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neshatriumphs · 4 years

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IV. Ability and Accountability

By the time they made it back to the fortress, Simon was so weak that he was crawling. Grace walked unto the property while Lucy directed some of the other witches to carry him away. He couldn’t pass the fortress’ barrier without the proper passage, and Simon had none. “What do I do with your new pet rat?” Lucy wondered.

Grace sputtered some air through her lips and thought about where there might be space. “Well, we’ve occupied most of the backup places because of the Conductor’s attacks on the outer realms. I think that the best place for him is my solitude cottage.”

“Are… you going to be in there while he’s in there?”

“I’ll check up on him, make sure the healing process flows.”

Lucy reached for her dress to pull her attention lower. Grace kneeled to Lucy’s level to hear what she had to say. “If you give the Queen a conductor’s baby, she WILL implement a sterilization curse on all of us.”

“Lucy!”

“Don’t think about your loins. Think about the future.”

Lucy didn’t have anything else to say. She was a junior master of animal related magic. She knew how pheromones worked and with those two, there was almost an instant trigger of Grace’s body… responding to that blond heretic. Lucy had not yet gotten the chance to assess him around the princess, but she certainly would. There was no way that she was leaving her to her own devices with him, or worst - to his devices. “Take the heretic to the princess’ cottage. Instill the highest degree of security and put him in stasis. Have two guards stationed at all times. Armed ones. He’s dangerous. I can smell it on him.”

Lucy smelled nothing but blood whenever Simon was near. She didn’t know if that was because he had been covered in it when they first saw him or because he regularly had it on him and it had become part of his natural scent - but she knew the smell of blood very well. The smell of a massacre. Of the hunt. Had she not been as good as magic as she was, it would have been the smell of her fate. When she was 4, she flew on her first bird to escape the Conductor’s raid of her village and lost her eye in the process of trying to tame the thing long enough to convince it that she was a friend who needed help. The princess had saved her and taken her in. The princess had been moved by her bravery and her strength. When so many other raid refugees were sent to recovery camps, awaiting safe spaces to become denizens, now that their homes had been ravaged, Grace had said, “Let me keep this one.”

The Queen looked at her and figured that Grace just wanted a pet. A little orphan girl that was good enough with magic to communicate with animals, despite never having had a lesson a day in her life. “If you can give back a working eye, you can keep her as your pet.”

“Mom, she’s a witch and a survivor. Have some respect.” Grace had brought herself to Lucy’s level for the first time that day. She pulled off her glove and said, “I’m sorry for what they’ve taken from you, but I’m glad that you’re still here.” She reached out, touched Lucy’s damaged eye… and Lucy felt like her brain was on fire. She screamed an agonizing scream and Grace quickly tried to comfort her and regretted ever attempting the fix. She pulled her glove back on and collected the girl, cradled her and carried her into her room.

“You didn’t fix it, Grace!” Her mother called out, but never bothered her about Lucy again. Lucy just belonged to Grace, now. Grace had bandaged the girl up and nursed her, herself. It was the first person that she had actually physically taken care of herself, and Lucy was confident that she just always would, so she made it up in her mind that she was going to take care of her too.

Simon was down for three days. He tried to get up several times, but wound up feeling drained and had to sit right back down. Whenever he was resting someone would come in and do things around the room. He was awake one time, and saw Grace, blooming flowers and he could literally see the healing properties flow from their blooms in pink and purple mist form. She danced around, moving the energy of the room, inviting in the good and ushering out the bad. He clutched the fluffy, heated, weighted covers to himself and watched her eagerly, but weakly. She made a pink and purplish cloud in the room and Simon inhaled it and felt his pain subside and his body going to sleep…

By the time he was able to get up and get out, he wandered out into what appeared to be training grounds. He stumbled out, and sat on a rock, tired. "Okay, so what Lucy's going to do is summon the owls, swirl them for a windstorm and use the windstorm to collapse this wall. Ready, Lucy?"

"Yes, Grace."

"Okay. Because if you fail, you know we'll have to kill you."

"Understood, Grace!" The girl said with a smile.

Simon was intrigued.

That seemed a faulty way to conduct lessons, but at the same time, there were plenty of students that had he killed them during lessons, they might not have had costly failures in the field. But, if someone messed up in the field and it cost you, they died right there. That was Simon's method. The Conductor couldn't suffer mistakes. Now Grace? She put on that sweet act, but this might show him the ruthless side of Grace that he knew she had, from the stories. This might show him the beast that he believed was beneath the beauty… the indescribable beauty...

Lucy waved her arms and made a sound that sounded like an owl. Her eye began to glow and her hair blew in the wind. Grace and several witches watched as owls flew to Lucy, flying in circles around her to match her hand movements. The winds were very severe. Simon had to get his footing and hold on to the rock. But, the wall only slightly shifted and the owls flew away without it having been knocked down. Lucy frowned and folded her arms.

Grace gave her a sympathetic smile and said, "Next time, I'm sure. Everyone take a break." The other witches rushed away, while Lucy stayed to practice.

"When do you kill her?" Simon asked from the rock. Grace and Lucy both looked at him, then each other. He walked over and explained himself. "You said that if she failed, you'd kill her and she failed miserably."

"It was a joke," Grace said. "Do they not have those in Conductor Territories?"

"Yes, but why joke about something so crucial? The difference between getting that spell right and whatever it is she just did are life and death. It makes sense to take away life for such failures. If she isn’t powerful enough to do simply training tasks, how can you even trust her beside you when it really counts?"

"Lucy, please excuse us." Lucy walked away slowly, adjusting the hair in the back of her head as she did. Grace blinked her eyes at Simon…

"I'm not sure exactly what made you think that I wanted or needed your input, but Lucy is a child! You don't get to talk about how miserably you think that she did and you don't get to speak about her like she's nothing just because she didn't do so well, in your eyes."

"I just think that you should be honest about your expectations and serious about your penalties."

“Well, I think you should be honest about minding your business whenever it comes to my magic. You’re alive because of it. Furthermore… You kill children? Over mistakes?”

“What? No. But… is Lucy a real child? Like… You have a real child as your bodyguard?”

“As my…” Grace laughed and held her belly as she did. “My bodyguard? Dude… Lucy isn’t my bodyguard. She’s just very cautious and trying to do her best.” She didn’t want to say more to him about who Lucy was, because that could put the girl in danger, but definitely had to clear the air about having a 7 year old bodyguard, despite the fact that Lucy was extremely advanced in magic for her age and that was one of the main reasons that she was chosen.

“I thought it was a familiar that took on the most bizarre alternative form…”

“Familiar? You have familiars in the Conductor’s practice?” Grace asked, horrified. Simon didn’t know why her tone was so alarmed, but he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. The truth was that he was the only person that he knew of to have one, but he didn’t want to say that, considering Grace’s reaction. He wanted to see her have a genuine reaction to SOMETHING. “Familiars are explicitly bonded to natural magic. They would DIE before committing to a fake witch, so all of your familiars are either some type of horrid abomination, or enslaved souls being forced to serve at the behest of the unclean by some new unspeakable horror that the fake witches call magic.”

He glared at her. “I’ll have you know that The Cat is VERY committed to me and I haven’t ever known of her to have any complaint whatsoever, and if you’re suggesting that she’s any less of a companion than your weird little cyclops failure witch, we can fight about it right now.”

“The Cat,” Grace said, suspiciously. She remembered the paw print of a cat whenever she crumbled the curse a week ago. Surely… the same person who did that wasn’t bold or stupid enough to just come back into their territory, flashing skin and green eyes, thinking that he could… whatever he was here for. Surely… This was not the person who was attacking her people. This was a student of the Conductor, yes. But, he was just a simple student who had gotten lost and attacked, and they were mending him and sending him back, because they had no proof that he had committed anything beyond heresy, and due to the fact that there was a school that preyed upon orphans and poor children, The One had become lenient to young Conductor practitioners in Grace’s lifetime. They were allowed to experience the realms of the One and to be assimilated, to be salvaged from the Conductor’s grasp. But, if Simon was the wizard slaying her denizens, citizens, and allies…

“Yeah. The Cat,” he said. You couldn’t give a natural witch the name of a familiar, because they could call upon them and possibly utilize them for their bidding. To protect Samantha, Simon had taken to calling her “The Cat,” no matter who he was speaking to about her. The only person that he knew for sure even knew her name was Amelia.

“I’d like to meet her,” Grace told him.

“That’s an important sign to me to keep her away from you.”

Grace bit her lip, in thought and walked away. She might have to try to bring a witch with her that was good at assessing the story of scenes through touching the things left there. But… until then, maybe Lucy was right and this was a dangerous conductor. He certainly had a lot of runes for a lot of magic. She supposed that his age and his looks got the best of her. Because, even with wondering if he might be a horrible wizard… she still took note of the fact that he had on a crop top long sleeved hooded shirt that covered his arms but left his V and his happy trail exposed. His pants hung low on his waist, bogged down a little bit by the things on his belt, the weapons and other things he must’ve felt it necessary to carry around. And… his eyes. She stared at him, looking into them was like being washed away in deep seas of green waters, sparkling in the sun’s majesty… “When can I leave?” he asked, and it was like the waves crashed into her and splashed her out of a stupor.

“Whenever you want. But, if you need a guide, you’ll have to wait for an available escort. Otherwise, we’ve gotta activate the labyrinth. You feel ready to defend yourself against another ghom?”

He considered his options. He didn’t know if he would ever feel ready to defend himself against another ghom, and he had yet to get enough intel to bring in a raid party. Plus, he hadn’t gotten closer to her trusting him and being able to get close enough to slay her. He gave her a small, almost bashful smile and shrugged, “No… I guess not. Well, Princess. I guess for the time being, I’m all yours.” She heard a muffled whimper that she knew came from her, even though she couldn’t feel herself make that sound. His eyebrow raised. “I can help you teach your students better magic. That wall should’ve come down no problem.”

She smiled and folded her arms, “You knock it down. Using only wind.”

He nodded his head, shoved his hands out in front of him and began to rotate his wrists. She could see the green glowing shining through is hooded shirt, and of course, the light of his green eyes. She felt the winds power up and noticed the students all watching, with only Lucy’s back being pointed towards him. Simon knocked down half of the rocks that were there making up the wall. The students clapped. Lucy stayed still. Simon looked at his hands and at the only half damaged wall. “I’m not at 100%,” he said.

Grace gave him a sympathetic smile and said, "Next time, I'm sure.” She patted him on the back and slapped playfully at his hair, causing him to blush, then she gathered up her own winds to set the boulders back up for the next round of practice. But first, she had a lesson to teach them all about ability and accountability. Simon saw the students sitting down in front of her, in the dirt as she lectured, barefoot, in front of them and he sat down too, next to Lucy, who just gave him a look, which he returned. They did not care for each other, but they turned away at the same time to give their attention back to Grace.

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #Intertwined by Nesha

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kittykatknits · 7 years

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Hi hi! I just read an answer of yours where you said you have a theory about Sansa being an empath. I'd love to know more about it but couldn't find anything here. Did you write something about that? If so, could you please send me a link for it?? Bye, and thank you so much, I love your blog! :)

Anon asks: What’s this theory about Sansa being an empath? I never heard about it before.

First, thank you @twiseei for those kind words! :)

Ok, the Sansa as an empath theory. I’ve written about it before, but not actually here on Tumblr that I can recall. It’s not a popular idea, by any means, but there are others I’ve discussed this theory with in the past.

First, Sansa as an empath is something I use as way to engage with the text. It’s not a theory that I would argue strongly for or tag as meta because it’s closer to crack. I believe the fandom term is tin foil, yeah? So, I listed it specifically as my theory because of it. It’s one of those things that makes the books more enjoyable for me. Honestly, I rate this as more believable than Howland Reed is the High Septon but really far down the list when compared to something else, like Aegon is a Blackfyre.

The idea of Sansa as an empath first came to me sometime after aFfC was published, don’t remember exactly when. It was the result of exploring magic as part of Sansa’s story line. Specifically, the idea that Lady is still a presence for Sansa even though the wolf physically died in the first book.

Jon says this in the very first chapter:

Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.“

Then we get this is in Eddard IV (bold emphasis mine):

Bran’s wolf had saved the boy’s life, he thought dully. What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa’s, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done?

If the wolves were sent by the gods and the Starklings were meant to have them, then it is possible that Lady’s death alone is not enough to sever the link between Sansa and her wolf? If the link is still there, then that leads to wondering how this link is shown.

Now, we see Sansa’s siblings all have wolf dreams throughout the story, even if they don’t realize that’s what they are. It would make sense that Sansa does not because of Lady’s death. But, there are two incidents that always made me wonder:

Tyrion dressed himself in darkness, listening to his wife’s soft breathing from the bed they shared. She dreams, he thought, when Sansa murmured something softly—a name, perhaps, though it was too faint to say—and turned onto her side.

-Tyrion VII, SoS

We don’t know if it is a name or who’s name it could be at that point. But, it’s possible we are told later:

That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion’s eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I’ll have a song from you,” he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. “I wish that you were Lady,” she said.

-Sansa VI, SoS (bold emphasis mine)

She has a restless night, full of dreams and many names appear in that description. Yet, upon waking, it is Lady’s name Sansa refers too. This led to the idea that Sansa may not have wolf dreams in the same way as her siblings, but she still has dreams.

So, if Lady is still with Sansa, how would it be displayed? After all, she’s not up north with Jon and Bran, surrounded by the old gods. She’s not with Arya at magic assassin school. Sansa is in KL and the Vale, interacting with Cersei, LF, Joffrey, and other real winners. Her story features politics, diplomacy, and court intrigue. Her mantra is “courtesy is a lady’s armor.” Superficially, it appears magic plays no role in her story at all. Yet, the old gods sent her a wolf and Lady is still with Sansa, at least in her dreams. There is some magic, even if it isn’t to the same degree as the other Starks.

If magic, and a connection to Lady, is part of Sansa’s story, I wondered what it would look like. Her courtesy, and how to wield it, is a skill that grows in the story. We first see her wielding it in GoT when she meets both Renly and Barristan. Later, it comes out in a more polished manner in her Winds gift chapter. Sansa puts a lot of effort in thinking on what to say, how to present herself, what to wear, and so on. She studies people and tries to determine their thoughts and motivations.

Despite this, there are times when it appears almost instinctual for her. There are other exmples, but I’ll limit this to only a few. First, there is this interaction with Tyrion:

“I would sooner return to my own bed.” A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. “This tower was where my father’s men were slain. Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked."Tyrion Lannister studied her face. "I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa.

-Sansa III, aCoK

Her motivations have nothing to do with nightmares, but a desire to continue seeing Dontos. The lie came to her suddenly and she blurted it out. It’s different than the lie we see earlier in the book, when she struggles to save Dontos. It comes easier to her and it turns out to be the perfect thing for her to say. Tyrion believes her. Later in the same book, she sings to the Hound:

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don’t kill me, she wanted to scream, please don’t. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears.

- Sansa VII, aCoK

It’s very similar to her earlier interaction with Tyrion. She remembered, it came to her, she says it because it feels right. As it turns out, the Mother’s Hymn was exactly the song to give, the influence on the Hound is still being felt when we later meet him as the gravedigger.

Finally, we have this observation by Tyrion:

Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed.

- Tyrion VIII, SoS

That passage takes place during the PW when Tyrion and Sansa are in the yard. Here, Tyrion explicitly describes them performing the necessary courtesies which Sansa does with Ser Gyles and a few others. However, her compliment leaves Lancel and Ser Kevan beaming. Not pleased or thankful, but beaming. If we take into account what happens to the two of them further in the story, Sansa’s compliment is an incredibly powerful thing. Kevan is broken up over what happened to his son, to a degree that Sansa would have no way of knowing about. Somehow, she stumbled upon the perfect thing to say. And she did it effortlessly.

Now, Sansa lies a lot. Like a lot. She lies about her love of Joffrey and loyalty to the IT, which no one believes. She lies about going to the godswood. She lies to SR because some lies are kindly meant. She lies to LF because she knows what he wants to hear, lies and Arbor gold. She lies to the Lords Declarant., thinking how her tears would help. She plans what to say and how to behave all through the books.

Yet, every once in a while, something will spill from her lips, without thought or plans, and each time, they turn out to be the exact perfect thing to say. In the first example, she did it to make sure her escape plans continue. In the second, she did it with a knife to her throat while the Hound is suffering a very obvious break.

Sansa, as a character, is strongly associated with empathy, probably more than any other in the books. She helps Lancel, tries to comfort Lollys when crossing the drawbridge, talks to the women during the Blackwater, understands the Hounds’s fear of fire, and so many other examples I could go on for hours.

But, she doesn’t have a wolf to ride with into battle or protect from an assassin. She doesn’t have a wolf to tell her of the free folk close by. But, that doesn’t mean Lady isn’t still protecting her in some way, even if she is physically gone.

So, what if Lady is that instinctual part of Sansa, the unexplained? If Sansa was meant to have her, maybe she still does in some way.

Also, other traits of an empath that Sansa displays: knowing things without explanation, feeling the emotions of others, knowing when someone is lying (she’s getting much better at this), looking out for the helpless (Dontos and Lollys), creativity (singing and dancing, needlework), daydreaming (think of her love of songs and stories).

Basically, this theory is taking certain traits of Sansa, specifically her natural empathy, which is only growing stronger, and trying to connect it to Lady.

Like I said, this is something I consider closer to crack, the textual evidence is weak. It is not something I would present as an argument when discussing Sansa’s character. However, I do believe there is something to the idea of Lady still being with Sansa, even if we don’t (and never will) understand what that something is. After all, the gods sent her the wolf, Sansa was meant to have her. If Lady is a part of Sansa, then that part is already in Winterfell, waiting for her to return home. And I am absolutely convinced, that connection, whatever it is, is not so easily broken.

#Sansa Stark #anon asks #sansa is an empath theory #my meta #feel free to ask #feel free to ignore

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thenightisland · 7 years

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you know the drill:

this is becoming like its own series but idk how else to explain this awful year i don’t even feeling like properly linking so here’s just the URLs of the other ones in the series: 1. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161087786689/explanationsupdates-under-the-cutmore-i 2. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161920216354/additional-updatesexplanations-under-the-cut 3. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/163767959805/updates-under-the-cutmore-post-one-post-two-on 4. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/164398486219/on-the-fourth-edition-of-what-the-fuck-is

one of the assessors got jumped a while back. she was just walking past a pt in the main assessment dept and he jumped up, punched her in the back of the head, took her to the ground and beat the fuck out of her. she was out for weeks and weeks and had broken facial bones. i can’t believe she didn’t quit.

our nurse executive quit though. not like, went prn or gave two weeks notice, like just straight up was like I’M DONE and walked out which honestly is the closest i’ve ever come to respecting him.

while having more psychologically unstable pts isn’t new, having more medically unstable pts has been a problem lately. like our crash cart is not like a medical hospital’s crash cart it’s like. an ambu bag some iv supplies and a stethoscope no lifesaving medications. when a pt has a medical issue we send them out to a medical hospital because obv we don’t have the resources to treat complex medical issues where we work. which didn’t used to be an issue because you’d used to see maybe two medical codes a year on my unit. we’ve had /ten/ since my last update post /just on my shift/. two of which weren’t even “pt is going downhill fast” codes they were “pt has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing” like we had to fucking bring two people back from the goddamn dead /within ten minutes of each other/. we’re all like we’re psych nurses man if we wanted to do this shit we’d work er. [and the er we’re required to send these pts to is awful like they sent us back a guy who had almost died twice in three days who had an /untreated brain tumor/ bc obv he’s totally fine]. or we’ve been doing mash unit style medicine like the suicidal kid with partial thickness burns all over his chest and neck that literally no one was doing anything about. we were debriding burns with a mixture of different PO IM and SQ drugs to achieve the same effect as IV morphine because debriding is extremely painful but not doing it will just make things worse and no one else seemed to care so we just fucking did it. like we’ve done so much medical nursing lately. like the one with the uncontrolled severe seizures that led to the medical hospital labeling her first break schizophrenia despite no family history of mental illness but /five different medical issues that all cause psychosis/. or the one they let on the unit despite being on the do not readmit who has untreated hiv that he actively tries to give to other people and /active tuberculosis/. or the one with the aneurysm. or the one with severe CHF. and on and on and on. and remember: we’re not the most medically unstable unit in the hospital because we have a 40 bed /geriatric psych unit/ so you can imagine the kind of pts /they’re/ getting. on the plus side, all of our ten odd codes lived.

my personal life is still a goddamn mess, of course, but that’s a given. don’t even know where to begin with all that. and i can’t talk about a lot of it which makes it that much more fun.

i had an entire crisis about the odyssey [which tbh is still kind of going on even after /weeks/] because i’m getting so cagey in memphis because i fucking hate this town. and i just got back from new orleans which is the closest thing i have to an ithaca at the moment and it killed me to come back to this fucking city.

i’m also really paranoid right now because after i come back from vacations, something terrible always happens and i’m not exaggerating it’s like clockwork to the point that the bad things have all happened between friday and sunday after i’ve returned from my vacation, each time, without fail. well that would be this weekend so i am just waiting to see what great horrors await me this goddamn time. [last time, it was the whole coworker killed in vehicular homicide thing]. but i guess paranoia isn’t the right word. you’re only paranoid if you’re wrong, and my life has already set the precedent. so i guess anxious is the better word.

the anxiety is increased given that my mother has been out of work all week because they’ve had trouble regulating her blood sugar and so she’s been really sick and even said so herself she’ll probably end up in the er over the weekend because she doesn’t think she can make it till her next doc appt because she’s miserable, and she’s already been in the er once when this weird shit started happening a month or so ago so the Vacation Curse has me even more concerned than usual, which is saying something.

there’s a new psych doc working now and everyone is really unsettled by him and we’re pretty sure he’s a genuine psychopath like completely without exaggeration and he’s already done a lot of really creepy things to/with staff members and one nurse said in passing “i’ve known a lot of doctors like him he’ll end up fucking a pt at some point” which we initially left to hyperbole but he’s been doing shit like transporting female pts to other units without the staff’s consent in his own car which is like all kinds of not allowed, and the way he talks to some of the staff is just downright rapey honestly. and so we had a rough case this summer who, through the combined efforts of my squad, we got her from a diagnosis of intellectual disability with schizophrenia, nonverbal, self harming all the time, history of physical and sexual abuse, constantly in restraints and on a 1:1 obs level to a new diagnosis of autism spec with ptsd because her “hallucinations” were /flashbacks/ and she ended up very social and verbose and like fucking read william blake for fun and had a great sense of humor and was off all special observations and had a transfer to another facility pending so she could get more 1:1 long term therapy, and the creepy doctor was covering her case while her actual doc was out of town and he rode all the way to the other hospital with her which is another thing you do not do, and we found out from a coworker that she is now a /2:1/ [two staff members within arm’s reach 24/7], self harming again, in full shutdown/meltdown mode, and nonverbal. and it was such a rapid deterioration that all of us lost sleep over the possibility that this creepy doctor might have done something because even after she was at the other hospital and therefore no longer our pt, /he kept going to see her/. which fucked us up a lot because we were the ones who worked so hard for so long with her. like even the thought of it.

recently had 25th birthday so naturally had a crisis about that because i’d always said my goal was to be out of memphis by 25 and yet here we are.

another of our fave pts, esp one of /my/ fave pts, died out of literally nowhere. the day before my birthday. so that was great.

also felt really surreal to see the news about the convictions in the holly bobo case, which i found out about when one of my coworkers was reading the news on his phone during a lull one night i forgot that to him and everyone else it’s a national news story [hell it even has its own wikpedia page] but to me it’s just /holly/ because she was /in the class above me in our nursing program/. my first semester in college i remember seeing her face on missing posters on every building on campus. so it was really a weird moment of dissociation for me. glad the motherfucker was found guilty on all charges, obv.

the tech of mine who got his skull slammed into the floor, the one who’s been out with what can only be called severe psychological trauma, is supposed to be coming back the third week in october. which i just. i mean i’m glad because he’s one of our best guys, but i’m also like /why the fuck would he come back/ because he could be a fucking english professor again. motherfucker spent part of his youth growing up in italy and montreal, lived on the west coast for years, /was/ a college professor, did time as a script doctor in LA, and was a fucking thriller novelist who just gone girled himself for whatever reason and ended up working with us. there’s literally a reddit thread asking if anyone knows what happened to him and i want to be like don’t worry it’s fine he works with me. but so we’re like why would you come back to this place after what happened to you when you have so many other options available to you????? what are you running from that makes you so desperate to keep centering your life around a locked acute psych ward???? why did you gone girl yourself to begin with??? like he was screwed up enough there for a while that he wasn’t even answering his calls or texts and our boss had to send the police to do welfare checks on him because he lives alone so it’s like man why not go back to the life you had before and /get away from all of this/ it’s not like my situation where i’d rather be living a different life but have never done so, he already has the foundation because he’s already lived a different life he has an in that i don’t have and i can’t for the life of me figure out why he thinks working as an acute pysch tech is the better option.

but i mean. we /do/ call our unit the hotel california for a reason.

#karen's adventures in trying to sort her life out #this got longer than i intended whoops

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missterius · 6 years

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2018 Writing Wrap-Up

And again we get to the part of the New Year where I post a bunch of stuff about writing that’s more for me than anyone else.

I didn’t get around to sharing anything during 2018, not because I didn’t like anything that I wrote. Mostly because I think I’d want to start a new blog for writing-related things - this blog is enough of a mess already without adding my writing into the mix - and I just didn’t have the motivation to set it up.

With that, let’s get into it!

Total for 2018: 171,410

Firstly, may I just say that that word count is completely insane. I included a journal that I wrote about my life this year, which I normally don’t do (but this one was written discussing everything going on in my chaotic life looking back on awhile when I didn’t journal, so it’s more narrative than most of my journal writing), which definitely helped boost the number of words. Still, this is over twice what I wrote in 2017! I write more than I think I do, because I’ve been feeling like I haven’t used writing enough as an outlet. I think 2018 has proved that sometimes I don’t realize how much I actually write.

The focus this year remained mostly on short stories. There was a lot of writing based around silly concepts that start out completely ridiculous and then take a dark turn at the end, casting the main character in a different light. I’m trying to be more versatile with my characters, making them more shades of gray than black and white. One other thing I noticed is that I really like writing multiple short stories based around the same characters/world. I love tying things together, or leaving endings open for potential sequels, even in short stories.

While I really do like a lot of what I wrote during 2018, and it’s hard to pick out highlights without including too much, I did notice looking back that my 1st person POV tends to sort of be cookie cutter. The characters may differ, but they use the same kind of language and thought processes as each other. I’m guessing this is because I don’t write loads in 1st person POV, so that may be a goal for 2019.

The longest thing I wrote this year was a WIP novel, Creature of Scandal, which I wrote during NaNo and hit 50,000 words on.

Okay, with that, I’m going to get into the highlights:

‘He shot me a panicked look, but what could I do? Did he want me to tell a priest that sitting the two of them at the same table was a bad idea because this grown man and his grown ex were acting like middle schoolers dealing with drama for the first time in their lives? I almost wish I had...’ ((Supposedly) Good Catholic Kids)

‘Mass that morning had gone nicely up until communion, when a girl named (Censored) decided to prove that I can’t get a day’s rest, even on the Sabbath.’ ((Supposedly Good Catholic Kids)

‘I’m stuck on a pendulum called Grief Swinging between agony and emptiness. When I feel anything, I feel everything. But otherwise, I feel nothing. Nothing is heavier than I thought it would be.’ (From an untitled poem I wrote after my childhood dog, Cinnamon, was put down)

‘Charlotte Wilson wanted more out of life than to be playing gigs at college bars. Her music deserved to be reaching the ears of the forlorn across the country, not just the drunk students swaying off the beat. As the last chord of her song died out, a cheer rose up from the small crowd. Charlotte didn’t feel much better. These kids looked for any excuse to cheer when they were this plastered.’ (Creature of Scandal)

‘It had been thirteen years since the last time Charlotte had met with her mother. She’d been seventeen, preparing to graduate from high school, when she’d got the summons. Invitations from Marie Green never felt optional.’ (Creature of Scandal)

‘“How do you know I rejected her?” Joon asks defensively. With another laugh, Seok sends Joon a knowing look. “Seriously? You haven’t gone on a single date for as long as I’ve known you. You’ve been working here for how long now? For years? You never make trouble. You’re never late. You’re the least troublesome employee Haneul’s ever had.” Joon narrows his eyes. “You work for Haneul, too.” Seok grins, “And I’m sure the old man regrets it every now and again. But come on, you aren’t exactly a wild guy.”’ (Flowers and Tattoos)

‘Soo Yun is furious. She is furious at the prophecy and at the prophet and at her fellow countrymen. Her family has suffered ridicule at the hands of their neighbors for decades. She has grown up in poverty, begging and stealing to survive under the judging eyes of the townsfolk. And now, the prophet has the audacity to name her the savior of their nation. To rest the burden of ending the reign of the emperor on her shoulders. To force her to serve those who refused even to look her in the eye. Soo Yun is furious, and she will have none of this.’ (Forsaking the Stars)

‘“We could keep him in the store, and he could help guard the door!” Natalie suggested, eyes wide as she beamed at the dragon as though it were a puppy. “Guard us from what?” I demanded. “The only thief I’ve had since I took over this store is him.” “I’m calling him Midas,” Natalie announced. And I knew it was hopeless.’ (Swindler of Fortune)

‘Ned had never been to this part of the country before, but he’d heard stories of the Bodmin Moor - stories of ghosts and beasts and tales of King Arthur’s rule. He’d always chucked it up to superstition and myths, but staring out at the dreary landscape through the rain-streaked glass, he could almost believe that something supernatural lay out among the granite jutting up from the ground.’ (Untitled short story)

‘“You must be desperate to seek me out,” Aubrey told him. It wasn’t a question, so Ned didn’t give an answer. Aubrey continued. “The people of St. Ives have deemed me to be mad. Tell me, Ned Abbott, do I seem mad to you?” Had anyone asked Ned that question upon first seeing the sailor, he’d have answered, without hesitation, that, yes, the man appeared in all senses to be completely mad. But sitting in front of him, there were several words Ned might use to describe Aubrey Skewes. Intimidating. Intense. Powerful. But mad was not one of them.’ (Untitled short story)

‘The sight was a startling one. A demon in a Best Buy break room? That’s just about the last place a demon should be. I might’ve been paralyzed with fright had I not started to associate that awful screechy sound with the middle-aged woman I’d had to deal with the day before, who was convinced we should replace a laptop a year and a half past its warranty.’ (The Customer from Hell)

‘I was left with a husk of a demon at my feet, and ten minutes still left on my break.’ (The Customer from Hell)

‘Inside, the barracks were a minefield for Cristoval to navigate, each interaction with other officers a potential detonation. There was also a frenzy of activity, the kind of chaos that could only come from men finally released from the strictly controlled environments they worked in for a day that would be fully their own.’ (How Far Can You Carry This?)

‘Enoch slowly begins to fill out the form, making sure to grumble audibly under his breath. Had he realized the afterlife would involve such an incompetent bureaucracy, he’d never have bothered dying in the first place.’ (The First Haunt)

‘The sounds of celebration, the shouts and laughter and music, clashed with the steady pounding of Rin’s heart, her breath that came in gasps, the blood-curdling scream her lungs were begging her to unleash. The smiling faces of strangers seemed to taunt her, their casual enjoyment a slap in the face to Rin’s horror. Her attempts to reach the front of the crowd became an obsession, ducking around people became shoving them aside in her desperation. As she pulled to the front, Rin doubled over the bar separating the masses from the performers.’ (The Sensation of Falling in a Dream)

‘Fear was different now...[It] wasn’t intense. It didn’t paralyze her, or set her mind spinning. It held a silent presence, like an examiner during a test. It manifested in paranoia, in a deeply instilled distrust. It didn’t make her eyes tear up, it made them shift. It didn’t make her run, it made her hand hover near the holster on her thigh as she took careful strides.’ (The Sensation of Falling in a Dream)

‘Clara, who had been trying to take a drink, nearly spat out her coffee. Managing to choke it down, she burst into a laugh. “Let me off easy? I just asked where you got your degree from, you didn’t have to deliberately dress up your henchmen in my least-favorite color! If you don’t have a doctorate, you have no excuse to title yourself Doctor Revenge.”’ (Out to Lunch)

‘“You’re unbelievable,” Clara laughed. “Until next week, then, Mr. Revenge.” “See you next week, you second-rate mastermind.” Clara threw her head back and laughed as she walked away from the café.’ (Out to Lunch)

‘With a tug on the back door, I discovered our mystery house-guest. Ms. Schofield from down the street still had her hand up to continue knocking. When she saw me, she threw open the screen door and moved past me into the house. Most people in my small town are close, but few are close enough to barge into our house without so much as a ‘hello,’ and certainly none of those on the list would be the seventh grade science teacher, Ms. Schofield.’ (The Caffeine Prohibition)

‘“Where’d you look?” my dad yelled from the kitchen over the sounds of something sizzling in the frying pan. “Mostly local corporations,” I responded, closing the lid of my laptop and leaning forward onto the breakfast bar. “But if I don’t get any calls back, I can always update my resume and apply elsewhere.” “Update your resume?” my mother frowned. “You know, I’m sure I’ll get plenty of job experience as a drug dealer,” I joked. My mom rolled her eyes while my dad chuckled from the stove.’ (The Caffeine Prohibition)

‘“It’s my sister!” he shouted, pounding a fist against the arm rest. “She’s never accepting of my career path. Constantly nagging me about when I’m going to settle down. Always trying to set me up with her single friends. I’ve had enough!” With that, the evil Doctor Revenge the public saw as a raging madman – the one responsible for the chaos of the Christmas Tree Lighting Fiasco of 2014 – was reduced to Mr. Henry Weldt, a brother fed up with his sister.’ (The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

‘Only then did Mr. Weldt look up and make eye contact with me. He gave me a dark look, the one he’d perfected to terrify people. But he wasn’t in costume now. We were in my office, where the only superhuman was the woman jotting down notes and talking with clients.’ (The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

‘A few minutes passed, and a knock sounded on the cockpit door. Deidre removed the strap holding her to her seat, and she crossed the room to open it. Atticus stood on shaky legs. “Excellent work!” he applauded. “I wish I could’ve been of more help, but I know about as much about these flashy ships as I do about the Buvocury System. But I see that the two of you handled it fine.” ---------------- “You can fly this thing?” Deidre shouted over the sound of the gunfire. She adjusted her scope and aimed for the bunker. “I thought you said you knew as much about flying as you did about the Buvocury system!” Amara added from the copilot seat. Atticus nodded. “I do! I spent twenty years in the Buvocury System working on ships like these!” Silence fell over the intercom. When Deidre managed to speak again, she demanded, “Why haven’t you told us this?” Atticus grinned wildly. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know!”’ (Untitled short story)

‘There was a pause, then Marlow forced herself to turn and start up the stairs. Over the railing, she watched as Rin returned to the street, never quite able to fit into the crowds. She smiled ruefully. They were not friends. But she still felt bound to Rin somehow. Allies. Teammates. None of the words felt quite right. Not quite friends, but something different. Trying to find the word, Marlow took her key from her pocket and made her way into her apartment.’ (Christmas in Aubergneux)

|Blood TW| “Have you been using my scissors?” I ask, keeping my gaze away from the blood staining his carpet, his shirt, and his hands. But it’s tough. There’s even a little spatter of it in his hair. Geoff’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, yeah dude! I was just cutting out paper snowflakes earlier. They’re right over on my desk.” He starts to move back into his room, but I clear my throat. His hands are caked in blood. Geoff only now seems to notice this and nods at me as he wraps a towel around his hand to pick up the scissors. “Thanks for letting me borrow them, man.” “Sure thing, Zodiac,” I say, and Geoff shuts the door to his room again. (My Serial Killer Housemate)

|Death TW| Back at the house, I decide to confront Geoff about it. “So Mr. Cortland has died under mysterious circumstances, apparently.” Geoff doesn’t even look up from the recipe card he’s on. “Wasn’t me.” “You always say that, and I never believe you.” I set the bags of groceries on the counter and begin to put away some of the food in the fridge and freezer. Geoff shuts the box of recipes with a click. “Look, he’s a rich guy who treats him employees horribly. You’ve got to make a lot of enemies in that field.” “I wasn’t aware the toaster oven industry was so cut-throat,” I remark drily, and immediately regret my choice of words. (My Serial Killer Housemate)

A week after the dinner party, I am lounging on my couch, watching Netflix, when I hear the front door open. Being pretty sure that Geoff is in his room, I roll myself off the couch and crouch beside it, glancing around the side to see who it is breaking into my house. Despite Geoff’s best efforts in tracking down the copycat, he’s had little luck so far. Meaning I’m still at risk. As it turns out, Geoff left earlier to pick up some groceries. He spots me on the ground and squints for a minute, trying to piece together what I’m doing. I try to play it off as relaxing on the floor. I don’t want to let him know how much the idea of being the target of a serial killer is getting to me. “Did you get more bread?” I ask casually. “Yeah, they had a deal on split-top wheat,” he answers, still frowning at me. (My Serial Killer Roommate)

#writing #2018 writing wrap up #2018 #writers #short stories #novels #dialogue #NaNoWriMo

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