gabrielwritessometimes

[gabrielwritessometimes]

“this ship is not canon” babe, they’re fictional characters. they’re not real. they’re literally dolls we play with. we don’t care about whether or not these fictional characters’ love story is canon in this piece of media that is also entirely based on fiction. I mean, sure, canon would be lovely, but it’s a bonus. it’s not necessary. what we care about is the fun of talking about these 2 idiots being in love.

we don’t give a fuck if they didn’t kiss in “canon”. they had raw sex in thousands of fics about them though. and I’d say that’s more than enough to make people who ship them happily ship them even harder. happy shipping!

[gabrielwritessometimes]

NaNo Week 1

Not only did I manage to write everyday even if it's not my main novel and VN, I also discovered something else : damn, I do have time in my day to write, but it's messy. I can bring my laptop to write and drink a nice cosy tea with colleagues, sure, but no.

Because I'm not the only one in my workplace who is doing NaNo. Or rather, I'm not the only one OBSESSED with it. So between colleague who isn't doing it because other projects and the baby colleague to who I taught archive of our own exists, discussions are very, very interesting. We yell a lot. And I can't write if I'm yelling a lot.

So instead I'm narrating to my phone some passages, some quotes, some RANDOMNESS, thoughts and advices, anything I can hoard to write when I come back home and listening to all of this very comfortable and encouraging chaos, with laughs and screams and silly ideas.

And honestly ? It is the best feeling ever, and I managed to write more than expected, because there are cheers in my earphones. Saved for the hardest times.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

[Fate's Pawn] - Tymérion

There you are, masked and parading, blessed child, cursed child Cut your own throat or theirs, who cares, who cares ? Win or lose, the rivers will still run red in the end

Age : 17 Occupation : Noïa Nomerta's assistant researcher and ward, rising star of Terenta Mari's Magic department. Goal : To succeed in his mission, with as few consequences as possible for those he has come to care about.

Genius of hard work, Tymérion is one of the most prominent figures in the Magic department of the Academy since he became the mentee of Noia Nomerta, the only researcher to equal - or even surpass - Hosio Illotia. Relatively popular due to his impeccable manners and his unfailing kindness, he is the example of a perfect prince charming for many at the Academy.

If only this whole facade wasn't a carefully crafted mask.

Entangled in matters bigger than himself and forced to play for all sides and interests except his own, Tymérion is at the end of the rope. If it wasn't the only hope for the salvation of his younger brother and Noïa's unfailing support, he probably would have gone to get lost in the deep countryside of some distant kingdom.

(He still thinks about it occasionally.)

Likes : strong-flavored teas, calligraphy, Terenta Mari's lower district, being in and at peace, his family. Dislikes : autumn, incense smell, the color red, lies, Aljade.

(@gabrielwritessometimes come greet your son on his debut lmao)

[gabrielwritessometimes]

"I can fix him" not in a "I can make him into a better person" way but in a "if he was my character I would've handled his story better" way

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Happy STS! Just stopping but with a writing question for today :) How do you conceptualize a scene? What do you start with when trying to craft a scene?

Happy STS to you too, I hope your day was/is/will be good !

To conceptualize a scene, I need a lot of time, first I need to see if it flows "right" in my mind, do the dialogues sound natural? What is the setting? Does one character appear in the room like it's a play, or did it start in media res with the character already there? Which pov do I follow? Then I make a bullet list of all these observations and then

decide if I want to add symbolism through colors and various elements, and then I start to build it idea by idea, until the words can convey the image/movie I envisioned !

I also always follow the same path : setting (background, furniture, lighting), people involved (naming, showing how many are in the scene, how do they feel about one another), then movement (feelings, dialogues, actions) !

(Note to self : This might be because I'm a huge Mauriac fan, Thérèse Desqueyroux was amazingly crafted.)

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Hey there! I'd like to learn a little more about your writing process. Feel free to give as much or as little detail as you see fit.

What do you consider to be essential for a successful writing session?

Do you like to have a certain snack or drink on hand?

Do you have to listen to a certain type of music to get in the mood or do you work better in silence?

Do you like to work in the same location every time you write or do you like to switch it up regularly?

Do you need a detailed plan of where the story is going before you can draft anything or do you prefer to jump right in and make everything up as you go along?

-with love and ✨Good Vibes✨ from a friend

Hey there, hope the day will treat/treats/treated you well !! I'll combine some answers ♪

I guess what's essential will be my environment ! A google doc opened with justified settings and Cambria 11 as a font, then the music : I love to listen to distant thunder on mynoise.net (you can find it right here, I tend to lower the white noises and add MORE thunder), then a fizzy drink (I can finally drink lemonade so I experiment with it and different syrup, or coke !) without snacks (otherwise I hear the crunching noises and gets out of the zone) and then I'm ready to write since I need nothing from outside my working bubble.

I tend to always work at the same locations, I actually have 3 :

At work, upstairs, 3rd chair to the right (best access with the window behind me so nobody can sneak behind me when it's open).

At home : At my desk, chair to the left of the desk and the rest of my stuff scattered on the right (handwritten notes, access to my references discords, ...)

At the restaurant/bar/café/whatever : always close to a window if I need to gaze around, and always at least one or two hot drinks per hour (when I go to a place that serves something I always order a lot, it's my way to show I don't want to bother them too much and I usually end up eating two times in the restaurant).

I tend to be a very organised writer with checklists, parts already written, a plan, links to useful references... and sometimes I just go in BLINDLY I just need an idea or sometimes a word and I'm already sprinting to write an OS about it. But I usually plan to not hit that moment of "what the fuck do I do now ?" because if I do, it goes to the abandoned WIP file of shame (It's called the burial mounds).

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Hello, there! Just stopping by to hear a little about your WIP! What, in your opinion, makes your WIP unique? What makes your WIP stand out?

Hello !! Thanks a lot for the ask ♥

I guess what makes the WIP stands out is that it's interactive and has so many possibilities of branching. I want to turn it into a Visual Novel but the book will be the default ending, except I'm pretty sure nobody expects a heroin corruption arc along the way, and some hidden agendas among her followers... fufufu.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Listen, Kiesel has a lot to say about how he was robbed of his destiny and how he could have been the greatest but noooo he could be God but has to obey another one and noooooooooo he's not allowed to go apeshit YET... Kiesel just really, really hates the fact that Orys could take back his living breath if he ever disobeys. It will NOT stop him from ranting and moaning about how it's unfair.

Also his hair don't look as sparkly white as before and it's ALWAYS Orys' fault.

Now for the question : Who would your character admire if they were to be teleported in our modern times and had access to Wikipedia ?

OKAY!

WRITEBLRS if you're seeing this, you're legally obligated to reblog with an answer, and then a new question for the next person!

Here's the start:

Which of your OCs is most likely to punch somebody in the face?

[gabrielwritessometimes]

I do have to say that it was both productive and cathartic. I still stand by my words : He was a wet noodle. Now he's someone to SIMP for (and the other is a wet noodle done good).

A thing I really like with @gabrielwritessometimes is that our brains work really well together.

We just buffed together the main antagonist of my novel, after like 20 minutes of pure roast, digging up old ideas, a detour towards Freud's theories and angst imagines.

It was a productive session.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Hey, guys! In the spirit of @fictionalbullshitter's Ask-a-Thon event, I thought I would start my own list of writeblrs to send asks to!

If you want an occasional writing related ask from me, feel free to Reply and/or Reblog this post with the blog that you want the asks sent to (i.e. lmk if you'd rather have them sent to a side blog)!

The asks may line up with an ask day (like Storyteller Saturday or Blorbo blursday) or it may not, depending on my availability that week. Feel free to be as vague or specific as to what you are comfortable with!

I'll keep a running list and post it around this time next week and tag everyone so you can see if you've been added. It's not time sensitive, though! You can ask to be added/removed at any time! If you have any questions let me know!

Happy writing, guys! 🤗

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Aleksiel - I

He had always been forgotten, for as long as he remembered. The second son of Dzar Léviath I, looking ready to drop dead at any second like everyone wished him to. So different from the bright cherished bastard who had everyone wrapped around his little finger. His older brother was amicable and smiling, he was always scowling and glaring, driving them all away to complain to his brother.

But he was clever. At an age where children should just be a drooling mess, he was pondering. Why did he look so much like his father and Nikolaj didn't. Why was he lean despite everything he ate and Nikolaj was fattening ? Why did he look so young despite all his years while Nikolaj aged ?

And then Mikhail was born. Proper, pretty as a doll Mikhail. Always sweetly smiling, a bit shy, handing flowers carefully cut to the servants and nobles alike. All rosy cheeks and cristal clear eyes people lost all worries or anger in. 

Just like his.

To be fair : more like his and so much less like Nikolaj's. Aleksiel knew his place well and kept it as he should. The first born out of wedlock to force his father in a quick union before his birth to secure the birth of a real heir. He didn't mind, because it meant that now he could be forgotten by everyone. Fluttering away like wild goose were the expectations put on him.

He missed it.

Having responsibilities. Being thanked for the slightest thing. Being the only one good at what he did. Being sought for advice or chores. He had unraveled in the knowledge that, maybe, he could become more than a placeholder.

He wasn't.

It hurt.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, the elders used to say in his wake. They were right. Just like his mother who had forgotten about his very existence and manipulated the court, he started planning, scheming. He listened to what was said in hushed voices at dusk, what was whispered before his father entered the council room, what the servants brought back from outside the capital and inside the carefully locked rooms. Slowly but surely, all the puzzle pieces assembled, but he wasn't playing with the same pictures as his same-aged peers. His was far more complex and intricate, full of strings to tie and tear, and the picture was just as ugly as his festering yearning heart.

Nikolaj had noticed and kept trying to right him. Putting more pressure on him, trials to be solved, morals to be heard, people to meet to broaden his mind. Aleksiel was thankful for this. Because he could twist and turn each of these to further cement his convictions and prove Nikolaj he was wrong. And so Nikolaj grew desperate, and Aleksiel grew more and more satisfied. 

So much so that he could finally sleep at night, his heart appeased to know the turmoil he was causing to people who finally cared about him.

Even if it was out of fear and hatred.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Long before the Marble of Life came to existence and Humanity was a foreign concept lived Divinities in the sky and beyond. Phantom beings mixing with stars and elements alike without a goal, merging and ripping apart to try to create something, anything. All believed in all, and when one of them was ignored, they disappeared forever, replaced by a brand new idea.

Many years passed like this, until the youngest Divinity had an idea. She was bored of scurrying the depleted universe and play with old abandoned marbles she used to smash together and giggling at the sound and trajectories. She tried to collect a lot of them to put them together and see if they could be revived, but to no avail. She saught advices to the oldest who created them, but gained only cautious words and amused grunts. Hurt by their dismissal, she scouted them to help her. And soon all of them decided to unit with her, to see if they could bring back the happy look in her eyes that they mercilessly killed with their scorn.

Little by little, what became known as a planet started to develop into a proper miniature world. Each one of the oldest breathed in the sphere some of its own essence, watching in wonder as volcanoes erupted in molten earth solidified by sizzling ice cliffs as nature grew in the newly formed water. Life started to appear, sometimes squashed by one of them, sometimes thriving because of one of them.

As the little Divinity giggled and squealed of joy, she decided to become tinier and tinier, until she could fit in the Marble. She then discovered in detail what had looked so fun from above : the smoothest cliff standing proud, the erupting volcanoes and bubbling lava, the sometimes dry sometimes wet grass in bushes, and the warmth of the Sun's smile above her. The taste was heavy on her new created tongue as smells invaded her nose, and she started to run in this world, dancing and squealing and tumbling down until she splashed in cool water, screaming of both surprise and delight. How proud she looked of this world !

Soon, the four oldest divinities started to do the same. They only wanted to help her, and seeing her new form, started to adapt to the same. The Spark chose a buffer and taller appearance, looking like a fuming mountain with wings big enough to obscure the sky and creating sparks of electricity and heavy rain, The Sun chose a leaner appearance with wings of light to soar in the sky above the Spark's wings, bringing back warmth and life once the Spark tired of straining. The Life chose a rounder appearance with long, long vines as her hair that she braided while singing next to the biggest ponds, thinking about her lover and trying to make him join her. As for the Force itself, they chose an even buffer appearance, looking like on these ancient specimens known as ankylosaurus, his back made of mountains where lived and scuttered even smaller forms of life.

Each of them started to claim land as theirs, creating microclimates, new sceneries and soils, changing the color of the sky, learning how to create life when asking her when she was around, little by little they commissioned each other to have the best of every world while remaining dominant in their environment, and all of them gifted their territory to the little Divinity, now known as the Prodigy for she brought peace between the oldest and created what they had failed to do so before : viability.

Alas, this harmony broke in the worst possible way. Soon creatures they had built to look like them started to change as they merged and gained independence. Some turned their back on them, some were convinced to do the same, some became hostile, some became incapable to live without them around. These new creatures developed their own intelligence and words, feelings and cruelty. Were the Divinities now unwelcomed on their own creation ? The Spark felt so and decided to return to the universe, except it collapsed. The Spark disappeared, as the Sun witnessed, powerless for once in its existence, and his cries could be heard across the universe they could never come back to ever again.

Their essence was too fused to this world, too fused to their creations, too fused with the soil and air and everything making their territory viable, and they had commissioned each other so much that when one of them wanted to live, all of them felt pulled apart. The Spark, who had refused to join them, disappeared out of existence alone. The Prodigy weeped and cried as his people started to mourn and rebel. The Sun was held responsible, for he couldn't save his lover and their father.

However, the Drago'n's clan was tied to the Marble too, and soon started to roam it, seeking vengeance and peace of mind. They had never mourned and weaponised their raw feelings, soon followed by humans who were victims of the newly created unfairness and class systems. Some Divinities tried to shelter them, others to enslave them, for their own good. Because now, Divinities, born and created alike, became dependent on human's Faith in them and had to gather it to stay alive and provide miracles to keep them interested like adults jiggling keys above a toddler's head.

As harmony broke apart and the God of Winter seized the land of the banned as his fortress, the others gathered in a mock alliance to fight him and destroy, piece by piece, the Faith humans had put in him. It would take a whole war and many, many years, known as the Heir's Heist.

Extract of Life and Death of Peace, by Suzak, first Sun.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

"Divinities wandered in a lightless space extending with each birth of a new essence, whose form and appearance varied at random. The most ancient, who were also the most powerful of them, were also the sole one who had a texture and weight to them. If most of them were ripping apart, fusing together or parting to create other entities, some of the oldest already possessed a peculiar appearance, and the purest purpose.

These Divinities, because they wandered alone so much without means to communicate, discovered something : boredom. From this point on, merging took another meaning, to exchange feelings and vaporous ideas... Soon the most unintelligible thoughts became articulated speech, a primary language only Divinities could grasp, but they had nothing to say. Therefore, the oldest gathered specks of stardust, and started to spin them, creating the first marbles.

Marbles of water, earth, neverending circling wind currents, fireballs crossing the universe and many more were born and became a source of curiosity for the youngest Divinities. But if the oldest failed and faced no consequences, only earning respect for trying, the youngsters were mocked and dismissed. And once nobody believed in one of them, they disappeared out of existence.

For all Divinities believe in themselves and their kin to maintain their existence in this empty endless space, and once all faith is lost in one of them, there is no reason to maintain it in this world.

"Extract of Léviatha'n's Teachings to the Young Prince, circa 248 after Waterlit.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Mission

As the new citizens smoothed their clothes with a marvelled expression, a tall woman in dark clothes looked sternly at them. All of the youngsters had potential, yet they had never been allowed to make it bloom. Why though, the answer was simple : they were born outside of Aubiathan.

The country which houses a God and his chosen ones, the country with the best technology, healthcare and military force, the country which could rival a whole continent, if they so wished to do. High walls of blinding translucent ice protected the pearl of this world for everyone's safety and happiness.

Outside the wall, life was dire, people were miserable as they deserved and yet, by drinking the blessed water of their God that flowed and leaked through the wall had made some of them special. Some could forecast the weather, others could make water rise or solidify it. One of the children was making bubbles out of thin air to make the crying toddlers laugh. A pitiful attempt.

They shouldn't have been blessed by such magic. It should have been allowed only for their fateful citizens and yet, the number of potential mages inside the walls kept dwindling. Had they displeased their God ? No, for he was still in his castle of glass, grieving. Had they wronged him ? The death of the Cherished Prince had been an accident he couldn't forecast, it was nobody's fault.

— Madam, some of the children are tired.

— They will learn to endure.

— Can we provide water at least ?

— Do you really want them to feel welcomed ?

The young soldier pondered, his name tag swaying at his wrist as he brought a hand to his mask. The metal parts scrapped together, making the children wince, yet he hummed a joly tune. It enfuriated the esteemed mage of the Maison-Dieu, making the young man smile behind his mask. The children giggled, the scary woman no longer a threat as the nice knight in armor was making fun of her. Some hid in his shadow, others started to disperse as magic began to gather in her hands.

— Your lifespan might be shortened, knight.

Water lit up all around the city, wells of light and hope rising high in the air looking like shimmering stars as the knight fell to his knee in an instant, gracelessly dropping and hurting himself. That was the effect He usually had, yet He took no pleasure in it.

The children started to bow with sighs of relief, their wobbling legs giving up under them as some tried to act like the knight, putting on a brave face. He decided that he liked them.

— Welcome home.

As the low voice rumbled like a tidal wave in their mind, the light ceased and a path created from the thinnest, most delicate ice leaded the way to an High Tower, broken right in the middle, half steady and half ready to fall and trample everything underneath. It seemed to float on its own, until the children whispered : water was carrying the weight with a single string of water coming right from a single cloud. A cloud engulfing all of the empire.

The knight sighed of relief once all the children were assigned a room and a buttered piece of bread with sliced apples and a honey pot to dip them in. His mask was dampened by sweat, yet he dared not undo it.

For it was his sole identity in a see of anonymous masks, and not a single soul must know who he really is. As he escapes the tower and turns in an alleyway to join the underneath channel of waterpipes, his mask slips, just enough to reveal a scar starting from his chin to his lower lip. A scar placated on every wall of the empire.

High treason sounded pretty cool when it consisted of making their God obliterate zealots who lost their way. The snowflake on his throat sparked cooling cold in his veins, pleased by his acts and thoughts.

Then, another pulse.

Another mission.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Genesis

Sure, Ludice is going on an adventure, but how come the world she evolves in has been shaped and evolved ? Who is Orys ? Who is Léviath ? How did he arrive in this world ? This is a story of sorrow and wrath born from it in a far, far away place...

Once upon a time, when planets and stars were dull and dead, a whisp of stardust started to wonder : Why are all the planets so sad-looking ? She decided to ask around, for she was very young, and the forces around her were far wiser.

Life said so : We all want a family, we all want to belong, yet we can't live in harmony for who once is equal will strive to step on others. All rotting planets around are fools, too ambitious to realise they lost trust and companionship.

Sun said so : We all want to be the start of something new, yet we strive to do anything as long as it's a novelty, not even asking if we should. We become blind and deaf to the cautionary tales of our dead elders, only to end up in their place, a never-ending cycle. dulling stars around are fools, too caught up in the net of their mistakes to allow younger generations to strive in their stead.

Force said so : We all want to go everywhere and experience everything, yet we can't accept when some disagree because they experienced wonders another way. People start to argue so gain the upper hand, and by doing so lose any support. All wandering rocks around are fools, too caught up in their own truth to prove instead of sharing.

Spark said so : We all want to have our kins around, yet we strive to differ from one another. We create boundaries, we create values, but these values have no purpose but to make one feel better by trampling on others. All absorbing black holes around are fools, too caught up in their bigotry to realise they alienated their peers yet still wish to pull them in.

The whisp of stardust started to wonder. Her elders were wise, yet they all warned her about the same mistakes. All of the elders now emprisoned in their own failure did the same one : trying to do everything alone. But the whisp yearned for companionship, and scouted the four elders to create something. Together.

As they agreed, a new project was born, full of life and wonders, of many adventures and people sharing, of found families and unbreakable companionship. A Marble of Life that will come to be known as Earth.

It lasted for a long time.

Until the Spark disappeared.

Until the Sun mourned and drifted away.

Until Léviatha'n, the soon to be God of Winter, decided to steal the marble, out of sorrow and anger born from it.

— I want to know what's next !

— Not tonight Suzéon, you must sleep now.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Hi Big Bro ! Happy Worldbuilding / WIP Wednesday ! Can you tell me a fun fact about your current WIP(s) ?

Can't believe I missed your message because of work !! Hope your day was good lil galaxy and thanks for asking !

I guess one of the fun facts about it is that Orys' Heart is a spin-off to my main project and yet I put so much care in it xDD and just because I have ONE (1) fav character (Suzéon d'Aubiathan, of course) that I want to see in motion, he's my personal Tymérion.

[gabrielwritessometimes]

Question for fic writers!