and… I don’t even know where to begin with this bit of dialogue, and not because it’s bad. I think it’s translated well, but there are about a hundred tiny little differences that change the vibe a little to the left, make some phrases more bitter and others more candid. For one the whole “take a closer look” in Russian is a direct invitation to compare the two healers, not an implied one. Secondly, instead of not being “a toy to keep” Burakh says that he (in a literal translation) “isn’t to be pitied.” But because Russian is a funky language, what this phrase actually means is - he doesn’t see himself as worth being concerned over, someone who, if sacrificed or given up, wouldn’t be seen as that big of a loss by others. Someone who others would readily discard, without feeling guilt, pity or sorrow. And I have big feelings about that. Additionally, the line about the Bachelor being “an entirely different thing” is kinda funny to me, because it’s a pretty long sentence in English, but in Russian it’s just… Four words, two of which are only two letters long. It definitely carries a different vibe, simply because of how laconic it is, it comes across as much more of an exclamation. In the closest to a literal translation while still remaining coherent, he says “You’re a different case!” which in turn conveys the vibe of “But look at you!” and while I think the translation does a great job at communicating both of them, they also lose the abruptness of the exclamation, which I think adds to the line.

Still not Bachelor hours anymore, but I wanted to point out that the “You’re having fun… Somehow I fail to join in” is a line that sounds sombre and distant, but the Russian version is “You’re laughing… But I don’t find this funny at all” and it has the wording of a child entering their “sulking mode” because someone made a lighthearted joke that they don’t get. Ok, maybe not that extreme, but there’s definitely a lot of bitterness to it, because the idea of being dolls clearly affects the Bachelor very heavily, and then he sees the Haruspex just being like “yeah we might be dolls. So what? You only care cuz you’re made of better materials anyway, lol.” And I imagine that’s pretty hurtful.

Reading this in English, I could practically feel the “there was supposed to be an idiom here, but it’s one of the ridiculous ones, so we had to translate the meaning instead” coming from this line - particularly the “not a single weak spot anywhere” part. And sure enough, the original Russian version says “...everything was done cleanly - a mosquito won’t sharpen its nose” (the nose, obviously being the proboscis). And while I am a big fan of Russian idioms, and was a proud owner of not one, not two, but three books on them as a kid, I’ve never actually heard of this one. The phrase itself means a job perfectly and flawlessly done, to the point where it can’t be improved upon. The leading interpretation to its origin is the idea that a mosquito’s proboscis is a perfect tool for its purpose - long enough to reach blood and thin enough that a person usually doesn’t even feel a mosquito bite until it’s too late. A mosquito’s “nose” could not be any thinner or sharper - therefore a mosquito won’t sharpen its nose.

God, how is it that in the series of dialogues that are the most dry and direct, in the few places where discrepancies are present, the discrepancies are the most confounding and meaning-altering ones? This is still from the dialogue in which the Haruspex and the Bachelor discuss Aglaya on the final day, and the choices in the translation are kind of confusing to me. The original line is “As far as I understand, in the orders given to her, the Powers That Be have concealed (or kept from her) the fact that they want to save the town specifically alongside the Polyhedron.” And while you can still get that implication from the surrounding dialogue, with the whole talk of “she would’ve caught on to the scent of foul play,” it’s still weird that this line was translated so differently. Because as it is, it creates the feeling that it was more of a “technicality” scenario. You know the trope: “I never said anything about so and so, therefore this little inconsistency is going to screw you over, should’ve read the fine print” etc. Almost gives this dialogue a sense of snark, while it’s the exact opposite. The English version weighs in more on the Powers That Be being cold and inconsiderate, while the Russian version is specifically aimed towards emphasising the idea that Aglaya is not to blame. You know. What this whole dialogue is about - Burakh “painting Aglaya as the victim.”

And that’s about all I’ve got for the Haruspex from the Bachelor’s point of view. There are a few things here that shine a new light on some of the themes, or specifically the relationship between Burakh and his sense of fate and control. The overall theme that there is always something higher up that is either in charge or to blame for the things happening, and that Artemy usually takes on as much responsibility as possible because there are only a few things that are truly up to him. Like, that’s why he doesn’t blame Aglaya for her spite or deception, and why he isn’t hostile to the Bachelor in this run - he sees both of them become disillusioned and spiteful, when they find out that all the decisions have been made for them. But as someone who’s never felt much freedom, from responsibilities and choices made and imposed on him by his father, to him being able to see the Lines and where they lead, he’s had to learn to be grateful and accepting of the little choices that he is allowed to make.

And while these closing remarks aren’t exactly exclusive to the Russian version, it just makes me understand the Haruspex ending better. Like, it took me a while to figure out why he’s the character who’s seen as the one “capable of being actually free” or whatever it is that the devs say to Clara (you). It’s because everyone else who is aware of their nature (except Clara, maybe, I’m not sure yet) is someone to whom this is a disheartening and devastating revelation - they become blinded with this knowledge and end up “acting out” exactly the way they were supposed to. Aglaya doesn’t manage to disobey or defy the Powers That Be, nor does Daniil. Yulia too - though she doesn’t know this is all a children’s game, her theory about the “tripwires of fate” is what ultimately traps her in the path chosen for her. The Haruspex on the other hand, not only had to grow up with the idea that he’s fated to become the Warden - serving the purpose of the Kin, but quite literally could see the way things are predetermined. The fact that they’re all dolls, to him, is just a different way of seeing the Lines. So it makes sense that the best ending in the Haruspex run isn't the Termite ending, but the ending of any of the other healers - because then he actually makes a choice. Exercises the little bit of freedom that he has. It's a very interesting progression, where as the Bachelor you , the player, can claim responsibility for his choices, as the Haruspex you can make a choice despite the game's predetermined nature, and then as Clara you get to do both. Throughout these campaigns, you are gradually gaining freedom from the constrictions of the game.

Either way, who knows how long it will be until Clara's point of view on the Haruspex, I certainly don't. But if there is any feedback or stuff, I'm always open to hearing it.

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

I am back with the changeling-psy AUs!

If you don’t know the Psy-Changeling series by Nalini Singh, I highly recommend it. For those of you who don’t know it, I’ll add some basic information below ;)

The Psy are a race with various psychic abilities, such as telepathy and telekinesis. To control their psychic ability the Psy have conditioned all emotions out of themselves, this conditioning programme is known as Silence. Silence means that the Psy have a very low crime rate, but it also means that they do not know love or friendship.

Arrows are a secret and elite Psy squad whose original protocol was to protect Silence.

Changelings are able to change into a specific animal. There are predatory and non-predatory Changelings, depending on what animal they can shift into. 

***

Arondir had been an Arrow for a long time. The Psy race hadn’t had many qualms about using kids with impressive powers as soldiers before, and Arondir has a very rare ability.

He’d gone on his first mission by the time he was 12.

Despite Silence and whatever some others might think, Arondir was conscious enough to know it wasn’t right. The way he’d been raised and ‘educated’ wasn’t how a child should be cared for. Not only for him, but for all the other children meant to be Arrows as well.

There was some great progress taking place now. Councilwoman Galadriel was actually trustworthy and she seemed to care.

Silence was falling apart.

Arondir shouldn’t be. He was strong, he was well trained and he knew that he needed Silence. He’d made the choice to remain Silent, even as many of his brothers and sisters chose to leave it behind.

He meant to stay Silent.

Until she entered the room.

Arondir couldn’t claim to never have felt emotion before. He’d felt a cold rage towards the higher ups that abused Arrows. However, he’d never felt an emotion that made him feel warm.

Not until his eyes found Alpha Sansa Stark.

Looking at her it was looking at the sun for some reason; she was light in the same way he felt like darkness very often. She was vibrant, full of life.

He couldn’t stop looking, even though he knew he should.

And then she’d talked to him and he’d wanted to hear more from her.

“I feel like we keep meeting, Arrow.”

“Arondir.”

She smirked at him. “I remember.”

“I sought you out.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That’s… Very direct of you.” She tilted her head sideways. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I don’t know why I did it.” He admitted.

She remained quiet for a moment, then smirked again. “I’ll be very interested in the answer when you figure it out.”

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Breeding 4A: It's been a week since Jaerik was brought into the fold. The thing is, ever since her initiation, Nadur hasn't stopped plowing her. This particular morning finds the two going at it in the bathhouse like two Lagomore's in heat.

Breeding: 4A

“I thought~ we came here~ to get clean~”

Jaerik panted, the words falling in a desperate moan from her lips as her body arched and pressed against the smooth glass of the bathhouse window. Her palms dragged across its steam-clouded surface, pressing against it for some stability as she was rocked forward over and over again by the steady thrusts from behind.

The half-orc behind her chuckled low, his lips brushing against one of the long, sensitive points of her elven ears. “Are you saying you want me to stop~?” Nadûr asked in a teasing tone, though he made no motion to do so—in fact, his hips smacked harder against his newest mate’s ass, filling the private shower with even louder claps of flesh on flesh.

“Oh, fuck no~!” Jaerik immediately exclaimed—and after groaning out in pleasure as she felt his cock scrape hard against her cervix with his last thrust, she tilted her head back with a teasing smirk of her own, eyes half-lidded with lust. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to lie to me to get what you want~”

The half-orc chuckled at her reply, and a low growl left him as he felt her hips rock back suddenly—the thick thighs swaying side to side as she rolled her hips back against him. Growling, he gripped her hips roughly and drilled forward harder, snatching her ear between his teeth and snarling low. “But this is more fun~ isn’t it, my dumb slut~?”

And Jaerik, who couldn’t help but moan at his rough attention, stiffly nodded in reply, moaning sharper as she crashed over yet another mind-numbing release.

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Sinful 1C: Wes and Jaerik just can't stop going at it. Even if they're in the middle of a vampire den. Once the need arises, the armor is coming off!

Sinful: 1C

Was this stupid? Of course—the monsters they were hunting down had incredible senses and could definitely hear every sound they made, every gasp they took. And considering how deadly the vampires were, it was probably smarter to deal with them before they got lost in their personal affairs.

Did the threat of danger make it hotter, though? Oh, absolutely.

“Harder~ oh fuck, harder, Wes~” the lavender-haired Changeling moaned out, gasping desperately as she pressed herself up against the cool stone wall. She pressed her cheek against the surface, tilting her head back to stare at her tall, hulking stud of a companion, moaning as she felt his hips smack hard against her ass. “Harder~! Oh gods, make me cum so hard I faint~!”

The towering leonin chuckled at her desperate pleas and slammed his hips harder into the fat plump ass before him, just as she’d asked. “If I do that, you’ll be utterly useless for the rest of the quest~” he snarled into her ear, a large clawed hand wrapping around her neck and lightly choking her as he bucked harder. “Making me do all the work again~?”

Jaerik gasped, moaning out as he began to choke her—her folds gripping his large cock even tighter in response. She then smirked at him and winked, gyrating her hips back into him once more. “Is it~ ah~! working~?”

The lion man snarled again, and he grinned down at her. “You slutty bitch~” he growled, and his grip around her neck tightened as well as his hips smacked even louder against her ass, a growing roar building in his chest as he brutally and ruthlessly fucked his dumb bimbo of a companion harder and harder, coaxing a lewd scream to rise from her lips.

Neither of them noticed the figure watching them at the other end of the hall, fangs biting her lip as her hand slipped down into her robes.