#also can we talk about what a reasonable length this chapter is? I'm so proud of myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fandsart · 1 year

Note

For your behind the scenes ask:

What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

For any of your fics.

Ask list

The thing about that is, there are over 100K words of 20 Chain Links that have been written out and haven't been posted yet. That's more than half of it. The further into the fic the more the emotional and relational build up pays off, so most of my favorite scenes are going to be down the road. Another thing about it is how much all of the scenes play off of each other. It's hard to nail a certain favorite aspect of the story into just one scene.

So, without jumping from scene to scene commentary, I'd have to pick this one in chapter 6: it's the last scene with Billy. Or the last interaction scene anyway; obviously he dies after that, but this story being from Steve's perspective, he sees it from a distance and he's heavily concussed at the time.

I'll continue talking about it under the cut for length and spoiler reasons

The thing I like about this is how it jump starts Steve and Robin's relationship. They'd only been working together for a week, but they're working a very monotonous job with only preconceived notions of who Steve is, she would have continued to be nothing but condescending and mock him. His perception of her would stay negative and she would view this as confirmation of what she believed about his character.

Having this here gives her something to change the way she views him as a person, and loosens some tension between them. She knows that Steve tried to stop Billy from getting to her, because she hears a kick after she uses the broadcasting announcement system to call for security. She knew Billy would head toward the door, and was willing to take the risk that security would get to him before any (at least serious) harm was done to her. But she knows Steve held him up.

Then she goes on to see how unconcerned he seems to be with himself following the interaction. He says 'Don't worry about me; I'll get concealer for the bruises.'

She's more agreeable after that, opening the door for a fuller understanding later when she really lets herself get to know him as more than his reputation

So that's the answer to the question, but I'm going to take the opportunity to talk about this other scene in chapter 4 just because it's kind of something that really needs to be read into. I will be scene hopping just a little bit when talking about this

There's the scene where Hopper belittles Steve's intelligence. It's one of the few Hopper-Steve interactions in the fic (which is why this needs to be read into to grasp the background stuff I'm doing)

Someone left this lovely comment dissecting this scene

[“God, people aren’t kidding when they say you’re slow. Let me tell you the difference. You were a teenage boy. El’s a young girl. She doesn’t know what she’s doing or getting herself into.”

This was honestly deeply shocking to me. I dont know why, it was just shocking and upsetting. I wouldn't put it out of character for Hopper, I think that's the worst part for me cuz quite frankly he can be an ass, he has those moments, forget just being grumpy and abrasive. I re-watched season two recently and a lot of things stuck out to me and made me feel iffy. I'm glad however that he chose to reach out again to another adult and hope he takes their advice this time. He's a grown ass man, I need him to act like it especially in regards with the way he talks to kids sometimes. But bloody hell you don't say that, that's so mean, it's devastating. He essentially has no adult support system and one of the like three adults in the know treats him like that. Sucks

And the misogyny oof. Also the way he seems to gloss over Steve sentence, the kids are want 13/14 in season 3, and I'm guessing I'll put Steve at 11/12 when he started kissing. That's not great, it's also weird because we have society telling us boys mature slower than girls, so boys will be boys, why then are they mature enough for relationship things?. And the way Hopper gets immediately defensive and so aggressive about assigning blame. I find that conversation fascinating. Along with the conversation Bob had with Mike those two stuck at the most to me.]

And I responded:

[I really hated Hopper in season 3, so this is setting up where the decent would be there, but he's getting a sort of background arc in this version so he doesn't get that shitty. That arc involves Bob being such an open person that he's able to reason with Hopper. Here he just steps in though since Hop isn't at a place where he's able to express himself a lot. And we do see in season 3 how affected by toxic masculinity Hopper is. I wanted to keep some level of consistency with the characters even when I hated how some of the characters behaved at certain points. Like the first scene I changed in season 2 where Steve told Nancy they should take a break, because I have a hard time believing they'd be on such good terms later on after she cheated on him pretty blatantly. Also, I feel like it works better that way for how on good terms they are by season 4

I really wanted to address how bitter Hopper is in season three and also kind of divert that path a bit]

Bob is such a chill guy and he's very emotionally open, which is specifically something that Hopper struggles with. I think just existing around Bob would be good for him and since they're both close with Joyce I think they would get close through her. I'm picturing them going through a whole developing story on their own in the background to Steve's story where they figure their way into being polyamorous, but it's outside of Steve's periphery. Sometimes people are just going through their own stories just outside of the perception of your own

#ask #answered asks #20 chain links #fandsart

3 notes · View notes

amaya-chwan · 3 years

Text

Takeaways from Therapy Game: Restart Chapter 13 (and some Therapy Game news!)

Hello everyone! I hope you've all been well these past two months and taken care of yourselves! 💜

Before we get into our takeaways for chapter 13, I saw some news from Hinohara-sensei's Official Twitter that I would like to share with you all!

First piece of news: Therapy Game re:start volume 2 will be released on 1st June 2021! 🎉

Second: in conjunction with the release of the second volume, Sensei will have an in-person fan signing event at the Ikebukuro Animate store (animate honten) AND will have a special limited time shop featuring goods of our favourite dorks! This shop will be opened 6th-20th June! 🎉🎉

Image from Sensei's Official Twitter post! ❤️💛💜❤️

Now, what does the second piece of news mean for us not living in Japan (such as myself)? 🤔 Well, one of two things could happen:

We could see the merch on Sensei's Twitter and wish we could buy them one day 😭 OR

Animate could "potentially" release this merch for online order!

I'm not trying to get anyone's hopes up, but when I saw Animate open a special Yuri!!! on Ice shop last year, I didn't think they'd release merch online. But they did, for a very, very short period of time only! So my only hope is that they do that again for Hinohara-sensei! 🤞

Here's the special website from Sensei's twitter that has information about the fan signing event and limited time shop! It seems they'll show what merch will be available in the shop when it's all been finalised.

If I spot anymore updates about that, I'll try to post about it here! ❤️💛

Alright, down to business as usual! Let's get into our takeaways~ Thank you for being so patient with me! Life has been a little busy this year with juggling work and social life! So I really appreciate your patience! 💜

Here are our takeaways for this chapter:

Loving the brotherly love we see in this chapter! Warms my heart to no end! ❤️💛💜❤️

Minato, bb, you are growing up a lot! I am proud of you! 😭

Did I ever tell you guys that I really love Mito-san too? No? Well now I have ahah! He is just amazing and I love the energy he has--cool and lovable, yet smooth and sexy! Loving the domestic vibes I'm getting! 😍😍

AHHH SHIZUMA! Your smile is too pure, it's blinding! 🥰

Just couple goals from Shizuma and Minato, AND from Mito-san and Shouhei! (Why I don't call Mito-san Itsuki, I'll never know ahah I blame Shouhei! XDDD) ❤️💛💜❤️

The younger sibling moments in this chapter are so relatable! (I am that younger sibling ahahah!) 🤣🤣🤣

I honestly don't know what to think of Onodera at this point in time? 🤔

The (supposed) date time with Shizuma and Minato went from adorable anticipation to steamy relations in a split second, but not NSFW! 😲

And that’s it for this chapter’s takeaways! For a more detailed breakdown/summary of this chapter, please continue after the cut! Since it's been a while since the last chapter, I threw in some extra surprises in this summary, so keep reading if you want to see~ 😉✨

Our chapter begins with an image of Mito-san and Minato, with Minato's cheek leaning on Mito-san's shoulder. The dialogue reads: When it seems like my overflowing emotions are about to burst from the seams, I really do yearn for this back (i.e. something familiar he can always lean on).

We see Minato spaced out on a sofa, being called by Itsuki. Itsuki tells Minato to go home if he's just going to sit there like that since he is very busy cleaning his entire home for when Shouhei moves in with him! Minato gets up, understands the situation, and helps Itsuki out.

Itsuki, knowing something has happened between Shizuma and Minato, asks Minato directly since he only goes to Itsuki's place when he is troubled, and he must be troubled by something related to Shizuma. He also says that Shizuma is worried about Minato, especially since Itsuki lied to him about Minato's whereabouts.

Minato brushes it off, saying that it's nothing big. He talks about the time when they had to drop by Shizuma's workplace, he saw a woman/Onodera (not knowing she's Shizuma's director) and that Shizuma made an very adorable face while talking to her.

Minato stops talking, so Itsuki asks if that is all to the story. Minato then says yes, so Itsuki deduces that Minato is ignoring Shizuma because he happily spoke with that woman (Onodera) and confirms with Minato, who then agrees. Itsuki blames himself for raising Minato like this and apologises to Shizuma in his inner monologue.

Minato defensively says he's told Shizuma not to do that, yet he still does. Minato's monologue says that this Shizuma--who is talking to someone unknown to him, about a story he doesn't know, in a place he doesn't know about--seems like a distant person to him.

He realises that even though he and Shizuma are together, he cannot monopolise him, and that it annoys him. So rather than tell him not to speak with others, he has chosen not to see Shizuma until he calms down. Suddenly, a handyman appears at Itsuki's home to beginning furniture installations.

Image translated from Sensei’s Twitter post here!

Minato is surprised Itsuki replaced a lot of his furniture, to which Itsuki replies: "I wonder if Shouhei-kun prefers the new ones too." Minato says Shouhei would freeze from this "surprise" and imagines Shouhei asking how much it cost!

Itsuki, still in his happy bubble, says he wants Shouhei to also select some household furniture and accessories, so they'll go shopping together next time. Minato is happy for them since their house-moving plans are going well. Itsuki goes back to their previous topic of conversation, and says how Shizuma and Shouhei both are very charming. He recounts how Shouhei would handle different kinds of customers, from the difficult to the sad ones, how his charms and personable skills would change their mood completely, and calls him a genius who has a knack for calming customers.

Minato asks if Itsuki dislikes that, since he himself doesn't know what to think of Shizuma showing his charm and friendliness to others and that some misunderstandings would arise eventually.

Itsuki then reminds Minato that out of all the people in the world, Shizuma asked Minato to live with him, and that thought alone must've made him happy.

Minato does agree, yet it doesn't change the fact that he is unaware of what Shizuma does outside of the home. Itsuki is then suspicious that Minato and Shizuma are going to move in together too.

Minato panics, and says he just meant that from Itsuki's point of view since he's moving in with Shouhei. Just as Minato thinks he's almost let the secret slip, he gets a phone call. Itsuki tells Minato that it's Shizuma, but Minato refuses to pick it up as he is "still cleaning"--the real reason is that Minato told Shizuma he wouldn't forgive him if they speak before Minato gave the OK to talk again.

Itsuki, being the older brother, answers the phone and slides it on the desk near Minato and leaves him to talk with Shizuma, even putting it on loud speaker since Minato is preoccupied.

Shizuma is frantically trying to get a response from Minato, to which Minato responds with a simple: “What... I can hear you.” The first thing Shizuma asks is where Minato is at this present moment, fearing that he might be at a suspicious place. Minato says he isn't and is in fact in the neighbourhood doing some errands. Shizuma breathes a sigh of relief and is thankful his call finally reached Minato as no one he asked knew where Minato was, and because Shizuma was overthinking things, he was just about to go searching for him.

Minato tells him that he doesn't need to go to such lengths and make such a big fuss about it, but Shizuma tells him that he will always make a big fuss about it since it's about Minato. To avoid such a thing happening again, Shizuma tells Minato not to make him worry. Then these pages happen:

Just as their talk of their brothers' moving into together comes to an end, Shizuma gets all excited to go apartment hunting with Minato again and reminds him, not knowing that Itsuki is also listening. The Mito brothers freeze in surprise, with Itsuki soon confirming his earlier suspicions with Minato--his eyes and aura going all kira kira (i.e. sparkly). Minato tries to reprimand him for bringing it up now, but Shizuma continues on, saying he's found a few places he likes and they should start inspecting prospective apartments soon before they're overwhelmed by it all.

Minato hastily agrees to it all, and Shizuma smirks on the other end of the phone, asking Minato when they can see each other. Shizuma suggests Friday if he is too busy at the present moment, and just as Minato gives work as an excuse not to see him on that day, Itsuki jumps in and says he can go see Shizuma.

Shizuma, very surprised by the fact Itsuki overheard their conversation, says his name aloud, and Shouhei overhears him. Itsuki thanks Shizuma for letting him overhear such an adorable story featuring Shouhei. And then this happens:

Still very flustered, Minato quickly agrees to seeing Shizuma on Friday and promptly ends the call before Shizuma can even finish saying "Wait!" Itsuki happily approaches Minato and asks to hear more of their apartment hunting adventures, to which Minato replies that nothing is final yet!

We change locations, and Minato is now on the balcony scrubbing the floor. Minato recalls how he wanted to tell Itsuki about his and Shizuma's plans to move in together further down the track. He then is overjoyed at the thought that Shizuma missed him and wanted to see him. While he awaits Friday, he remembers and is embarrassed by how furious he was the last time they saw each other. He plans to start a skin routine to care for his face and to get his hair done.

Just as he thinks this, he is called out by none other than Shizuma, who is on the ground floor outside. Minato, visibly surprised, asks Shizuma why he’s here. Shizuma tells him that the shop is close to his home. Minato knows this, but is more curious as to why he is here since they just agreed to see each other on Friday. Shizuma is taken aback for a moment, before saying:

While Minato hides away from Shizuma and quickly tries to style his hair, Itsuki overhears a ruckus on his balcony and goes to investigate. We then find out that Shouhei accompanied Shizuma. Shouhei calls out to Itsuki and asks why he didn't tell him that he was cleaning the whole house. The Ikushima brothers offer to help out with the cleaning, with Shizuma joining in because his younger brother will be under Itsuki's care soon. Itsuki happily agrees, saying that he wouldn't be able to fully clean the place if only Minato were there.

As the Ikushima brothers are getting ready to go upstairs to help, Itsuki says the brothers are indeed good, endearing people, and their charming personalities would probably make Minato and Itsuki anxious at times. Minato agrees. Itsuki then continues to say that while Shizuma and Shouhei charm those around them, the only ones who can make them smile the way they do are themselves. Minato is concerned about a possible intruder in their relationship, and Itsuki provides some brotherly advice.

We change scenes to Onodera, smoking on the clinic rooftop and thinking about Shizuma's smiling face.

We change scenes again to Minato, waiting for Shizuma at a predetermined location since it is now Friday. Happy with his new hairdo, Minato reminds himself not to get angry, to sort out the current situation they're in (i.e. Minato's one-sided anger at Shizuma), and to be calm and collected.

Shizuma then gets out of a car across the road, and looks around for Minato. Minato, who can see him very clearly, smiles happily and decides to let Shizuma look for him a little longer. A few more moments pass by, and Shizuma spots Minato and then waves happily to him. However, there is a slight problem.

Minato sees “the woman from last time” (Onodera) driving the car who then passes Shizuma his phone, with him smiling awkwardly at her. He recalls Itsuki's brotherly advice. Minato had actually asked Itsuki a follow-up question: "You say ‘just don't lose,’ but what should I actually do?" Itsuki tells him that it's something he has to figure out for himself.

Shizuma runs to Minato, apologising for making Minato wait. He explains that he was running late due to various issues, and he seemed to have dropped his phone in the car of the person who dropped him off. Before he could even tell Minato that it's his director who dropped him off, Minato says he doesn't need to say anything else and to just go out with him.

We see that Shizuma and Minato are now at a hotel, with Minato quickly pushing Shizuma onto the bed. Shizuma is annoyed at himself for letting Minato see such a scene that would cause a misunderstanding. Before heading over to the bed, Minato closes the door, turns to face Shizuma, and grins. He crawls onto the bed and immediately kisses Shizuma. He calls out Shizuma's name before asking him:

He softly pleads with Shizuma, asking for a quick response. Shizuma wonders if Minato's jealously is making him want to be held right now. He thinks Minato is really, really adorable, but also realises this isn't the right time to be thinking this. So Shizuma does tell Minato he loves him, that it's obvious he loves him very much. He apologises for causing him to worry and that he never once intended to do so. Minato cuts him off, saying that he understands and that it's okay.

Despite saying so, Shizuma notices the atmosphere is a little different than usual. Minato then tells Shizuma that he's been thinking of a way to ensure he doesn't lose Shizuma to anyone or lets anyone take him. The final page shows us this:

Again, THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR! 💜 📢 As always, please support Hinohara-sensei by purchasing her books and CDs! 📢

And that’s it for this chapter! 😲 Another cliffhanger here, and ngl that was a little (SFW-ish) steamy? I honestly do not know what to expect in the next chapter!! Dominant Minato????? But I hope you enjoyed the few extra panels in this summary! 💜 My laptop struggled to keep up, so I will go back to only showing a handful of panels in future summaries. Please also refrain from resharing these translations and images outside of this post! Thank you for understanding! ❤️💛

The next chapter will be in next month's Dear+, so the wait isn't too much longer! So I shall see you all next month for our next set of takeaways to find out what happens next!

As always, stay safe during these turbulent times and look out for each other and for your loved ones! 💜❤️💛

149 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 2 years

Note

Can I request some Silva siblings crumb? With Noelle finally learning what really happened back then, feeling sad and also feeling bad of what Nozel had to go through? If possible, with a hug at the end. Thank you for the Silva siblings crumb and your fics in general, they're great.

Of course! The Silva siblings can, and have, easily spark even series if one gets the fire in their belly to write it. Or perhaps the wind under their wings, hehe

But I do hope that you like this, and thank youuu! I'm so happy to hear that you like my writing 😭🥺💖

Characters: Nozel Silva & Noelle Silva

Genre: sibling fluff with an angsty theme

Warnings: references to Acier's death, and manga spoilers from Acier's backstory around chapter 300

Fic type: Oneshot

Length: ~1.1k

The battle, the war. It had ended. It had ended, but it seemed almost surreal still. The adrenaline rush of victory had worn off a long time ago already. And what was left, was aftermath.

She had celebrated victory with the Bulls, having saved their captain, and the world. But even through the celebration there had been that one memory lingering in the background: her mother embracing her and Nozel-oniisama.

She had been took caught up in the moment to ask him about it. And, it wouldn’t have been good strategy. It had been a battlefield, and she couldn’t juts have stayed to chat. Even if she had had the words to ask him. Or talk to him. Quite frankly, she didn’t know if she had the words now.

But. They needed to talk.

Which is why they sat there. On the balcony of what used to be mother’s bedroom, but had been as good as discarded for years. Not in the way of being locked up to the point where it hadn’t been cleaned, but up to the point where no one, other than the servants who cleaned, came in there. For them, the kids, that room had been too sacred to enter.

“So… mum was proud of us,” she commented with a faint smile as they looked into the distance; not daring to look at each other.

He nodded, and hummed out something that sounded like an agreement.

Silence settled into the air, as neither was sure what was the correct place or way to start. If there was one. If there ever had been one.

“Nozel-oniisama?” She finally asked, intending to start the conversation that she thought they should have.

“Hm?”

“I’m…” she began, feeling guilty, unsure, and … like she wasn’t perhaps supposed to feel what she did, and yet, the feeling was there. “Sorry for… taking our mom from us…”

He looked at her.

He looked at her for a long, long while as he tried to really grasp that she had, actually, believed being the reason why their mom had died.

“If… she hadn’t been expecting me then… maybe then-.”

“No.”

She looked at him. But now his gaze had turned back into the distance.

“None of it was your fault,” he affirmed. Because it was true. That. Had always been the truth. None of it had been her fault. “It was… Megicula, who took her from us. It was Megicula’s curse, that took her from us.”

She blinked, trying to wrap his statement around her head. But too many thoughts and sentences had twisted and turned in her head for her to grasp them anymore. Not as they were at least.

“But… Nozel-oniisama… If it was a curse. Then why was I told that I… was the reason why she died?”

It was a valid question. One that she would sure have been asking from herself. Perhaps even thought of a few answers. But the answers she could think of, weren’t the answers she was owed.

“That… was because of… me.”

The word ‘me’ fell from him as a whisper; as something he wanted to swallow. Wanted to, but couldn’t.

“We…” he breathed out, while gazing up into the heavens where their mother surely must’ve been, and prayed, without words and in his mind, asking for strength. “Both were there when Megicula cursed out mother… And there was a kind of residue magic, due to mom being cursed… that landed onto me. And it-, prevented me from talking about it. I couldn’t talk about it, or the curse, to anyone. Neither could mom.” He forced each syllable past his lips, chewing on them as he pushed them through his teeth, and tried to-, contain himself. The best he could.

She looked at him. And she tried to make sense of his confession.

“But if you or mom couldn’t talk about it, and people were just making stuff up-, how’s that your fault?”

“Because I couldn’t save her,” he whispered as his eyes fell back down as a result of the weight of his sins, the ones he had, and the ones he thought he had. “And I couldn’t save you.”

She didn’t have words. Nothing.

But even despite not having words to say, it felt unfair. For the both of them.

“I never wanted you to get hurt. To go into battle. Like… mom… That was my duty, as the eldest. And because I failed to save her. I-, wasn’t able to… be worthy of the Silva name when it came down to it…”

“You said it yourself. It was Megicula’s curse that’s to blame!”

She spat out the statement, much more forcefully than she intended. But the tone was apt.

He spoke back, disagreeing with both her, and himself by doing so, which made her insist harder. Because he had acknowledged her. He had told her, even before this, that he hadn’t wanted her to wind up onto a battlefield and in harms way. He had made sure that she wouldn’t be cold while in Spade. He had… tried.

And she tried to think back, thinking that he had been about her age, a bit younger, when it all had happened. She had been aware of the fact for a while now.

But unlike her, he hadn’t had friends. Not like she does anyhow. And even if he had, he couldn’t have talked about it.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he stated at the end. And she didn’t, once again, quite know what to tell him. It was like trying to dig through a thick skull, much thicker than bakasta’s. Which was why she made a decision, right there and then.

She took a deep breath, and got up from her chair; now standing next to Nozel, who only glanced to her from the corner of his eye as his head hung low. And she leaned down, wrapping her arms around him.

“But what if I do?”

Time. Even time itself seemed to cease in that moment. The world around crumbled into dust, or might just as well have, as he tried to comprehend his baby sister’s words.

But. He couldn’t. Not fully, at least. Not fully, but maybe a crumb, a fragment, a whisper. Of which the only testimony was the single tear of gratitude that rolled down his cheek.

He, too, had no words to give. And maybe it was alright for the moment.

#noelle silva #nozel silva #black clover fanfiction #their lives #black clover oneshots

20 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Persephone's Symphony | Day Two / Part One | Hades

Hey lovelies this isn't completely done (this chapter, I mean) but this was a good spot to post it because it's been a while and I'm proud of this part. The next part will be about the same length (I'm guessing) and will be the long awaited bathtub scene! enjoy, and sorry for how ramble-y this chapter is. It's on purpose LOL!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: PTSD in action on both parts, self-loathing

Word count: 2.7k

Previous | Next

Master List

Maybe saying yes is the wrong answer. It certainly goes against the protocol his commander explicitly told him to follow.

Stay inside, Barnes. Keep the curtains closed, limit the amount of lights on inside the house. Don’t let her out of your sight— not even for a second.

It was all basic, day one things that any rookie would know. Bucky is a lot of things but he isn’t a rookie— he’s been around the block his fair share of times and then some. Still, the last thing his commander had told him rings through his ears as he crosses the threshold of the Wilson’s family residence and feels the sun, warm and steady on his face— and on his one, good arm— for the first time in twenty-four hours.

Be a ghost, Barnes, or you might just become one; you understand me?

Bucky had answered yes, again— obviously. Maybe that’s just a thing he does; saying yes when he doesn’t know what else to say. Saying yes when he should be saying anything but.

But what?

But it’s not like it really matters— there was no other choice that time. He’s a soldier, he was given his orders, and— whether he likes it or not— Bucky always follows his orders.

The door creaks shut behind him, a little loud for his liking but the sound of the willow trees snapping in the yard are enough to drown it out for the most part— Well, Bucky always follows most of his orders.

That was also before everything went straight to hell, though— before no one thought to tell him that he's not dealing with a victim; he’s dealing with a survivor. Fucking military— he should have known they’d leave the important details out. They’ve been shoddy since the forties, always squirreling away information from the little guys. Eighty years later, one hundred and six years old, and he’s still a little guy. No closer to gaining an invite to the big kid table than he was at twenty-six when he still had two good arms. If anything he’s further away now, begging for scraps when there was once a point in his life where he at least had a seat somewhere.

With someone.

Nothing’s changed— nothing will change and he doesn’t expect it to— but this time there’s a difference.

There’s a big one.

It’s the canyon between grief and watching your family get slaughtered in front of you; the insurmountable jump from longing for those you’ve lost and having them ripped away from you so violently that you can’t function. Can’t sleep. Wake up scared. Jump away from every touch, every noise, like every shattered vase is out to personally kill you—

Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell him that the girl he’s supposed to be protecting has PTSD? He may be old— the term may be different now— in his day they used to call it shellshock— but it’s yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Nothing ever changes; not really— not for him.

Soldier.

Scientist.

Same fucking difference— the signs are still the same and she has all of them.

He would know— he should have known from the moment he walked through the door— they should have told him!

He saw the pictures. Saw the scarlet circles and lifeless eyes and blood. Fuck, there was so much blood and that was just a grainy photpgraph from a junky projector! He couldn’t smell it— couldn’t taste it— through the pictures but he has an imagination— well, what’s left of one at least. He can’t say he didn’t leave most of his creativity in those hills of Austria— gods only know he left most of everything else there— but even if he had left all of it he wouldn’t have to dig far for a memory of his own. They don’t tell you as a soldier that fresh blood smells like rotting honey— that it lingers in your clothes and hair and on your goddamn lips for hours.

Soldier.

Shooter.

Fucking psychopath with a gun and one arm and snow still shoved so far down his throat that he can’t breathe—

No, if they don’t bother telling their soldiers then there’s no way anyone thought to tell the cherry pie angel. They probably thought it would ruin her sweetness. They probably didn’t even think to tell her at all. Bucky definitely didn’t. He should have. If he had, maybe he would have been able to catch her before the flies ate through her wings completely. Maybe if he had just done his damn job instead of being sucked in by the sticky marmalade of her laughter then he would have seen the way she was melting right in front of his face. July in Brooklyn does that to a person.

It brings the flies to the cherry pie.

The flies to the rotting honey.

The flies to too fucking late— he had twenty-four hours and instead of doing something he just let her sink. Some guard dog he is.

Bucky watches as she gingerly sits on the edge of the white swing, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She lifts her feet as soon as she’s down, toes hanging a good few inches off the ground as they curl around the thick bayou air, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. They never touch the bamboo mat and her eyes never lift from the shoreline— not even when he takes a couple measured steps towards her. It’s unnerving, to say the very least.

“We can’t stay out here too long.” Bucky isn’t used to speaking this quietly but it feels like if he doesn’t level his voice to match the whispering of the wind across the bulrushes then he’ll be hurting her more than he already has.

Her answer isn’t any louder than his— the only reason he even hears it at all is because he refuses to look away from her. He only hears her because his eyes are already on her lips, willing her to stop sinking her teeth into the soft flesh. Please, please, please stop—

“I just need a few minutes.”

Her eyes are wide and rimmed with red, toes continuing to work against the breeze with the same automatic movements. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. He doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s trying to work the feeling back into them— or maybe like she doesn’t know that she’s doing it at all. Hell, if the way her eyes have glassed over means anything then he would wager that there’s a good chance she doesn’t even fully know she’s outside. Yeah, that’s shellshock alright. Clench. Unclench. Clench. He doesn’t realize he’s copying her movements until his jaw aches.

Unclench.

“I know, doll. I—” He finally tears his gaze from her rigid figure— from her bruised lips— looking as well to the horizon. Maybe she’s on to something; maybe the waves will tell him how to help her— “I know.”

Can they tell him how to help himself? He shuffles forward again, stopping at the edge of the swing, gaze sweeping from the water to the barriers of the premise. Who is he kidding— of course they can’t. This isn’t about his salvation anymore. Those days have more than come and gone. Now it’s about hers— it’s about an assignment and keeping ten toes and ten fingers connected to two legs and two arms. Right now is about an order and Bucky Barnes can certainly follow orders— maybe that’s all he can do.

He gives the shaking girl who— despite everything— is swathed so prettily in the shade of the porch another once over.

Maybe but maybe not too.

Maybe he can’t follow orders at all.

Maybe he can’t afford to think about it for too long.

Because if he can’t follow orders then what can he do?

Bucky is still staring at her when she speaks again but her sudden words still make him jump nonetheless. “There’s room.” Her voice falters for a moment, lips hanging open and eyes faraway, before she continues. “If you want to sit, I mean. There’s room.”

He shouldn’t— he knows he shouldn’t, sitting isn’t a part of his orders— but he does. He couldn’t say no to her if he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

He definitely doesn’t want to say no to her.

“Sure.” Her voice is barely a hum— barely there at all— and he can’t choose whether to look at her lips or her fingers, which are now following suit.

Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench.

It’s an impossible decision— much like the ones from his days as a soldier— but it demands a choice from him nonetheless— unlike the ones from his days as a pawn. Her nails drag over the wood, snagging every so often, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Clench. Can she even feel him next to her? Back in the day— before that day— he used to watch his comrades do the same thing. He used to do the same thing. Sometimes he still does. He knows exactly what he would want someone to do for him.

He makes the choice for an impossible decision, wrapping his hand around hers until their fingers are laced together. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

It seems to work, if only marginally, because she stiffens for a moment, fingers flexing around his. Bucky can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, the way she grips his hand so unsure of herself. Is she unsure of herself, though, or is she still lost somewhere in the depths of her mind, drowning in her rotten honey thoughts?

Her hand stills— an answer in itself— before her voice, slowed as though stopped by lips that have been glued shut, sounds. “Do you ever feel like you’re drowning?”

It’s not what he’s expecting but what else is new— neither was she and yet he’s here, listening to the moments they’re allowed to be outside— all of zero moments, that is— tick away as her toes clench and unclench.

Tick, tick, tick— what would his commander say.

“Yes.”

Steve used to ask him the same thing, Bucky adds silently, but only when they got older.

He supplies, “I think maybe that’s a part of being human.”

Tick, tick, tick— his commander wouldn’t say anything, he would just put Bucky on probation.

Still, he doesn’t rush her— he can’t. He won’t. She just told him she’s drowning; he’s not going to be the ocean to her frenzied attempts to stay afloat. He’ll just hold her hand, and keep looking over her shoulder, and then over his own, and when the time comes he’ll tell her they have to go, because that’s what she’s expecting. He would know— there have been times he’s wanted someone to do the same for him.

Tick, tick, tick— this is worth probation.

“I don’t think I like being human.” She hums back.

No, Bucky wants to say— no, I don’t either, doll.

Being human sucks and he’s not very good at it. He would know, he’s been a lot of things— been compared to a lot of things. Robot. Popsicle. Dog— yeah, he’s a real jack of all trades and so far human isn’t near the top of his ‘favourites’ list. Maybe that’s because if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be any of the other things either— maybe if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be so easily turned into a monster.

Tick, tick, tick— maybe.

Tick, tick, tick— have his thoughts always been so disorganized?

Tick, tick, tick— maybe it’s the shellshock.

Bucky doesn’t say any of that, of course.

What he does say is— “What would you like to be instead?” —as if he can make everything all better himself.

He can try, at least. He’s been compared to a slave too. Being hers doesn’t sound all that bad.

Thunder rolls over head and it sounds more like a grandfather clock— or the impatient tapping of his commander’s fingers— than anything Bucky’s ever heard. Still, he waits to move. Tick, tick, tick. He waits for a lot of things.

Bucky waits for the sky to turn grey— for the first droplets to mix with the salty bay air and blow against his neck and face.

It’s familiar, the sticky, salty rain, and he isn’t expecting it.

He isn’t expecting Delacroix to remind him so much of his own home in Brooklyn.

He isn’t expecting the way that sitting next to this soft creature feels so much like sitting on the docks with Steve the summer before his enlistment. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning— Steve had said it at one hundred but he may as well have said it then, at eighteen, too. Because little did Bucky know, Steve had always felt a little bit like he was drowning and now Bucky, at one hundred and six, always feels a little bit like a bad friend.

Like a bad brother.

Like a bad dog— he should have scented it out all those years ago but instead he just waited.

Tick, tick, tick— all he does is wait.

Bucky waits for her to squeeze his hand once more— for her tiny fingers to alert him that she’s ready to move.

Maybe if Bucky had waited until Steve had told him that he was ready all those years ago then Steve would have waited for Bucky to be ready too. Because as he sits here, his skin turning swampy in the sticky, salty rain he realizes that no, he wasn’t ready for Steve Rogers to leave him behind.

He wasn’t ready to face the world alone.

He wasn’t even ready to face Brooklyn alone. Sometimes he still waits at the deli for him and orders the hero sandwich because even though he doesn’t like the absurd amount of pickles, Steve always had. Maybe if he eats enough— and waits long enough— then Steve will come back.

Tick, tick, tick— for a man who isn’t patient, Bucky Barnes sure does do a lot of waiting.

Bucky waits for her answer— because that’s what matters most. Not Steve’s wishes, not his commander’s impatient tapping, not even his own nostalgia that’s starting to make him, too, feel like he’s drowning. He used to love swimming in the Atlantic but when he licks his lips and tastes salt he’s sure it would take a miracle to get him to go in again. It would take a hundred years— or maybe just eighteen— and a push from a man who left Bucky almost as fast as Bucky had left him.

“I want to be a god—” she says it so suddenly that he jolts, eyes scanning their surroundings before realizing it’s just her determined, honey hollow voice sounding from next to him— “I want to be god— or invincible— or anyone but me, I think. I just don’t want to be me anymore. So yeah, I want to be a god.”

She still sounds so far away. Like she’s underwater— like Steve that time he wanted to see if Bucky could hear him scream from under the surf. He couldn’t but he told Steve he could. It doesn’t matter anymore— not right now. Only she does and her airy confession.

It makes Bucky’s heart clench and, as a reflex, so does his hand.

He releases the pressure accordingly— in his hand, not his heart— unclench— and as he does she adds— “and I want to take a bath.”

In that moment, despite his worry for her, he’s ecstatic she isn’t looking at him because if she had been then she would have seen the way his jaw drops. It takes him a moment to answer— a moment to pull himself out of the gutter his frozen-robot-dog brain drags him to— but he settles on one thought in surprisingly record time.

He can’t make her a god but he can sure as hell watch her back if she wants to take a bath.

He can’t make it all better but he can do that no problem.

So of course he stands, squeezing her hand one last time before saying, “okay, doll.”

Maybe Bucky is following orders after all. Maybe it’s a matter of choosing which— whose— orders to follow.

____________

Tag list: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust @motherofallthesmallthings @hazardoushallucination @em-august @nuttytani @brown-eyed-babes @imaginearyparties

(message me if you want to be added / removed from the tag list -- I'll hold no resentment if you do LOL)

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bodyguard!bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky angst #Persepone's Symphony #wow this took a month and it's trash LOL

33 notes · View notes

probablyevilideasafterdark · 2 years

Text

An Earth Trans in Urtrament, Chapter 8

In this chapter, we see the main magical university of Urtrament, Pergamano, center (and basically whole) of the Vellum Throne, and Wreaz gets political. Chapter nine is in progress, and I should probably actually start considering wrapping it up to post it soon.

Can you believe that chapter 8 brings me above 40k words? I fucking can't. I've got another 3k words in chapter 9, and... I think I'm actually writing a book here, and can't fucking believe it. I've tried writing books before, but never got far. Sure as hell not this far. It's not like this is anywhere near publication ready, but it's near "novel-length first draft" ready, so...

If you enjoy my story, please, reblog. I'm really proud of this weird escapist fantasy story, how much I've written, and how it's helped me build my setting.

And thank you for reading.

Chapter 8: Demonstrations and Soapboxes

The road to Pergamano is uneventful. I stop and rest after a couple hours. Even with a magic mount, riding is hard on someone who isn’t used to it. And I just need to not be on a moving thing for a bit. Nyx and I both take the opportunity to handle general necessities. She wanders a bit, still close by, while I pull out food and get some sorted for her and myself.

While we eat, I check landlay on my slate. There’s a rest stop a little more down the road, and we’re about halfway to Pergamano. One nice thing about my slate is that it has a clock, so I know it’s about 2pm. The conjured steed isn’t fast, at least for someone who’s frame of reference is a car, and a car moves at the steed’s speed when you’re driving through a parking lot, but it’s faster than a real horse, and, I suppose, could probably run flat out for the rest of the way, if I wanted it to. It’d be about an hour.

I weigh how bored I am against the fact that riding at a gallop means an hour of jostling, even with the smooth gait of my conjured goat-thing. Sure, what the hell. Getting to Pergamano about mid-afternoon means maybe I can get the tour and the talk today. They might have guest quarters, meaning a bed for the night, but if not, camping before I head to the coil wouldn’t be so bad.

I fold up the butcher’s paper Nyx’s and my lunch was in, and stash it in a side pocket of my bag. I also pull out one of the blankets and try to soften the saddle a bit before climbing back up, and letting Nyx get settled between the shoulderblades again while I start some music, and hook the sound to my earrings, a little trick I learned with some reading on the first part of the ride, then spur the goat-thing to a trot.

I’m not sure what I expected Pergamano to be like, but riding up to it at a full gallop, I’m not entirely surprised to see literal ivory towers stretching into the sky. A small town stretches around the massive structure of the university, but there is little in the way of bustle in town, mostly people are going about the individual jobs they hold that serve to support the university, repairing tools, working in the fields just beyond the town, carting supplies, and so on. The mark of mage’s who believe magic is not for such trivial things as basic necessities like food and labor. Better to let the little people handle such things.

Which… isn’t necessarily, inherently bad, but… I definitely want to know more about how the college treats their support staff. Are they serfs? Free tenants? Do they struggle for subsistence while sending their crops and such to the benefit of the mages?

As I’m galloping through the center of the small support town towards the formal gates of the college, I hear a voice in my head- “Your arrival has been noted, please slow your mount to a walk. The gate guards will direct you to a meeting place where our welcome staff will see you.”

The voice is… almost stern. More business-like, but with the edge that says ‘I’m more important than you, I am your better, you will obey my authority,’ and promises that stern is merely the next step up of tone. With no compelling reason to not follow the instructions, I follow them, slowing the goat-thing to a canter, then a walk, and riding through the gate to where the gate guards indicated. Once there, I swung a leg over the goat-thing, but remained seated on its back, just facing perpendicular to its body. I’d prefer to be as close to eye-level as possible for this meeting, at least at first, until it becomes impractical.

Sitting there on my mount was slightly unnerving. The æther construct was unmoving, more like an inanimate object than the animal it resembled, even if that animal was a creation of my own thoughts. Add to this that the welcome staff was taking their sweet time, giving me ample opportunity for my anxiety to bubble up. I’m not worried about anything specific, just generally anxious about meeting new people, and especially people who are almost certainly not going to be my kind of young disaster people. I pull out my slate to do some reading while I wait. Perhaps I can find some way to make my mount more alive.

It’s another sevenish minutes before a man in austere robes approaches. He’s human-looking at first, but as he nears, I see some tells of elven heritage. His ears are slightly pointed, there is no hint of stubble or shaved down follicles on his chin. His skin is a pale brown tone, like the wood of a tree, and his hair is a subdued salt-and-pepper black.

“Greetings,” he says as he draws up to a respectable conversation distance, “I understand you are here to learn about Pergamano University of Magic in consideration of attending our fine institution?”

I nod, smirking. If he’s going to be so austere and stern, I’m gonna have to deflate this stuffy conversation a bit, “yeah. Yeah, I’m looking at both Pergamano and the Oroboric Coil to see which would be a better benefit to me and my studies. I’m Wreaz, but you may be waiting for Cassiel Oredenark.” I show him my coffer mark, “There have been some changes.”

He examines my mark, and produces a thin wand to trace it. It’s similar to a coffer wand, but more ornate, and glows with a faint blue light as it traces. “I’m just verifying your identity,” he explains.

“Verify away.”

He scowls mildly as the wand tip glows a pale green. “If you would indulge me, I would like to use more thorough divination magic, to understand.”

I give a shrugging nod, a sort of ambivalent, ‘whatever floats your boat,’ gesture, and he responds by immediately gesturing and intoning a simple spell, causing his eyes to glow. True Seeing, if I were to guess. After a moment, his eyes widen in startled incomprehension, then sweep over me, my conjured steed, and Nyx. The glow of his eyes fades, and he’s obviously unsteadied.

“I think we should perhaps continue our discussion in my office, Miss Ore- er, Wreaz. And summon Archdoctor of Transmutation Khassaem,” he says. Then stops, “Uh, does your mount require stabling?”

I slip from the goat-thing’s back and land on my feet on the ground, “no, that’s fine,” I let Nyx leap from its shoulders to mine, then gesture to dismiss it. “It’s more like a phantom steed, just with some… tweaks.” I’m rewarded with a vision of mild dread concern creeping over his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, sir?”

He inclines his head, the merest perfunctory bow, and he is suddenly on steadier ground with such mundane courtesies. “I am Doctor Shotior. I primarily handle the matters of student life.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Shotior. Lead the way.”

Shotior leads me into the entrance of Pergamano, and down a grand hall, then a smaller branch, to his office. A large desk dominates the center, with a fine, but utilitarian, chair behind it. Before the desk is a much simpler, still well-made chair that speaks to the mundanity of the person who is to sit in it, compared to the understated majesty of the person who would be seated opposite. He gestures to this simple chair, and I give only the mildest side-eye. Then smirk.

“Actually, I believe I’ll leave this chair for Archdoctor Khassaem. Certainly they will need a place to sit as well,” I say, “don’t worry, I can provide my own chair.” I let the wordless echolalia flow, then mingle it with the incantation for a codified spell I had spent the last hour studying. Either this fizzles, in which case they see an overconfident, but ambitious prospective student, or it works and they see someone with very novel magic.

After a moment, a pale purple and green shape sprouts into existence. It is faintly translucent, and shaped like a wing-backed armchair sans legs, floating in mid-air. The wings of the chair, and its back, give the impression of actual wings and a horned and beaked head mantling around me. The chair dips slightly, allowing me to easily sit down without undignified clambering, then rises to hover slightly higher than the surface of the chair beside it.

Shotior arches an eyebrow, “Elore’s phantom platform?” He gives the chair an appraising eye, “Or something like it. Well done. A novel usage.”

I smirk as he tries to maintain his superiority, “something like it. Perhaps not so impressive at first glance, but it is something a bit more than that spell.”

“Yes, it’s more shaped, and doesn’t have a simple disc foundation. As I said, novel.”

I smirk. Another casting and I’m holding a large crossbow, composed of the same streaked energy as my seat, big enough that it’d be too heavy for me to use–if it had weight.

Shotior is speechless a moment, and switches to magical vision, “Er… may I?” he asks, holding out a hand slightly.

“Of course,” I reply, handing the crossbow over and pointing down.

Shotior looks it over and gives the string an experimental pull, “would it function?”

“It should. I haven’t tried it yet, I just formulated this variation on Elore’s on the ride here.” I wave my hand, dismissing the crossbow, “You should see what else I’ve done in the last couple days.”

Shotior blanches slight, before we hear a knock on the door, and it opens.

“Alright, Shotior? You look unwell,” says the portly man who enters. His race is indiscernible, as he has used extensive transmutation to shape his form to the presumable needs of his profession or whims, but largely, he looks human. His hair is faded more towards grey, but still has a bit of black to it, his face is wrinkled in such a way that I can only assume he vainly shaped the wrinkles “aesthetically” as part of his transmutations. His skin is slightly ruddy, but overall a coppery tone that would normally indicate much time spent in the sun, but on him, is likely just more magic.

“Ah, Archdoctor Khassaem, wonderful. This is the, er, prospective that I messaged you about, er, Wreaz.”

Shotior turns towards me and does a slight doubletake, “U-ah, Wreaz, pleasure to meet you.” He extends a hand which I shake, “Shotior didn’t say much in the message, just that my expertise may be useful.” He turns to address the both of us, “shall we begin?” He casts about for only the merest fraction of a second before realizing I’d left him the seat in front of Shotior’s desk. He nods his head with a tight smirk and takes his seat as Shotior walks stiffly behind his desk and does likewise. “Please, tell me what you have told Shotior, catch me up.”

I explain what I told to Shotior, plus a bit more, but holding back exact details until I have to give them. Mostly, I just explain that my spirit was placed into Cassiel Oredenark’s body after some magical phenomena and the extinguishing of her own, and then her body was altered to fit my spirit better.

Khassaem purses his lips as he listens and considers. “Fascinating, may I view you with true seeing?”

“Of course. Doctor Shotior did likewise.”

Khassaem casts his spell and looks me and Nyx over, alarm warring with intrigue over his face. “There is… the mark of rather intense elemental magic on your essence. Transmutation is there, of course, but also I see something like Conjuration and Evocation…”

“Yes, the magical phenomena involved æther,” I explain, “therefore, elemental, transmutative energy.”

“Can you explain more about the phenomena?” Khassaem asked.

“I don’t fully understand it, myself. Just that my spirit was caught up by the energy, and as Cassiel’s body had recently been left without a spirit, it was a handy receptacle for my own. I believe she was forming a pact with something, but what or who I could not say. I’m not bound by that pact.”

“Interesting,” Khassaem muses, “Had you died recently? Is that why your spirit could be ‘caught up’?”

“I believe so, yes,” I explain, guardedly, “I believe I had just been in an accident with a heavy weight, my body crushed. I don’t quite remember a lot about it, to be honest.”

“I do see some strings around your essence,” Khassaem says. “Which would normally indicate some form of pact, but they seem to be pure æther, so I have no idea who you would be bound to.”

“Perhaps just a persistent mark from the phenomenon,” I offer.

“Mm, perhaps. Well, this is fascinating. I’ve certainly never seen anything quite like it,” Khassaem says, sitting back. He turns to Shotior, “Certainly, I appreciate you bringing this case to my attention, and I’d quite like to study it,” he turns suddenly to me, “ah, assuming you would consent, of course.”

“Of course, assuming.” I say.

Khassaem seems to miss my exact meaning, and turns back to Shotior, “honestly, this may be more the baileywick of Amnelore or Elsinore,” he turns back to me, “er, they are the Archdoctors of Necromancy and Conjuration, respectively. It really seems to be rather… multi-disciplinary.”

“She-” Shotior begins

“They,” I cut in, holding his gaze.

“Uh, ah…” Shotior is unsteadied slightly, “They” he corrects himself, “are certainly…” He pauses, searching for a polite word, “interesting. Wreaz has already displayed a couple of novel spell alterations, notably to phantom steed, which they arrived with, and Elore’s phantom platform, which created the chair they are currently using and displayed the ability to create much more varied objects with, ones with moving parts.”

Khassaem nods, “good, good.” He turns to me and extends his hand again, “Well, if you decide to attend our fine institution, I’m sure you would be quite a valuable addition.”

I take his hand, “yes, I’m sure I’d be very valued and added to something you all treasure greatly.” I see Shotior’s cocked eyebrow out of the corner of my eye. At least one of these men is listening to what I say rather than the words I choose.

Khassaem stands, “Well, Shotior, I trust you to know your business with admissions, I’ll leave you to it. Wreaz, if you’d allow, I’d like to discuss your situation with Amnelore and Elsinore. I’m sure they’d be fascinated.”

I incline my head. “If I did not want to be the talk of the school, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Capital!” Khassaem exclaims. “If you do decide to attend, please, do find me.”

“Of course, Archdoctor Khassaem.”

The portly blustery man exits Shotior’s office and closes the door behind him, Shotior chuckling to himself slightly once the archdoctor is outside. “Well, I see that in addition to having your way with magic, you’d also have it with debates and intrigue here.”

“Hm, yes, I do like to have my way with quite a lot,” I muse. “But, to business, as it is supposed to always go before pleasure. I did read the pamphlet about Pergamano, but it was somewhat light on details. To begin with, I’d like to know about the administrative structure, its sovereignty, and how the people in the town outside are handled.”

Shotior gives me an appraising gaze, “you don’t want to know about classes? Our student body? Housing?”

“All in good time. Knowing how the college manages its power will weigh quite a lot on my decision, so I’d like to know those things, first.”

He smiles and nods, “of course. Well, for sovereignty and administration, we will begin with the fact that Pergamano is the site of the Vellum Throne. It is a fully sovereign power, and deals on the world stage with other Thrones. In contrast to those other Thrones, however, The Vellum Throne is an elected constitutional monarchy. The monarch of the Throne is selected from the board of Archdoctors from among their number, and is bound to abide by the constitution. The board acts to consult and advise the monarch, who has the final say on any decisions that need to be made. Provided, of course, that said decision abides by the constitution. There are provisions for challenging such decisions, but that is purely the domain of the Archdoctors.”

“Is that in the constitution?” I interrupt.

“Ah, is what in the constitution?”

“That only Archdoctors can challenge the monarch’s decision.”

“I… hm, I’m actually not sure. In practice, it’s only the Archdoctors, but you would have to look in the constitution to see if that is codified.”

“And is that something I could do? Look at the constitution?”

“Yes… although I should warn you that it is a very dry and legalistic document.”

“If I can take it in chunks, I can manage. I may just need to take a break now and then.”

Shotior spreads his hands slightly and inclines his head, “of course. As for administration of the college, each Archdoctor is head of their particular discipline of magic. For anything concerning Transmutation, for instance, the ultimate authority would be Archdoctor Khassaem. Generally, if students feel that a decision of the monarch needs to be challenged, they would work to convince their discipline Archdoctor to do so.”

“And how would I formally contest the decision of a Doctor or Archdoctor, should I feel that is necessary?”

“Each discipline has a hierarchy of doctors, and so you would speak to their superior if you felt a decision was in error. In the case of Archdoctors, you would have to speak to another Archdoctor. If needed, we do have arbitrators who can work to resolve such conflicts.

“I see. The people in the town outside, are they serfs, free tenants, or something else?”

Shotior’s eyebrows arch in interest, “you are quite prepared for this, aren’t you? There is a mixture of serfs and free tenants. Most of them are tenants, but one official punishment for certain crimes is indenture. These criminals are commonly employed in tasks of physical labor that requires little to no skill, although if the criminal has an applicable skill, they may be employed to that end.”

“I see,” I say coolly. “I’d be interested to know how legal matters are handled in The Vellum Thronelands, but I suppose I can research that on my own time if you’ll indulge me use of the library while I’m here and making my decision.”

Shotior nods, “of course, that can be arranged. Do you have more questions? I’m sure you do,” he smirks.

I return his bemused smirk with glaring one of my own, “certainly. How are classes handled here? Also, I’d like to know about student housing, tuition, and supplies.”

Shotior smiles at this return to his actual area, “Ah, yes. Classes have set schedules, and you would sign up for your next terms classes at the end of the term you are in. There is no, precise, set duration of studies, but in general, a student will be considered an alumni at the end of about five years of study, provided they have not been seriously sanctioned, and may claim the title in their outside dealings. Those who wish to continue to study may of course do so. Were you to join us at this time, you would have to content yourself with the fact that there may not be space in courses you wish to take, or doctors may not wish to have someone coming in the middle of the term.

Shotior continues, “We do have housing on premises, but we do have limited dorms, and I would need to check the records to see if there is currently space. If necessary or desired, you could also seek your own housing outside the premises. As for tuition, it is 100 gold per month. If needed, we do have some ways that we can help you make arrangements to reduce that amount or earn it. Supplies are provided to some extent, paid for out of tuition, but you would also be responsible for purchasing supplies needed beyond what is provided.”

“100 gold per month is quite a lot, especially if it’s expected I will need to also purchase supplies. Arrangements would not be necessary, but it is quite steep. I’m curious, how common are these arrangements?”

“Many students take employment as hired mages or take similar work to manage the expense,” Shotior admits. “We have some independently wealthy students, but they are certainly not the majority.

“I see. From seeing the town of support staff, I take it you don’t use much magic to provide for necessities? The food is grown rather conjured, the housing built?”

“Indeed. While certainly many of us here rely on magic in times of need, a salad that’s been grown in the ground or a house built from mundane stone are perfectly reliable, cannot be dispelled, and there are better uses of time and energy that conjuring every little thing.”

“Such as building a magical item that will do that conjuring for you,” I arch an eyebrow and smirk.

“Yes, yes. A magic item for everything,” Shotior dismisses. “I’ve heard the Coil thinks this way, too. A whole lot of peasant philosophy, to be quite honest.”

“I see. Tell me, if you had to travel to Marsti, would you walk, take a horse or carriage, or would you use a phantom steed or teleport?”

“It would depend on why and how quickly I needed to get there, but, taking your meaning, I would likely use magic, yes.”

“And if you were in the wild, unable to make your way home any time soon for whatever reason, would you set about creating snare traps, or trying to hunt for your dinner, or would you rely on magic to keep you fed? And sheltered and alive, for that matter. Assuming you could, of course.”

Shotior spreads his hands, admittingly, “I would use whatever magic I could manage in the circumstances, whatever those may be.”

“I don’t know if you’re married or have children, but assuming so, if there was some imminent danger to your loved ones, an ogre, say, would you attempt to take it on barehanded, or with a sword, or would you use magic?”

He shakes his head wryly, “yes, I would use magic to defend my beloved wife. What is your point, Mi- Wreaz?”

“Magic is a tool. Much like the carriage, the snare trap and the sword. Magic is the tool we have chosen. Other than the nitty-gritty specifics, what broad difference is there between using a horse and plow and waiting for crops, and conjuring food?”

“Skill, the time taken to learn that skill, the fact that conjured food can be dispelled-”

“Farming takes skill, it takes time to learn it, and your crops can be set to flame while growing.”

“It’s completely different!” Shotior protested.

“It is. Because if I had to colonize new land, I would be better off taking any of those people outside this town with me than I would be taking you. They can farm. You think conjuring our needs is a waste.”

Shotior chuckles and shakes his head, “is that not my point? It’s better to use mundane means for necessities?”

“That is your point, yes. My point is that magic is a tool, one that can, given a will behind it to do so, serve just as well as mundane tools. Let me put it this way, consider for a moment that you, personally, have to produce food for a populace. Let’s assume you have expert farming knowledge, and the means to create a device which will produce sufficient food, every day. You are fully able to farm, or use magic to solve the problem. Which would you choose?”

Shotior sighs, “ok, yes. If I were in such a position, I would probably use magic to do so. Because I can and even the thought of farming tires me.”

“Therefore, would it not be better to relieve the burden of the working class through using magic to benefit all?”

“No, because I can have peasants farm for me.”

“Exactly!” I exclaim. “That is exactly the issue! You see peasants as a tool that can be used to save yourself from the trouble of labor. In reality, they are as much people as you and I, and deserve a life as free from the physical demands of labor as you and I.”

Shotior chuckles, “those peasants might differ on whether you and they are people to the same extent.”

“Perhaps. And I would hate any who thought I was lesser for who I am, but that would not change the fact that, absent institutions that say otherwise, we are equals.”

He shakes his head, “quite the revolutionary. Are you an admirer of Proq Khaasza?”

“Honestly, I don’t know much about them, but I like what I’ve heard.”

He scowls in puzzlement, “indeed? I would think you would know about h- them. Interesting.”

Shit. That’s a thing I should know about. I might have tipped my hand ever so slightly. However, I doubt Shotior can make the leap to conclude I’m from another world.

“I would expect a young goblin who expresses the condition so totally to know about h- Proq. Well, no matter. Have you been examined since your accident? Medically, I mean.”

“I haven’t,” I say, feigning abashedness, “perhaps I should.”

“Perhaps. Well, do you have further questions about Pergamano?”

“None that come to mind currently. I would like to take a look at the library. Is there perhaps guest chambers I could use tonight?”

“We don’t maintain lodging for guests or prospectives, alas. There are a few taverns in the town, however.”

“Thank you, Doctor Shotior,” I allow my chair to sink to the floor and stand as it meets it, then dismiss it.

“Please, allow me to show you to the library.”

#An Earth Trans in Urtrament #Isekai #Portal Fantasy #Fantasy #Dungeons and Dragons #D&D #Dungeons & Dragons #Goblin #Wreaz Caebongai #Fiction

5 notes · View notes

mallowstep · 2 years

Note

I stg you come up with some of my favorite titles ever (even if you do pull them from songs)! What's your personal fave? And are there any that you like but will prolly never use?

aww thank you so much! you guys are really being so kind to me in this finals season <3

hmmm. my personal favourite is actually probably "burned off the tapestry," which isn't a warriors fic, but i'm still really happy with the title. i'm quite bad at picking favourites, but...okay, so. my favourite titles alone are not the same as titles i think are best for fics, so i'm focusing on titles i really like.

"marks the spot"

"i'll come back to you someday soon myself"

"sunset; sunrise; i know your true name"

"reverence and honor (zeus delights in thunder)"

"there's holy water, undiluted; i see the divine"

"where the spirit meets the bones"

"poisoned berries, choking roots"

"what catches the ear; what catches the eye"*

"make moonshine out of moonlight"

"secrets passed over in the dead of night"

* i'd say it's my top fav but i really like wcte as a fic, so it's hard to separate them.

and an honourable mention to "(nature; nurture)", aka that second person mothwing pov fic in a human au that like. was weirdly popular. thanks guys. i liked it a lot too.

anyway i adore my titles so like. if there's a title you want me to ramble at length about, as long as it's not from a ficlet, i guarantee there's a stupid amount of thought put into it. please talk to me about titles. i love titling.

as for titles i like but will probably never use...

i'm ngl i'm VERY proud of/happy with my titles, so i'm pretty protective of them. i have lots of lists of titles that i'm...reluctant to release to the public. so...hm. i'd really prefer y'all didn't use this as a place to farm titles, but...i'm trusting you, alright? behave.

(also pls note that these are a lot of full lyrics, and i tend to trim things down when i actually title fics.

"and darling right there where we stood was holy ground"

"i look through the windows of this love, even though we've boarded them up"

"the air is full of dust and dying dreams"

"make madness out of unmade ends"

"bury me under snow" (i actually do have a fic for this one but...even if i were to write it, i wouldn't share it, so you can actually feel free to borrow this, it's from a langston hughes poem)

"when the words from a sister come back in whispers"

"it's the purest expression of grief"

"i want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet"

BONUS ROUND: unpublished works/chapters titles that stand out in my head:

"in offering to hestia"

"footnotes in the story of your life"

"so you want to kill the deputy (and it's not for sexy reasons)"

"sit and watch what we'll become"

"would it be enough if i could never give you peace?"

alright! please talk to me about my titles i love it.

#mine #ask #anon #you'll notice this is disproportionately taylor swift and that's bc she's a damn good artist #anyway wrt unpublished titles #don't expect to necessarily see them #other than ioth #that's confirmed #that's got like #i think 50k words written?#it's got a lot of words written lmao #and saw3b is also confirmed

5 notes · View notes

raging-violets · 2 years

Note

free ask! you can talk about whatever you want!

Thanks for this ask, Leaf. Sorry about how long it's been to respond. I'm attempting to get the other asks done before the end of the year, but here's the perfect spot to dump my recent musings, so here we go!

There are two OCs and fics I am excited to write, and could talk people's ears off about, but still haven't really gotten started on - I have written at least the first chapter to both.

I procrastinate on it because with these two fics I want to try my hand at writing something new: a story with an unreliable narrator in regards to how the OC views events.

They both would portray the unreliable narrator aspect in different ways:

Connie Sinclair, "Collateral Damage" a Stargirl Fanfic

Connie Sinclair is like a lot of the other students at Blue Valley High, looking for their place in the world, and their one way ticket out of small town life. Softball was it for her. And for her parents, Connie was their one-way ticket to a “seat” at Dragon King’s table. While under the influence of Miraclo, which her parents slip into her daily protein shakes as a means to try and earn said seat at Dragon King’s table, Connie Sinclair’s alter-ego Cardinal comes out. When acting as Cardinal, Connie doesn’t remember her actions. Connie doesn’t exist. Upon waking, Connie has giant gaps in her memory; increasing length of time that she just can’t recall. So while she, as Connie thinks things are happening one way, her actions as Cardinal, and the subsequent injuries, and tattered clothing she finds shoved deep in the back of her closet, shows that’s not the case. As she attempts to unravel the reasoning behind the lapse in her memory, Courtney and her inexperienced team uncover just how deeply embedded into Blue Valley society their parents really are.

Brynn Callaway, "Cross My Line" a Power Rangers Fanfic

Brynn Callaway grew up in an affluent environment. The Callaway name held a lot of weight; even more so as it’s plastered all over Angel Grove as the biggest sponsor of the Angel Grove Restoration Project. Her parents often reminded her how perfect she needed to be, how she deserved the best, how in the world of ballet and volleyball she was untouchable. Thus, she needed to be the perfect representation of her parents. She knew how to schmooze the “big names” at charity functions and how to give the perfect sound bite for the media. All the boring stuff. And when she was bored, which was often, she liked to spice things up; make things more exciting. An embellishment here, a lie there, she could have anyone and everyone eating her stories out of the palm of her hand. Though, that also meant she took any small slight as a personal attack. If someone didn’t believe her lie, or even had the gall to piece everything together enough to call her out, they were public enemy number one. The perfect candidate for Lord Zedd’s Dark Rangers.

I know this is the way I want to write these fics, and it's what makes me excited for them in the first place. At the same time, I do get those "new fic/plot idea jitters" from time to time. Especially when trying out a new plot device or writing style like I’ve been thinking for these two.

But yeah, I'm super proud of these ideas, and keep saying it's coming "soon" but haven't yet pulled the trigger on it. Just stuck on how to ultimately get the ball rolling on it.

#witchofinterest #answered ask #ask #rhuben answered #oc talk #oc: connie sinclair #oc: brynn callaway #stargirl oc #power rangers oc #where i'm at right now #thanks for the question!

3 notes · View notes

moretinyideas · 5 years

Text

Sparkles On The Water [1] | Do Kyungsoo

[5] Lunar Myths Saga Story Two

genre: wolf!kyungsoo x mermaid!female reader (oc - wang inhui) (ft male oc - wang junhui)

chapter summary: (PART TWO) The events over the past day effects the whole pack, should Euina be allowed to know the truth? hat would happen if she’s not? Kyungsoo has always been more observant than others but then again, he’s always away… visiting you in his dreams.

words: 2200

I am considering making it one big chapter? what do you guys think? should I delete both parts and make one big chapter or should I leave it like this? ALSO do these ‘before’ bits annoy you? they can get kind of long :( I like putting them here anyway though... ALSO I'm sorry it took so long to get up HOWEVER! I do have a little surprise in stock to keep swimming with me <3

tags: @marshmallow-phd @bri-ne @high-on-food@asslikegilinsky @chanyeolol @xingminded - let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! although I’m sure Tumblr hates me and never actually sends the notifs to anyone!

[ml] - bc it’s getting a lil confusing I decided to just link the master list | part 1

Hello

KYUNGSOO

When everyone was finally awake and situated in the main room it had just passed one in the afternoon. Yixing had been back for almost an hour but Yifan and Minah had to attend to something in the city – an emergency – and only arrived back at the house a few minutes after one. The new-comers had been awake as long as he had and, while still a little awkward, the two girls had relaxed. Euina and Baekhyun were sharing funny stories – mainly about Chanyeol, Euina’s friends and Yuna – while Yuna and Sehun sat talking quietly to each other. Kyungsoo couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Sehun and his mate were getting closer. That, even though the situation was bad, Sehun had finally gotten over his nerves and talked to her.

Kyungsoo had been a little moody when he was dragged away from his sleep, he always was when he was dragged away from you, but he couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt seeing Sehun with his mate. He imagined everyone in the pack felt proud of him.

Another development had been when Minah got back. Before she had left, she had come to Euina to make her feel more comfortable surrounded by a mass of men she didn’t know.

“You told me you like to bake, right?” Minah had asked, sitting on the floor next to Euina and Baekhyun. Euina nodded. Minah‘s smile transitioned into a beaming grin. Kyungsoo watched as she clapped her hands together loudly, looking over her shoulder at him. “Great!” She exclaimed, turning back to Euina. “Kyungsoo loves to bake too! We were going to bake some red velvet cupcakes tomorrow for Yixing coming back but we can always make them earlier!” She stood up with a small bounce, extending a hand for the teenager to grab. “Right Kyungsoo?”

“Right.” He agreed with little hesitance.

It was a strange thing, having an actual child in the house but, Kyungsoo was always one to do his best to make a child happier.Euina took a glance at Yuna, who smiled back at her. With the subtle nod of her head, Euina turned back to Minah and grabbed her hand.

She motioned for Euina to enter the kitchen before them, to go help Jongin, who was already in the kitchen, wearing an apron (that only covered from the waist down) and a kind smile on his face. Euina went to him almost immediately.

“Since when were we baking for Yixing? He only went to work.” Kyungsoo said, voice lower than a whisper. The female werewolf heard him anyway.

“She doesn’t know that.” She answered in the same manner. “Besides, I thought it wouldn’t be in her best interest to sit with us while we discuss whether or not she should know the truth.”

“What’s Jongin’s view?” Kyungsoo was curious, the younger who was already in the kitchen must have already given his answer. He and Kyungsoo were similar in that way, not wanting to argue about something so, well, useless.

“Same as you, same as me, that she should know.”

Of course, Kyungsoo nodded. Jongin had always been hind hearted and even then, children were his weakness. “Good,” was all he said before the two of them entered the kitchen, making sure the door closed properly behind them.

YOU

“Tell me where on Earth you are. I’ll find you in no time.” You had asked. He had given you the best answer in the world. Turns out he was less than 100 feet away from a gate. There were nine gates all over the planet, an easy way for supernaturals to find each other. The main purpose of the gates was to connect the different supernatural planes, or universes as Junhui liked to joke. You liked the fact that the part of ocean, in the Southern Kingdom, was where the third gate was placed: The Morire Gate.

As soon as Kyungsoo had left your shared dream you woke yourself up with a pinch to one of your small fins that sat on your hips, right on the tip where it was most sensitive. You sat up from the reef you had made your bed and set off in a quest to find Junhui.

Swimming fast was always something you were good at. Due to the size of your tail, it’s long length yet slender frame was great for becoming streamline, the small fins on your waist and hips contributed to your long tail fins’ great ability to catch currents and propel you forwards even quicker. Their length also giving you a powerful kick, Kyungsoo had complimented you after watching you race a dolphin once in a shared dream.

However, swimming fast now didn’t feel the same.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest and the thin translucent webbing between your fingers kept sticking together. You were a mess of emotions and Junhui being hard to find was not something you wished to deal with at this particular moment.

Fortunately, fate was on your side for the moment, the Gods smiling down at you with fondness. You made a mental note to pray to the Lunar Goddesses in thanks for you swan right into Junhui not even a minute later.

“Woah!” He chuckled, holding your upper arms between his fingers – the webbing significantly less sticky. “Slow down, you’ll tear a fin!”

“Hui, we’re leaving.” You wasted no time in paddling around the coral.

“We’re what?”

“Leaving.”

“Alright.” He shrugged. He had always been the one to express his feelings of adventure the most between the two of you. “Where?”

“On land.” You paused, gaging his reaction. When he didn’t object you continued. “We’re going to my fated one.” You said slowly.

“Kyungsoo? Do you even know where he is?” You could hardly keep a secret from anyone, but you were never able to keep one from Junhui. However, you loved talking about Kyungsoo, so you supposed it was a situation with no loses.

“He just told me.” You smiled, conveying what your fated one had told you.

“Wow! He’s not so far away from the seventh gate! TheGuilan Gate.” Junhui exclaimed, the two of you now swimming back towards your castle.

“I know! But I don’t think he does,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

Once back at your home the two of you parted way to go to your separate quarters. You wouldn’t need much, you didn’t have the need for clothes underwater and your ‘prized possessions’ would last very long above water. What you did do, however, is swim to your mothers’ quarters to whisper into a shell you lovingly dubbed as a shell-phone. Its official name was – in fact – a whisper shell and, its purpose was to hold the last whisper uttered and share it with the next person to pick it up. Kyungsoo had said it was similar to sending a letter or texting, whatever that was.

Once finished, you placed the shell down on its opening (so your whisper wouldn’t spill out) and then placed a sand-dollar on top of it, to signal that it was ready to share a whisper. Then you left your mother’s quarters. At least she’d know you were alive now, once you left.

Around ten minutes later, you didn’t really care for the concept of time, you met back up with your brother, a human satchel over your shoulder. Inside wasn’t much, just a few shells you were particularly attached to (the smaller ones you liked putting in your hair along with shiny pearls but thatwas a different story) and a few other bits and bobs. You looked at the assortment of things Junhui held in his arms and raised and eyebrow. Wordlessly you opened the knitted bag and motioned for him to place his things inside. He did so, grinning at you.

“You know, that’ll be dripping once we’re on land, right?”

“That’s usually what happens when things are wet Hui.” You rolled your eyes. “Let’s get a move on, it’s not the longest swim to the Morire Gate but it’s still quite a swim. I don’t want to waste any more time”

And then, the two young royals left the sanctuary of their land and found themselves on land for the first time without a Lunar Moon.

What an adventure indeed.

KYUNGSOO

Just under an hour had passed since the kitchen door closed. Kyungsoo didn’t know quite what was taking them so long to decide if the thirteen-year-old girl was allowed to know their secret or not, especially since the majority of them were all for it. He couldn’t make out what most words were said (due to the fact that they had sound proofed almost every room since the technology was created) but he could hear that both Danbi, Junmyeon and Yuna were expressing different variations of concern with Euina knowing. From what his ear had caught, Danbi was worried about what would happen if she was taken and didn’t know anything – “What if those horrible rogues take her! What if they hurt her and she has no idea for what reason or what the hell is going on?”– while Junmyeon was worried about what would happen if she was taken and she knew, and the rogues tortured information out of her – “She’s a child! No one deserves to be tortured let alone a child!”– and Yuna just wanted them to stop talking about her little sister being tortured. The room had become exceptionally quieter and the cupcakes had been put into the oven, Minah thought it would be okay for them to join back up with the rest of the house.

She was wrong.

As she opened the kitchen door, Euina just in front of her with the woman’s hand on her shoulder, the seal keeping them cluelessly oblivious from the debate happening in the main room was broken.

Kyungsoo felt like his heart dropped out of his chest.

He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone exactly what was said but it was an argument between Yuna and Sehun and, Yifan and Tao while Junmyeon was stuck in the middle trying to defuse it all.

“I don’t want to even think about the fact my sister could get kidnapped and killed by a bunch of psycho rogue werewolves! All I’m saying is that I won’t lie to her.” This was the only thing Kyungsoo picked out before everything became silent.

All eyes on the door that just opened and the two girls who had walked through them. Kyungsoo and Jongin shared a look before following their steps into the main room.

“Why am I going to die?” Euina’s voice was small and cracked as she finished her sentence. Kyungsoo didn’t need Luhan’s affinity to figure out she was scared.

Yuna’s face dropped as she saw her sister in the doorframe. Sehun’s form tensing behind her, probably feeling her drop of emotions. “No. You’re not going to die.” She reassured straight away, standing from Sehun’s side to walk closer to the young girl, though Sehun stood to follow not even a second later. She knelt down “I won’t let anything happen to you if I can stop it.”

A few seconds of silence passed. “Werewolves?” Euina’s whisper was heard by everyone (apart from Danbi and Eunjin who were human enough to not have special heightened hearing) her voice still thick with emotion.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now.” Baekhyun spoke up, with a smirk on his face as the werecat sat up from his laying down position on the floor. No one acknowledged him or his pun. “No point in arguing about it now.” He sighed, standing. “Just so you know, I was all for you knowing from the get-go.” He smiled at Euina before disappearing, probably going to his room to finally sleep.

Before he knew it, Euina had ran past him, tears spilling out over her cheeks. It was like the sky was listening because soon enough, the heavens had opened, and the clouds started crying too. Yuna followed her sister through the door, even if she didn’t know her way around the house or where Euina would go in the first place.

Kyungsoo decided it would be best if he stayed out of their business.

He was just about to retreat back to his room, to try and sleep and maybe see you once again, but before anyone else moved there was a rap against the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“I’ll get it.” Kyungsoo murmured, not seeing the need to raise his voice. When everyone would hear it anyway. Plus, he was the only one standing up at the moment and he was closest to the door. It was only logical.

When he opened the door, he was met with the bare back of a woman and, when she turned his heart did leaps. It was you. You were here, on his doorstep. And you weren’t wearing a shirt.

“Hello.” Your smile stunned Kyungsoo, he began to wonder if he was still dreaming.

Another voice sounded out, sheepishly, and a man stepped out from behind his mate.

“Uh, hi.” He gave a small awkward wave.

30 notes · View notes

bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Note

>:))))))

I'm proud that a story that I'm pretty sure you enjoy was your 3000th post!

Also have fun on the road trip! I enjoy being in cars, personally, but I do also understand the need to just move and then you get cramped in the car and suddenly the music isn't enough to keep you distracted and your Brian ahs locked you out of your internal world and you can't even just get lost in the music and you are noticing Every Sensation and Detail or Everything and you Can't Turn It Off and then you can start to actually smell the smell of the car and you start getting a headache and you can't escape it- (Sorry, I got oddly specific there, that usually doesn't happen to me when I'm in cars though!!)

I will accept these rules! It is incredibly fun to hear about a series I know nothing about, and I will accept not reading it! I only have the book because my girlfriend gave it to me because she couldn't sell it and I thought the cover was cool and didn't realise it was twilight, and you can always hold my attention. Most of the time.

Speaking of you, I have to catch up on the wings au!! I want to see Linh's wings!! But I have to read like 6 or something more chapters!! This is gonna be fun. Also more void cat.

Also that meme was of ROBERT?? Bro I always wondered who it was but it was Robby Patty?? This is a travesty /lh

Ok that's kinda dissapointing about the tame vampires. But it's still cool!! I just like the whole unholy monsterousness of Vampires and parasites. (Also off topic but the only reason why vamps couldn't see their reflections in mirrors was because mirrors used silver, and modern mirrors use aluminium or something, so vamps would be able to see their reflection. Bit of a well known fact but I just like talking about it, also it would be fun to have a book about vamps in a modern setting but it isn't the bitey romance. It's pure terror about the epidemic of Vampires and no one knowing who is and who isn't until its too late, and people finding out Very Quickly that they cannot rely on the mirrors to help them.) Also that is amazing about the inside joke but also Red eyes my beloved <3

Also I love how the author went "hmm, I wonder how to make these immortal parasites not go outside during the day. Aha! They sparkle! Genius!" (/Gen) like who wouldn't want to sparkle. I'd love to sparkle. It'd probably piss people off having to see me sparkle, but that just makes it even better.

Off topic but as I haven't read the series or watched the movies, I have absolutly no clue what it's about whatsoever (Like with kotlc I still had some baseline information from my girlfriend) so I can't ask any meaningful questions but the concept of gifts sounds really cool! Also her poor sister, should been indestructible smh my head (/J)

I have no clue what my most prominent trait is but I'm gonna say either A) My absolutly, stunning, brilliantly devine good looks, B) My curiosity and love of asking questions of people that I like even if I already know the answers, C) My forgetfulness, or D) My spelling errors

Anyway I have to go now so I'm gonna send this out but yes!! Sparkly vampires!!

-Heathen

heathen! hello! It is true that I enjoy twilight, though I don't frequently talk about it in real life (my partner is the exception to that and takes like the full brunt of my twilight infodumps so huge thanks to them for that !!). Me making that post complaining about it was mostly a joke like of all the things...why that one post. It does seem fitting through, so I'm not really upset about it.

it has now been a significant length of time since the roadtrip (almost two months) but I appreciate the well wishes nonetheless! I wasn't a roadtrip for fun reasons, but we got through it. Did a lot of sitting in a car though...

but it's so annoying when you're in the zone and time is moving fast (a good thing when it's a long drive) but then all the sudden you accidentally break yourself out of it and can't get back into it and now time is infuriatingly slow and you're just Stuck There and if you try to actively go back it only makes it harder. Definitely not fun

also I have no idea what rules I proposed! it takes me a little bit to answer asks (though I am finally starting to actually make decent progress on them!!) and also I started this one and then left it in my drafts for a hot minute, so...whoops. Hang on I can probably find the post--found it! Well, the rules are rules. I simply must talk about Twilight when it's brought up. The thing is though that it can be brought up so often...my parents asked my sister how badminton went in her P.E. class yesterday and I just sat there thinking "you know, Bella Swan is really bad at playing badminton. she hit Mike in the arm hard enough to leave a bruise and herself in the head in the same swing. it was the first time Edward ever saw hos disastrous her P.E. classes were as he watched through Mike's thoughts from across the school because she'd brought up that he'd never seen her in P.E. when they were talking about lunch." But like that's not something a normal person would probably say in a conversation and I was having one of my silent moments where for some reason I haven't figured out my brain makes me not talk at all despite being fully capable.

and excellent! it's absolutely lovely to be a complete substitute for an entire series. I mean, I think I know it pretty well at this point, so while I'm not infallible I definitely know a lot of what I'm talking about. But also feel free to read it if you want to! Just like...I highly doubt it's going to have an impact on your life or anything monumental, you'll just be able to say that you've read twilight. Then again why would you need to when I'm right here /j. Jokes aside though my partner did tell me that when they helped right a Twilight-themed (i'm forgetting the word) short play? like for drama and theater but it's small? and short? not a full play? when they helped write it they used some of the knowledge I had infodumped to them about over the years they've known me

as for the wings au--if you have caught up at this point, I hope you enjoy!! if you have not, I hope you enjoy it if you do decide to get caught up! There's a new chapter coming out this weekend and while I do have to do some finally additions to it that I am dreading, I am overall looking forward to sharing!! I may or may not have accidentally written myself into a bit of sticky situation, but I'll figure it out

yes that meme was of robert. it got quite popular within the fandom, so whenever I see it I'm always like ah yes. robert pattinson. it's the twilight tracksuit meme. there were several edits made, though my mind usually defaults to this one (linked)

same!! I don't know if you've noticed based on how I write the wings au, but I kinda like monsters to be more monstrous. there's nothing wrong with having tame vampires or anything, just a personal preference that there be something a little less human about them. though it is true that the Cullens are more civilized than any other vampires there are. they all kept their humanity when they were changed, so it may be less to do with the vampires as a whole being untamed and just the uniqueness of the cullen coven. I mean if you've read The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner (I'm assuming you haven't) you'd see that the newborns (proper newborns, not boring bella) are very much governed by instinct and an insatiable need for blood, a desire to feed. It's all they think about, practically out of their minds with bloodlust when they're thirsty.

(also I, too, love that mirror fact! It's one of my favorite little lesser known bits of vampire lore and whenever I see it reflected--pun unintended--in media it's a little haha I know something about that moment. there are moments where I'm willing to excuse the inaccuracy for the sake of humor, but othertimes it's like hmm. realistically this is not actually a problem at all because you could definitely 100% see your reflection. it would be interesting to see modern or futuristic vampire story where the reflection thing comes into play the way you suggested!!)

we can sparkle together!! I wouldn't turn donw immortality, and sparkling in the sun just seems like an added bonus. And while the decision to make vampires glitter is one that is very frequently ridiculed, I happen to find it amusing enough that I don't care. It's also a relatively minor part of the story so maybe I'm just focused on other things. I mean, yes they sparkle but also there skin is rock-hard and very cold which has more impact on the story. The sparkling is just like "oh yea we can't go out in the sun and that's why we live in Forks." But aside from that it's not really mentioned aside from when Bella marvels at it and is like "wow this guy is so beautiful" and Edward's simultaneously like "I am disgusting and hideous and monstrous." He's very angsty.

same with the gifts thing!! I always find the idea of a most prominent trait affecting a character some way fascinating, like this one thing about them that is so important it stays with them no matter what. It does make me wonder what Freaky Fred was like in his human life (he's character from short second life), as he literally repulsed everyone physically, mentally, emotionally) around him to keep himself safe. Like that is such a unique reaction and if gifts truly are a main traits carried over, Freaky Fred is of great interest to me.

not sure exactly how any of those would translate into twilight vampire gifts, but in the event you are turned into an undead creature of the night please do update me as I am very curious what your gift would be.

I hope you're doing well!! I have at least one or two more asks from you to answer, so I will get to those. This one happened to get forgotten for a little bit, but hopefully that will happen less. I have been using drafts less for this very reason, though sometimes I get interrupted and have to save it as a draft to go do something else and then I forget for an eternity. But! Either way it's nice to hear from you!!

#i have so many twilight thoughts #when I reread the series about a month ago it was very intriguing #and I noticed a thing #which wasn't like hidden but also like wow. that's. wow #to me at least #and also read bree's short story #which made me get really attached to her #which sucked because I already knew how her story was going to end #quil's queries #heathen nonsie #random #long post

1 note · View note

spectraspecs-writes · 2 years

Text

Writing has been really hard lately. (Except apparently for this post which is going on a bit, lol.)

Not "I can't get words on the page" - I can't even pull the page out. I can't tell if it's just executive dysfunction, lack of motivation, boredom, if I'm just busy, if I'm overthinking, or what. It's been over two years since I worked on anything but kotor fic. Sure, I've read past works, I think I've even made comment-edits on other WIPs, but I haven't actually worked on them. I want to finish this. This is the thing I want to do. But I can't actually get myself to do it. And the fact that I spend so little time at a computer with real internet access doesn't make it easier.

But. I have a prompt list from ages ago stored in my drafts. I can't access tumblr on most work computers, but I can access my company email and that gives me a place to put stuff. I also have a notebook that I don't intend to use for novelling - it doesn't have the requirements for a novel notebook (no rear pocket, for one thing.)

But then the question becomes, will I actually do that? I know myself pretty well, I can be pretty honest with myself. If someone offers to get me a book, for example, I say thanks for the gesture but I will not read it. If my brother asks "do you want me to send you this video?" I tell him that I will not watch it. It's nothing against him. Truthfully I don't know what it is. But I know what I will and won't do, and I've gotten a lot better at not promising things that I will not do. Including to myself.

I think the reason I haven't picked up my notebook again in a couple months is because I have a question to answer. A question of cuts. Anyone who knows me irl will tell you I talk a lot. Kotor fic could be a lot longer than it is, which is a nightmare to fathom given that I've hit the climax and would still not be surprised if I ended up with 200 chapters. I could make this shit longer. I DON'T, because while I haven't seen any of my regular readers in my notes for a while, I know they may come back, or I may get new readers, and I have to make the story worth reading.

When I say "cuts", I mean that less in the sense of "deleted scenes" and more in the sense of CRISPR. I'm not cutting any of the meat of the scenes, just taking out paprika, to further the food metaphor. While I can't say the purpose paprika serves in dishes that use it a LOT, in the dishes I use it in - deviled eggs and chicken tetrazzini come to mind - it's just color. You can make the dish without it and it doesn't take anything away. That's what I'd be cutting in the text - stuff the characters need to know, but you don't.

The current chapter that I'm writing is told in flashbacks, from Carth's perspective. The chunk that'll get those cuts takes place on Taris. We already know how the problems on Taris got solved. That was taken care of one hundred chapters ago. I do not need to share bits of information about how Bastila is rumored to be in the Undercity. That problem has been solved. So that bit? Cut. Easy. I had actually written the bulk of that this time last year, was proud of it, and I'm glad I found a way to include it.

This little ficlet is 10 8.5x11" pages long, and it's not finished. I've filled in some of the essential bits when I still had... let's call it the will to write. But even unfinished it's still very good and gives a lot of insight into the Carth I've written. There are, however, two problems with it.

Problem one: the length of it. Again, the ficlet is set after the escape pod crashes on Taris and focuses on Carth trying to figure out the situation. So it includes a lot of information that he would have needed to know at the time. There are a lot of easy cuts to make - Carth talking to residents of the South Apartments, Carth in the cantina, scouting out the Upper City - and those cuts have been made, easy peasy. The cuts that are harder are the ones I've been deliberating on, specifically Carth trying to get a read on the most important aspect of this situation: Rena.

And the length problem is not helped by problem two: I wrote the ficlet in third person past tense, as opposed to the rest of the fic which is first person present tense. There are some parts, especially after the Leviathan, where I switch to third person past tense for dramatic effect, but for the most part I stick to first person present. And I would like to do that for this chapter. But I wrote the ficlet first intending to share it on AO3 after I finished kotor fic, so it didn't have to match the format. So I have two options here: I either leave it as is, which looks tacky but makes cuts easier. Or I rewrite it to first person present, which makes things longer and harder to cut, but it serves the narrative purpose I want it to serve.

----

Then we get to the other flashbacks. I determined I want one on Tatooine, one on Kashyyyk, and one on Korriban. I finished Kashyyyk, and it's short. But there's nothing I can do to make it longer, it's just short. And I was working on Korriban when I last pulled my notebook out. It's very angsty, but also heart squishy and I truly can't wait to pick it back up, which makes me wonder why I haven't. But I try not to dwell on that, because I have other worth as a person than the words I put on a page. I don't know where I want to put Tatooine yet, although I have some thoughts? I just haven't thought too much about it. I considered putting one on Dantooine, but the flashback I would put there is already in the story, in Chapter 40 when Rena goes camping without him.

----

Am I thinking too much about it? Oh, hell yeah. Writing is still fun, but I get quicker fun by not doing it. At work I usually spend the entire day playing pyramid solitaire - I'm at level 100! I don't have to think about it anymore, I play mindlessly. But it's rare that I manage to close the game and pick up my pen. And I wish it wasn't. But damned if I know how to fix that.

#writing is hard #kotor fic

0 notes