#ive worked too much in wip chapters to change it now
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The problem with Snippets being an amalgination of AU ideas is that I sometimes gets two conflicting ideas and I cant find a nice way to make them work together.
How do I have Welt (among others) on the Moon fighting HotE like he fought Sirin in 2E if I give the Reason Core to Bronya?
I could make it work, but it'd feel like I'm forcing it which I don't like doing. And this is the worst part of it all.
I guess I'll have to store this idea until I get to the pre-HotE fight chapter...
#snippets of sirin schariacs life#ranting#this idea will likely just get scrapped#ive worked too much in wip chapters to change it now#i feel like ill also just make welt not suffer so badly since 2e in his aging body#like i already had him up and repairing ziggys house after sirin blew it up like a year after 2e and that already felt like pushing it#when we compare to how little his body could handle herrscher powers in canon
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Accidentally In Love (Chapter 2)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC
Warnings: Potentially lethal levels of fluffiness right now, potential for smut later. A little blood, canon levels of violence potentially. Plus size female OC, body descriptions.
Rating: PG-13 (right now for language, but look for this to change)
WC: 2600-ish.
Summary:
Echo's living a normal life in NYC, a 911 dispatcher, the most excitement she gets is from the calls she takes. And then love comes crashing in one day when she's riding her bike through Central Park.
Steve and Bucky weren't looking for anything on their daily run around the park besides fresh air and exercise. The streak of purple eye candy on a bike that lapped them pretty regularly was a nice addition but not mandatory, at least until some impromptu roughhousing results in some civilian casualties in the form of the most beautiful woman either of them had seen in a long, long time.
A/N: AU, Post CACW, Bucky’s Chill and we have always lived in the Tower. Just call this a throwback to the found family, everyone lives in Stark Tower fics.
This is supposed to be a super-fluffy love story. Still undecided if I'm gonna keep this one going but posting now for giggles and grins. It's got some CSI:NY characters crossing over because why not.
I'm just messing about and playing in my WIPs folder. Not Beta'd: we die like men! (honestly, I tried but if you catch something I missed, let me know)
Chapter 2
Blinking, Echo arrived back on the current plain of consciousness in a very bright room that smelled vaguely of antiseptic and orange slices. Blinking, she groaned a little as she took in her varying pains that hadn’t been evident before, including the stiffness in the elbow where her IV was installed.
“There she is.”
She turned her head toward a voice she recognized very well. Lindsey Messer, Danny’s wife and her friend from the job and her building, sat at her bedside holding her hand. In her pants suit and fuschia blouse, wearing her work badge, it was clear the tiny blonde had come straight from the crime lab. “Hey Linds. I hope Danny didn’t make you worry. I’m fine. My head’s too hard for any lasting damage.”
The blonde snorted and slid a plastic cup with a straw in it over to her. “That’s what I told them.”
It was good to know her friend had her back. “What am I doing here?”
“They said you had a concussion and lost consciousness at the scene. Apparently you hit your head when you went into the stream by the bridge. Plus you got some stitches in your nose and chin and have a hairline fracture in your wrist.”
“Oh.” It was so much worse than she feared. Looking down at her wrist she saw the bandage and closed her eyes on a sigh. “Well, this sucks.”
“It does,” Lindsey agreed. “It seems you have some interesting friends, though.”
Echo sipped her cup of water as she mulled over the strange transition. “We have the same friends, Linds.” Working in law enforcement made for a large extended, and occasionally dysfunctional, family, and since they hung out together, the majority of the people in their lives were shared friends and acquaintances.
“Funny, because I don't remember you bringing those two superheroes you crashed into on the bike path today out for drinks with us.” She leaned back in the chair, looking nonchalant as she pulled a bottle of water from her purse to sip.
Superheroes? What? “What are you talking about?” Shifting to sit up further in bed, she found herself tired and reclining back on the pillows behind her. She had one thing she wanted to make clear, though. “And I didn't crash into anyone. I ditched out so I wouldn't crash into anyone.”
Lindsay smiled slyly. “You’re too nice, that’s why you crashed.”
Looking around to make sure there were no little ears to overhear she snarked at her friend, “Vaffanculo,” complete with the associated hand gesture.
Of course that's the moment when Danny decided to come into the room carrying a bottle of water and some white daisies he laid on the table next to her drink. “Ay, yo! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asked with his ever present grin. He’d clearly cleaned up and changed into one of his signature tight t-shirts and jeans. He made hipster chic look good with his wire-rim glasses and skinny jeans.
Rolling her eyes hurt but she did it anyway. “Whatever, Danny. When do I get outta here?”
The thin man winced and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, see that's the problem. Both the girls have ear infections, and they’re with my mom right now, but there's nobody to look after them for us, so we can look after you. And well unfortunately, between us and Flack, Donnie is going outta town with Trish for the weekend. So the docs wanna keep you overnight.”
“But…” she whined pitifully. The idea of spending the night alone in the hospital sounded as appealing as shaving her legs with a dull razor and lemonade shaving cream.
Lindsey’s lips twitched. “You know we have toddlers, right? We’re immune to such things,” she laughed.
Lower lip in full pout, she replied, “And that's just unfair.” Echo reached onto the table and then rummaged around in the sheets over her before reaching into her bloodstained bra and the pockets of her bike shorts. “Where's my phone?” Surely she could find someone to look after her at her place so she didn’t have to stay in the hospital.
Danny cringed as he grabbed the other visitor’s seat in the room. “Yeah, about that... your phone’s out getting fixed right now. Unfortunately it and your sunglasses met the creek bed and experienced a similar fate as you.”
“Oh no.” She winced and reached up to touch the bridge of her nose involuntarily as her hopes for escape dwindled in front of her. “This is bad.”
He nodded, conceding her point. “Yeah, yeah it is, kiddo.”
“So, I have to stay.” It was a statement of resignation more than anything and she was beyond displeased, but knew two things: first, this wasn’t her friends’ fault, and second, she couldn’t do anything about this.
“Unfortunately.” Messer nodded again. Seeing her dejected expression, he rushed to assure her, “Just for tonight though. They’ll let you go in the morning. Hopefully your phone will be back here by then, good as new.”
“Wait…” Her mind was still a little fuzzy, but Echo was pretty clear that phone insurance wasn’t nearly that prompt. “Who's got my phone?”
Lindsay looked at Danny with a pointy glare. “You didn't tell her?”
“She just woke up! You were here!” Danny held out a hand hoping to show that he was unarmed and not one to take her fire. He pulled the chair over to the bed to be closer to Echo. “Do you remember the two guys you crashed into?”
“I didn't crash,” she corrected, rolling her eyes coming much easier this time.
“Your face and bike would disagree,” he supplied diplomatically, with only the barest hint of a grin.
“Whatever.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, assessing. “You really don’t remember?”
Shaking her head hurt, but she tried anyway. “Help me out here, Messer. I got nothin’.” She had vague recollections of the two hot guys from the path, but considering she saw them daily, those were not memories she trusted. “Were those the ones you and Flack had your guns on?”
Lindsay's eyes grew very large and she pinned Danny down with a very pointed glare. “You had your gun on Captain America and Sergeant Barnes?”
“It was a very fluid situation,” he gritted out through his clenched jaw. “It took a minute to get it all untangled.”
“I'm sorry, what?” The headache that had been dancing around the edge of her vision grew to full force causing her to rub her face. “What? That doesn't even make sense.” How in the fried fuck did the fricking Avengers figure into this? “How—? What—? I don’t understand—”
Danny cringed at her questions and pushed to his feet. “Well I think we've done enough damage here. Linds will get the girls and we'll see you tomorrow morning.”
Echo’s eyes popped open as she reached for him when he stepped away to put the chair back. “Wait! No! You don't get to just drop a bomb and leave like that.”
Likely attracted by her beeping monitor, the nurse came in to see her blood pressure spiking. “You have to go now. The patient needs her rest.”
Lindsey and Danny leaned over for quick hugs before heading toward the door. “This will make sense in the morning, E, okay? You’ll be fine,” he assured her.
She whined again, dropping her head into the pillows. “Okay. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you will,” he replied with his trademark toothy grin.
Right before he and Lindsey walked out the door, she asked, “Hey, who has my bike?”
“Hopefully that’ll be here with your phone.”
The way Danny’s smile turned secretive before the nurse closed the door was concerning, but her head hurt too badly to really give it too much thought. Honestly, she was tired again and since it seemed she had nowhere else to be, she figured it was a good moment to take a nap.
“We should have brought the bike up.”
“And put it where, genius? In the hallway where it’d just be in the way? In here? It’s a hospital, not a subway platform.”
“I just think—”
“And that’s your problem right there, Stevie.”
“I just don’t want her to think we took it or anything.”
“Steve. Really. Come down off the cross; we need the wood.”
Echo woke to the sound of grumbled whispers and some sort of mechanical noise. Her dark eyes opened to the overly bright room, only to slam shut again at the vision before her. It was clearly a concussion-generated hallucination, because there, seated at her bedside were the two sexy mofos from the bike trail. A flimsy wisp of a memory danced across her mind of the blond one fetching her from the creek by picking her up, but… that wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be; she was too heavy for that. She hadn’t been picked up since childhood, and certainly was not one to invite the casual touch of strangers.
Cracking her eyes open the barest hint, she watched the two men, giants, both of them, arguing back and forth softly beside her. She’d never given thought to their size before beyond their muscles, considering her bike gave her a height advantage, but damn if they weren’t enormous, still dressed in their too-tight t-shirts and jeans that encased their thighs closer than clingwrap.
Her soft whimper at the sight brought their argument to a halt as both of them reached for her hand.
“Hey, beautiful,” the longhaired one greeted her with a soft smile as he delicately touched her fingers. His own fingers were cold, and when she looked to see why, it appeared they were made of some kind of metal. In her mind, she’d always assumed it had been some kind of tattoo when she’d seen him in passing, so the metal was a bit of a shock.
“Howya feelin’, sweetheart?” the blond one asked as he laid his hand over her same wrist.
She closed her eyes for a moment, just absorbing the absurdity of this moment. “Best. Hallucination. Ever.”
Her eyes snapped open at a bark of laughter followed by the mostly silent wheezing giggles that overtook Hotness 2. He threw his head back, shaking out his unbound hair in full chortle, a bubbly infectious sound that made her feel like she’d been infused with sunshine. The way his nose crinkled made her want to hug the hell outta him.
“Babydoll,” he choked out as he brushed away tears from his cheeks before patting her knee with a warm smile. “We’re as real as it gets. I promise.”
Blondie’s grin at his friend was a mix of affection and unruffled resignation. “Ignore Chuckles over there. How are you feelin’?”
“I’d feel better if I knew who you were,” she said softly. It was a strange feeling, a sensation of familiarity and absolutely no idea why she might know them. Not that she didn’t appreciate the attention, but it was disconcerting that they seemed to know her and she had no active memory of them beyond their occasional encounters on the trails and paths in Central Park.
“I’m James and this is Ste—Wait, you really don’t remember us?” The brunet went from amused to stricken in a breath when she shook her head, his free hand—it was a metal hand—scrubbing down his face and pulling his features taut before clapping his hands. “Right then. I’m James—my friends call me Bucky, and this is Steve. I ran into you on the trail yesterday.”
Eyes rolled to the ceiling, the giant blond then directed an annoyed glare at his compatriot before folding her hand in both of his massive paws. “What Buck means is he ran into you on the bike path. By the Glen Span bridge.”
“Oh! Jeez!” Thinking back, all she could see in her mind was the blue shirt and then everything goes kind of hazy until… “Guns? My friends had their guns on you?”
They both held their hands up, shaking their heads. “A misunderstanding. It all got sorted out pretty quickly, despite Smartass over here trying to get us killed,” James grumbled in Steve’s direction, even as a smirk curled around the corners of his mouth.
The blond winced at his friend’s description of the events but didn’t correct him. “Anyway, we wanted to come and apologize for all the upheaval we caused for you.”
“And your stitches and things,” the brunet added as he tucked his long bangs behind his ears. Looking down in his lap, he jerked as he noticed the bag by his feet. It was purple and glittery and had tissue paper sticking out of the top and he pushed it into her hands like it may be virulently contagious. “Here. From us.”
Immediately suspicious, Echo held the bag at arm’s length. “Okay? What is it?”
Steve rolled his eyes with a little huff of impatience. “Telling you ruins the surprise. We went to the trouble of wrapping ‘em—”
“Well, Wanda did,” Buck leaned over to stage-whisper conspiratorially.
“We went to the trouble of having ‘em wrapped,” the blond corrected with an impatient glare at his friend, “so open it.”
A little embarrassed at having their eager eyes track her every move, she dug past the mountain of glittery paper to pull out a shrink-wrapped, brand new Stark Phone in the signature red and gold box which she set on the bed next to her. Everything about this situation was so goddamn weird, it was hard to make all the pieces fit together in her head with any kind of coherence.
“Tony promised me he got all your stuff transferred over,” Steve offered eagerly as he poked the box a little closer to her.
“Pictures and things,” Buck clarified over his friend’s shoulder. They both seemed greatly invested in her taking the gift.
She held the box up in one hand while pawing through the bag with the other. “Okay?” Her fingers brushed against another box, this one textured and obviously expensive cardboard and almost as hefty as her phone box.
Echo’s eyes widened as she pulled out the black box with the distinctive gold writing on it. “Is this…?” she trailed off as she observed the two men closely. Steve nodded encouragingly, so she opened it, almost afraid of what could be inside. Inside was a hard leather case, with gold lettering that matched the exterior box. “You got me Versace sunglasses?” She couldn’t decide if she was happy or mildly horrified.
The blond nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yours were in pieces from where I stepped on them getting out of the water.” His cheeks flushed as he looked more than a little ashamed. “Tony assured me that you’d be okay with the replacement.”
“Stevie’s underselling it. Stark said you’d appreciate the upgrade.”
Upgrade? Shit… she was a city employee and made nowhere near the kind of money that this pair of sunglasses cost. They were likely more expensive than all the clothes in her closet. “I… thank you?”
“Here.” James nodded at the bag next to her. “There’s more in there.”
At the expectant looks on their faces, she set the black box aside and turned her attention to the bright yellow envelope just inside the bag. “‘Sorry we broke your stuff, please accept these replacements with our humblest apologies,’” she read, wary of their hopeful expressions when she finished. “'Replacements?' Plural? There’s more?”
#avengers fluff#avengers fanfiction#avengers fanfic#avengers marvel#avengers fic#steve rogers/reader#steve rogers fanfic#stevebucky#beefy bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#beefy bucky#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes reader insert#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes au#stucky fic#steve and bucky#stucky x female reader#stucky x plus size reader#steve rogers x bucky barnes x plus size female character#steve rogers fic#bucky fanfic#stucky#stucky fanfiction#bucky fluff#steve rogers#bucky fic
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20 questions for fic writers!
thank u @jattendschaton for tagging me 🥺 i love these questions
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
i have 107 on maketea, but with my um. two other accounts i have 128
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
on maketea i have 293,935, but with at least one of my other accounts (one of them is for ml and one of them for another fandom, the latter of which i cant be bothered to log in to rn shdjsk) the total is 313,681!!
3. What fandoms do you write for?
miraculous ladybug mainly! but i have also written for owari no seraph. ive written for other fandoms but im not counting it if i literally only have one work to my name for them HSJAJA with ons at least i have 3 on maketea and 12 on my other account
THEORETICALLY. i also write for sailor moon. i have a substantial amount in my google docs. they just havent manifested themselves into existence yet
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
apology gifts, like poles of a magnet, new marinette, a nine-year old (fhfjsj), and i'll marry you! ive actually had kudos/hits/comments stats hidden on ao3 since 2021 so i have no clue how many kudos any of these have which is very funny to me
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
i try to but i always get distracted midway through going through my inbox which is totally on me fjdkka. i always decide to do it when im literally in the middle of class for whatever fuckin reason HAHAHA. i also always feel bad because im like 'oh i havent replied to this in literally two years im too embarrassed to reply now'
i also want to reply with more than just 'thank you' because comments mean SO MUCH TO ME but i think i psych myself out of replying because im too scared i won't be able to express it properly
im trying to resolve to get better at it!
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
ehemememem. ya'aburnee.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
ooh, id say new marinette! in terms of like. the emotional arc or whatever
i was gonna say lpoam, but i think there's still a bit of lingering Sad there
8. Do you get hate on fics?
nope!
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
i want to say no. but ive been writing fics for ten years now and i feel like i mustve done Something weird when i was younger
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not to my knowledge!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
yep, for an old fandom on wattpad!
shdkska this is really funny, but back then i made a playlist for the fic, and i remember the person who translated it wrote in their translation of that chapter 'i wouldve done it differently but it's okay' that still makes me laugh
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
yep, i did one for owari no seraph and one for ml! i have some others in the works tho hehe
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
guess
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
oh hmm. i think i am delusional and believe all my wips will someday be finished HDJFJSJS so im changing this question to 'doubt you will in the near future'. for that, id say maybeeee my amnesia adrien fic. 40k words in the doc and babe is still marinating
16. What are your writing strengths?
hmm. i think im quite good at writing interactions! i mean, i like the way i write them at least. i love capturing the feeling of being with people and i think i do it well!
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
there's something that feels kind of hesitant when i read my docs sometimes? it feels like im worried to hit the point of the plot head-on and skirting around what i actually want to say. i think what i'm trying to do to improve is to be a bit more direct in my narration style and focus on being descriptive only when it's needed.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
ive done it before!
19. First fandom you wrote for?
oh i dont want to answer this. one direction
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
like poles of a magnet <3
tagging @destiny-with-you , @mozzygan , @asukiess , @ladyofthenoodle , and whoever else wants to do this!!! just say i tagged u when u do it hehe
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💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫 (copy and pasted what you sent me +1 😈)
Shit. Hung by my own petard it seems. I've been discovery writing a fifth chapter to Osiris' Trials since my current WIPs I've been focusing on outlining instead. So here's 70 new sentences from that WIP!
--
That monster of a man did not stand in the doorway. Rather, an older woman did, dressed in black scrubs with golden trimming. She wore no name tag. Her graying hair was piled in a bun atop her head and round glasses sat on her squat nose. She carried in a metal tray. From his vantage point on the bed, Dakarai could not quite see what she had brought in.
Her steps were silent as she padded over to him. She set the tray on the nightstand.
Dakarai watched every twitch of her wrinkled fingers, every flutter of her heavy eyes like that of a predator eyeing his prey. He did not blink. He merely stared at her with his dulled gaze.
The woman did not bother to check his heart monitor, which beeped slightly faster than before. The damn traitor. She did not bother to peel back the gauze swaddling his wounds. She simply cast a quick, cold glance at him before taking out her smartphone. She tapped something out on it, the soft thunk thunk of the quick text beating out of time to that of Dakarai’s heartbeat. The phone chimed a tune too happy for Dakarai’s liking, signaling the text went through successfully.
Then, the woman got to work. She did not speak to him. She pulled at the gauze, unwinding it from his arms and legs.
Dakarai had half a mind to snap at her. To bury his blunted teeth into her wizened hands. To draw fresh blood from her half-dead veins, which burst with age. But he held back.
She was not gentle. She was not kind. She worked with a cold, clinical nature, uncaring with how he winced as she changed his bandages. She rubbed an ointment into his puckered wounds, which burned; aiming for an infection that hopefully was not there.
No IV pole hung next to his bed. And she did not bring any form of opioids to numb the pain of his wounds. But Dakarai was used to pain. He was born into it as his mother screamed out from natural birth. Ever since his first early breath into the world, Dakarai had to fight back against agony and death. Hunger and strife.
The sting from the gauze pulling at barely-healed scabs was nothing in comparison to the piercing burn of his failure.
She wrapped fresh bandages across his wounds. Then, once her work was done, stepped back and sat in one of the comfortable chairs across the room. She took out her phone.
The happy, cheerful music of some sort of match-three game toyed with Dakarai’s sensibilities. He ground his teeth together, wincing. He yearned for silence.
He did not know how long he laid in bed, waiting. The woman said nothing. He said nothing. He returned his gaze to the ceiling.
Perhaps someone more charismatic would have spoken to her. Would have coaxed her into sharing secrets, into pity, and into distrustful arms. Perhaps, if Dakarai knew how to play the social game, he could have reminded her of a past lover. Grandson. Babe. Friend. Whoever he needed to be for her to give him what he needed.
Dakarai had never been good at such a game. And now, too much time had passed for him to break the silence. He was on his own.
He had been on his own for most of his life now. That would not change now.
The abrupt halting of her game, and the shuffle of her scrubs as she shot to her feet broke Dakarai from his musings. He tensed as the door creaked open.
The woman finally spoke. “He is still awake, Mr. Nimr. Wounds are clean. He appears to be cognizant.”
The devil’s voice was too smooth, too soft, for Dakarai’s liking. It slithered into his bones, rotting him from the inside out. “Has he spoken yet?”
“No sir.”
“Very well. You are dismissed.”
From his peripherals, Dakarai watched as the woman inclined her head.
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#am writing#ao3#ask box game#Osiris' Trials#OT#original fiction#dark fiction#my writing#Lanx Writes
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20 questions for fic writers!
tagged by @honeyteacakes <3 (and belatedly, @tharkuun haha)
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
25
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
400,576 (+ 100k extra from fics i've deleted/orphaned in the past few years haha rip)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
i am at the mercy of the hyperfixation, and currently it's The Sandman and Dreamling exclusively.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1) Salvation (How to Get Away With Murder)
2) The Red Witch (Good Omens)
3) Bolt in the Blue (The Sandman)
4) Let Me Down Easy (The Sandman)
5) Show Me (The Mandalorian)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
yes and no. i love that people take the time to show their appreciation for a fic and i always want to reply and show how much it means to me... but i have this bad habit of not replying to comments on say, older works or older chapters of a fic. idk why... im just not good at it lol BUT I LOVE AND APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE COMMENT, EVEN THE LITTLE ONES 💖💖
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
oh, Exit Wounds, for sure haha
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
im a sucker for happy endings so i'd say, everything else lol but particularly Almost Idyllic (The Song of Achilles) due to the build up and Salvation also, because of the events leading up to the ending.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not since my ff.net days haha.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
very occasionally. and nothing too wild (except for that dreamling butt plug one. that was. hmm.) but i typically enjoy writing first times.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
i do not.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
nope. though i have seen ideas/prompts used without credit. it doesn't bother me much.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
nope.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
once, The Red Witch (which btw has been discontinued, pls don't read it lol). it started off just me, then my editor jumped on maybe 5 chapters in once i realized they were much more versed in magick and fantasy than me.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
haha probably Zutara.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
ahhh haha... fuck. idk i want to say none. but my brain keeps whispering about the dreamling road trip au. i thought i had a plot but as i continue working on bitb and other little drabbles... ive realized i might've bitten off more than i can chew. and my only option is to completely sideline it until im done with bitb, or change the story (because right now the research i have to do for it is too much and y'all know how i am...) it sucks cos i do want to write it. but it's difficult when all my patience for research is already going into one fic (bitb).
16. What are your writing strengths?
dialogue and monologuing, probably.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
self 👏 motivation 👏 finding 👏 the 👏 urge 👏 to 👏 write
(technically, it's tense. i flip between past and present tense constantly and at this point i just consider it one of my endearing qualities pfft)
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
i try to avoid it but when it happens i just use Google Translate and then toss a disclaimer that ive done my best (to which usually a commenter will helpfully correct me and then all is well)
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Inuyashaaaaa (Miroku/Sango omg). exchanging physical notebooks with my friends with fanfics we'd written in school lol
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
truly a tie between Savory & Sweet and Let Me Down Easy (at the moment). the restaurant au was so easy and fun to write (probably because i used to be in the industry) and i reread it a lot. the pacing is fast and i love how immediate Hob and Dream fall into each other haha. Let Me Down Easy was very similar. my major was Media Production in undergrad and although it's been a while since i've held a camera, it was fun putting myself back in that environment. also the angst and tension were just a blast to write and figure out.
(this was an excellent waste of time, thanks again!)
tagged, if y'all want, @magnusbae @teejaystumbles @ml-nolan @tj-dragonblade @reallyintoscience @delta-pavonis @staroftheendless
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
thanks so much @cha-melodius and @stereopticons for the tags! i am very late on this but also i mostly use tumblr on mobile and they make it impossible to copy & paste these things lol
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
18! it feels like it should be less though, i swear ive only written like five
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
288,090. Let's not talk about the word count of my wip folder.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Right now, Red, White and Royal Blue. I have a couple Top Gun wips I still hope to publish and I used to write for Schitt's Creek.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
I'd Swing With You for the Fences (Schitt's Creek, E, 87k; celeb/baseball AU)
Even If it's Just Pretend (RWRB, E, ongoing; exes-to-fake-dating-to-lovers canon divergence)
You and My Hometown (Schitt's Creek, E, 38k, holiday exes/fwb AU)
I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm (Schitt's Creek, E, 13k, sequel oneshot to ISWYFTF)
A Simple Complication (Schitt's Creek, E, 8k, fwb singles week AU)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yep! I am behind from a couple fics but I've been responding on my current multichap and i WILL one day catch up, even if it'll be two years late.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I haven't written a single angsty ending lol
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Currently, I'd say You and My Hometown just because it's the angstiest complete fic I have and the end goes a few years ahead in their happily ever after.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Yeah sometimes. A couple backhanded compliments, too. Sometimes I wish people would just stop reading it, and if they feel like they have to finish, at least stop commenting if they're not liking it.
Also like... authors can see your public bookmarks. If you're gonna be even vaguely disparaging in there... maybe click the "private bookmark" checkbox.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I don't consider myself a smut writer, because I tend to think of smut as a separate genre, if that makes sense? I definitely write some smutty scenes, but I don't write pwp or smut for smut's sake (thank you to those of you who do, truly doing the lord's work).
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I don't, but there is a Descendants AU in my Schitt's WIP folder lmfao.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
No, thank god.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No, but that would be so lovely!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, but I have written as part of a group project where we each wrote a chapter: The Blouse Barn Divorce Ranch.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
It honestly is probably firstprince. I've been so in love with them for four years, the book truly changed my life.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
The Schitt's Creek superhero AU. When I tell you that the plot twist I had planned for that was gonna be so good... RIP.
Also my Schitt's Creek apocalypse AU that I had written the beginning and ending for and could never get the middle right ugh.
Also also my Top Gun wrong number sexting WIP.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Working in canon elements. Which, maybe I should focus on plot and characters instead if I ever want to publish original work whoops.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Descriptions. I don't visualize when I read, so I never really bother with mundane descriptions when I write. I need to remember some readers do need those details when reading, even if I don't.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I won't do it unless it's something I can run by a native speaker.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
I honestly don't even know. Maybe Buffy?
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Even If it's Just Pretend. It's been such a labor of love and some of my absolute favorite lines are in it.
But also the Schitt's Creek Penelope AU, The Rumors Are Terrible and Cruel. I love Penelope so much and weaving that in with some of my favorite characters was such a blast. I wish more people had read it lol.
Okay like I said, I'm super late to this, so no idea who has done this yet. Tagging @lilythesilly, @maxbegone, @roseapothecary and @kiwiana-writes just in case any of yall haven't done it!
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Hi! I am so absolutely in love with your fics! Would you maybe wanna share some info about your most recent Dick Grayson WIP?
omg hello anon!!! thank you so much for liking my fics 😭💞🤍
it always means a lot when people take time out of their day to compliment my writing or just pop in the inbox to skjfhskjd or whatever else expresses joy for them! it takes awhile for me to write things, especially fics i want to have a certain impact, so i appreciate it so much when people also appreciate my work <333
and i'd love to share some more info about my most recent dick grayson wip!! unfortunately... i can't actually share much... IM SORRY!!
it is coming out soon, i think june 10th is the publication/release date, and the reason for that is that this wip is for the dick grayson big bang for 2023! it is my first ever participation in any kind of group collaboration for fics and art, and let me tell you, i've had an enormous amount of fun!! i got paired with the absolutely insanely talented @ikol-616 (art blog is: @magpie-murder) for this project, and im just!!!!! the art is absolutely breathtaking, ive been telling vali every other day how excited i am to show off its art because so much effort and beauty was put into it and AHHHHHHHHHH im just so excited and grateful i got to work with vali on this project
the fic i will be publishing is going to be released in chapters that follow along parts/arcs, and i'll be able to explain a bit more about that when chapter 1 goes up, but it's a kind of long journey that if i didnt have a deadline for, would be wayyyyy longer. along with some of the chapters, i have also been creating some webweaves to pair alongside them! im also uber ecstatic to share those too <33
overall, the barest and most simple synopsis of my fic that i can give is essentially this is my take on the "eldest daughter"/but actually more just "oldest sibling" trope that dick embodies sometimes, and how he handles that realization that, well, people are changing and he doesn't quite know how to process that
again, if i didnt have a deadline and was a bit more proactive on my writing schedule, this fic would easily be dozens and dozens of chapters long, but for now we're looking at somewhere close to 10 chapters, along with a part 2 that i have no idea when it will be released and is also not part of the DGBB23 collaboration
#anon#dgbb23#my wip#my writing#im literally so excited to share this with you all!!#its def not the biggest project ive ever worked on but probably one of the more personal ones ive done#since (ahem) i am an oldest sibling and i used a lot of my own experiences as one to cultivate the voice i gave dick in this fic#dick grayson big bang 2023
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hi!
im soooo happy you're unflagged now, slutty chris as your pfp was something i missed a lot when i opened tumblr haha 🫠
anywayy, i was wondering what tips you have for finishing WIPs? like, i have about 6 of them that are pretty long already but each time i open one i write about a paragraph and get unmotivated againn
i really wanna post this multichapter ive been working on since january (it's a dad's best friend trope, if you're wondering 👀) but im writing one last chapter and nothing will come to me :(
do you have any tips for getting motivated or just general things that help you stay focussed?
Hey!
Same! It felt like such a long time 😫 (I mean, it was almost three weeks, so it kinda was a long time, but you know what I'm getting at)
Your wip sounds super interesting. I'm sure they're all devine. Sending you all the ✨️motivation✨️
I don't know if I have tips as much as I can tell you what I do (or what I try to do, at least lol), but anyway, here goes--
I usually don't have more than one "actual" wip at one time, I obviously jot down ideas when they come to me, but I'm not writing multiple full-fledged fics at once. I'm writing a fic, and maybe I'm working on some writing for Tumblr at the same time. Other than that, I just don't. I'm VERY tempted at times, but I force myself to take it one at a time. Even when it might be painful, lol.
(And I'm aware that I'm very privileged to have a brain that works in such a way as to let me write like that.)
Plus, as weird as it sounds, I've found the more I write with a single wip at a time, the more moving onto the next idea I have becomes a reward in of itself.
As far as finishing what I'm working on currently, usually I start with an outline, literal jot dots, for what I want the fic to be. Obviously, it doesn't always follow what I first put down, but there's an outline at least. Then, I go back and fill in that outline where I know nothing is permanent. I literally write the full fic in jot dot form. It just might be missing bits and pieces. It's still in jot dots. After I finish through the whole outline--expanding the ideas into actual writing--I go back, and I go section by section, removing the jot dots while reading for things I might need to change, things I might want to add, etc. After I get through the whole thing that way, I re-read it as a normal piece of writing. Again, changing or adding or removing things or whatever as I go. Then, I usually run it through a program like Grammarly or some shit to catch stuff that I can't catch (thanks dyslexia). Finally, I copy and paste it into AO3, reading it one last time, in a different font.
My schedule for writing on the weekend (soon weekdays, too... almost hello summer 👀) is to write for an hour after I eat breakfast. I'm a morning person, I get up at 6:00 am, then I sit on the couch with my laptop and type for an hour. Usually like 7:00-8:00am. Then I'm done. I'll come back to it tomorrow. It's a routine that's been my routine for a couple of years now, so I don't even really think about it. I just do.
(Also, obviously, if I'm in the middle of a scene or something, I write down what I will need for later, but I have shit to do, so I have to stop.)
When I'm in the middle of writing and I get stuck, usually I scroll back up to what I've written earlier and do some rereading. Or I scroll down and freshen my memory of where I'm trying to take this thing. Then, I integrate back into what I'm trying to write, thinking about the feeling I want to create, what picture I want to paint, what the internal world of the character I am writing is like (what is their "voice"), etc. When words won't come, I think about things other than words--if that makes any sense, lol.
If that doesn't work, rereading, I might take a breather. I drink a lot of tea, so I might go make myself some tea, sometimes thinking about what I'm trying to write, sometimes not. Usually, I get a lot of ideas the second I set my laptop aside, lmao. Or it comes to me when I'm pacing, waiting for water to heat up. Usually, because I write for an hour, I feel pressure to write the whole time, but I don't have to. No one has to do anything. It's all good. Take a breath.
A breather.
I also always listen to music when I'm writing. Almost always music with words but not always the same genre; I'm not just listening to horny music or whatever when I'm writing, so if I'm stuck, I might swap to a new playlist. Maybe one that is intentionally matching for what I'm writing--a more sexual playlist for smut, a softer playlist for romance, an upsetting playlist for angst, etc. Or maybe one that clashes, that always shakes something loose in my brain.
(Listening to straight fucking screamo when writing an intimate, quiet, fragile scene is objectively hilarious, too, so I entertain myself.)
Usually, when I write in the morning, I don't have as much trouble with my dyslexia because I haven't exhausted myself reading and processing the bullshit that letters and numbers do all day, but if it's just a bad day for whatever reason... I might swap fonts and try to keep at it. Usually, I write in Verdana, but I might swap to Comic Sans or something for a while.
Or, if I'm stuck because of dyslexia or anything else, I might just stop for the day. As a perfectionist and workaholic and, just, someone who you could not pay to sit still and not do something, I'm trying to allow myself more times where I can just stop. A lot of the time, I push through, though. I tell myself 10 more minutes, then you're done. A tangible goal can be good.
What really motivates me is getting the fic out. Not even necessarily getting it out and publishing it to AO3 and seeing people's reactions to what I create, although that is undeniably an incredible thing to experience. I feel compelled to write. I like the process of writing. And because I've accidentally created this rule for myself where I have to finish one thing before the next, I have to get something out to start the next. Editing is the WORST, but I will do it to move on to the next. That's just my workaholic nature.
It'll probably kill me one day... it's not the best. As a consequence, I will readily admit I forget what I've written CONSTANTLY. I don't re-read what I write once it's finished. I move on to the next idea so fast that I forget what I did prior until other people bring it up. I'm propelled forward with very narrow vision. Again, it's not the best, and I should learn to stop and appreciate what I've done. It's hard, though.
Also, talking to people about your ideas is always a good way to go. I should do it more, too. I find myself being a very selfish creator. I create from this place of compulsion. I have to get it out. I don't know why, I just do. It's the way I am. And I create alone a lot. I'm an introvert and a highly independent person, I like to be alone, and I like to make things alone. So, it's easy to fall into the same pattern of being private and only showing off what I have when it's fully finished, complete with a sparkling varnish. But that doesn't have to be the way it is. Share bits and pieces, talk about what you're doing, let other people tell you you're doing it! You're doing a good job! They're excited to see the next update, no matter how small!
If you can't/don't want to share, though, a fun way to bounce ideas around is going, okay, I have to make a list of [whatever number, 20, 50, 100, etc.] ideas. They can be absolute fucking garbage, all of them, but I am going to list out as many as I possibly can. If none of them are good, great! They're no longer taking up space in my brain. They're on this list. If one or two are good, great! You can build on those or warp them to fit.
I hope some of that helped, lol. I just tried to explain the way my brain works, and it isn't pretty, lmao.
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progress update
1st feb 2024
like i wanted to do this year on every 1st of each month, we have a general progress update, what ive been up to, general stats, plans for the upcoming month, how the last month treated me and how i treated this game. lots of personal detail will happen.
january has been the least productive month yet, im trying to not let it get to me, i had to take lots of breaks, my bed literally broke down on me on the 1st and it took over 2 weeks to get the new bed to me. sleeping on the ground made writing so impossible bcs i got chronic pain flair ups, migraines as well as hip pain. it was agony. i did however cleaned my room and got a new bed and this change of paste was really welcome. now that i finally have an actual desk to write on again, I can look outside my window and watch the squirrels while i write, so beautiful.
that does mean i didnt finish chapter 7 which is a bummer, but im trying to stay positive. i did publish part 2 in a more rough than usual state, just bcs i needed it out, i wouldve lost my mind if i didnt update it.
I allowed myself to take a break from OS since the last update, bcs even if i didnt actively wrote most of jan, i still thought about OS and beat myself up for not writing. And i had some time to work on other things that I plan for the future, others stories i wanna tell some day (im not starting a new wip bcs i will literally never finish anything if i do), and also just, reading and drawing without thinking about OS too much. It were only a few days, but it was a much needed break, bcs since OS went officially online last May, there wasnt really a day where i didnt think about OS.
stats from Jan:
I wrote a total of 8.477 words over the 8 days that i worked on this. That doesnt sound much, but its still about 1k words each day.
obv the 8,5k words arent the 20k I set out to do in the beginning of January, but im just happy i did something.
The game is now over 70k words long (including code, i wrote that shit imma count it), i know its not as much as other ppls wips, but damn, it feels crazy to me, knowing i sat down, laptop on my lap (in my bed primarily) and just wrote that much in less than a year.
Plans for feb:
for the love of god i need to get chapter 7 done. i also set the goal to 10k, since there are less days in february and i know that i might not get the time to write as i will be job hunting, yay. the goal will be adjusted in march depending on if and what job i get maybe. in general im pretty scared of february and march, bcs i will lose the financial aid and im not sure yet how the fuck will i finance myself, since moving back with my mom is a no. and i refuse to open a kofi or patreon. im very against earning money from my hobby and i hope i dont have to resort to it ever. (personal opinion)
Anyway, thanks for listening and lets hope that february will be a good month, ey
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🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?
!!!!!! my guy i am SO glad you asked. i LOVE my organization of my fics. this will probably be a very long ramble LMAO
so: my first step to Actually writing a fic that i am planning on finishing, is laying out the plot in an outline, usually in this form:
If it's not planned out enough to do that, then i need to go back to the Idea stage (aka listening to music and staring at my ceiling for hours) to figure out What Happens. Either that, or i ramble about it on my google docs or at one of my siblings.
after figuring out major plot details, I start mapping out chapters. In my Pirate au from Jan. 2021, I worked on an train-of-thought outline that ended up to be over 20k long, (over 50k if you count the side stories i outlined and the character sheets and everything) and took me several months. That was really fun! but horrible for actually writing the story. It'll probably never get posted, aside from when I get nostalgic and infodump about it. So nowadays, i keep my outlines very simple, and only use train-of-thought for fleshing out an already thought-out plan.
Usually, the pattern goes: Idea stage -> Outline -> Train-of-thought -> Refine outline -> start on a chapter -> listen to music and get more ideas -> have a burst of inspiration at 12 am and train-of-thought an entirely new arc into the story -> try to refine the outline but end up having to start the outline over -> continue to chip away at the most concrete chapters while putting a hold on the more nebulous ones -> repeat the cycle several more times until you are finished writing.
the trick is that, after every time i refine or remake an outline, the changes get smaller and smaller until i have everything locked down in a way that I can write without making shit up as i go. I also dislike writing in order, because that makes me focus too much on wordcount and gradual changes, and ends up spoiling the real heart of my work. i also tend to work on a lot chapters at one time.
I am currently on the third installment of my original outline in my TMA au: this one feels very concrete, unlike the last ones where it was hard for me to visualize an order. I'l give you an idea of what it looks like:
this is just the list of chapters-- i have a nother with notes next to it where i list the general gist of what goes down in it, but i didn't want to spoil too much XD
with my actual *writing* i like to have lots of different docs, all organized into folders. In my priate fic, the project was so big i divided the fic into four quarters to make folders for, and organized the snippets I wrote by determining what quadrant of the fic they were from. I also had a separate folder for my shootoff stories, that all had their own four quadrants, and so on and so forth.
My Tma au isn't as big as the other project was supposed to be, though; i have a folder for my outlines and train-of-thoughts, for my wips, and for my finished chapters.
anyways, ive rambled about this for a suprising ammount of time (I've!!! barely scratched the surface of my amazing fic organizing skills tho!!!btw!!!!jsyk!!!!! and im sleeby now so goodnight
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8, 13, 17? /nf
First of all thank you for the ask1!!
8.What project(s) are you currently working on?
I have like three fable fics im working on right now, more chapters of my forgotten!Rae au- the fic is called will the stars remember. Im also working on some more Kalaidascope date oneshots, and an Ocie song/dream fic. Those are like the three wips that ive been flitting between writing. I have,, just so many aus that still have not seen the light of paper.
13.How much planning do you do before writing?
For my multi chapter fics, ill figure out where i want the story to end, and then ill build to that. Ill often have a few scenes planned out too, so my main jovb is jjust bridgeing the gap from scene to scene. With oneshots, ill often have a line/ a scene planned and ill basically build around it for my plot. Ill always have and end planned, though. Its why Ill never write out my enderprince!rae au as anything more than maybe a few unconnected one shots. I just dont know how it would end, as its such a massive change to the lore.
17.What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?
I dont actually have an answer for this, i dont really do any research for my fics. Maybe if i was writing something technical , but at this point ive never had to do anything like that. The most research I do is I guess rewatching old vods to see what the yaout of something was like.
the ask game
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Hey Jazz!
First off, I gotta say I’m like a huge fan of your work, you’re seriously my favorite writer out there. You are sooooo talented and I just want to thank you for sharing your work with us!
I know you probably get like a million asks, especially stuff about writing and I really don’t wanna be a burden. But I just don’t really know what to do.
Ive been writing for awhile now, I have so many WIPs that I just can’t seem to finish. I can plan it all out and see exactly where I’m going. Whenever I get the inspiration to write I do it, but then I really start to overthink it and re-read it over and over again until I just hate every word. It’s really disheartening. Like I read it one day and it’s fine but then the next I absolutely hate it.
I know it’s probably some kind of imposter syndrome but how does one overcome something like that? How do you finish your works? How do you look at you work and not continue to mess with it or edit it?
If you do get around to answering this, thank you, I know you’re probably busy and like I just didn’t want to be a burden 😬😬😬
That’s when I spam my friends with it and ask for fresh sets of eyes! @i-am-robie gets this the most, my frantic whatsapp messages being like HEY CAN YOU READ THIS AND TELL ME I’M NOT A SHIT WRITER??? It’s hard, feeling like what you’re writing isn’t good enough for your own standards. But knowing how other people feel reading it can be a big help. Our brains are wired by society to not feel too happy or proud of ourselves or our own work because we’re told it means we’re either self-absorbed or we’re deluding ourselves, so the perception of others is often way more positive than our own perception!
Imposter syndrome happens to most people, myself included. I definitely get it sometimes when I feel like I’m writing above my weight class, lmao. And whenever I read over writing I did more than a year previous, it’s difficult to resist the impulse to just go in there and rip it apart into something I’d be happy with now. But I like having a record of my growth. What I did in the beginning was to literally publish my first completed version of any fic/chapter, haha. I did very little editing of the actual meat of it, because if I did I might have psyched myself out of posting. I went back later after getting some positive feedback and fixed grammar issues/typos, but I tried not to change too much outside my first instincts because those instincts are there for a reason. Now I have a lot more confidence and I do much more editing to find my favourite possible version, but honestly flinging my first versions into the world early on and getting some decent feedback from readers is a lot of the reason I got that confidence. That’s GROWTH babey
That might not work for you! Everyone is different. But it’s what I did, and as someone who did not study creative writing formally my own experience is really all the expertise I have. 🤷♀️
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any neat thoughts on noelle…. love ur headcanons!
omg thank you!!
i was really surprised because i didn't think i'd like noelle! i reallyyyyyy dislike christmas, so right off the bat i was like "ick.." but she's such a charming character... how could i not love her... she's funny and sweet and really well-written, and ofc her crush on susie is about the cutest thing ive ever seen. her friendship with kris is so precious too... the way they instantly settle into being comfortable with each other, like almost no time has passed. my god. they love each other 😭
umm something that really fascinates me about her is the constant references to angels in regards to her. obviously in snowgrave when that addison calls her Angel, but also during her ferris wheel with susie when she says she'd like to grow angel wings and fly way up high and far away from it all... okay i guess it's not Constant. but it feels really, really purposeful and important
ik it's more likely shading but i like to think the little blue pixels by her hood are meant to be very tiny angel wings... i mean, her dark world outfit is pretty reminiscent of stereotypical (western, christian) angel imagery. a simple long sleeved white robe.......
i'm convinced this will eventually tie in to the angel's heaven catastrophe ralsei talks about in ch1 - it's also worth noting that hometown's church worships some undefined Angel, apparently. remembering all those theories from the days ch1 dropped about Us being the Angel... and Us bringing about the angel's heaven... i feel like that particular conversation has kinda been forgotten because ch2 has thrown so much at us, but. hmmmmm!
(side note: can we also talk about how the roaring and the angel's heaven are absolutely not the same fucking event? ralsei? Ralsei??????)
i can't say for sure like, how. we're too early in. it's just one of those things i have a feeling will eventually be connected. i personally suspect that the angel's heaven is what happens when there's not enough darkness to balance out the light and with every fountain and dark world we destroy, we're one step closer to it. but this doesn't provide any insight into noelle eventually having something to do with it all.
im very curious about the repercussions of a snowgrave route and the divergences we're gonna start seeing as the chapters go on.
that's one of my biggest thoughts about her.. with no conclusion... i could probably sit here and force one out but i think what we saw in chapter 2 is simply the framework for something that is, frankly, unpredictable as of now.
some other thoughts about her for fun:
she is a trans lesbian ^^
if you've seen my WIP height charts you know but im so goddamn serious she is TALL. she and susie are almost the same height. she can also carry kris around like a sack of potatoes. kris loves their super tall monster friends sm
she is trying so hard to be goth. she thinks it's fun. her mom says no to most of the clothes she wants but she has found some pretty decent work-arounds for that...
speaking of. she's on the verge of a huge rebellious phase. well i shouldn't say phase - because It's Not A Phase Mom! more like, she's finally going to start growing into herself instead of timidly bowing her head to the expectations of others, whether they be her peers or the adults in her life
this is instigated by the dark world events, regardless of what route the player took. noelle after snowgrave will definitely take a more extreme approach to her teenage rebellion, though
she and kris are like... soulmate besties. it's like they were born from the same stardust, or some corny shit like that. no matter how much time passes and no matter how much they seem to drift apart, put them in a room and within 5 minutes they'll be laughing and joking like nothing has changed at all. they'll always Get each other. they both know this
i dont watch horror movies i dont have a good tolerance for that so i dont have any examples, but i think her favorites are the ones with practical effects and especially sick ass puppet work... i think she actually grows up and pursues making that kinda stuff for horror films and Maybe other genres... mostly horror
she and berdly are also really close. it's so fucked up that their care for each other shines through most clearly in a snowgrave route but they Are very good friends. they go on morning runs together ^^ (im Convinced berdly is the sporty type of nerd and in my brain he's on the cross country team too)
noelle sweetie please ask susie out you're killing me here
#mailbox#if i keep babbling about deltarune like this i'll need an essay tag like i have for cr hehe
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Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Two
I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI
cowritten by @lux-scriptum
A/N: Hey everybody!!! It’s been a hot minute. We’ve been busy lately between work and life and all that fun stuff but here’s a new chapter <3
A/N: So we’re changing a lil bit up, and adding more characters, specifically the gods as we’ve been doing more world building lately. These Gods are also from my own WIP, but have also found their way here!
“I just don’t understand why you need specific wood from a specific place for the crib,” Lev muttered, splashing the water with his foot as he watched Nik paddle around. Nik still wore a large shirt even in the pool, as if Lev and Cameron didn’t know he was pregnant.
"Well, Lev," Nik said. "Not all of us are okay with using hand-me-downs from four hundred years ago. Some of us like new shiny things for new shiny parasites- I say with love- and besides, its native to Tullum. It's home; at least as close to home as I'll likely get."
Lev huffed. “I didn’t mean that you had to get hand-me-downs, if you don’t want to. But I figured asking for wood specific to a region of angel territory when neither of us can go to retrieve it... It’s just a big fuss to make, I guess.” He braced his hands on the side of the pool, leaning forward a bit. “I don’t- Cameron had lots of very pretty options, is all, I guess.”
Nik arched a brow, eyeing him dryly. "And where, exactly, do you think some of those woods come from, Levant?"
Lev hesitated. “I assumed demonic territory?” he finally said, very unsure of the answer now.
Nik splashed Lev with enough force Lev was drenched, spluttering. Before he could think of how to respond, Cameron popped Lev gently on the back of his head. Lev hadn’t even noticed Cameron approach.
As Lev looked up, Cameron simply said, “Come inside. Biela requires your presence. Both of you.”
Lev stood, looking back to Nik, who was hauling himself out of the pool. Since Nik had already soaked him, Lev tucked himself against Nik’s side as they went inside.
Biela was standing in the kitchen. Without looking at them, she simply said, “Take a seat.”
Lev peeled away and settled in a chair, but Nik folded his arms over his stomach, which was beginning to show by that point, and said, "And why should-"
Cameron sliced Nik a look. "Nikolas, sit the fuck down."
At those cold words, Nik promptly sat on the nearest stool without another word.
Lev reached for Nik’s hand. Something told him he would not like whatever Biela had to say. Nik’s fingers tightened around his briefly as they waited for Biela to speak.
Biela fixed her dark gaze on Nik first. “I’m assuming you are keeping the fetus.”
It wasn’t a brief squeeze this time. “Why?” Nik asked sharply.
“Nik,” Lev said softly.
Biela held up a hand in Lev’s direction. “Because I'm also assuming you'd want to know the magic used to bring your boyfriend back from the dead poisoned my lands and is killing countless children. That's why."
Cold washed over Lev, colder than the death that he knew still tugged at his bones. “What?” he blurted, barely a whisper.
"You," Biela said, squarely looking Lev in the eye, "And your cousin and that witch played with forces beyond your control and decided to poison my lands with your greed because you just couldn't leave death well enough alone. I figured since your mate is currently pregnant, that you might want to know what is happening to the infants being born. Much like Nik's infant soon enough."
Lev risked swinging his attention to Cameron, eyes wide. He knew he was digging his nails into Nik’s hand as he searched Cameron’s expression, but for the most part it was unreadable, the usual shrouded calculation flickering in his eyes. Lev looked back to Biela after a moment.
“I didn’t know,” he finally said, voice small.
“Clearly not. You seem to know nothing.”
“I’m sorry,” Lev said, finally shifting his attention to Nik. “I’m sorry.”
The blood had drained from Nik’s face. “You’re lying,” he said, the words a harsh counterpoint to Lev’s whispered apology.
"And why would I lie about such a thing?"
"Because you despise me, and you loathe Lev and want any excuse to put Lev back in the ground."
Biela’s mouth curled in a non-smile. "If I was going to put your precious Lev back where he belonged, I'd do so without needing such a cruel lie. I'd just do it."
Lev tugged on Nik’s hand. “Nik,” he said, a warning in his tone this time. “She’s right.”
Tears of anger welled in Nik's eyes. "This is bullshit. This is absolute bullshit. I just decided to keep the thing. Now you're telling me it'll die anyways?"
Greif coiled alongside the fear and guilt. “You didn’t have to tell us,” Lev said to Biela. “Thank you,” he added, before tugging at Nik again. “We’ll figure it out, Nik. You- you could stay with Nate, couldn’t you?”
Nik's mouth pressed into a thin line. "But this is my home," he said, voice breaking.
Steadily, Biela said, "Not every child has been born dead or scarred. Perhaps your blood will… protect it in some way. Healing it."
Lev pressed his face to Nik’s shoulder. “You should talk to Ash. Or Sazra. Both of them.”
Nik stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered, as if it wasn’t midafternoon. Lev watched him go in silence, his heart aching.
Only once he was gone did Lev look back to Biela. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Is there anything I can do?” He meant it, knew she’d read that in his mind, and hoped it meant... something. Though he doubted it did.
Biela leaned against her palms, black hair slipping over her shoulder. "What do you think you can do? You and your cousin offer your pretty apologies while countless are dead like a few well placed 'sorries' will give parents their young once more. I highly doubt putting you back where you belong would solve it, and as I promised your cousin, I wouldn't. You will live with your actions and you will think about how this has affected my kingdom. And you will think about how my mercy has been the only thing keeping you with a home. Not even your own people want you. And now, you're a mass murderer to my people. That is what you can do."
Her words hurt, as they were meant to, he was sure, but he heard no untruth. “I would never assume that an apology would fix anything,” he promised carefully. “I will never forget the cost; I promise. But-” He hesitated. “I know most demons don’t appreciate an angels healing. I have the magic to spare, if it is ever useful. I understand that- it’s not- it’s all I can offer.”
Biela arched a brow. "I'll keep it in mind. If there's something to make you useful, I'll look into it. It's the least you can do."
“It is,” Lev agreed, grief leaking into his tone despite himself. “Thank you,” he added again, before lowering his gaze to the ground. Any more, he thought, and he might say too much.
"And you're not even crying," Biela noted. "An improvement." She straightened, readying to leave. "I'll return for our check up. I expect you to behave in the meantime."
On her way out, Cameron dipped his head in a reverent bow.
Lev waited until her footsteps faded before he looked to Cameron. “What are we going to do?” he asked.
All Cameron said was, "Survive."
-----
After nearly a week of Amara seemingly dodging every appointment Ash tried setting up with her, Ash decidedly went to see Nik so he didn't hunt her down and wring her neck. It seemed like the better alternative.
It was Lev who answered the door. Hesitantly, Lev asked, "Am I allowed to talk to you?"
"Well," Ash said, looking over Lev’s head, "if you weren't, you'd be a little too late now. Where's Nik?"
Lev flushed, cheeks going a blotchy gold. “In bed,” he said, sounding sad. “I’m assuming you heard, then.”
Ash blinked. "Heard what? I just needed to check on him. Did something happen to Nik?" He asked, shouldering his way past Lev. "Is he alright?"
“Oh.” Lev seemed to hesitate. “Fine. Nik is. I think. I mean, he is, but-” His voice got smaller and smaller. “Whatever Cyrus did to bring me back- the magic- infants are dying. Not making it to birth. Biela told us a few days ago. I assumed that’s why you were here. I thought Nik had taken my advice.”
At that Ash halted in place and whirled on him, face leeched white with horror and rage. "Wanna run that by me again?"
Lev flinched away. “The magic poisoned the lands,” he whispered. “The children are dying because I came back."
"I-." Ash inhaled sharply. "I told you. I told every single one of you not to do it. I hope you're fucking happy with yourself," he snapped, jabbing him in the chest. "None of you selfish assholes would listen to me and children are dead for it." Ash whirled back around and stormed his way to Nik's bedroom. "And now I need to make sure another one doesn't die because of everyone's bad choices."
Nik jolted up when Ash burned the door in place to stalk inside. He didn't give Nik a moment to speak before he started doing what he did best. "Have you been keeping everything down? Any fevers or anything beyond the usual normal pregnancy stuff?"
Nik blinked blankly at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know? Because I'm an omega? I-"
"My mistake," Ash said. "I shouldn't have asked you. Lev, has everything been normal with Niks pregnancy so far?"
Lev hovered in the charred doorway. “Other than morning sickness that Cameron and I have been keeping an eye on, everything seems fine. I didn’t think to ask Biela how the- what was happening to the parents. I was- it was a shock.”
"Oh I'm sure," he said, shortly. He turned his full focus back on Nik. "Is there any way I can convince you to come home at least until the baby is born?" When Nik shook his head, Ash sighed. "Right. Well, at least meet me for appointments every few days in Liwen. That way you get exposure outside of Demonic Lands as well as getting a better look in my office?"
Nik sat up on his elbow and watched him warily. “Papi doesn’t want me coming home, Ash.”
Ash rolled his eyes and eyed the bruising still fading from Nik’s neck. “Hm. Well. I don’t think your father is going to get to say much of anything when I hold just as much, if not more power and sway than he does. Besides, you’re not stepping foot anywhere near him, especially when you’re pregnant. I’m sure Nate would have my head. Or at the very least try.”
Nik didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I don’t want to go home.”
Ash sighed loudly. “Alright, fine then.” When Lev tried scooting his way past to Nik, Ash shoved his face away. “Move it, I’m dealing with my patient, Lev.” When Lev huffed Ash looked pointedly at him. “If that’s too much to ask,” he suggested, “then perhaps you can see yourself outside while we talk.”
Lev’s only response was making a face. “I think I’m going to go see what Cameron’s making for dinner.”
When Lev left, Ash turned his sole focus back to Nik who was still looking rather tired. “You gotta let me help,” he said. “We both know I’m the best you’re going to get when it comes to your health.”
“Dunno. Sazra seems to know plenty.”
“Sazra hasn’t seen the light of day in well over a thousand years. That,” he said, “and from what you’ve told me, Sazra also wants to string you up by your balls. Your physiology is different from demons and as great as a healer I’m sure she is, I am your healer and I’m not trusting a demon to take care of you when I’ve known you for the last nineteen years.”
Nik waved him off. “Figure it out, Ash. I don’t want to leave.”
“Because of Lev?” Ash asked, pointedly.
“And if it is?” Nik shot back.
“Then you’re making stupid choices for your baby.”
Nik almost looked like Ash hit him. Ash tried to reel back from that very poor choice of words, but even if he was successful at it, he still didn’t regret them. It was the truth especially when there were millions of infants dead because Ash didn’t stop Amara or Cyrus and now Nik was in the line of fire for his own inactions. “Look,” Ash warned, “if you won’t come back then I’m moving in here and I will make everyone who lives in this house as miserable as physically possible.”
“Like Cameron would let you.“
Ash scoffed. “You think I’m afraid of Wonder Bread Cameron? I get what I want and what I currently want won’t come back with me.”
Nik’s brows shot up at that, but before he could say anything Lev came slinking his way back into the room. “Mami’s actually in charge of dinner tonight so Cameron’s in his office. He looks kinda grumpy.”
“Surprise of surprises, I’m sure,” Ash said. He looked back to Nik. “So what is it, you coming with me voluntarily or am I moving in here against all of your wills?” When Nik stared at him in stony silence, Ash took that as answer enough. He got up from the bed and shouldered his way past Lev.
----
Ash was still being cranky, and Nik was still in bed. Lev wasn’t stupid enough enough to bother Cameron again, and so when he heard Eden waking up from her afternoon nap he decided to go pick her up before she upset the whole house with her fussing.
Even if he was supposed to be limiting how much he picked her up.
After some well placed smacks for not getting to her soon enough, Eden buried her face in his shoulder with a half-awake growl. Lev gave her a little bounce and settled in the rocking chair, toy in hand to offer her when she bothered to lift her head.
Only when several minutes had passed did Eden finish her little sniffle-growls and take the stuffed bear. Within seconds the ear was detached.
Lev sighed as he fished it out of her mouth. Eden took the chance to sink her little teeth into his finger, hard enough to draw blood. Before Lev could pull away, Eden gave a pleased shriek, little nails digging into his hand to keep him there. Despite the surprising amount of strength the toddler had, he managed to get free, in time for Ash to stick his head in the room, eyes glowing enough of a bright green that Lev was quite sure Ash was seeing just fine.
“I just can't seem to leave you alone for five minutes without you nearly getting killed by demons,” Ash grumbled.
Lev shrugged, catching Eden’s little hand before she could smack him again. “Hitting isn’t nice, bitty girl.”
She simply screeched in his face, and then thunked her forehead on his shoulder, giggling.
Lev looked up at Ash. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said as Eden took her bear back and began the gruesome work of beheading it. “Well, I mean- I wasn’t sure how to because I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to talk, and then you needed to check on Nik, and-” He paused, blinking hard. “Rambling. Sorry. I’m trying to work on that. I remembered things, about when I was dead.” He pressed a kiss to Eden’s head to buy himself some time to order his thoughts, and then went on. “I met Nature. During that time I was hesitating. And they talked to me.”
“Oh? And you didn’t bother to tell me this sooner?”
Lev winced. From what he’d gathered from the conversation with Nature, the link between Ash and the god ran deeper than Lev had ever realized. Not that Lev had ever really paid attention to it. He’d never been particularly close to Nature himself; he was starting to regret not trying to forge a connection with the only god the angels had. Maybe his magic would have been easier to access, stronger even, if he had.
“I didn’t remember for a long time,” he finally said to Ash. “But I do now, so I’m telling you.”
It’d been an intense conversation, for sure. He could see a lot of Ash in Nature. Or maybe there was a lot of Nature in Ash. Lev wasn’t too sure how the mechanics of it worked. Nature had all but berated him for dragging his feet. Just from past experience they knew if the spell failed it’d have unimaginable consequences, and Lev now knew just how bad it could have been.
“I promised them I would be the last resurrection,” he told Ash. “And I said if that failed, that I’d help take some of the- the punishment you suffered. It’s not fair for you to be in that much pain on your own.”
“Ya think?” Ash snipped.
Lev took a small breath, and then replied calmly, “I really am sorry, Ash. It was the least I could do, I thought.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Tell me everything you talked about.”
“A lot of it was... kind of scolding. About trying to come back,” Lev admitted. “And telling me there were going to be consequences either way. They laid out exactly what you went through while not stopping us.” Lev cleared his throat. “I- that's when I offered. To help shoulder the pain.” After tucking his cheek against Edens hair, he held up a hand, weaving his shadows through his fingers with ease. “I think that might be why my magic is stronger. I was going to try to- to find more ways to connect with them, but I’ll have to wait until I can go back to angelic territory now, I think.”
“Why? There’s temples here.”
“Oh. I didn’t-” He stopped, frowned. “I don’t know much about demons and the gods-” He sighed this time. “I’m still on house arrest. I’m not allowed to leave until Biela deems me not a security risk.”
Ash lifted a brow. “Aren’t you in a relationship with a demon?”
“We’ve never had a conversation about religion, Ash,” Lev said with an even deeper frown. “I don’t think Cameron’s particularly religious. I guess I could ask him about the demonic gods. All I know is that they’re where demons get their magic, like we do from Nature.”
“They have a name, you know,” Ash said. Lev couldn’t figure out if he sounded irritated or tired. “It’s Asmi.”
Lev flushed. “I- I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He cleared his throat, and said more firmly, “No one really calls them by their name, but I should- I should have asked.”
“Probably,” Ash said drily. “And technically they’re not even the god of nature.”
Lev stood up, bouncing Eden on his hip. “They aren’t?” He asked. “That’s what we were taught in primary school, I’m sorry.”
“Primary school?” Ash said. If Lev didn’t know better, he was teasing him now. Crankily, sure, but still.
Rather than dignify that with an answer, Lev gave up and let a very wiggly Eden down to crawl around the nursery.
“Asmi is the god of balance,” Ash finally said. “They’re tied to the earth. Anything falls out of balance, and we’re all affected. That’s probably where the angels got nature from.”
“Makes sense why the teachers simplified it like that, I suppose,” Lev replied. “If it’s- if it’s not too much trouble, could you teach me more, whenever you get the chance?”
“Sure. Looks like I’m rooming with you for the foreseeable future anyway.”
“Thank you,” Lev said, smiling at Ash. He didn’t get one in return, but considering the amount of pain Ash had gone through in the past several months because of Lev, he didn’t blame Ash. Not one bit.
~~~
There was only so much of Nik’s day being spent in bed Lev could stand before he felt restless himself. Even taking care of Eden couldn’t shake his inherent need to be a busy body. So when it occurred to him that Nik had not yet actually celebrated his pregnancy, he decided it was high time something good be associated with Nik’s pregnancy.
After all, it was tradition.
Lev waited until Eden was down for her nap to corner Cameron and Ash in the kitchen. “I think Nik deserves a baby shower,” he said without preamble. “And I think we should throw him one.”
“Of course you do,” Cameron said, not even looking up from the meat he was searing in a skillet.
Lev looked expectantly at Ash, who just gave a shrug. “Might as well get him out of that foul mood of his.”
“He’s no reason to be happy about what’s going on,” Lev replied reasonably. When Ash narrowed his eyes at Lev, the lack of a glow to his green gaze letting Lev know he wasn’t actually able to see him right now, Lev was quick to add, “So I want to... give him some happier memories about this pregnancy. He’s so miserable right now and all he’s gotten is bad news. A party will cheer him up and maybe give him something to look forward to.”
“Are you suggesting he isn’t looking forward to the several horrendous hours of labor to push that fetus out?” Cameron asked, flicking a look Lev’s way.
Lev blinked. “Well. No, I doubt that. But. The after? Holding the baby? I don’t think he’s thought that far. He’s just stressed and worried.”
“That was sarcasm, Levant,” Ash pointed out.
“Oh.” Lev rubbed his nose. “Um. Well. I do think it’s a good idea.”
“Alright. Fine. I’m sure we can have something set up this weekend.”
“Thank you,” Lev said to Cameron, looking pleased. Up until he realized... “Who can we invite”?”
“Well, that is indeed the question, isn’t it?” Ash mused.
“Can Nate be invited?”
“I sure hope so, Nate practically raised him,” Ash said dryly.
Lev grimaced at him, knowing very well he couldn’t see it. “Yes, but- am I allowed to be there if he is?”
“I think it’ll be fine, especially if Bay is with him.”
After considering that, Lev gave a small nod. “Okay. Can I help plan for it, Cameron?”
“I suppose,” Cameron said.
Lev gave a small hum. “Ocean themed? To match the nursery?”
“Sure,” Cameron said, with the same amount of indifference as before.
This time Lev huffed at Cameron. “I’m going to go see if Mami wants to help,” he said, knowing it was a little petty.
“You do that,” Cameron said.
As Lev... well, even he could admit he was flouncing off a bit, Ash followed. Lev took that as a silent agreement to actually participate in the planning.
---
Darius found himself in Cyrus’ office with a mug of tea in front of him and Cyrus across from him with his own coffee. Even if Darius couldn’t drink the tea, he did appreciate the gesture. It would be nice to be able to drink tea once more.
“Why Cameron?” Cyrus asked, not in an accusatory way, but genuine curiosity.
“Why not Cameron?” Darius asked, splaying his brown fingers along the desk.
Cyrus gave a shrug as he continued to flip through his notes, coffee seemingly forgotten. “He’s not exactly the sort most people seem to be attached to. Outside yourself, Nikolas, and Levant, of course. Most others seem frightened more than anything.”
“I don’t see why,” Darius said. “Cameron’s never been frightening to me.”
“Perhaps it's the amount of people he’s tortured and killed,” Cyrus pointed out mildly. He looked up briefly. “I mean no offense, I simply want to understand.”
Darius thought on that, and he thought on the boy he had known when he was alive. And he thought on the hell that was unleashed upon Cameron once it was found that Darius had died at Cameron’s own hand. And then he said, “Perhaps. Though, I do not judge a person by their occupation. One could say Sorin has killed his own fair share of people, no?”
Cyrus looked over at Sorin, who was curled up as a cat on a pile of papers, orange tail twitching against his white flank as he dozed. “He did,” Cyrus agreed. “And he retired. But you made your point. I see where you’re coming from.” He looked back to Darius. “The war made a monster out of many people. But something tells me the war is not what happened to Cameron.”
“Just a different kind of war,” Darius sighed. He traced along one of his rings. “Have you come up with a solution that would not let Cameron die in the process?” Even if Darius was quite sure Cameron wouldn’t blink at the idea of giving his own life to right this particular wrong- even when the last five hundred years had Cameron’s story of survival written in betrayal and blood.
“I considered just... any life. But- that doesn’t seem a fair trade,” Cyrus sighed, running his own ringed fingers over his face. “I’m not willing to attempt the spell without certainty. The cost of failure is too high, and it’s your only chance.”
“Of course,” Darius said. “I do not take any of this lightly. I am very grateful to you, Cyrus.”
Cyrus gave a small smile, though his face was tired. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Not until after I guarantee this will work.” He propped his chin in his hand. “It’s starting to look like there’s no way for me to be sure what is an acceptable trade, unless I speak with Nature themself.” Cyrus paused. “Which would be difficult, because I’ve never tried to form any sort of connection with Nature before. I didn’t get the education most witches do from their covens, and I was learning so much about the practical side that it slipped my mind.”
“Well,” Darius said, “I am sure there is no time like the present to get acquainted with your god.” Something Cameron, too, was unable to do. “Asmi seems… sturdy.”
Cyrus hummed. “Sturdy. Concrete. Something like that. I think.” He tapped his cheek. “I have no idea how to go about it, though.”
“I could reach out,” Darius offered. “Seeing as how I’m in the same realm as they are. And there’s less risk to you if I were to approach them first.”
Cyrus considered that. “That would... be very helpful, actually,” he mused. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Though perhaps after I take a nap.”
Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#wip boost#hell to pay#original writing#ch: cameron#ch: darius#ch: nik#ch: biela
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WIP wednesday thoughts:
willow cabin is utterly fucked because i changed my intended ~moral~ halfway through and now im stuck trying to integrate this shitty political intrigue plot into what should’ve been a more interesting story about éowyn adapting to life in gondor. hugely fucking annoyed by it and just totally unsure how to proceed. i could significantly increase the chapter count, but im worried that because the initial framing device was this bandits shit that closing out that plot and then still going for ages afterwards would be really shitty? i honestly don’t know, it’s so difficult. really i just need someone to read my outline and tell me if im being a dumb twat about it lol
meanwhile I know exactly where I want to go with AFTA but for some unaccountable reason im stressed that my ass is gonna get roasted for the direction i want to take it in. it’s all based in both tolkien’s personal politics and (some) historical precedent, but im worried people are gonna see it as a marysue-ification? but also im hoping to do sthg of a sequel to afta to practice the political intrigue writing so i don’t make the same mistakes i did in wc, and to do that it would require this specific set up in AFTA. im gonna put my AFTA thing under the cut so don’t click read more unless you’re gucci with potential AFTA spoilers!!
this royal affair au is definitely gonna get published at some point but im trying to decide if i want to do ~tasteful~ smut that drives a longer narrative or if im really just gonna do a whole 3,000 word build up to some run of the mill, old fashioned PWP lmao
okay so i have spent a Lot of time thinking about what impact i think éowyn and faramir would have on each other in a pre-ring war setting, and the honest to god conclusion ive come to is that they would somewhat inadvertently egg on each other’s (wildly divergent) idealism.
faramir’s an idealist politically in ways that, as Big D rightly points out, are not super productive in a wartime scenario. but so far as im concerned, the war doesn’t feel as warlike until they have to blow the bridge at osgiliath. until that point, there’s not really anything to say that faramir’s whole throwback optimism isn’t a perfectly justifiable position to have.
but what that idealism is and how it manifests are two really important considerations. the crux of his idealistic politics is that he looks at númenor and sees something valuable in it, and looks at gondor and sees a lot that he thinks is fucked up. outside of articulating a general angst towards the glory hunting, it’s not like he’s spending time talking about his specific policy prescriptions. however, we do know a few things that can guide us to a more coherent reconstruction of his politics:
he’s pretty rigidly hierarchical (when it’s convenient for him). as seen in: him basically telling sam to fuck off and stay in his lane in WOTW, and in how and when he chooses to refer to his father as ‘father’ vs ‘my lord’ or ‘lord of the city’ in the aftermath of the osgiliath retreat and then before he gets his ass sent back there. i don’t want to go into too much detail here but if i go with this i’ll definitely justify it more thoroughly in the footnotes.
so we’ve got faramir’s emphasis on hierarchy and his occasional (when convenient) belief that the upper echelons of a hierarchy are there because they’re intellectually and/or morally better. or, maybe to remove the causation from that instance, because they are in those upper echelons, they have an obligation to be more morally/intellectually upstanding, and the people in the structure below them have an obligation to show deference. unless you’re faramir and you’re dealing with denethor in which case that all goes out the window. classic.
we know there is some sort of nascent pseudo-democratic tradition of popular sovereignty in gondor. we know this because faramir asks the masses at aragorn’s coronation if they’ll accept him as king. faramir is a lot of things, but he is certainly not a progressive political radical, and i cannot imagine any situation in which he cooked up that rigmarole himself. that then implies to me that it’s building on some sort of political/cultural expectation in gondor. so: some sort of relationship to popular legitimacy. the people of gondor are subjects, but perhaps not as totally passive and unconsidered in the power structure as we might assume given the comparability to feudal europe/asia.
given those two things, i want to use AFTA to argue:
that faramir, in looking to assign blame for the faults he sees in gondor, would not directly assign blame to the lower classes, but rather to the aristocracy, because he will have seen them as failing in their moral obligations to the people they rule over. this is not to say that he isn’t fucked off about The People™ valorising war, but i think he’d take the position that they couldn’t possibly be expected to form those values and opinions of their own volition, and the fault lies in their rules. faramir: not gramscian.
faramir lacks any power that is non-military, and even that is of questionable worth because the rangers seem to be fairly distinct to the general structure of the army, and are not exactly a huge force.
faramir lacking any political power isn’t necessarily a huge concern for him (as in, he’s not actively trying to change that), because he knows he’s not going to lead a moral revolution and isn’t interested in taking up the responsibilities having political capital would engender because he’s stuck dealing with this war, that he fucking hates btw has he mentioned that he hates it?
however, given that he is apparently eminently versed in lore and scholarship, he is probably keenly aware that there is this incipient notion of popular legitimacy somewhere in gondor’s culture. it’s not, for most of his life, knowledge that actually does anything for him, but it is there.
éowyn, meanwhile, doesn’t really have many strong political convictions (yet). not because she’s a dumbass or whatever, but because she looks at court politics as kind of a farce, and doesn’t believe that power legitimately emanates from anywhere that isn’t a Big Fucking Army. and why, strictly speaking, would she not think that? the event that brought about the creation of her kingdom was not careful, soft spoken negotiation, it was her ancestors being in the right place at the right time with a Big Fucking Army.
and the internal politics of the Riddermark actually seem to be fairly stable, all things considered. i sincerely doubt that Théoden or Théodred are having to negotiate complex politicking in the way Denethor and Boromir are. so where, then, would éowyn see that kind of political behaviour outside gondor? with gríma.
éowyn, then, will see the immediate contrast between gríma (backroom dealer, manipulator extraordinaire) and théoden (owner of Big Fucking Army). and gríma goes and fucking wins that fight. that forces éowyn to confront the fact that, jesus christ, maybe there are different types of power.
at the same time, she’s going to be in minas tirith and needing to cover for théoden letting his shit get wrecked. not just because she’s prideful, which of course she is, but because if denethor/gondor think that théoden is too weak to hold up his end of the bargain, why would they ever go help the Mark? éowyn, seeing that théoden’s f-f-fucked, knows that there’s a very very good chance the Mark will need help.
against her feelings about courtly politics, she starts to accept that she’s going to need to do something to get power in gondor. not anything substantial, it’s not like she’s trying to overthrow anybody, but enough that when push comes to shove she can force denethor to help out the Mark (if he doesn’t do so willingly).
but, as ive sort of already shown in AFTA, she’s a bit of a dogshit diplomat. good for a little big-brawny-enforcer stuff, but not exactly brimming with cultural sensitivity. by the time she realises théoden + the Mark are fucked, she’ll have burnt quite a few bridges with the gondorrim nobles, and it’s not like she’s the sort of person to go running cap-in-hand begging for mercy.
so: she has to look elsewhere. and wow! a chance for faramir to do his favourite thing — talk about his opinions! and by god, his weird idealistic politics are… actually kind of helpful? because he’s like, look, you’re never gonna be a diplomat, but there are other ways of consolidating power. and one of those ways is by appealing to The People™. so why not work that angle?
and actually, we know that this is a viable route for éowyn because hama, in arguing for her to take up the mantle of théoden’s heir when théoden and éomer fuck off to helm’s deep, basically says that The People™ love her and would have willingly chosen her to lead them.
we also know, based on faramir’s middle men speech, that the people of gondor and the mark have grown alike in nature. not totally unreasonable to then think that the people of gondor would take to her like the people of the mark did.
éowyn, then, in various ways begins to try to win over the people of minas tirith. i need to do a little more research on this bc what ive got on the practicalities of that so far are a bit, uhhh, sketchy, but the least jargony way to describe this is to point to when natalie dormer’s character in GOT gets out of the carriage to go hug and kiss some babies. (marc bloch, eat your heart out)
this would later segue into a potential sequel where, while trying to secure the way for aragorn’s coronation, éowyn actually plays an interesting role because she’s fallen into this incidental Diana, People’s Princess™ role and so is better positioned than almost anyone to go advocate on his behalf. wow! cool! éowyn getting to be politically useful in more ways than just getting hitched!
so yeah. that’s how i am thinking it might play out. this would obviously have a rolling impact on the remainder of AFTA and how certain (🔥) events pan out later, but i think that building up part has to begin pretty much now, narratively. also this lets me get in a reference to “and then her heart changed, or else at last she understood it” and have it not be almost entirely about wanting to shag faramir, but actually about her gradual evolution from valorising war above all else to being like, hmm, maybe there are other ways of being powerful. which i think still largely captures the “no longer I will vie with the great riders” stuff, but more subtly and without feeling quite so… deferential, I guess? Like it’s not that she’s swapping one form of power (violence) for nothing (gardening?? healing?? tolkien accidental articulation of necropolitics??) but swapping violence for a different type of more sustainable power.
yeah. that’s the take, basically. who fucking knows.
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goose-books productions: a 2020 review
view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template
transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h
january
i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.
enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.
Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”
Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”
“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.
“Exactly,” Augustus says.
“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.
“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”
It isn’t.
february
in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”
it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL
I.
Someone was going to die on these steps.
This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.
It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.
march
in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)
INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?
[PAUSE.]
DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.
[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]
NONA: That’s right.
MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.
DEE: We’re using her stove.
NONA: To make pasta.
DEE: Do you want some?
[A TENSE PAUSE.]
INDRAJIT: No.
april
and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.
iv: control
They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.
People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.
may
in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.
ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -
HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.
ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.
HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.
[PAUSE.]
ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.
He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.
God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.
june
okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!
RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.
So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.
july
every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.
“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”
Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.
“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.
“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”
Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.
august
this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.
You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.
You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.
So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.
There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.
september
i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...
It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.
(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)
Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.
But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.
october
...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.
Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.
This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.
Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.
They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.
november
and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)
“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”
Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”
Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.
Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.
“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”
december
and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)
i kill the beast and drop down to my knees,
my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue,
and for a moment these scarred hands shake free,
and hold a world unfurled for me anew.
but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find;
fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare.
my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind;
the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there.
and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE—
O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.
i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)
a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:
(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color
thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!
#max.txt#and that's a wrap!!! what a goddamn year.#okay. breath in. tags:#quark tag#third eye tag#(i think there are like. two posts in that one?)#amt tag#darkling tag#tmr tag#vvvid tag#wow that was a lot of text. if you read all this... [blows you a kiss] thank you!#max actually writes#year in review
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