#;truthexcerpts

[sometimesraven]

Inciting Events

Whumptober No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Fandom: The Truth Saga (Original Novel) POV Character: Lydia Moore Whumpee: Lydia

Many years before the events of Reckless Truth, there was an eighteen year old at her lowest point. Fate had other things in store for her than the hospital bed she lay on, however.

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She woke up. Great -- already a bad sign for how her day was going to go.

Or was it her night? As the fog in Lydia's mind slowly cleared in favour of a dizzy, aching headache, she realised with a sinking heart where she was.

Dad was asleep in the chair beside her bed, shadowed by the dim light of the hospital at night. He looked dishevelled, like he'd held on to consciousness for as long as he possibly could. Flashes of his desperately frightened eyes assaulted her memory; the feeling of being cradled on the bathroom floor. She didn't wake him. She didn't want to be having that conversation right now.

Her wrist felt tight, sore when she moved. The fresh stitches were ugly; a reminder of yet another of her long list of failures.

Did Elyan know about this? Probably not. She doubted he knew anything about the outside world while they had him in psych. Good. He couldn't handle something like this -- hopefully he wouldn't see her when she ended up there too.

I'm so sorry, I-I've been lying to you.

Lydia glared up at the ceiling, her father's words coming to her in the same muffled haze they had while they waited for the ambulance.

Your brother is right. Josh was-.. he was taken. There was no car crash, princess I'm so sorry-..

Her hands closed into fists, ignoring the uncomfortable pulling and stinging it caused in her wrist. Her whole life, she'd been lied to. Elyan had been lied to. She should have listened to her big brother. Josh had been kidnapped and nobody was doing anything, this whole time. Only Elyan even tried and they made him think he was crazy. Fuck, she needed a drink.

"It's a difficult thing to believe." A new voice. One of the nurses? Lydia blinked the tears out of her eyes, frowning at the man who came into focus. This wasn't a nurse. The young man was dressed more like the police or military or something-- shit, were they taking her to psych already? "That your brother was taken by paranormal military forces."

"How d'you know about that?"

The man smiled, and there was something dull behind his eyes -- like he wasn't quite present; just a vessel for something more. But that was fucking ridiculous, so Lydia chalked it up to the meds she was on and continued to glare at him.

"Let's just say there are parties invested in your situation. I can help, if you're willing."

Every instinct in her gut told her to hit the alarm and scream. But the man's smile was patient; almost sympathetic, and nobody else had helped her family for the past fourteen years. What did she really have to lose? "How?"

"You will work for us. We will provide you with funding and equipment to travel and learn. You will be given training in assault weaponry and close combat."

So she could go looking for him... "What's the catch?"

"You will be working as an arms dealer and gun for hire. This means you will lean to kill. We have many private contacts in need of our services, and you will provide."

Shit. Killing people for money. Lydia glanced at dad -- still sound asleep like not even the dead could wake him. He wouldn't be happy if he ever found out. She'd have to leave home, probably. Would she tell Elyan, when he got out of hospital? Maybe. He deserved to know she believed him now, at least.

For a moment, she almost wondered if she could handle this -- if she was cut out for it. But what else was she really good at? School wouldn't have her. She couldn't write to save her life. No qualifications. She spent what time she did spend at school getting in fights and drinking behind the bike shed. She didn't even have to look after Ely anymore. What else was she really good at, beyond violence? And if this gave her a chance to find and save the brother she never knew, whose loss tore her family apart before she was old enough to know it...

"I'll do it."

The smile he gave told her this may have been a mistake. "Excellent. We'll be in touch. Oh, and-.. Don't worry about this little... mishap." He gestured to her in the bed, eyes somehow free of judgement and judgemental at the same time. "It's taken care of. You'll be released as soon as possible, and then we can begin."

Three years later, Lydia swiped the blood from her top lip, rolling her eyes as it immediately dripped into her mouth again. Elyan sat quietly, blood on his hands -- shell-shocked. His first kill, to save her life. She'd have to take care of him for a while, probably. Just like old times. Sometimes she wondered if this was worth it. They still had no answers, and Elyan was suffering for it.

Still, she was in too deep now. If she was no good for anything before, she had no chance now. For better or worse, Lydia was a killer now, and Elyan was too deep into his indie-detective work to quit now. Neither of them would find a regular job after this.

So, with a grunt, she stowed her gun and dragged her brother to his feet, guiding him out in silence.

She didn't see the flash as the bodies she left behind were transported away, nor the scorch marks they left behind in the blood-soaked fabric of the rug.

[sometimesraven]

Rewritten

Whumptober no.9, Alternative Prompt: Aftermath of Failure

Fandom: The Truth Saga (original novels) POV Character: Blade Silverwind Whumpee: Blade Silverwind

For those who are raised in the Facility, failure is not an option.

(Excerpt from the WIP of the novel Bitter Truth, part of the Truth Saga)

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"Silverwind." The tone of the Controller's voice cut into Blade's chest, forcing a slight wince despite himself. The boss never raised his voice. His expression barely even changed from moment to moment, but there was a subtle shift in energy behind his words that made it very clear when he was disappointed -- and nothing good ever followed the Controller's disappointment. "Eight seconds slower than yesterday."

A dismissive gesture to the Handlers standing to attention nearby was all he offered before his back was turned, and Blade's throat squeezed as they approached him with expectant eyes. He didn't fight the inevitable, gaze to the floor to avoid his siblings' pitying looks as he followed Handler Macy to receive his punishment.

His heart pounded as they approached the blank wall hiding the Downstairs entrance, trying not to flinch at the grinding sound of gears and stone shifting as the panel slid open. He stared into the dark abyss as his Handler waited expectantly, his vision swimming as it always did at the sight of the endless stairs into nothingness. Closing his eyes for just a second, he recalled one of the Controller's earliest lessons, remembering the words in crisp detail as he did everything. Fear is a weapon. Use it against your enemies; don't let it become you.

This was necessary, he told himself as he descended the bare concrete steps. He had failed; he had been imperfect. This was the natural consequence. Even through the tremble in his hands he willed his stance and expression calm, quietly accepting whatever the Controller had planned for him.

Downstairs was a grim, silent place. Blade kept his face firmly forward in the dimly lit concrete corridor, ignoring as he always did the scratches and pieces of vine on the walls from his squadmate's struggling in the past. They had been wrong to fight the punishments and corrections they deserved. Nobody came down here unless they had failed the boss, and fighting would only make it worse.

Handler Macy led him into the second of the rooms on the left side of the hall -- the room he knew to be Surgery. This was where the majority of the Controller's work was done, and this was where Blade and his family knew they would always return to. He entered the room without a word, his footsteps shuffling across  the hard floor towards one of the metal beds within. The feeling of dread was only punctuated by the consistently chilled air down here and Blade, not for the first time, found himself grateful he wasn't down here nearly as much as Ryan or Evie were. He didn't know how they could keep acting out when this was what waited for them.

Blade allowed Handler Macy to attach the solid restraints around his wrists and ankles, feeling the rough, hard metal under his back as he stared at the grey above him in wait for his punishment. Even the white paint and tiles did not reach down here.

"Silverwind." It seemed like an age before he finally heard the Controller enter, his footsteps echoing across the floor before his scrutinising icy-blue eyes came into view, peering down at him with disappointment. "It has been some time since I've seen you down here."

Blade remained silent, guilt thick in his throat. He knew he was slipping up; he knew he was failing again. There was no excuse.

"I've come to expect a certain standard from you, Subject. You're getting sloppy -- remember your Purpose."

"Aye, sir." The Controller's disappointment tasted like blood on his tongue before the punishment had even began. "I'll do better."

"I hope so." His voice grew mournful, piercing a few extra layers of guilt into Blade's stomach. At this point the punishment would be a relief. "You know I hate to have to do this."

No further words were exchanged. Blade remained soundless and still as the Controller's rough hands examined him from top to toe, bruising everywhere he touched in search of imperfections or injuries. His scalpel felt like raw flame against the sensitive pattern of swirling blue energy under the skin of his back, tearing him in two just to examine how the wound glowed and the blood dried black. He was shifted and moved from position to uncomfortable position so many times he was sure he heard something snap; felt something else tear. He remained silent.

Then came the syringe. A new concoction every time, swirling dark in its tube. The moment the liquid touched his blood the skin around it burned. His veins pulsed and pinched, the pain spreading through his body until his sense of physical self was completely replaced by radiating, unbearable pain. He remained silent.

By the time he was carried back to the bedroom, Blade's bones were on fire and his heard jumped weakly in his chest like it couldn't find the energy to pump correctly. His vision twisted and doubled as he lay in bed, staring as the spinning, lurching ceiling danced in tribute to the concoctions searing through his veins, rewriting him from the inside out.

It wouldn't do anything. It never did. The corrections were supposed to enhance their power, to make them sharper and stronger, but no matter how many times they returned Downstairs nothing seemed to change -- at least not for him.

The burning faded after a few hours: the weightless, empty relief of pain leaving his body beginning to settle in. He moved an arm or a leg from time to time, just to feel the twinge of bruises that reminded him he was still alive. That was all that mattered. He was alive. He could keep trying. One day he would be perfect.

[sometimesraven]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks to @jezifster for tagging me <3

Rules: search your WIPs and attach a snippet containing the word given to you. Give whoever you tag 5 new words to search their WIPs for.

Words I got: Chill, Lift, Wreck, Final

Words I'm giving you: Three, Available, Cross, Trace

WIP I pulled from is Bitter Truth!

Chill

As if to punctuate the point, his eyes flashed red and something flickered in the shadow he cast on the floor. Blade hadn't had much dealing with Luc – the Handler was mostly there as the Controller's personal guard, and thus spent little time around the Squad. He had no idea the extent of the cruelty the boy was capable of, but even this slight show of power sent a chill up his spine.

Lift

“That!” she exclaimed, eyeing him closely, “You keep doing that.”

Erik blinked. “Doing what?”

“Looking like someone's slapped you.” Lydia's brow furrowed, and Erik could see pieces falling together behind her eyes, “Every time I call you a bloke. Why d'you do that?”

Erik matched her frown. He'd barely realised he was doing it, let alone in the pattern she'd noted. It took him a second, but when his hands lifted again they were hesitant. “Because-.. I'm not. A bloke.”

Wreck

So apparently I haven't used the word wreck a single time in any of my projects that I can find. I even searched my AO3 for the word XD

Final

Good. Time to end this. Blade ignored the squeeze in his chest as he moved closer, poised to land one final strike on his squadmate. This was necessary. Sentimentality had no place in the Controller's world and Evie had betrayed them all – they were going to die one way or another. Better it be by his hand than when the Controller found out.

tagging: @smallvillecrows and anyone else who wants to do it!

[sometimesraven]

Last Line Tag

Thank you @jezifster for the tag!

One day their laughter wouldn’t have an expiration date.

Tagging: (click to +/-)

@smallvillecrows @shadedsaint

[sometimesraven]

Find the Word Tag

NEW WORDS NEW WORDS WOOPWOOP

Thanks for tagging me @jezifster !

My Words: Sorry, Shock, Smoke, Stagger

Sorry

“People love you, Blade.” Erik's voice was soft and faint in his head and Blade didn't know nor care whether that was due to his exhaustion or just for Blade's comfort. “You're more than what he made you. I'm sorry I left you for so long you forgot that.”

Shock

Blade hissed a shocked breath and his stomach lurched at the revelation. He stepped back from the balcony edge, vertigo suddenly sickening his vision and his heart kicking back into overdrive. Confused fragments of memory; pieces of evidence he'd been ignoring began to click together and he wished he could tear them apart again. Blade's legs were weak as he leaned into the darkest corner of the room to try and get a hold of himself.

Smoke

Not a word was exchanged in the silence. Nothing needed to be said. The hushed whisper of sleeping breaths joined gusts of wind and muffled snow on the windowpane. Erik’s scent changed from day to day depending on his perfume but tonight the smell of warm citrus and leather joined the wood smoke still hanging in the air, overwhelming his senses and soothing the last tight muscles in his body.

Stagger

Part of him wondered if anyone would bother coming for him. Lydia had managed to convince Tori to stagger the journey over a day or two and let the last group approach by car, at least, but he was sure the Moores hated him enough to leave him here. Why wouldn’t they? He wasn’t sure if the thought of going away with them was more or less unsettling than the thought of being completely alone here.

Hey I actually had all the words this time!! Again from Bitter Truth uwu

YOUR WORDS: Cold, Trace, Emit, Gain

tagging: OPEN

[sometimesraven]

This scene is going to take a lot of working and reworking, I can tell. I knew from the start that I wanted at least a scene in book 2 where Erik's nonbinary identity is addressed directly, and this is a snippet from that scene. It's a challenge to balance the scene without making it feel forced or unnatural, but I think I'm getting there. To my writer friends: does your novel or story have a scene addressing the MC's identity? How do you fit it in naturally without worrying you're dragging the whole story to a halt for the sake of it? Idk if I'm just insecure about it thanks to how picky people are with representation, especially as this book is more cozy-adjacent compared to the first (which I'm not used to writing longform).

Taglist (Click here to be added)

@smallvillecrows

[sometimesraven]

Wing, Poison

Dragon Themed Writer Ask Game

Wing: share a snippet that you daydreamed about before writing it (or a snippet that you were really looking forward to writing.)

I daydream about most of my writing before I write it tbh, that's how I write XD But this is one I really looked forward to because Erik using his powers to illustrate his words has always been a love of mine and I loved imagining him incorporating his gestures into his signing because he's Talented.

Blade wanted to ask what the point of this was. Erik seemed to be babbling without any real direction, his hands moving of their own accord and ordinarily that would be infuriating, but… Something in the way he lounged in the dirt, distant and wistful as he stared out over the water made Blade take pause and listen. Erik always had a way of making him listen. “Anyway. I’m completely out of my mind, ready to give up on everything, and this squirrel runs out in front of me. Straight through a gap in the trees I didn’t see before.” As he signed his movements grew a little more stiff – managing to continue speaking while conjuring a squirrel of water to rise and dance on the lake below. Blade watched with the ghost of a smile, unable to hide it when Erik was multitasking like that. He was always so good with his powers. “And squirrels are Tori’s thing, you remember? So I followed it. Some stupid idea that maybe she was trying to talk to me. And it leads me here.” The water squirrel danced around some more before splashing into a crude replica of the clearing they sat in. “And…” He paused again. Blade could see he was reluctant to continue, especially as the water-scene rolled back into the lake. “…All I could think about was how much you’d love it here.” Oh.

Poison: share a snippet that’s all about relationships (good or bad).

Bitter Truth focuses pretty heavily on family and relationships, as Blade figures out what each of those mean to him and how much he's willing to give and take and change for them. This snippet is a little rough as it's from the very first draft, but I'm hoping to work it into the current version. After spending a lifetime not allowed to have a personality beyond the orders he's given, transitioning into freedom is rough on him. In this scene I challenge the rush everyone is in to force a person into healthier situations they need time to adjust to by allowing Erik and Blade to have a dynamic many people would immediately turn their noses up at.

"You're fine out there. You know what to do." "I can guess sometimes," he laughed, "and that's because I've been out here for so many years. I've picked things up, but-.. We're not made for the outside and I've always known that. It's hard enough to fit in when people suddenly care about whether or not I can hear them, or if I can talk or-.. where I came from and what my gender might be." He shook his head, coming to sit down next to him, "That's why we try so hard with you. We know how hard it is to be thrown out here when we have no idea how to be people. You'll get there in your own time, just like we all are." "I don't want to get there," Blade insisted. "I want to belong to someone, take orders. When I'm not working for someone I'm just-.. nothing. It's all empty." "I know. And I'm happy to be that for you. Change can come in your own time; I'm just here to help you out." His hand rested on Blade's back again, stroking that same pattern against his spine and before he could even think about it Blade found himself relaxing a little more, leaning automatically into the nook under his arm. "How d'you do that?" he murmured, "Just make everything go away?" "Did you say something?" Oh. Fuck. He'd been so swept away in the calm and safety of Erik's hold that he'd forgotten to sign. Sucking in a breath, he almost repeated himself, but-.. no. He shook his head, content not to address any of the fuzzy confusion in his chest and just sit there, basking in the moment of peace in the silence.

[sometimesraven]

MS Ethereal Excerpts: Curse

Being outside for the first time on his own, completely free of his master, is rough for Blade. Everything is overwhelming -- he's spent his entire life spent mostly in a claustrophobic underground facility. What's worse is that he has to face the comrade who'd left him for dead -- and he's still madly in love with him.

Here's a little snippet from the first time he tastes the sunlight by himself.

It was only as the trees parted to sparkling water in the morning light that he finally had a taste of what Tori and Josh were always gushing about in their poems. The air was crisp and cool, mist hanging over the seemingly endless lake and diffusing the honey-gold sunlight peeking over the mountains. It was Erik. Cold and sharp and soft and gold around those endless blue eyes. Why did it remind him of Erik; why must everything remind him of Erik? He snarled, turning away from the view to find something else to distract him. His gaze landed on a patch of ground nearby: a mound of disturbed earth haphazardly covering what looked like a makeshift grave that had been clawed out of. Josh.

-From Bitter Truth, Draft 2

[sometimesraven]

MS Ethereal Excerpts: Purpose

I'm currently Quite Sick but I crawled over to the PC for this one because this week's theme is PERFECT.

In the Truth Saga, the main overarching villain (and source of every MC's trauma) is called the Controller. He is building a superpowered cult of people who worship him as a god who will enact a mysterious event known only as The Purpose -- the effects of which are only known to be some form of world-ending catastrophe.

Part of that cult is the mantras they repeat daily. This excerpt is that mantra displayed perfectly by Blade, the good boy of the Purpose and main character of book 2: Bitter Truth.

The Controller lifted a hand from behind his back in a quick, commanding gesture, and Blade stepped forward at once as his fellows fell in line behind him. “What is your name, Subject?” “Silverwind,” Blade answered, chin high and stance perfectly controlled. His chest beat and his stomach shifted at the sight of the Controller’s eyes on him and him alone; a familiar, welcoming feeling. “And what is your significance?” “To serve and prepare for the Purpose. I am insignificant in all but strength and power. I will be a soldier of the Purpose first and foremost.” The words rolled from his tongue as easily as breathing, conviction and certainty in every syllable. He was made for this. It was perfect. “Excellent. You are dismissed.”

-From Bitter Truth, Draft 2

[sometimesraven]

y'all think i was exaggerating by tagging Erik in that "if someone tried to stab me i would kiss them" post?

I wasn't fuckin exaggerating

[sometimesraven]

Anyone else doing Camp NaNoWriMo? Here's a snippet of what I'm writing right now! Book 2 is in the early stages of editing and I'm currently rewriting the zero draft as part of my usual process.

Poor Erik is becoming a bit of a woobie in this book XD This scene isn't even the first injury so far and I'm only on chapter nine fgkjshfg

Taglist (Click here to be added)

@smallvillecrows

[sometimesraven]

filed under: excerpts of my writing that I could easily make into Jenn/Ian Quantum Leap fic just by changing up the names and descriptions

From the rough unfinished first draft of Fearless Truth (The Truth Saga #3)

[sometimesraven]

ANYONE WANNA READ THE LIL EXCERPT I WROTE FROM BOOK 3 AGES AGO?

NO? HERE READ IT ANYWAY

Brush strokes on canvas landed more like killing blows, drawing shapes and shadows from the flickering in the corner of their eye. "Evelyn Mason. Born 23rd September 1996 to Hyun-Jae Mason and Elijah David Mason in Smithton, Inverness." The shadows closed in, threatening to take over the stretched fabric entirely, but a strike of shimmering red pushed them back. "The mother divorced her first husband to elope to Scotland with her pathetic excuse of a new man. Nonetheless, this new union birthed her younger sister Angela: another child with the same potential (file ref. #0007IB). The mother, therefore, seems to be the source of this child's psychic potential -- though evidence of this is yet to be uncovered. I will continue to observe the sisters' potential as they grow." Swirls of yellow and flecks of ochre dashed across the painting, splatting the canvas with burning sparks watching them from the darkness. "Addendum 1999-06-24: Both Hyun-Jae and Elijah Mason have died to apparent suicide, and the children have been transferred to an inner-city care home. This may present problems."

The brush tore through space, carving a black hole in the midst of the shadows and sparks, and Evie cursed under their breath, pulled from their trance as they stepped up to eye the tear with a frown. Another tape-up and paint-over; that was the third broken canvas in as many days. They weren't sure why they'd been so tense lately. It had been weeks since they were given their files; weeks to process everything they'd read, but they couldn't shake the fury and fear every word of it still bubbled in their chest.

Not that it took much to scare them, these days. Surrounded by their family's fears almost constantly was enough to keep them distracted back at the Facility, but now they all had their own space in the mansion Angie and Elyan had found for them and Evie didn't have to be bombarded by their pain any longer -- meaning now there was nothing stopping their own creeping through the cracks of their carefully-built guards.

I'M SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS ANGY ENBY DISASTER

[sometimesraven]

💫💫

bless u my ADHD is ADHDing

For every 💫 in my inbox I will write a new line and share it.

Blade blinked as the conversation circled in his mind, the words processing so slowly in the haze of his thoughts that he could swear he was watching them form behind his eyes long after they had actually been spoken. Erik was kneeling over him, he realised, dark circles under his eyes and teeth gritted in pain even as he focused entirely on checking Blade over.

- Bitter Truth

[sometimesraven]

we stan Awkward Ally Lydia

[sometimesraven]

@febuwhump Day 21: Shackled

Fandom: The Truth Saga (original novel series) Whumpee: Josh (+ system members)

Summary: Backstory. Josh’s process of turning into a Vampire -- or at least, what parts of his system remember.

AO3 Link

~~*———————————————*~~ 

They had him chained to the wall in the one part of Downstairs nobody entered. The stench of death surrounded him whenever he was conscious enough to notice it, drawing saliva to his mouth as he choked on the danger-sweet smell.

His bones ached. Sweat dripped from his dark curls but he felt only searing pain and unbearable cold. There was no light in this room: a blessing, honestly. What little he could make out in the darkness wasn’t anything he wanted to see. Were those body bags? That would explain the smell. This must be where The Controller left his failed experiments to rot and his in-progress experiments were hidden.

A sudden, searing pain tore through his veins, pulsing in intensity with every beat of his struggling heart. He could feel the uneven pounding in his chest growing weaker with every passing moment, and the air rushed from his lungs at once. Fuck, his gums hurt too. Trying to breathe through the pain, he closed his eyes.

How long had he been down here? Honestly, he wouldn’t know even if he’d been lucid for most of it. Time didn’t exist down here. There wasn’t even any sound to tell him where he was beyond the gentle whirring of machines in the walls and his own laboured breathing. He couldn’t even tell if he was losing time like he usually did, or if he was just passing in and out of consciousness.

When he opened his eyes next, he was laying on an operating table again, strapped down and stinking like the stench of death had clung to him. He expected to be blinded by the sudden light, but his eyes seemed to have adjusted -- a sign he’d lost time.

His mouth felt wrong. He swiped his tongue across his teeth and winced as something sharp dragged across it. Fangs? Right, that’s what he was down here for. The Controller was trying vampirism and Josh was the weakest member of the team. He expected to be hungry like he’d read in some stories-.. Honestly, he felt little of anything right now. His hands felt sticky and he could smell the blood on his lips. He’d already eaten, he supposed.

So this was how it was to be. Josh would have to be protected from this. Easy enough. There was already something hiding in the corner of their collective mind. Sleeping. It would have to be watched; introduced to this world and its system.

Josh would have to be out of action for a little while.